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+Project Gutenberg's Mrs. Halliburton's Troubles, by Mrs. Henry Wood
+
+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: Mrs. Halliburton's Troubles
+
+Author: Mrs. Henry Wood
+
+Release Date: December 8, 2010 [EBook #34587]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MRS. HALLIBURTON'S TROUBLES ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Delphine Lettau, Mary Meehan and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                     MRS. HALLIBURTON'S TROUBLES
+
+                         BY MRS. HENRY WOOD
+
+     AUTHOR OF "EAST LYNNE," "THE CHANNINGS," "JOHNNY LUDLOW," ETC.
+
+
+    _TWO HUNDRED AND TENTH THOUSAND_
+
+    London
+    MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED
+    NEW YORK: THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
+    1904
+
+    LONDON:
+    PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED,
+    DUKE STREET, STAMFORD STREET, S.E., AND GREAT WINDMILL STREET. W.
+
+
+
+
+MRS. HALLIBURTON'S TROUBLES.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+THE CLERGYMAN'S DAUGHTER.
+
+
+In a very populous district of London, somewhat north of Temple Bar,
+there stood, many years ago, a low, ancient church amidst other
+churches--for you know that London abounds in them. The doors of this
+church were partially open one dark evening in December, and a faint,
+glimmering light might be observed inside by the passers-by.
+
+It was known well enough what was going on within, and why the light was
+there. The rector was giving away the weekly bread. Years ago a
+benevolent person had left a certain sum to be spent in twenty weekly
+loaves, to be given to twenty poor widows at the discretion of the
+minister. Certain curious provisos were attached to the bequest. One was
+that the bread should not be less than two days old, and should have
+been deposited in the church at least twenty-four hours before
+distribution. Another, that each recipient must attend in person.
+Failing personal attendance, no matter how unavoidable her absence, she
+lost the loaf: no friend might receive it for her, neither might it be
+sent to her. In that case, the minister was enjoined to bestow it upon
+"any stranger widow who might present herself, even as should seem
+expedient to him:" the word "stranger" being, of course, used in
+contra-distinction to the twenty poor widows who were on the books as
+the charity's recipients. Four times a year, one shilling to each widow
+was added to the loaf of bread.
+
+A loaf of bread is not very much. To us, sheltered in our abundant
+homes, it seems as nothing. But, to many a one, toiling and starving in
+this same city of London, a loaf may be almost the turning-point between
+death and life. The poor existed in those days as they exist in these:
+as they always will exist: therefore it was no matter of surprise that a
+crowd of widow women, most of them aged, all in poverty, should gather
+round the church doors when the bread was being given out, each hoping
+that, of the twenty poor widows, some one might fail to appear, and the
+clerk would come to the door and call out her own particular name as the
+fortunate substitute. On the days when the shilling was added to the
+loaf, this waiting and hoping crowd would be increased four-fold.
+
+Thursday was the afternoon for the distribution. And on the day we are
+now writing about, the rector entered the church at the usual hour: four
+o'clock. He had to make his way through an unusual number of outsiders;
+for this was one of the shilling days. He knew them all personally; was
+familiar with their names and homes; for the Rev. Francis Tait was a
+hard-working clergyman. And hard-working clergymen were more rare in
+those days than they are in these.
+
+Of Scottish birth, but chiefly reared in England, he had taken orders at
+the usual age, and become curate in a London parish, where the work was
+heavy and the stipend small. Not that the duties attached to the church
+itself were onerous; but it was a parish filled with poor. Those
+familiar with such parishes know what this means, when the minister is
+sympathising and conscientious. For twenty years he remained a curate,
+toiling in patience, cheerfully hoping. Twenty years! It seems little to
+write; but to live it is a great deal; and Francis Tait, in spite of his
+hopefulness, sometimes found it so. Then promotion came. The living of
+this little church that you now see open was bestowed upon him. A poor
+living as compared with some others; and a poor parish, speaking of the
+social condition of its inhabitants. But the living seemed wealth
+compared with what he had earned as a curate; and as to his flock being
+chiefly composed of the poor, he had not been accustomed to anything
+else. Then the Rev. Francis Tait married; and another twenty years went
+by.
+
+He stood in the church this evening; the loaves resting on the shelf
+overhead, against the door of the vestry, all near the entrance. A
+flaring tallow candle stood on the small table between him and the
+widows who clustered opposite. He was sixty-five years old now; a spare
+man of middle height, with a clear, pale skin, an intelligent
+countenance, and a thoughtful, fine grey eye. He had a pleasant word, a
+kind inquiry for all, as he put the shilling into their hands; the lame
+old clerk at the same time handing over the loaf of bread.
+
+"Are you all here to-night?" he asked, as the distribution went on.
+
+"No, sir," was the answer from several who spoke at once. "Betty King's
+away."
+
+"What is the matter with her?"
+
+"The rheumaticks have laid hold on her, sir. She couldn't get here
+nohow. She's in her bed."
+
+"I must go and see her," said he. "What, are you here again, Martha?" he
+continued, as a little deformed woman stepped from behind the rest,
+where she had been hidden. "I am glad to see you."
+
+"Six blessed weeks this day, and I've not been able to come!" exclaimed
+the woman. "But I'm restored wonderful."
+
+The distribution was approaching its close, when the rector spoke to his
+clerk. "Call in Eliza Turner."
+
+The clerk placed on the table the four or five remaining loaves, that
+each woman might help herself during his absence, and went out to the
+door.
+
+"'Liza Turner, his reverence has called for you."
+
+A sigh of delight from Eliza Turner, and a groan of disappointment from
+those surrounding her, greeted the clerk in answer. He took no
+notice--he often heard it--but turned and limped into the church again.
+Eliza Turner followed; and another woman slipped in after Eliza Turner.
+
+"Now, Widow Booth," cried the clerk, sharply, perceiving the intrusion,
+"what business have you here? You know it's again the rules."
+
+"I must see his reverence," murmured the woman, pressing on--a meek,
+half-starved woman; and she pushed her way into the vestry, and told her
+pitiful tale.
+
+"I'm worse off than Widow Turner," she moaned piteously, not in tones of
+complaint, but of entreaty. "She has a daughter in service as helps her;
+but me, I've my poor unfortunate daughter lying in my place weak with
+fever, sick with hunger! Oh, sir, couldn't you give the bounty this time
+to me? I've not had a bit or drop in my mouth since morning; and then it
+was but a taste o' bread and a drain o' tea, that a neighbour give me
+out o' charity."
+
+It was absolutely necessary to discountenance these personal
+applications. The rector's rule was, never to give the spare bounty to
+those who applied for it: otherwise the distribution might have become a
+weekly scene of squabbling and confusion. He handed the shilling and
+bread to Eliza Turner; and when she had followed the other women out, he
+turned to the Widow Booth, who was sobbing against the wall; speaking
+kindly to her.
+
+"You should not have come in, Mrs. Booth. You know that I do not allow
+it."
+
+"But I'm starving, sir," was the answer. "I thought maybe as you'd
+divide it between me and Widow Turner. Sixpence for her, sixpence for
+me, and the loaf halved."
+
+"I have no power to divide the gifts: to do so would be against the
+terms of the bequest. How is it you are so badly off this week? Has your
+work failed?"
+
+"I couldn't do it, sir, with my sick one to attend to. And I've a
+gathering come on my thimble finger, and that has hindered me. I took
+ninepence the day before yesterday, sir, but last night it was every
+farthing of it gone."
+
+"I will come round and see you by-and-by," said the clergyman.
+
+She lifted her eyes yearningly. "Oh, sir! if you could but give me
+something for a morsel of bread now! I'd be grateful for a penny loaf."
+
+"Mrs. Booth, you know that to give here would be altogether against my
+rule," he replied with unmistakable firmness. "Neither am I pleased when
+any of you attempt to ask it. Go home quietly: I have said that I will
+come to you by-and-by."
+
+The woman thanked him and went out. Had anything been needed to prove
+the necessity of the rule, it would have been the eagerness with which
+the crowd of women gathered round her. Not one of them had gone away.
+"Had she got anything?" To reply that she _had_ something, would have
+sent the whole crowd flocking in to beg in turn of the rector.
+
+Widow Booth shook her head. "No, no. I knowed it before. He never will.
+He says he'll come round."
+
+They dispersed; some in one direction, some in another. The rector blew
+out the candle, and he and the clerk came forth; and the church was
+closed for the distribution of bread until that day week. Mr. Tait took
+the keys himself to carry them home: they were kept at his house.
+Formerly the clerk had carried them there; but since he had become old
+and lame, Mr. Tait would not give him the trouble.
+
+It was a fine night overhead, but the streets were sloppy; and the
+clergyman put his foot unavoidably in many a puddle. The streets through
+which his road lay were imperfectly lighted. The residence apportioned
+to the rector of this parish was adjoining a well-known square,
+fashionable in that day. It was a very good house, with a handsome
+outward appearance. If you judged by it, you would have said the living
+must be worth five hundred a year at least. It was not worth anything
+like that; and the parish treated their pastor liberally in according
+him so good a residence. A quarter of an hour's walk from the church
+brought Mr. Tait to it.
+
+Until recently, a gentleman had shared this house with Mr. Tait and his
+family. The curate of a neighbouring parish, the Rev. John Acton, had
+been glad to live with them as a friend, admitted to their society and
+their table. It was a little help: and but for that, Mr. and Mrs. Tait
+would scarcely have thought themselves justified in keeping two
+servants, for the educational expenses of their children ran away with a
+large portion of their income. But Mr. Acton had now been removed to a
+distance, and they hoped to receive some one or other in his place.
+
+On this evening, as Mr. Tait was picking his way through the puddles,
+the usual sitting-room of his house presented a cheerful appearance,
+ready to receive him. It was on the ground floor, looking upon the
+street, large and lofty, and bright with firelight. Two candles, not yet
+lighted, stood on the table behind the tea-tray, but the glow of the
+fire was sufficient for all the work that was being done in the room.
+
+It was no work at all: but play. A young lady was quietly whirling round
+the room with a dancing step--quietly, because her feet and movements
+were gentle; and the tune she was humming, and to which she kept time,
+was carolled in an undertone. She was moving thus in the happy innocence
+of heart and youth. A graceful girl of middle height; one whom it
+gladdened the eye to look upon. Not for her beauty, for she had no very
+great beauty to boast of; but it was one of those countenances that win
+their own way to favour. A fair, gentle face, openly candid, with the
+same earnest, honest grey eye that so pleased you in Francis Tait, and
+brown hair. She was that gentleman's eldest child, and looked about
+eighteen. In reality she was a year older, but her face and dress were
+both youthful. She wore a violet silk frock, made with a low body and
+short sleeves: girls did not keep their pretty necks and arms covered up
+then. By daylight the dress would have appeared old, but it looked very
+well by candle-light.
+
+The sound of the latch-key in the front door brought her dancing to an
+end. She knew who it was--no inmate of that house possessed a latch-key
+except its master--and she turned to the fire to light the candles.
+
+Mr. Tait came into the room, removing neither overcoat nor hat. "Have
+you made tea, Jane?"
+
+"No, papa; it has only just struck five."
+
+"Then I think I'll go out again first. I have to call on one or two of
+the women, and it will be all one wetting. My feet are soaked
+already"--looking down at his buckled shoes and black gaiters. "You can
+get my slippers warmed, Jane. But"--the thought apparently striking
+him--"would your mamma care to wait?"
+
+"Mamma had a cup of tea half an hour ago," replied Jane. "She said it
+might do her good; if she could get some sleep after it, she might be
+able to come down for a little before bedtime. The tea can be made
+whenever you like, papa. There's only Francis at home, and he and I
+could wait until ten, if you pleased."
+
+"I'll go at once, then. Not until ten, Miss Jane, but until six, or
+about that time. Betty King is ill, but does not live far off. And I
+must step in to the Widow Booth's."
+
+"Papa," cried Jane as he was turning away, "I forgot to tell you.
+Francis says he thinks he knows of a gentleman who would like to come
+here in Mr. Acton's place."
+
+"Ah! who is it?" asked the rector.
+
+"One of the masters at the school. Here's Francis coming down. He only
+went up to wash his hands."
+
+"It is our new mathematical master, sir," cried Francis Tait, a youth of
+eighteen, who was being brought up to the Church. "I overheard him ask
+Dr. Percy if he could recommend him to a comfortable house where he
+might board, and make one of the family: so I told him perhaps you might
+receive him here. He said he'd come down and see you."
+
+Mr. Tait paused. "Would he be a desirable inmate, think you, Francis? Is
+he a gentleman?"
+
+"Quite a gentleman, I am sure," replied Francis. "And we all like what
+little we have seen of him. His name's Halliburton."
+
+"Is he in Orders?"
+
+"No. He intends to be, I think."
+
+"Well, of course I can say nothing about it, one way or the other,"
+concluded Mr. Tait, as he went out.
+
+Jane stood before the fire in thought, her fingers unconsciously
+smoothing the parting of the glossy brown hair on her well-shaped head
+as she looked at it in the pier-glass. To say that she never did such a
+thing in vanity would be wrong; no pretty girl ever lived but was
+conscious of her good looks. Jane, however, was neither thinking of
+herself nor of vanity just then. She took a very practical part in home
+duties: with her mother, a practical part amidst her father's poor: and
+at this moment her thoughts were running on the additional work it might
+bring her, should this gentleman come to reside with them.
+
+"What did you say his name was, Francis?" she suddenly asked of her
+brother.
+
+"Whose?"
+
+"That gentleman's. The new master at your school."
+
+"Halliburton. I don't know his Christian name."
+
+"I wonder," mused Jane aloud, "whether he will wear out his stockings as
+Mr. Acton did? There was always a dreadful amount of darning to be done
+to his. Is he an old guy, Francis?"
+
+"Isn't he!" responded Francis Tait. "Don't faint when you see some one
+come in old and fat, with green rims to his spectacles. I don't say he's
+_quite_ old enough to be papa's father, but----"
+
+"Why! he must be eighty then, at least!" uttered Jane, in dismay. "How
+could you propose it to him? We should not care to have any one older
+than Mr. Acton."
+
+"Acton! that young chicken!" contemptuously rejoined Francis. "Put him
+by the side of Mr. Halliburton! Acton was barely fifty."
+
+
+"He was forty-eight, I think," said Jane. "Oh, dear! how I should like
+to have gone with Margaret and Robert this evening!" she exclaimed,
+forgetting the passing topic in another.
+
+"They were not polite enough to invite me," said Francis. "I shall pay
+the old lady out."
+
+Jane laughed. "You are growing too old now, Francis, to be admitted to a
+young ladies' breaking-up party. Mrs. Chilham said so to mamma----"
+
+Jane's words were interrupted by a knock at the front door, apparently
+that of a visitor. "Jane!" cried her brother, in some trepidation, "I
+should not wonder if it's Mr. Halliburton! He did not say when he should
+come!"
+
+Another minute, and one of the servants ushered a gentleman into the
+room. It was not an old guy, however, as Jane saw at a glance with a
+distinct feeling of relief. A tall, gentlemanlike man of five or six and
+twenty, with thin aquiline features, dark eyes, and a clear, fresh
+complexion. A handsome man, very prepossessing.
+
+"You see I have soon availed myself of your permission to call," said
+he, in pleasant tones, as he took Francis Tait's hand, and glanced
+towards Jane with a slight bow.
+
+"My sister Jane, sir," said Francis. "Jane, this is Mr. Halliburton."
+
+Jane for once lost her self-possession. So surprised was she--in fact
+perplexed, for she did not know whether Francis was playing a trick upon
+her now, or whether he had previously played it; in short, whether this
+was, or was not, Mr. Halliburton--that she could only look from one to
+the other. "Are you Mr. Halliburton?" she said, in her straightforward
+simplicity.
+
+"I am Mr. Halliburton," he answered, bending to her politely. "Can I
+have the pleasure of seeing Mr. Tait?"
+
+"Will you take a seat?" said Jane. "Papa is out, but I do not think he
+will be very long."
+
+"Where did he go to--do you know, Jane?" cried Francis, who was
+smothering a laugh.
+
+"To Betty King's; and to Widow Booth's. He may have been going elsewhere
+also. I think he was."
+
+"At any rate, I'll just run there and see. Jane, you can tell Mr.
+Halliburton all about it whilst I am away. Explain to him exactly how he
+will be here, and how we live. And then you can decide for yourself,
+sir," concluded Francis.
+
+To splash through the wet streets to Betty King's or elsewhere was an
+expedition rather agreeable to Francis, in his eagerness; otherwise
+there was no particular necessity for his going.
+
+"I am sorry mamma is not up," said Jane. "She suffers from occasional
+sick-headaches, and they generally keep her in bed for the day. I will
+give you any information in my power."
+
+"Your brother Francis thought--that it might not be disagreeable to Mr.
+Tait to receive a stranger into his family," said Mr. Halliburton,
+speaking with some hesitation. But the young lady before him looked so
+lady-like, the house altogether seemed so well appointed, that he almost
+doubted whether the proposal would not offend her.
+
+"We wish to receive some one," said Jane. "The house is sufficiently
+large to do so, and papa would like it for the sake of society: as well
+as that it would help in our housekeeping," she added, in her candour.
+"A friend of papa's was with us--I cannot remember precisely how many
+years, but he came when I was a little girl. It was the Rev. Mr. Acton.
+He left us last October."
+
+"I feel sure that I should like it very much: and I should think myself
+fortunate if Mr. Tait would admit me," spoke the visitor.
+
+Jane remembered the suggestion of Francis, and deemed it her duty to
+speak a little to Mr. Halliburton of "how he would be there," as it had
+been expressed. She might have done so without the suggestion, for she
+could not be otherwise than straightforward and open.
+
+"We live very plainly," she observed. "A simple joint of meat one day;
+cold, with a pudding, the next."
+
+"I should consider myself fortunate to get the pudding," replied Mr.
+Halliburton, smiling. "I have been tossed about a good deal of late
+years, Miss Tait, and have not come in for too much comfort. Just now I
+am in very uncomfortable lodgings."
+
+"I dare say papa would like to have you," said Jane, frankly, with a
+sort of relief. She had thought he looked one who might be fastidious.
+
+"I have neither father nor mother, brother nor sister," he resumed. "In
+fact, I may say that I am without relatives; for almost the only one I
+have has discarded me. I often think how rich those people must be who
+possess close connections and a happy home," he added, turning his
+bright glance upon her.
+
+Jane dropped her work, which she had taken up. "I don't know what I
+should do without all my dear relatives," she exclaimed.
+
+"Are you a large family?"
+
+"We are six. Papa and mamma, and four children. I am the eldest, and
+Margaret is the youngest; Francis and Robert are between us. It is
+breaking-up night at Margaret's school, and she has gone to it with
+Robert," continued Jane, never doubting but the stranger must take as
+much interest in "breaking-up nights" as she did. "I was to have gone;
+but mamma has been unusually ill to-day."
+
+"Were you disappointed?"
+
+Jane bent her head while she confessed the fact, as though feeling it a
+confession to be ashamed of. "It would not have been kind to leave
+mamma," she added, "and I dare say some other pleasure will arise soon.
+Mamma is asleep now."
+
+"What a charming girl!" thought Mr. Halliburton to himself. "How I wish
+she was my sister!"
+
+"Margaret is to be a governess," observed Jane, "and is being educated
+for it. She has great talent for music, and also for drawing; it is not
+often the two are united. Her tastes lie quite that way--anything
+clever; and as papa has no money to give us, it was well to make her a
+governess."
+
+"And you?" said Mr. Halliburton. The question might have been thought an
+impertinent one by many, but he spoke it only in his deep interest, and
+Jane Tait was of too ingenuous a disposition not to answer it as openly.
+
+"I am not to be a governess. I am to stay at home with mamma and help
+her. There is plenty to do. Margaret cannot bear domestic duties, or
+sewing either. Dancing excepted, I have not learnt a single
+accomplishment--unless you call French an accomplishment."
+
+"I am sure you have been well educated!" involuntarily spoke Mr.
+Halliburton.
+
+"Yes; in all things solid," replied Jane. "Papa has taken care of that.
+He still directs my reading. I know a good bit--of--Latin"--she added,
+bringing out the concluding words with hesitation, as one who repents
+his sentence--"though I do not like to confess it to you."
+
+"Why do you not?"
+
+"Because I think girls who know Latin are laughed at. I did not
+regularly learn it, but I used to be in the room when papa or Mr. Acton
+was teaching Francis and Robert, and I picked it up unconsciously. Mr.
+Acton often took Francis; he had more time on his hands than papa.
+Francis is to be a clergyman."
+
+"Miss Jane," said a servant, entering the room, "Mrs. Tait is awake, and
+wishes to see you."
+
+Jane left Mr. Halliburton with a word of apology, and almost immediately
+after Mr. Tait came in. He was a little taken to when he saw the
+stranger. His imagination had run, if not upon an "old guy" in
+spectacles, certainly upon some steady, sober, middle-aged mathematical
+master. Would it be well to admit this young, good-looking man to his
+house.
+
+If Jane Tait had been candid in her revelations to Mr. Halliburton, that
+gentleman, in his turn, was not less candid to her father. He, Edgar
+Halliburton, was the only child of a country clergyman, the Rev. William
+Halliburton, who had died when Edgar was sixteen, leaving nothing behind
+him. Edgar--he had previously lost his mother--found a home with his
+late mother's brother, a gentleman named Cooper, who resided in
+Birmingham. Mr. Cooper was a man in extensive wholesale business, and
+wished Edgar to go into his counting-house. Edgar declined. His father
+had lived long enough to form his tastes: his greatest wish had been to
+see him enter the Church; and the wish had become Edgar's own. Mr.
+Cooper thought there was nothing in the world like business: and looked
+upon that most sacred of all callings, God's ministry, only in the light
+of a profession. He had carved out his own career, step by step,
+attaining wealth and importance, and wished his nephew to do the same.
+"Which is best, lad?" he coarsely asked: "To rule as a merchant prince,
+or starve and toil as a curate? I'm not quite a merchant prince yet, but
+you may be." "It was my father's wish," pleaded Edgar in answer, "and it
+is my own. I cannot give it up, sir." The dispute ran high--not in
+words, but in obstinacy. Edgar would not yield, and at length Mr. Cooper
+discarded him. He turned him out of doors: told him that, if he must
+become a parson, he might get some one else to pay his expenses at
+Oxford, for he never would. Edgar Halliburton proceeded to London, and
+obtained employment as an usher in a school, teaching classics and
+mathematics. From that he became a private teacher, and had so earned
+his living up to the present time: but he had never succeeded in getting
+to college. And Mr. Tait, before they had talked together five minutes,
+was charmed with his visitor, and invited him to take tea with him,
+which Jane came down to make.
+
+"Has your uncle never softened towards you?" Mr. Tait inquired.
+
+"Never. I have addressed several letters to him, but they have been
+returned to me."
+
+"He has no family, you say. You ought--in justice, you ought to inherit
+some of his wealth. Has he other relatives?"
+
+"He has one standing to him in the same relationship as I--my Cousin
+Julia. It is not likely that I shall ever inherit a shilling of it, sir.
+I do not expect it."
+
+"Right," said Mr. Tait, nodding his head approvingly. "There's no work
+so thriftless as that of waiting for legacies. Wearying, too. I was a
+poor curate, Mr. Halliburton, for twenty years--indeed, so far as being
+poor goes, I am not much else now--but let that pass. I had a relative
+who possessed money, and who had neither kith nor kin nearer to her than
+I was. For the best part of those twenty years I was giving covert
+hopes to that money; and when she died, and NOTHING was left to me, I
+found out how foolish and wasteful my hopes had been. I tell my children
+to trust to their own honest exertions, but never to trust to other
+people's money. Allow me to urge the same upon you."
+
+Mr. Halliburton's lips and eyes alike smiled, as he looked gratefully at
+the rector, a man so much older than himself. "I never think of it," he
+earnestly said. "It appears, for me, to be as thoroughly lost as though
+it did not exist. I should not have mentioned it, sir, but that I
+consider it right you should know all particulars respecting me; if, as
+I hope, you will admit me to your home."
+
+"I think we should get on very well together," frankly acknowledged Mr.
+Tait, forgetting the prudent ideas which had crossed his mind.
+
+"I am sure we should, sir," warmly replied Edgar Halliburton. And the
+bargain was made.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+THE SHADOW BECOMES SUBSTANCE.
+
+
+And yet it had perhaps been well that those prudent ideas had been
+allowed to obtain weight. Mr. Halliburton took up his abode with the
+Taits; and, the more they saw of him, the more they liked him. In which
+liking Jane must be included.
+
+It was a possible shadow of the future, the effects the step would bring
+forth, which had whispered determent to Mr. Tait: a very brief shadow,
+which had crossed his mind imperfectly, and flitted away again. Where
+two young and attractive beings are thrown into daily companionship, the
+result too frequently is that a mutual regard arises, stronger than any
+other regard can ever be in this world. This result arrived here.
+
+A twelvemonth passed over from the time of Mr. Halliburton's
+entrance--how swiftly for him and for Jane Tait they alone could tell.
+Not a word had been spoken to her by Mr. Halliburton that he might not
+have spoken to her mother or her sister Margaret; not a look on Jane's
+part had been given by which he could infer that he was more to her than
+the rest of the world. And yet both were inwardly conscious of the
+feelings of the other; and when the twelvemonth had gone by it had
+seemed to them but a span, for the love they bore each other.
+
+One evening in December Jane stood in the dining-room waiting to make
+tea just as she had so waited that former evening. For any outward
+signs, you might have thought that not a single hour had elapsed since
+their first introduction--that it was the same evening as of old. It was
+sloppy outside, it was bright within. The candles stood on the table
+unlighted, the fire blazed, the tea-tray was placed, and only Jane was
+there. Mrs. Tait was upstairs with one of her frequent sick-headaches,
+Margaret was with her, and the others had not come in.
+
+Jane stood in a reverie--her elbow resting on the mantel-piece, and the
+blaze from the fire flickering on her gentle face. She was fond of these
+few minutes of idleness on a winter's evening, between the twilight hour
+and lighting the candles.
+
+The clock in the kitchen struck five. It did not arouse her: she heard
+it in a mechanical sort of manner, without taking note of it. Scarcely
+had the sound of the last stroke died away when there was a knock at the
+front door.
+
+That aroused her--for she knew it. She knew the footsteps that came in
+when it was answered, and a rich damask arose to her cheeks, and the
+pulses of her heart went on a little quicker than they had been going
+before.
+
+She took her elbow from the mantel-piece, and sat down quietly on a
+chair. No need to look who entered. Some one, taller by far than any in
+that house, came up to the fire, and bent to warm his hands over the
+blaze.
+
+"It is a cold night, Jane. We shall have a severe frost."
+
+"Yes," she answered; "the water in the barrel is already freezing over."
+
+"How is your mamma now?"
+
+"Better, thank you. Margaret has gone up to help her to dress. She is
+coming down to tea."
+
+Mr. Halliburton remained silent a minute, and then turned to Jane, his
+face glowing with satisfaction. "I have had a piece of preferment
+offered me to-day."
+
+"Have you?" she eagerly said. "What is it?"
+
+"Dr. Percy proposes that, from January, I shall take the Greek classes
+as well as the mathematics, and he doubles my salary. Of course I shall
+have to give closer attendance, but I can readily do that. My time is
+not fully employed."
+
+"I am very glad," said Jane.
+
+"So am I," he answered. "Taking all my sources of income together, I
+shall now be earning two hundred and eighty-three pounds a year."
+
+Jane laughed. "Have you been reckoning it up?"
+
+"Ay; I had a motive in doing so."
+
+His tone was peculiar, and it caused her to look at him, but her eyelids
+drooped under his gaze. He drew nearer, and laid his hand gently on her
+shoulder, bending down before her to speak.
+
+"Jane, you have not mistaken me. I feel that you have read what has been
+in my heart, what have been my intentions, as surely as though I had
+spoken. It is not a great income, but it is sufficient, if you can
+think it so. May I speak to Mr. Tait?"
+
+What Jane would have contrived to answer she never knew, but at that
+moment her mother's step was heard approaching. All she did was to
+glance shyly up at Mr. Halliburton, and he bent his head lower and
+kissed her. Then he walked rapidly to the door and opened it for Mrs.
+Tait--a pale, refined, delicate-looking lady, wrapped in a shawl. These
+violent headaches, from which she so frequently suffered, did not affect
+her permanent health, but on the days she suffered she would be utterly
+prostrated. Mr. Halliburton gave her his arm, and led her to a seat by
+the fire, his voice low and tender, his manner sympathizing. "I am
+already better," she said to him, "and shall be much better after tea.
+Sometimes I am tempted to envy those who do not know what a
+sick-headache is."
+
+"They may know other maladies as painful, dear Mrs. Tait."
+
+"Ay, indeed. None of us can expect to be free from pain of one sort or
+another in this world."
+
+"Shall I make the tea, mamma?" asked Jane.
+
+"Yes, dear; I shall be glad of it, and your papa is sure to be in soon.
+There he is!" she added, as the latch-key was heard in the door. "The
+boys are late this evening."
+
+The rector came in, and, ere the evening was over, the news was broken
+to him by Mr. Halliburton. He wanted Jane.
+
+It was the imperfect, uncertain shadow of twelve months ago become
+substance. It had been a shadow of the future only, you understand--not
+a shadow of evil. To Mr. Halliburton, personally, the rector had no
+objection--he had learned to love, esteem, and respect him--but it is a
+serious thing to give away a child.
+
+"The income is very small to marry upon," he observed. "It is also
+uncertain."
+
+"Not uncertain, sir, so long as I am blessed with health and strength.
+And I have no reason to fear that these will fail."
+
+"I thought you were bent on taking Orders."
+
+Mr. Halliburton's cheek slightly flushed. "It is a prospect I have
+fondly cherished," he said; "but its difficulties alarm me. The cost of
+the University is great; and were I to wait until I had saved sufficient
+money to go to college, I should be obliged, in a great degree, to give
+up my present means of living. Who would employ a tutor who must
+frequently be away for weeks? I should lose my connection, and perhaps
+never regain it. A good teaching connection is more easily lost than
+won."
+
+"True," observed Mr. Tait.
+
+"Once in Orders, I might remain for years a poor curate. I should most
+likely do so. I have neither interest nor influence. Sir, in that case
+Jane and I might be obliged to wait for years: perhaps go down to our
+graves waiting."
+
+The Rev. Francis Tait threw back his thoughts. How _he_ had waited; how
+he was not able to marry until years were advancing upon him; how in
+four years now he should have attained threescore years and ten--the
+term allotted to the life of man--whilst his children were still growing
+up around him! No! never, never would he counsel another to wait as he
+had been obliged to wait.
+
+"I have not yet given up hope of eventually entering the Church,"
+continued Mr. Halliburton; "though it must be accomplished, if at all,
+slowly and patiently. I think I may be able to keep one term, or perhaps
+two terms yearly, without damage to my teaching. I shall try to do so;
+try to find the necessary means and time. My marriage will make no
+difference to that, sir."
+
+Many might have suggested to Edgar Halliburton that he might keep his
+terms first and marry afterwards. Mr. Tait did not: possibly the idea
+did not occur to him. If it occurred to Edgar Halliburton himself, he
+drove it from him. It would have delayed his marriage to an indefinite
+number of years; and he loved Jane too well to do that willingly. "I
+shall still get much better preferment in teaching than that which I now
+hold," he urged aloud to the rector. "It is not so very small to begin
+upon, sir, and Jane is willing to risk it."
+
+"I will not part you and Jane," said Mr. Tait, warmly. "If you have made
+up your minds to share life and its cares together, you shall do so.
+Still, I cannot say that I think your prospects golden."
+
+"Prospects that appear to have no gold at all in them sometimes turn out
+very brightly, sir."
+
+"I can give Jane nothing, you know."
+
+"I have never cast a thought to it, sir; have never imagined she would
+have a shilling," replied Mr. Halliburton, his face flushing with
+eagerness. "It is Jane herself I want; not money."
+
+"Beyond a twenty-pound note which I may give her to put into her purse
+on her wedding morning, that she may not leave my house absolutely
+penniless, she will have nothing," cried the rector, in his
+straightforward manner. "Far from saving, I and her mother have been
+hardly able to make both ends meet at the end of the year. I might have
+saved a few pounds yearly, had I chosen to do so; but you know what this
+parish is; and the reflection has always been upon me: how would my
+Master look upon my putting by small sums of money, when many of those
+over whom I am placed were literally starving for bread? I have given
+what I could; but I have not saved for my children."
+
+"You have done well, sir."
+
+Mr. Tait sought his daughter. "Jane," he began--"Nay, child, do not
+tremble so! There is no need for trembling, or for tears, either: you
+have done nothing to displease me. Jane, I like Edgar Halliburton; I
+like him much. There is no one to whom I would rather give you. But I do
+not like his prospects. Teaching is very precarious."
+
+Jane raised her timid eyes. "Precarious for _him_, papa? For one learned
+and clever as he!"
+
+"It is badly paid. See how he toils--and he will have to toil more when
+the new year comes in--and only to earn two or three hundred a year!--in
+round numbers."
+
+Tears gathered in Jane's eyes. Toil as he did, badly paid as he might
+be, she would rather have him than any other in the world, though that
+other might have revelled in thousands. The rector read somewhat of this
+in her downcast face.
+
+"My dear, the consideration lies with you. If you choose to venture upon
+it, you shall have my consent, and I know you will have your mother's,
+for she thinks Edgar Halliburton has not his equal in the world. But it
+may bring you many troubles."
+
+"Papa, I am not afraid. If troubles come, they--you--told us only last
+night----"
+
+"What, child?"
+
+"That troubles, regarded rightly, only lead us nearer to God," whispered
+Jane, simply and timidly.
+
+"Right, child. And trouble must come before that great truth can be
+realized. Consider the question well, Jane--whether it may not be better
+to wait--and give your answer to-morrow. I shall tell Mr. Halliburton
+not to ask for it to-night. As you decide, so shall it be."
+
+Need you be told what Jane's decision was? Two hundred and eighty-three
+pounds a year seems a large sum to an inexperienced girl; quite
+sufficient to purchase everything that might be wanted for a fireside.
+
+And so she became Jane Halliburton.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+THE REV. FRANCIS TAIT.
+
+
+A hot afternoon in July. Jane Halliburton was in the drawing-room with
+her mother, both sewing busily. It was a large room, with three windows,
+more pleasant than the dining-room beneath, and they were fond of
+sitting in it in summer. Jane had been married some three or four months
+now, but looked the same young, simple, placid girl that she ever did;
+and, but for the wedding-ring upon her finger, no stranger would have
+supposed her to be a wife.
+
+An excellent arrangement had been arrived at--that she and her husband
+should remain inmates of Mr. Tait's house; at any rate, for the
+present. When plans were being discussed, before making the necessary
+arrangements for the marriage, and Mr. Halliburton was spending all his
+superfluous minutes hunting for a suitable house near to the old home,
+and not too dear, Francis Tait had given utterance to a remark--"I
+wonder who we shall get here in Mr. Halliburton's place, if papa takes
+any one else?" and Margaret, looking up from her drawing, had added,
+"Why can't Mr. Halliburton and Jane stay on with us? It would be so much
+pleasanter."
+
+It was the first time the idea had been presented in any shape to the
+rector, and it seemed to go straight to his wishes. He put down a book
+he was reading, and spoke impulsively. "It would be the best thing; the
+very best thing! Would you like it, Halliburton?"
+
+"I should, sir; very much. But it is Jane who must be consulted, not
+me."
+
+Jane, her pretty cheeks covered with blushes, looked up and said she
+should like it also; she _had_ thought of it, but had not liked to
+mention it, either to her mother or to Mr. Halliburton. "I have been
+quite troubled to think what mamma and the house will do without me,"
+she added, ingenuously.
+
+"Let Jane alone for thinking and planning, when difficulties are in the
+way," laughed Margaret. "My opinion is that we shall never get another
+pudding, or papa have his black silk Sunday hose darned, if Jane goes
+from us."
+
+Mrs. Tait burst into tears. Like Margaret she was a bad manager, and had
+mourned over Jane's departure, secretly believing she should be half
+worried to death. "Oh! Jane, dear, say you'll remain!" she cried. "It
+will be such a relief to me! Margaret's of no earthly use, and
+everything will fall on my shoulders. Edgar, I hope you will remain with
+us! It will be pleasant for all. You know the house is sufficiently
+large."
+
+And remain they did. The wedding took place at Easter, and Mr.
+Halliburton took Jane all the way to Dover to see the sea--a long way in
+those days--and kept her there for a week. And then they came back
+again, Jane to her old home duties, just as though she were Jane Tait
+still, and Mr. Halliburton to his teaching.
+
+It was July now and hot weather; and Mrs. Tait and Jane were sewing in
+the drawing-room. They were working for Margaret. Mr. Halliburton,
+through some of his teaching connections, had obtained an excellent
+situation for Margaret in a first-rate school. Margaret was to enter as
+resident pupil, and receive every advantage towards the completion of
+her own education; in return for which she was to teach the younger
+pupils music, and pay ten pounds a year. Such an arrangement was almost
+unknown then, though it has been common enough since, and Mr. and Mrs.
+Tait thought of it very highly. Margaret Tait was only sixteen; but, as
+if in contrast to Jane, who looked younger than her actual years,
+Margaret looked older. In appearance, in manners, and also in
+advancement, Margaret might have been eighteen.
+
+She was to enter the school, which was near Harrow, in another week, at
+the termination of the holidays, and Mrs. Tait and Jane had their hands
+full, getting her things ready.
+
+"Was this slip measured, mamma?" Jane suddenly asked, after attentively
+regarding the work she had on her knee.
+
+"I think so," replied Mrs. Tait. "Why?"
+
+"It looks too short for Margaret. At least it will be too short when I
+have finished this fourth tuck. It must have been measured, though, for
+here are the pins in it. Perhaps Margaret measured it herself."
+
+"Then of course it must be measured again. There's no trusting to
+anything Margaret does in the shape of work. And yet, how clever she is
+at music and drawing--in fact at all her studies!" added Mrs. Tait. "It
+is well, Jane, that we are not all gifted alike."
+
+"I think it is," acquiesced Jane. "I will go up to Margaret's room for
+one of her slips, and measure this."
+
+"You need not do that," said Mrs. Tait. "There's an old slip of hers
+amongst the work on the sofa."
+
+Jane found the slip, and measured the one in her hand by it. "Yes,
+mamma! It is just the length without the tuck. Then I must take out what
+I have done of it. It is very little."
+
+"Come hither, Jane. Your eyes are younger than mine. Is not that your
+papa coming towards us from the far end of the square?"
+
+Jane approached the window nearest to her, not the one at which Mrs.
+Tait was sitting. "Oh, yes, that's papa. You might tell him by his
+dress, if by nothing else, mamma."
+
+"I could tell him by himself, if I could see," said Mrs. Tait, quaintly.
+"I don't know how it is, Jane, but my sight grows very imperfect for a
+distance."
+
+"Never mind that, mamma, so that you can continue to see well to work
+and read," said Jane cheerily. "How fast papa is walking!"
+
+Very fast for the Rev. Francis Tait, who was not in general a quick
+walker. He entered his house, and came up to the drawing-room. He had
+not been well for the last few days, and threw himself into a chair,
+wearily.
+
+"Jane, is there any of that beef-tea left, that was made for me
+yesterday?"
+
+"Yes, papa," she said, springing up that she might get it for him. "I
+will bring it to you immediately."
+
+"Stay, stay, child, not so fast," he interrupted. "It is not for myself.
+I can do without it. I have been pained by a sad sight," he added,
+looking at his wife. "There's that daughter of the Widow Booth's come
+home again. I called in upon them and there she was, lying on a
+mattress, dying from famine, as I verily believe. She returned last
+night in a dreadful state of exhaustion, the mother says, and has had
+nothing within her lips since but cold water. They tried her with solid
+food, but she could not swallow it. That beef-tea will just do for her.
+Have it warmed, Jane."
+
+"She is a sinful, ill-doing girl, Francis," remarked Mrs. Tait, "and
+does not really deserve compassion."
+
+"All the more reason, wife, that she should be rescued from death," said
+the rector, almost sternly. "The good may dare to die: the evil may not.
+Don't waste time, Jane. Put it into a bottle, warm, and I'll carry it
+round."
+
+"Is there nothing else we can send her, papa, that may do for her
+equally well?" asked Jane. "A little wine, perhaps? There is very little
+of the beef-tea left, and it ought to be kept for you."
+
+"Never mind; I wish to take it to her," said the rector. "A little wine
+afterwards may do her good."
+
+Jane hastened to the kitchen, disturbing a servant who was doing
+something over the fire. "Susan, papa wants the remainder of the
+beef-tea warmed. Will you make haste and do it, whilst I search for a
+bottle to put it into? It is to be taken round to Charity Booth."
+
+"What! is _she_ back again?" exclaimed the servant, slightingly, which
+betrayed that her estimation of Charity Booth was no higher than was
+that of her mistress. "It's just like the master," she continued,
+proceeding to do what was required of her. "It's not often that
+anything's made for himself; but if it is, he never gets the benefit of
+it; he's sure to drop across somebody that he fancies wants it worse
+than he does. It's not right, Miss Jane."
+
+
+Jane was searching a cupboard, and brought forth a clean green bottle,
+which held about half-a-pint. "This will be quite large enough, I
+think."
+
+"I should think it would!" grumbled Susan, who could not be brought to
+look upon the giving away of her master's own peculiar property as
+anything but a personal grievance. "There's barely a gill of it left,
+and he ought to have had it himself, Miss Jane."
+
+"Susan," she said, turning her bright face laughingly towards the woman,
+"it is a good thing that you went to church and saw me married, or I
+might think you meant to reflect upon me. How can I be 'Miss Jane,'
+with this ring on?"
+
+"It's of no good my trying to remember it, ma'am. All the parish knows
+you are Mrs. Halliburton, fast enough; but it don't come ready to me."
+
+Jane laughed pleasantly. "Where is Mary?" she asked.
+
+"In the back room, going on with some of Miss Margaret's things. It's
+cooler, sitting there, than in this hot kitchen."
+
+Jane carried the little bottle of beef-tea to her father, and gave it
+into his hand. He looked very pale, and rose from his chair slowly.
+
+"Oh, papa, you do not seem well!" she involuntarily exclaimed. "Let me
+run and beat you up an egg. I will not be a minute."
+
+"I can't wait, child. And I question if I could eat it, were it ready
+before me. I do not feel well, as you say."
+
+"You ought to have taken this beef-tea yourself, papa. It was made for
+_you_."
+
+Jane could not help laying a stress upon the word. Mr. Tait placed his
+hand gently upon her smoothly parted hair. "Jane, child, had I thought
+of myself before others throughout life, how should I have been
+following my Master's precepts?"
+
+She ran down the stairs before him, opening the front door for him to
+pass through, that even that little exertion should be spared him. A
+loving, dutiful daughter was Jane; and it is probable that the thought
+of her worth especially crossed the mind of the rector at that moment.
+"God bless you, my child!" he aspirated, as he passed her.
+
+Jane watched him across the square. Their house, though not actually in
+the square, commanded a view of it. Then she returned upstairs to her
+mother. "Papa thinks he will not lose time," she observed. "He is
+walking fast."
+
+"I should call it running," responded Mrs. Tait, who had seen the speed
+from the window. "But, my dear, he'll do no good with that badly
+conducted Charity Booth."
+
+About an hour passed away, and it was drawing towards dinner-time. Jane
+and Mrs. Tait were busy as ever, when Mr. Halliburton's well-known knock
+was heard.
+
+"Edgar is home early this morning!" Jane exclaimed.
+
+He came springing up the stairs, two at a time, in great haste, opened
+the drawing-room door, and just put in his head. Mrs. Tait, sitting with
+her back to the door and her face to the window, did not turn round, and
+consequently did not see him. Jane did; and was startled. Every vestige
+of colour had forsaken his face.
+
+"Oh, Edgar! You are ill!"
+
+"Ill! Not I," affecting to speak gaily. "I want you for a minute, Jane."
+
+Mrs. Tait had looked round at Jane's exclamation, but Mr. Halliburton's
+face was then withdrawn. He was standing outside the door when Jane
+went out. He did not speak; but took her hand in silence and drew her
+into the back room, which was their own bedroom, and closed the door.
+Jane's face had grown as white as his.
+
+"My darling, I did not mean to alarm you," he said, holding her to him.
+"I thought you had a brave heart, Jane. I thought that if I had a little
+unpleasant news to impart it would be best to tell _you_, that you may
+help me break it to the rest."
+
+Jane's heart was not feeling very brave. "What is it?" she asked,
+scarcely able to speak the words from her ghastly lips.
+
+"Jane," he said, tenderly and gravely, "before I say any more, you must
+strive for calmness."
+
+"It is not about yourself! You are not ill?"
+
+The question seemed superfluous. Mr. Halliburton was evidently not ill;
+but he was agitated. Jane was frightened and perplexed: not a glimpse of
+the real truth crossed her. "Tell me what it is at once, Edgar," she
+said, in a calmer tone. "I can bear certainty better than suspense."
+
+"Why, yes, I think you are becoming brave already," he answered, looking
+straight into her eyes and smiling--which was intended to reassure her.
+"I must have my wife show herself a woman to-day; not a child. See what
+a bungler I am! I thought to tell you all quietly and smoothly, without
+alarming you; and see what I have done!--startled you to terror."
+
+Jane smiled faintly. She knew all this was only the precursor of tidings
+that must be very ill and grievous. By a great effort she schooled
+herself to calmness. Mr. Halliburton continued:
+
+"One, whom you and I love very much, has--has--met with an accident,
+Jane."
+
+Her fears went straight to the right quarter at once. With that one
+exception by her side, there was no one she loved as she loved her
+father.
+
+"Papa?"
+
+"Yes. We must break it to Mrs. Tait."
+
+Her heart beat wildly against his hand, and the livid hue was once more
+overspreading her face. But she strove urgently for calmness: he
+whispered to her of its necessity for her own sake.
+
+"Edgar! is it death?"
+
+It was death; but he would not tell her so yet. He plunged into the
+attendant details.
+
+"He was hastening along with a small bottle in his hand, Jane. It
+contained something good for one of the sick poor, I am sure, for he was
+in their neighbourhood. Suddenly he was observed to fall; and the
+spectators raised him and took him to a doctor's. That doctor,
+unfortunately, was not at home, and they took him to another, so that
+time was lost. He was quite unconscious."
+
+"But you do not tell me!" she wailed. "Is he dead?"
+
+Mr. Halliburton asked himself a question--What good would be done by
+delaying the truth? He thought he had performed his task very badly.
+"Jane, Jane!" he whispered, "I can only hope to help you to bear it
+better than I have broken it to you."
+
+She could not shed tears in that first awful moment: physically and
+mentally she leaned on him for support. "_How_ can we tell my mother?"
+
+It was necessary that Mrs. Tait should be told, and without delay. Even
+then the body was being conveyed to the house. By a curious coincidence,
+Mr. Halliburton had been passing the last doctor's surgery at the very
+moment the crowd was round its doors. Unusual business had called him
+there; or it was a street he did not enter once in a year. "The parson
+has fallen down in a fit," said some of them, recognizing and arresting
+him.
+
+"The parson!" he repeated. "What! Mr. Tait?"
+
+"Sure enough," said they. And Mr. Halliburton pressed into the surgeon's
+house just as the examination was over.
+
+"The heart, no doubt, sir," said the doctor to him.
+
+"He surely is not dead?"
+
+"Quite dead. He must have died instantaneously."
+
+The news had been wafted to the mob outside, and they were already
+taking a shutter from its hinges. "I will go on first and prepare the
+family," said Mr. Halliburton to them. "Give me a quarter of an hour's
+start, and then come on."
+
+So that he had only a quarter of an hour for it all. His thoughts
+naturally turned to his wife: not simply to spare her alarm and pain, so
+far as he might, but he believed her, young as she was, to possess more
+calmness and self-control than Mrs. Tait. As he sped to the house he
+rehearsed his task; and might have accomplished it better but for his
+tell-tale face. "Jane," he whispered, "let this be your consolation
+ever: he was ready to go."
+
+"Oh yes!" she answered, bursting into a storm of most distressing tears.
+"If any one here was ever fit for heaven, it was my dear father."
+
+"Hark!" exclaimed Mr. Halliburton.
+
+Some noise had arisen downstairs--a sound of voices speaking in
+undertones. There could be no doubt that people had come to the house
+with the news, and were imparting it to the two trembling servants.
+
+"There's not a moment to be lost, Jane."
+
+How Jane dried her eyes and suppressed all temporary sign of grief and
+emotion, she could not tell. A sense of duty was strong within her, and
+she knew that the most imperative duty of the present moment was the
+support and solace of her mother. She and her husband entered the
+drawing-room together, and Mrs. Tait turned with a smile to Mr.
+Halliburton.
+
+"What secrets have you and Jane been talking together?" Then, catching
+sight of Jane's white and quivering lips, she broke into a cry of agony.
+"Jane! what has happened? What have you both come to tell me?"
+
+The tears poured from Jane's fair young face as she clasped her mother
+fondly to her, tenderly whispering: "Dearest mamma, you must lean upon
+us now! We will all love you and take care of you as we have never yet
+done."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+NEW PLANS.
+
+
+The post-mortem examination established beyond doubt the fact that the
+Rev. Francis Tait's death was caused by heart disease. In the earlier
+period of his life it had been suspected that he was subject to it, but
+of late years unfavourable symptoms had not shown themselves.
+
+With him died of course almost all his means; and his family, if not
+left utterly destitute, had little to boast in the way of wealth. Mrs.
+Tait enjoyed, and had for some time enjoyed, an annuity of fifty pounds
+a year; but it would cease at her death, whenever that event should take
+place. What was she to do with her children? Many a bereaved widow, far
+worse off than Mrs. Tait, has to ask the same perplexing question every
+day. Mrs. Tait's children were partially off her hands. Jane had her
+husband; Francis was earning his own living as an under-master in a
+school; with Margaret ten pounds a year must be paid; and there was
+still Robert.
+
+The death had occurred in July. By October they must be away from the
+house. "You will be at no loss for a home, Mrs. Tait," Mr. Halliburton
+took an opportunity of kindly saying to her. "You must allow me and Jane
+to welcome you to ours."
+
+"Yes, Edgar," was Mrs. Tait's unhesitating reply; "it will be the best
+plan. The furniture in this house will do for yours, and you shall have
+it, and you must take me and my small means into it--an incumbrance to
+you. I have pondered it all over, and I do not see anything else that
+can be done."
+
+"I have no right whatever to your furniture," he replied, "and Jane has
+no more right to it than have your other children. The furniture shall
+be put into my house if you please; but you must either allow me to pay
+you for it, or it shall remain your own, to be removed again at any time
+you may please."
+
+A house was looked for and taken. The furniture was valued, and Mr.
+Halliburton bought it--a fourth part of the sum Mrs. Tait positively
+refusing to take, for she declared that so much belonged to Jane. Then
+they quitted the old house of many years, and moved into the new one:
+Mr. and Mrs. Halliburton, Mrs. Tait, Robert, and the two servants.
+
+"Will it be prudent for you, my dear, to retain both the servants?" Mrs.
+Tait asked of her daughter.
+
+Jane blushed vividly. "We could do with one at present, mamma; but the
+time will be coming that I shall require two. And Susan and Mary are
+both so good that I do not care to part with them. You are used to them,
+too."
+
+"Ah, child! I know that in all your plans and schemes you and Edgar
+think first of my comfort. Do you know what I was thinking of last night
+as I lay in bed?"
+
+"What, mamma?"
+
+"When Mr. Halliburton first spoke of wanting you, I and your poor papa
+felt inclined to hesitate, thinking you might have made a better match.
+But, my dear, I was wondering last night what we should have done in
+this crisis but for him."
+
+"Yes," said Jane, gently. "Things that appear untoward at the time
+frequently turn out afterwards to have been the very best that could
+have happened. God directs all things, you know, mamma."
+
+A contention arose respecting Robert, some weeks after they had been in
+their new house--or it may be better to call it a discussion. Robert had
+never taken very kindly to what he called book-learning. Mr. Tait's wish
+had been that both his sons should enter the Church. Robert had never
+openly opposed this wish, and for the calling itself he had a liking;
+but particularly disliked the study and application necessary to fit him
+for it. Silent while his father lived, he was so no longer; but took
+every opportunity of urging the point upon his mother. He was still
+attending Dr. Percy's school daily.
+
+"You know, mother," dropping down one day in a chair, close to his
+mother and Jane, and catching up one leg to nurse--rather a favourite
+action of his--"I shall never earn salt at it."
+
+"Salt at what, Robert?" asked Mrs. Tait.
+
+"Why, at these rubbishing classics. _I_ shall never make a tutor, as Mr.
+Halliburton and Francis do; and what on earth's to become of me? As to
+any chance of my being a parson, of course that's over: where's the
+money to come from?"
+
+"What _is_ to become of you, then?" cried Mrs. Tait. "I'm sure I don't
+know."
+
+"Besides," went on Robert, lowering his voice, and calling up the most
+effectual argument he could think of, "I ought to be doing something
+for myself. I am living here upon Mr. Halliburton."
+
+"He is delighted to have you, Robert," interrupted Jane, quickly. "Mamma
+pays----"
+
+"Be quiet, Mrs. Jane! What sort of a wife do you call yourself, pray, to
+go against your husband's interests in that manner? I heard you
+preaching up to the charity children the other day about its being
+sinful to waste time."
+
+"Well?" said Jane.
+
+"Well! what's waste of time for other people is not waste of time for
+me, I suppose?" went on Robert.
+
+"You are not wasting your time, Robert."
+
+"I am. And if you had the sense people give you credit for, Madam Jane,
+you'd see it. I shall never, I say, earn my salt at teaching; and--just
+tell me yourself whether there seems any chance now that I shall enter
+the Church."
+
+"At present I do not see that there is," confessed Jane.
+
+"There! Then is it waste of time, or not, my continuing to study for a
+career which I can never enter upon?"
+
+"But what else can you do, Robert?" interposed Mrs. Tait. "You cannot
+idle your time away at home, or be running about the streets all day."
+
+"No," said Robert, "better stop at school for ever than do that. I want
+to see the world, mother."
+
+"You--want--to--see--the--world!" echoed Mrs. Tait, bringing out the
+words slowly in her astonishment, whilst Jane looked up from her work,
+and fixed her eyes upon her brother.
+
+"It's only natural that I should," said Robert, with equanimity. "I have
+an invitation to go down into Yorkshire."
+
+"What to do?" cried Mrs. Tait.
+
+"Oh, lots of things. They keep hunters, and----"
+
+"Why, you were never on horseback in your life, Robert," laughed Jane.
+"You would come back with your neck broken."
+
+"I do wish you'd be quiet, Jane!" returned Robert, reddening. "I am
+talking to mamma, not to you. Winchcombe has invited me to spend the
+Christmas holidays with him down at his father's place in Yorkshire.
+And, mother, I want to go; and I want you to promise that I shall not
+return to school when the holidays are over. I will do anything else
+that you choose to put me to. I'll learn to be a man of business, or
+I'll go into an office, or I'd be apprenticed to a doctor--anything you
+like, rather than stop at these everlasting school-books. I am _sick_ of
+them."
+
+"Robert, you take my breath away!" uttered Mrs. Tait. "I have no
+interest anywhere. I could not get you into any of these places."
+
+"I dare say Mr. Halliburton could. He knows lots of people. Jane, you
+talk to him: he'll do anything for you."
+
+There ensued, I say, much discussion about
+
+Robert. But it is not with Robert Tait that our story has to do; and
+only a few words need be given to him here and there. It appeared to
+them all that it would be inexpedient for him to continue at school;
+both with regard to his own wishes and to his prospects. He was allowed
+to pay the visit with his schoolfellow, and (as he came back with neck
+unbroken) Mr. Halliburton succeeded in placing him in a large wholesale
+warehouse. Robert appeared to like it very much at first, and always
+came home to spend Sunday with them.
+
+"He may rise in time to be one of the first mercantile men in London,"
+observed Mr. Halliburton to his wife; "one of our merchant-princes, as
+my uncle used to say by me, if only----"
+
+
+"If what? Why do you hesitate?" she asked.
+
+"If he will only persevere, I was going to say. But, Jane, I fear
+perseverance is a quality that Robert does not possess."
+
+Of course all that had to be proved. It lay in the future.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+MARGARET.
+
+
+From two to three years passed away, and the Midsummer holidays were
+approaching. Margaret was expected as usual for them, and Jane,
+delighted to receive her, went about her glad preparations. Margaret
+would not return to the school, in which she had been a paid teacher for
+the last year; but was to enter a family as governess. For one
+efficient, well-educated, accomplished governess to be met with in those
+days, scores may be counted now--or who profess to be so; and Margaret
+Tait, though barely nineteen, anticipated a salary of seventy or eighty
+guineas a year.
+
+A warm, bright day in June, that on which Mr. Halliburton went to
+receive Margaret. The coach brought her to its resting-place, the "Bull
+and Mouth," in St. Martin's-le-Grand, and Mr. Halliburton reached the
+inn as St. Paul's clock was striking midday. One minute more, and the
+coach drove in.
+
+There she was, inside; a tall, fine girl, with a handsome face: a face
+full of resolution and energy. Margaret Tait had her good qualities, and
+she had also her faults: a great one, speaking of the latter, was
+self-will. She opened the door herself and leaped out before any one
+could help her, all joy and delight.
+
+"And what about your boxes, Margaret?" questioned Mr. Halliburton, after
+a few words of greeting. "Have they come this time or not?"
+
+Margaret laughed. "Yes, they really have. I have not lost them on the
+road, as I did at Christmas. You will never forget to tell me of that, I
+am sure! But it was more the guard's fault than mine."
+
+A few minutes, and Mr. Halliburton, Margaret, and the boxes were
+lumbering along in one of the old glass coaches.
+
+"And now tell me about every one," said Margaret. "How is dear mamma?"
+
+"She is quite well. We are all well. Jane's famous."
+
+"And my precious little Willy?"
+
+"Oh," said Mr. Halliburton, quaintly, "he is a great deal too
+troublesome for anything to be the matter with him. I tell Jane she will
+have to begin the whipping system soon."
+
+"And much Jane will attend to you! Is it a pretty baby?"
+
+Mr. Halliburton raised his eyebrows. "Jane thinks so. I wonder she has
+not had its likeness taken."
+
+"Is it christened?" continued Margaret.
+
+"It is baptized. Jane would not have the christening until you were at
+home."
+
+"And its name?"
+
+"Jane."
+
+"What a shame! Jane promised me it should be Margaret. Why did she
+decide upon her own name?"
+
+"I decided upon it," said Mr. Halliburton. "Yours can wait until the
+next, Margaret."
+
+Margaret laughed. "And how are you getting on?"
+
+"Very well. I have every hour of the day occupied."
+
+"I don't think you are looking well," rejoined Margaret. "You look thin
+and fagged."
+
+"I am always thin, and mine is a fagging profession. Sometimes I feel
+terribly weary. But I am pretty well upon the whole, Margaret."
+
+"Will Francis be at home these holidays?"
+
+"No. He passes them at a gentleman's house in Norfolk--tutor to his
+sons. Francis is thoroughly industrious and persevering."
+
+"A contrast to poor Robert, I suppose?"
+
+"Well--yes; in that sense."
+
+"There has been some trouble about Robert, has there not?" asked
+Margaret, her tone becoming grave. "Did he not get discharged?"
+
+"He received notice of discharge. But I saw the principals and begged
+him on again. I would not talk about it to him if I were you, Margaret.
+He is sensitive upon the point. Robert's intentions are good, but his
+disposition is fickle. He has grown tired of his work and idles his time
+away; no house of business will put up with that."
+
+The coach arrived at Mr. Halliburton's. Margaret rushed out of it,
+giving no one time to assist her, as she had done out of the other coach
+at the "Bull and Mouth." There was a great deal of impetuosity in
+Margaret Tait's character. She was quite a contrast to Jane--as she had
+just remarked there was a contrast between Francis and Robert upon
+other points--to sensible, lady-like, self-possessed Jane, who came
+forward so calmly to greet her, a glad depth of affection in her quiet
+eyes.
+
+A boisterous embrace to her mother, a boisterous embrace to Jane, all in
+haste, and then Margaret caught up a little gentleman of some two years
+old, or more, who was standing holding on to Jane's dress, his great
+grey eyes, honest, loving, intelligent as were his mother's, cast up in
+a broad stare at Margaret.
+
+"You naughty Willy! Have you forgotten Aunt Margaret? Oh, you darling
+child! Who's this?"
+
+She carried the boy up to the end of the room, where stood their old
+servant Mary, nursing an infant of two months old. The baby had great
+grey eyes also, and they likewise were bent on noisy Margaret. "Oh,
+Willy, she is prettier than you! I won't nurse you any more. Mary, I'll
+shake hands with you presently. I must take that enchanting baby first."
+
+Dropping discarded Willy upon the ground, snatching the baby from Mary's
+arms, Margaret kissed its pretty face until she made it cry. Jane came
+to the rescue.
+
+"You don't understand babies, Margaret. Let Mary take her again. Come
+upstairs to your room, and make yourself ready for dinner. I think you
+must be hungry."
+
+"So hungry that I shall frighten you. Of course, with the thought of
+coming home, I could not touch breakfast. I hope you have something
+especially nice!"
+
+"Your favourite dinner," said Jane, smiling. "Loin of veal and
+broccoli."
+
+"How thoughtful you are, Jane!" Margaret could not help exclaiming.
+
+"Margaret, my dear," called out her mother, as she was leaving the room
+with Jane.
+
+Margaret looked back. "What, mamma?"
+
+"I hope you will not continue to go on with these children as you have
+begun; otherwise we shall have a quiet house turned into a noisy one."
+
+"Is it a quiet house?" said Margaret, laughing.
+
+"As if any house would not be quiet, regulated by Jane!" replied Mrs.
+Tait. And Margaret, laughing still, followed her sister.
+
+It is curious to remark how differently things sometimes turn out from
+what we intended. Had any one asked Mrs. Tait, the day that Margaret
+came home, what Margaret's future career was to be, she had wondered at
+the question. "A governess, certainly," would have been her answer; and
+she would have thought that no power, humanly speaking, could prevent
+it. And yet, Margaret Tait, as it proved, never did become a governess.
+
+The holidays were drawing to an end, and a very desirable situation, as
+was believed, had been found for Margaret by Mr. Halliburton, the
+negotiations for which were nearly completed. Mr. Halliburton gave
+private lessons in sundry well-connected families, and thus enabled to
+hear where ladies were required as governesses, he had recommended
+Margaret. The recommendation was favourably received, and a day was
+appointed for Margaret to make a personal visit at the town house of the
+people in question, when she would most probably be engaged.
+
+On the previous evening at twilight Mr. Halliburton came home from one
+of his numerous engagements. Jane was alone. Mrs. Tait, not very well,
+had retired to rest early, and Margaret was out with Robert. In this, a
+leisure season of the year, Robert had most of his evenings to himself,
+after eight o'clock. He generally came home, and he and Margaret would
+go out together. Mr. Halliburton sat down at one of the windows in
+silence.
+
+Jane went up to him, laying her hand affectionately on his shoulder.
+"You are very tired, Edgar?"
+
+He did not reply: only drew her hand between his, and kept it there.
+
+"You shall have supper at once," said Jane, glancing at the tray which
+stood ready on the table. "I am sure you must want it. And it is not
+right to indulge Margaret every night by waiting for her."
+
+"Scarcely, when she does not come in until ten or half-past," said Mr.
+Halliburton. "Jane," he added confidentially, "do you think it well that
+Margaret should be out so frequently in an evening?"
+
+"She is with Robert."
+
+"She may not always be with Robert alone."
+
+Jane felt her face flush. She knew her husband; knew that he was not one
+to speak unless he had some reason for doing so. "Edgar! why do you say
+this? Do you know anything? Have you seen Margaret?"
+
+"I saw her a quarter of an hour ago----"
+
+"With Robert?" interrupted Jane, more impulsively than she was in the
+habit of speaking.
+
+"Robert was by her side. But she was walking arm in arm with Mr.
+Murray."
+
+Jane did not much like the information. This Mr. Murray was in the same
+house as Robert, holding a better position. Robert had occasionally
+brought him home, and he had taken tea with them. Mrs. Halliburton felt
+surprised at Margaret: it appeared, to her well-regulated mind, very
+like a clandestine proceeding. What would she have said, or thought, had
+she known that Margaret and Mr. Murray were in the habit of thus walking
+together constantly? Robert's being with them afforded no sufficient
+excuse.
+
+Later they saw Margaret coming home with Robert alone. He left her at
+the door as usual, and then hastened away to his own home. Jane said
+nothing then, but she went to Margaret's room that evening.
+
+"Oh, Edgar has been bringing home tales, has he?" was Margaret's answer,
+when the ice was broken; and her defiant tone brought Jane hardly knew
+what of dismay to her ear. "I saw him staring at us."
+
+"Margaret!" gasped Jane, "what can have come to you? You are completely
+changed; you--you seem to speak no longer as a lady."
+
+"Then why do you provoke me, Jane? Is it high treason to take a
+gentleman's arm, my brother being with me?"
+
+"It is not right to do it in secret, Margaret. If you go out ostensibly
+to walk with Robert----"
+
+"Jane, I will not listen," Margaret said, with flashing eyes. "Because
+you are Mrs. Halliburton, you assume a right to lecture me. I have
+committed no grievous wrong. When I do commit it, you may take your turn
+then."
+
+"Oh, Margaret! why will you misjudge me?" asked Jane, her voice full of
+pain. "I speak to you in love, not in anger; I would not speak at all
+but for your good. If the Chevasneys were to hear of this, they might
+think you an unsuitable mistress for their children."
+
+"Compose yourself," said Margaret, scoffingly. Never had she shown such
+a temper, so undesirable a disposition, as on this night; and Jane might
+well look at her in amazement, and hint that she was "changed." "I shall
+be found sufficiently suitable by the Chevasney family--when I consent
+to enter it."
+
+Her tone was strangely significant, and Jane Halliburton's heart beat.
+"What do you imply, Margaret?" she inquired. "You appear to have some
+peculiar meaning."
+
+Margaret, who had been standing before the glass all this time twisting
+her hair round her fingers, turned and looked her sister full in the
+face. "Jane, I'll tell you, if you will undertake to make things
+straight for me with mamma. I am not going to the Chevasneys--or
+anywhere else--as governess."
+
+"Yes,"--said Jane faintly, for she had a presentiment of what was
+coming.
+
+"I am going to be married instead."
+
+"Oh, Margaret!"
+
+"There is nothing to groan about," retorted Margaret. "Mr. Murray is
+coming to speak to mamma to-morrow, and if any of you have anything to
+say against him, you can say it to his face. He is a very respectable
+man, and has a good income; where's the objection to him?"
+
+Jane could not say. Personally, she did not very much like Mr. Murray;
+and certain fond visions had pictured a higher destiny for handsome,
+accomplished Margaret. "I hope and trust you will be happy, if you do
+marry him, Margaret!" was all she said.
+
+"I hope I shall. I must take my chance of that, as others do. Jane, I
+beg your pardon for my crossness, but you put me out of temper."
+
+As others do. Ay! it was all a lottery. And Margaret Tait entered upon
+her hastily-chosen married life, knowing that it was so.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+IN SAVILE-ROW.
+
+
+Several years went on; and years rarely go on without bringing changes
+with them. Jane had now four children. William, the eldest, was close
+upon thirteen; Edgar, the youngest, going on for nine; Jane and Frank
+were between them. Mrs. Tait was dead: and Francis Tait was the Reverend
+Francis Tait. By dint of hard work and perseverance, he had succeeded in
+qualifying for Orders, and was half starving upon a London curacy, as
+his father had done for so many years before him. In saying "half
+starving," I don't mean that he had not bread and cheese to eat; but
+when a clergyman's stipend is under a hundred a year, the expression
+"half starving" is justifiable. He hungers after many things that he is
+unable to obtain, and he cannot maintain his position as a gentleman.
+Francis Tait hungered. Over one want, especially, he hungered with an
+intensely ravenous hunger; and that was, the gratification of his taste
+for literature. The books he coveted to read were expensive;
+impossibilities to him; he could not purchase them, and libraries were
+then scarce. Had Francis Tait not been gifted with very great
+conscientiousness, he would have joined teaching with his ministry. But
+the wants of his parish required all his time; and he had inherited that
+large share of the monitor, conscience, from his father. "I suppose I
+shall have a living some time," he would think to himself: "when I am
+growing an old man, probably, as he was when he gained his."
+
+So the Reverend Francis Tait plodded on at his curacy, and was content
+to await that remote day when fortune should drop from the skies.
+
+Where was Margaret? Margaret had bidden adieu to old England for ever.
+Her husband, who had not been promoted in his house of business as
+rapidly as he thought he ought to have been, had thrown up his
+situation, home and home ties, and gone out to the woods of Canada to
+become a settler. Did Margaret repent her hasty marriage then? Did she
+find that her finished education, her peculiar tastes and habits, so
+unfitted for domestic life, were all lost in those wild woods? Music,
+drawing, languages, literature, of what use were _they_ to her now? She
+might educate her own children, indeed, as they grew up: the only chance
+of education it appeared likely they would have. That Margaret found
+herself in a peculiarly uncongenial atmosphere, there could be no doubt;
+but, like a brave woman as she proved herself, not a hint of it, in
+writing home, ever escaped her, not a shadow of complaint could be
+gathered there. It was not often that she wrote, and her letters grew
+more rare as the years went on. Robert had accompanied them, and he
+boasted that he liked the life much; a thousand times better than that
+of the musty old warehouse.
+
+Mr. Halliburton's teaching was excellent--his income good. He was now
+one of the professors at King's College; but had not yet succeeded in
+carrying out his dream--that of getting to Oxford or Cambridge. Edgar
+Halliburton had begun at the wrong end of the ladder: he should have
+gone to college first and married afterwards. He married first: and to
+college he never went. A man of moderate means, with a home to keep, a
+wife, children, servants, to provide for, has enough to do with his
+money and time, without spending them at college. He had quite given up
+the idea now; and perhaps had grown not to regret it very keenly: his
+home was one of refinement, comfort, and thorough happiness.
+
+But about this period, or indeed some time prior to it, Mr. Halliburton
+had reason to believe that he was overtaxing his strength. For a long,
+long while, almost ever since he had been in London, he was aware that
+he had not felt thoroughly well. Hot weather affected him and rendered
+him languid; the chills of winter gave him a cough; the keen winds of
+spring attacked his chest. He would throw off his ailments bravely and
+go on again, not heeding them or thinking that they might ever become
+serious. Perhaps he never gave a thought to that until one evening when,
+upon coming in after a hard day's toil, he sat down in his chair and
+quietly fainted away.
+
+
+Jane and one of the servants were standing over him when he
+recovered--Jane's face very pale and anxious.
+
+"Do not be alarmed," he said, smiling at her. "I suppose I dropped
+asleep; or lost consciousness in some way."
+
+"You fainted, Edgar."
+
+"Fainted, did I? How silly I must have been! The room's warm, Jane: it
+must have overpowered me."
+
+Jane was not deceived. She saw that he was making light of it to quiet
+her alarm, and brought him a glass of wine. He drank it, but could not
+eat anything: frequently could not eat now.
+
+"Edgar," she said, "you are doing too much. I have seen it for a long
+time past."
+
+"Seen what, Jane?"
+
+"That your strength is not equal to your work. You must give up a
+portion of your teaching."
+
+"My dear, how can I do so? Does it not take all I earn to meet expenses?
+When accounts are settled at the end of the year, have we a shilling to
+spare?"
+
+It was so, and Jane knew it; but her husband's health was above every
+consideration in the world. "We must reduce our expenses," she said. "We
+must cease to live as we are living now. We will move into a smaller
+house, and keep one servant, and I will turn maid-of-all-work."
+
+She laughed quite merrily; but Mr. Halliburton detected a serious
+meaning in her tone. He shook his head.
+
+"No, Jane; that time, I hope, will never come."
+
+He lay awake all that night buried in reflection. Do you know what this
+night-reflection is, when it comes to us in all its racking intensity?
+Surging over his brain, like the wild waves that chase each other on the
+ocean, came the thought, "What will become of my wife and children if I
+die?" Thought after thought, they all resolved themselves into that one
+focus:--"I have made no provision for my wife and children: what will
+become of them if I am taken?"
+
+Mr. Halliburton had one good habit--it was possible that he had learnt
+it from his wife, for it was hers in no ordinary degree--the habit of
+_looking steadfastly into the face of trouble_. Not to groan and grumble
+at it--to sigh and lament that no one else's trouble ever was so great
+before--but to see how it might best be met and contended with; how the
+best could be made of it.
+
+The only feasible way he could see, was that of insuring his life. He
+possessed neither lands nor money. Did he attempt to put by a portion of
+his income, it would take years and years to accumulate into a sum worth
+mentioning. Why, how long would it take him to economise only a thousand
+pounds? No. There was only one way--that of life insurance. It was an
+idea that would have occurred to most of us. He did not know how much it
+would take from his yearly income to effect it. A great deal, he was
+afraid; for he was approaching what is called middle life.
+
+He had no secrets from his wife. He consulted her upon every point; she
+was his best friend, his confidante, his gentle counsellor, and he had
+no intention of concealing the step he was about to take. Why should he?
+
+"Jane," he began, when they were at breakfast the next morning, "do you
+know what I have been thinking of all night?"
+
+"Trouble, I am sure," she answered. "You have been very restless."
+
+"Not exactly trouble"--for he did not choose to acknowledge, even to
+himself, that a strange sense of trouble did seem to rest on his heart
+and to weigh it down. "I have been thinking more of precaution than
+trouble."
+
+"Precaution?" echoed Jane, looking at him.
+
+"Ay, love. And the astonishing part of the business, to myself, is that
+I never thought of the necessity for this precaution before."
+
+Jane divined now what he meant. Often and often had the idea occurred to
+her--"Should my husband's health or life fail, we are destitute." Not
+for herself did she so much care, but for her children.
+
+"That sudden attack last night has brought me reflection," he resumed.
+"Life is uncertain with the best of us. It may be no more uncertain with
+me than with others; but I feel that I must act as though it were so.
+Jane, were I taken, there would be no provision for you."
+
+"No," she quietly said.
+
+"And therefore I must set about making one without delay, as far as I
+can. I shall insure my life."
+
+Jane did not answer immediately. "It will take a great deal of money,
+Edgar," she presently said.
+
+"I fear it will: but it must be done. What's the matter, Jane? You don't
+look hopeful over it."
+
+"Because, were you to insure your life, to pay the yearly premium, and
+our home expenses, would necessitate your working as hard as you do
+now."
+
+"Well?" said he. "Of course it would."
+
+
+"In any case, our expenses shall be much reduced; of that I am
+determined," she went on somewhat dreamily, more it seemed in soliloquy
+than to her husband. "But, with this premium to pay in addition----"
+
+"Jane," he interrupted, "there's not the least necessity for my relaxing
+my labours. I shall not think of doing it. I may not be very strong, but
+I am not ill. As to reducing our expenses, I see no help for that,
+inasmuch as I must draw from them for the premium."
+
+"If you only can keep your health, Edgar, it is certainly what ought to
+be done--to insure your life. The thought has often crossed me."
+
+"Why did you never suggest it?"
+
+"I scarcely know. I believe I did not like to do so. And I really did
+not see how the premium was to be paid. How much shall you insure it
+for?"
+
+"I thought of two thousand pounds. Could we afford more?"
+
+"I think not. What would be the yearly premium for that sum?"
+
+"I don't know. I will ascertain all particulars. What are you sighing
+about, Jane?"
+
+Jane was sighing heavily. A weight seemed to have fallen upon her. "To
+talk of life-insurance puts me too much in mind of death," she murmured.
+
+"Now, Jane, you are never going to turn goose!" he gaily said. "I have
+heard of persons who will not make a will, because it brings them a
+fancy they must be going to die. Insuring my life will not bring death
+any the quicker to me: I hope I shall be here many a year yet. Why,
+Jane, I may live to pay the insurance over and over again in annual
+premiums! Better that I had put by the money in a bank, I shall think
+then."
+
+"The worst of putting by money in a bank, or in any other way, is, that
+you are not _compelled_ to put it," observed Jane, looking up a little
+from her depression. "What ought to be put by--what is intended to be
+put by--too often goes in present wants, and putting by ends in name
+only: whereas, in life-assurance, the premium _must_ be paid. Edgar,"
+she added, passing to a different subject, "I wonder what we shall make
+of our boys?"
+
+Mr. Halliburton's cheek flushed. "_They_ shall go to college, please
+God--though I have not been able to get there myself."
+
+"Oh, I hope so! One or two of them, at any rate."
+
+Little difficulty did there appear to be in the plan to Mr. Halliburton.
+
+His boys should enter the University, although he had not done so: the
+future of our children appears hopeful and easy to most of us. William
+and Frank were in the school attached to King's College: of which you
+hear Mr. Halliburton was now a professor. Edgar--never called anything
+but "Gar"--went to a private school, but he would soon be entered at
+King's College. Remarkably well-educated boys for their years, were the
+young Halliburtons. Mr. Halliburton and Jane had taken care of that.
+Home teaching was more efficient than school: both combined had rendered
+them unusually intelligent and advanced. Naturally intellectual, gifted
+with excellent qualities of mind and heart, Mrs. Halliburton had not
+failed to do her duty by them. She spared no pains; she knew how
+children ought to be brought up, and she did her duty well. Ah, my
+friends! only lay a good foundation in their earlier years, and your
+children will grow up to bless you.
+
+"Jane, I wonder which office will be the best to insure in?"
+
+
+Jane began to recall the names of some that were familiar to her.
+
+"The Phoenix?" suggested she.
+
+Mr. Halliburton laughed. "I think that's only for fire, Jane. I am not
+sure, though." In truth, he knew little about insurance offices himself.
+
+"There's the Sun; and the Atlas; and the Argus--oh, and ever so many
+more," continued Jane.
+
+"I'll inquire all about it to-day," said he.
+
+"I wonder if the premium will take a hundred a year, Edgar?"
+
+He could not tell. He feared it might. "I wish Jane," he observed, "that
+I had insured my life when I first married. The premium would have been
+small then, and we might have managed to spare it."
+
+"Ay," she answered. "Sometimes I look back to things that I might have
+done in the past years: and I did not do them. Now, the time has gone
+by!"
+
+"Well, it has not gone by for insuring," said Mr. Halliburton, rising
+from the breakfast-table and speaking in gay tones. "Half-past eight!"
+he cried, looking at his watch. "Good-bye, Jane," said he, bending to
+kiss her. "Wish me luck."
+
+"A weighty insurance and a small premium," she said, laughing. "But you
+are not going about it now?"
+
+"Of course not. The offices would not be open. I shall take an
+opportunity of doing so in the course of the day."
+
+Mr. Halliburton departed on his usual duties. It was a warm day in
+April. His first attendance was King's College, and there he remained
+for the morning. Then he proceeded to gain information about the various
+offices and their respective merits: finally fixed upon the one he
+should apply to, and bent his steps towards it.
+
+It was situated in the heart of the City, in a very busy part of it. The
+office also appeared to be busy, for several people were in it when Mr.
+Halliburton entered. A young man came forward to know his business.
+
+"I wish to insure my life," said Mr. Halliburton. "How must I proceed
+about it?"
+
+"Oh yes, sir. Mr. Procter, will you attend to this gentleman?"
+
+Mr. Halliburton was marshalled to an inner room, where a gentlemanly man
+received him. He explained his business in detail, stated his age, and
+the sum he wished to insure for. Every information was politely afforded
+him; and a paper, with certain printed questions, was given him to fill
+up at his leisure, and then to be returned.
+
+Mr. Halliburton glanced over it. "You require a certificate of my birth
+from the parish register where I was baptized, I perceive," he remarked.
+"Why so? In stating my age, I have stated it correctly."
+
+The gentleman smiled. "Of that I make no doubt," he said, "for you look
+younger than the age you have given me. Our office makes it a rule in
+most cases to require the certificate from the register. All applicants
+are not scrupulous about telling the truth, and we have been obliged to
+adopt it in self-defence. We have had cases, we have indeed, sir, where
+we have insured a life, and then found--though perhaps not until the
+actual death has taken place--that the insurer was ten years older than
+he asserted. Therefore we demand a certificate. It does occasionally
+happen that applicants can bring well-known men to testify to their
+age, and then we do not mind dispensing with it."
+
+Mr. Halliburton sent his thoughts round in a circle. There was no one in
+London who knew his age of their own positive knowledge; so it was
+useless to think of that. "There will be no difficulty in the matter,"
+he said aloud. "I can get the certificate up from Devonshire in the
+course of two or three days by writing for it. My father was rector of
+the church where I was christened. This will be all, then? To fill up
+this paper and bring you the certificate."
+
+"All; with the exception of being examined by our physician."
+
+"What! is it necessary to be examined by a physician?" exclaimed Mr.
+Halliburton. "The paper states that I must hand in a report from my
+ordinary medical attendant. _He_ will not give you a bad report of me,"
+he added, smiling, "for it is little enough I have troubled him. I
+believe the worst thing he has attended me for has been a bad cold."
+
+"So much the better," remarked the gentleman. "You do not look very
+strong."
+
+"Very strong I don't think I am. I am too hard worked; get too little
+rest and recreation. It was suspecting that I am not so strong as I
+might be that set me thinking it might be well to insure my life for the
+sake of my wife and children," he ingenuously added, in his
+straightforward manner. "If I could count upon living and working on
+until I am an old man, I should not do so."
+
+Again the gentleman smiled. "Looks are deceitful," he observed. "Nothing
+more so. Sometimes those who look the most delicate live the longest."
+
+"You cannot say I look delicate," returned Mr. Halliburton.
+
+"I did not say it. I consider that you do not look robust; but that is
+not saying that you look delicate. You may be a perfectly healthy man
+for all I can say to the contrary."
+
+He ran his eyes over Mr. Halliburton as he spoke; over his tall, fine
+form, his dark hair, amidst which not a streak of grey mingled, his
+clearly-cut features, and his complexion, bright as a woman's. Was there
+suspicion in that complexion? "A handsome man, at any rate," thought the
+gazer, "if not a robust one."
+
+"It will be necessary, then, that I see your physician?" asked Mr.
+Halliburton.
+
+"Yes. It cannot be dispensed with. We would not insure without it. He
+attends here twice a week. In the intervening days, he may be seen in
+Savile-row, from three to five. It is Dr. Carrington. His days for
+coming here are Mondays and Thursdays."
+
+"And this is Friday," remarked Mr. Halliburton. "I shall probably go up
+to him."
+
+Mr. Halliburton said good morning, and came away with his paper. "It's
+great nonsense, my seeing this doctor!" he said to himself as he
+hastened home to dinner, which he knew he must have kept waiting. "But I
+suppose it is necessary as a general rule; and of course they won't make
+me an exception."
+
+Hurrying over his dinner, in a manner that prevented its doing him any
+good--as Jane assured him--he sat down to his desk when it was over and
+wrote for the certificate of his birth. Folding and sealing the letter,
+he put on his hat to go out again.
+
+"Shall you go to Savile-row this afternoon?" Jane inquired.
+
+"If I can by any possibility get my teaching over in time," he answered.
+"Young Finchley's hour is four o'clock, but I can put him off until the
+evening. I dare say I shall get up there."
+
+By dint of hurrying, Mr. Halliburton contrived to reach Savile-row, and
+arrived there in much heat at half-past four. There was no necessity for
+hurrying there on this particular day, but he felt impatient to get the
+business over; as if speed now could atone for past neglect. Dr.
+Carrington was at home but engaged, and Mr. Halliburton was shown into a
+room. Three or four others were waiting there; whether ordinary
+patients, or whether mere applicants of form like himself, he could not
+tell; and it was their turn to go in before it was his.
+
+But his turn came at last, and he was ushered into the presence of the
+doctor--a little man, fair and reserved, with powder on his head.
+
+Reserved in ordinary intercourse, but certainly not reserved in asking
+questions. Mr. Halliburton had never been so rigidly questioned before.
+What disorders had he had, and what had he not had? What were his
+habits, past and present? One question came at last: "Do you feel
+thoroughly strong?--healthy, elastic?"
+
+"I feel languid in hot weather," replied Mr. Halliburton.
+
+"Um! Appetite sound and good?"
+
+"Generally speaking. It has not been so good of late."
+
+"Breathing all right?"
+
+"Yes; it is a little tight sometimes."
+
+"Um! Subject to a cough?"
+
+"I have no settled cough. A sort of hacking cough comes on at night
+occasionally. I attribute it to fatigue."
+
+"Um! Will you open your shirt? Just unbutton it here"--touching the
+front--"and your flannel waistcoat, if you wear one."
+
+Mr. Halliburton bared his chest in obedience and the doctor sounded it,
+and then put down his ear. Apparently his ear did not serve him
+sufficiently, for he took a small instrument out of a drawer, placed it
+on the chest, and then put his ear to that, changing the position of the
+instrument three or four times.
+
+"That will do," he said at length.
+
+He turned to put up his stethoscope again, and Mr. Halliburton drew the
+edges of his shirt together and buttoned them.
+
+"Why don't you wear flannel waistcoats?" asked the doctor, with quite a
+sharp accent, his head down in the drawer.
+
+"I do wear them in winter; but in warm weather I leave them off. It was
+only last week that I discarded them."
+
+"Was ever such folly known!" ejaculated Dr. Carrington. "One would think
+people were born without common sense. Half the patients who come to me
+say they leave off their flannels in summer! Why, it is in summer they
+are most needed! And this warm weather won't last either. Go home, sir,
+and put one on at once."
+
+"Certainly, if you think it right," said Mr. Halliburton with a smile.
+"I thank you for telling me."
+
+He took up his hat and waited. The doctor appeared to wait _for him to
+go_. "I understood at the office that you would give me a paper
+testifying that you had examined me," explained Mr. Halliburton.
+
+"Ah--but I can't give it," said the doctor.
+
+"Why not, sir?"
+
+"Because I am not satisfied with you. I cannot recommend you as a
+healthy life."
+
+Mr. Halliburton's pulses quickened a little. "Sir!" he repeated. "Not a
+healthy life?"
+
+"Not sufficiently healthy for insurance."
+
+"Why! what is the matter with me?" he rejoined.
+
+Dr. Carrington looked him full in the face for the space of a minute
+before replying. "I have had that question asked me before by parties
+whom I have felt obliged to decline as I am now declining you," he said,
+"and my answer has not always been palatable to them."
+
+"It will be palatable to me, sir; in so far as that I desire to be made
+acquainted with the truth. What do you find amiss with me?"
+
+"The lungs are diseased."
+
+A chill fell over Mr. Halliburton. "Not extensively, I trust? Not beyond
+hope of recovery?"
+
+"Were I to say not extensively, I should be deceiving you; and you tell
+me that you wish for the truth. They are extensively diseased----"
+
+A mortal pallor overspread Mr. Halliburton's face, and he sank into a
+chair. "Not for myself," he gasped, as Dr. Carrington drew nearer to
+him. "I have a wife and children. If I die, they will want bread to
+eat."
+
+"But you did not hear me out," returned the doctor, proceeding with
+equanimity, as if he had not been interrupted. "They are extensively
+diseased, but not beyond a hope of recovery. I do not say it is a strong
+hope; but a hope there is, as I judge, provided you use the right means
+and take care of yourself."
+
+"What am I to do? What are the means?"
+
+"You live, I presume, in this stifling, foggy, smoky London."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Then got away from it. Go where you can have pure air and a clear
+atmosphere. That's the first and chief thing; and that's most essential.
+Not for a few weeks or months, you understand me--going out for a change
+of air, as people call it--you must leave London entirely; go away
+altogether."
+
+"But it will be impossible," urged Mr. Halliburton. "My work lies in
+London."
+
+"Ah!" said the doctor; "too many have been with me with whom it was the
+same case. But, I assure you that you must leave it; or it will be
+London _versus_ life. You appear to me to be one who never ought to have
+come to London----You were not born in it?" he abruptly added.
+
+"I never saw it until I was eighteen. I was born and reared in
+Devonshire."
+
+"Just so. I knew it. Those born and reared in London become acclimatized
+to it, generally speaking, and it does not hurt them. It does not hurt
+numbers who are strangers: they find London as healthy a spot for them
+as any on the face of the globe. But there are a few who cannot and
+ought not to live in London; and I judge you to be one of them."
+
+"Has this state of health been coming on long?"
+
+"Yes, for some years. Had you remained in Devonshire, you might have
+been a sound man all your life. My only advice to you is--get away from
+London. You cannot live long if you remain in it."
+
+Mr. Halliburton thanked Dr. Carrington and went out. How things had
+changed for him! What had gone with the day's beauty?--with the blue
+sky, the bright sun? The sky was blue still, and the sun shining; but
+darkness seemed to intervene between his eyes and outward things. Dying?
+A shiver went through him as he thought of Jane and the children, and a
+sick feeling of despair settled on his spirit.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+LATER IN THE DAY.
+
+
+The man was utterly prostrated. He felt that the fiat of death had gone
+forth, and there settled an undercurrent of conviction in his mind that
+for him there would be no recovery, take what precaution he would. He
+could not shake it off. There lay the fact and the fear, as a leaden
+weight.
+
+He bent his steps towards home, walking the whole way; he moved along
+the streets mechanically. The crowds passed and repassed him, but _he_
+seemed far away. Once or twice he lifted his head to them with a
+yearning gesture. "Oh! that I were like you! bent on business, on
+pleasure, on social intercourse!" passed through his mind. "I am not as
+you; and for me you can do nothing. You cannot give me health; you
+cannot give me life."
+
+He entered his home, and was conscious of merry voices and flitting
+footsteps. A little scene of gaiety was going on: he knew of this, but
+had forgotten it until that instant. It was the birthday of his little
+girl, and a few young friends had been invited to make merry. Jane,
+looking almost as young, quite as pretty, as when she married him, sat
+at the far end of their largest room before a well-spread tea-table. She
+wore festival attire. A dress of pearl-grey silk, and a thin gold chain
+round her neck. The little girls were chiefly in white, and the boys
+were on their best behaviour. Jane was telling them that tea was ready,
+and her two servants were helping to place the little people, and to
+wait upon them.
+
+"Oh, and here's papa, too! just in time," she cried, lifting her eyes
+gladly at her husband. "That is delightful!"
+
+Mr. Halliburton welcomed the children. He kissed some, he talked to
+others, just as if he had not that terrible vulture, care, within him.
+_They_ saw nothing amiss; neither did Jane. He took his seat, and drank
+his tea; all, as it were, mechanically. It did not seem to be himself;
+he thought it must be some one else. In the last hour, his whole
+identity appeared to have changed. Bread and butter was handed to him.
+He took a slice and left it. Jane put some cake on to his plate: he left
+that also. Eat! with that awful fiat racking his senses! No, it was not
+possible.
+
+Ho looked round on his children. _His._ William, a gentle boy, with his
+mother's calm, good face and her earnest eyes; Jane, a lovely child,
+with fair curls flowing and a bright colour, consciously vain this
+evening in her white birthday robes and her white ribbons; Frank, a
+slim, dark-eyed boy, always in mischief, his features handsome and
+clearly cut as were his father's; Gar, a delicate little chap, with fair
+curls like his sister Jane's. Must he _leave_ those children?--abandon
+them to the mercies of a cold and cruel world?--bequeath them no place
+in it; no means of support? "Oh, God! Oh, God!" broke from his bitter
+heart, "if it be Thy will to take me, mayst Thou shelter them!"
+
+"Edgar!"
+
+He started palpably; so far in thought was he away. Yet it was only his
+wife who spoke to him.
+
+"Edgar, have you been up to Dr. Carrington's?" she whispered, bending
+towards him.
+
+In his confusion he muttered some unintelligible words, which she
+interpreted into a denial; there was a great deal of buzzing just then
+from the young voices around. Two of the gentlemen, Frank being one,
+were in hot contention touching a third gentleman's rabbits. Mrs.
+Halliburton called Frank to order, and said no more to her husband for
+the present.
+
+"We are to dance after tea," said Jane. "I have been learning one
+quadrille to play. It is very easy, and mamma says I play it very well."
+
+"Oh, we don't want dancing," grumbled one of the boys. "We'd rather have
+blindman's-buff."
+
+Opinions were divided again. The girls wanted dancing, the boys
+blindman's-buff. Mrs. Halliburton was appealed to.
+
+"I think it must be dancing first and blindman's-buff afterwards," said
+she.
+
+Tea over, the furniture was pushed aside to clear a space for the
+dancers. Mr. Halliburton, his back against the wall, stood looking at
+them. Looking at them as was supposed; but had they been keen observers,
+they would have known that his eyes in reality saw not: they, like his
+thoughts, were far away.
+
+His wife did presently notice that he seemed particularly abstracted.
+She came up to him; he was standing with his arms folded, his head bent.
+"Edgar, are you well?"
+
+"Well? Oh yes, dear," he replied, making an effort to rouse himself.
+
+"I hope you have no more teaching to-night?"
+
+"I ought to go to young Finchley. I put him off until seven o'clock."
+
+"Then"--was her quick rejoinder--"if you put off young Finchley, how was
+it you could not get to Savile-row?"
+
+"I have been occupied all the afternoon, Jane," he said. Wanting the
+courage to say how the matter really stood, he evaded the question.
+
+But, to go to young Finchley or to any other pupil that night, Mr.
+Halliburton felt himself physically unequal. Teach! Explain abstruse
+Greek and Latin rules, with his mind in its present state! It seemed to
+him that it mattered little--if he was to be taken from them so
+soon--whether he ever taught again. He was in the very depths of
+depression.
+
+Suddenly, as he stood looking on, a thought came flashing over him as a
+ray of light. As a _ray_ of light? Nay, as a whole flood of it. What if
+Dr. Carrington were wrong?--if it should prove that, in reality, nothing
+was the matter with him? Doctors--and very clever ones--were, he knew,
+sometimes mistaken. Perhaps Dr. Carrington had been so!
+
+It was _scarcely_ likely, he went on to reason, that a mortal disease
+should be upon him, and he have lived in ignorance of it! Why, he seemed
+to have had very little the matter with him; nothing to talk of,
+nothing to lie up for; comparatively speaking, he had been a healthy
+man--was in health then. Yes, the belief did present itself that Dr.
+Carrington was deceived. He, in the interests of the insurance office,
+might be unnecessarily cautious.
+
+Mr. Halliburton left the wall, and grew cheerful and gay, and talked
+freely to the children. One little lady asked if he would dance with
+her. He laughed, and felt half inclined to do so.
+
+Which was the true mood--that sombre one, or this? Was there nothing
+_false_ about this one--was there no secret consciousness that it did
+not accord with his mind's actual belief; that he was only forcing it?
+Be it as it would, it did not last; in the very middle of a laughing
+sentence to his own little Janey, the old agony, the fear,
+returned--returned with terrific violence, as a torrent that has burst
+its bounds.
+
+"I _cannot_ bear this uncertainty!" he murmured to himself. And he went
+out of the room and took up his hat. Mrs. Halliburton, who at that
+moment happened to be crossing from another room, saw him open the
+hall-door.
+
+"Are you going to young Finchley, Edgar?"
+
+"No. I shall give him holiday for to-night. I shall be in soon, Jane."
+
+He went straight to their own family doctor; a Mr. Allen, who lived
+close by. They were personal friends.
+
+To the inquiry as to whether Mr. Allen was at home, the servant was
+about to usher him into the family sitting-room, but Mr. Halliburton
+stepped into the dusky surgery. He was in no mood for ladies' company.
+"I will wait here," he said. "Tell your master I wish to say a word to
+him."
+
+The surgeon came immediately, a lighted candle in his hand. He was a
+dark man with a thin face. "Why won't you come in?" he asked. "There's
+only Mrs. Allen and the girls there. Is anything the matter?"
+
+"Yes, Allen, something is the matter," was
+
+Mr. Halliburton's reply. "I want a friend to-night: one who will deal
+with me candidly and openly: and I have come to you. Sit down."
+
+They both sat down; and Mr. Halliburton gave him the history of the past
+four and twenty hours: commencing with the fainting-fit, and ending with
+his racking doubts as to whether Dr. Carrington's opinion was borne out
+by facts, or whether he might have been deceived. "Allen," he concluded,
+"you must see what you can make out of my state: and you must report to
+me without disguise, as you would report to your own soul."
+
+The surgeon looked grave. "Carrington is a clever man," he said. "One
+whom it would be difficult to deceive."
+
+"I know his reputation. But these clever men are not infallible. Put his
+opinion out of your mind: examine me yourself, and tell me what you
+think."
+
+Mr. Allen proceeded to do so. He first of all asked Mr. Halliburton a
+few general questions as to his present state of health, as he would
+have done by any other patient, and then he sounded his lungs.
+
+"Now then--the truth," said Mr. Halliburton.
+
+"The truth is--so far as I can judge--that you are in no present danger
+whatever."
+
+"Neither did Dr. Carrington say I was--in present danger," hastily
+replied Mr. Halliburton. "Are my lungs sound?"
+
+"They are not sound: but neither do I think they are extensively
+diseased. You may live for many years, with care."
+
+"Would any insurance office take me?"
+
+"No. I do not think it would."
+
+"It is just my death-knell, Allen."
+
+"If you look at it in that light I shall be very sorry to have given you
+my opinion," observed the surgeon. "I repeat that, by taking care of
+yourself, you may stave off disease and live many years. I would not say
+this unless I thought it."
+
+"And would your opinion be the same as the doctor's--that I must leave
+London for the country?"
+
+"I think you would have a far better chance of getting well in the
+country than you have here. You have told me over and over again, you
+know, that you were sure London air was bad for you."
+
+"Ay, I have," replied Mr. Halliburton. "I never have felt quite well in
+it, and that's the truth. Well, I must see what can be done. Good
+evening."
+
+If the edict did not appear to be so irrevocably dark as that of Dr.
+Carrington, it was yet dark enough; and Mr. Halliburton, striving to
+look it full in the face, as he was in the habit of doing by troubles
+less grave, endeavoured to set himself to think "what could be done."
+There was no possible chance of keeping it from his wife. If it was
+really necessary that their place of residence should be changed, she
+must be taken into counsel; and the sooner she was told the better. He
+went home, resolved to tell her before he slept.
+
+The little troop departed, the children in bed, they sat together over
+the fire; though the weather had become warm, an evening fire was
+pleasant still. He sat nervous and fidgety. Now the moment had arrived,
+he shrunk from his task.
+
+"Edgar, I am sure you are not well!" she exclaimed. "I have observed it
+all the evening."
+
+"Yes, Jane, I am well. Pretty well, that is. The truth is, my darling, I
+have some bad news for you, and I don't like to tell it."
+
+Her own family were safe and well under her roof, and her fears flew to
+Francis, to Margaret, to Robert. Mr. Halliburton stopped her.
+
+"It does not concern any of them, Jane. It is about myself."
+
+"But what can it be, about yourself?"
+
+"They--will--not----Will you listen to the news with a brave heart?" he
+broke off, with a smile, and the most cheering look he could call up to
+his face.
+
+"Oh yes." She smiled too. She thought it could be nothing very bad.
+
+"They will not insure my life, Jane."
+
+Her heart stood still. "But why not?"
+
+"They consider it too great a risk. They fancy I am not strong."
+
+A sudden flush to her face; a moment's stillness; and then Jane
+Halliburton clasped her hands with a faint cry of despair. She saw that
+more remained behind.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+SUSPENSE.
+
+
+Mrs. Halliburton sat in her chair, still enough except for the wailing
+cry which had just escaped her lips. Her husband would not look at her
+in that moment. His gaze was bent on the fire, and his cheek lay in his
+hand. As she cried out, he stretched forth his other hand and let it
+fall lightly upon hers.
+
+"Jane, had I thought you would look at the dark side of the picture, I
+should have hesitated to tell you. Why, my dear child, the very fact of
+my telling you at all, should convince you that there's nothing very
+serious the matter," he added, in cheering tones of reasoning. Now that
+he had spoken, he deemed it well to make the very best he could of it.
+
+"You say they will _not_ insure your life?"
+
+"Well, Jane, perhaps that expression was not a correct one. They have
+not declined as yet to do so; but Dr. Carrington says he cannot give the
+necessary certificate as to my being a thoroughly sound and healthy
+man."
+
+"Then you did go up to Dr. Carrington?"
+
+"I did. Forgive me, Jane: I could not enter upon it before all the
+children."
+
+She leaned over and laid her head upon his shoulder. "Tell me all about
+it, Edgar," she whispered; "as much as you know yourself."
+
+"I have told you nearly all, Jane. I saw Dr. Carrington, and he asked me
+a great many questions, and examined me here"--touching his chest. "He
+fancies the organs are not sound, and declined giving the certificate."
+
+"That your chest is not sound?" asked Jane.
+
+"He said the lungs."
+
+"Ah!" she uttered. "What else did he say?"
+
+"Well, he said nothing about heart, or liver, or any other vital part,
+so I conclude they are all right, and that there was nothing to say,"
+replied Mr. Halliburton, attempting to be cheerful. "I could have told
+him my brain was strong enough had he asked about that, for I'm sure it
+gets its full share of work. I need not have mentioned this to you at
+all, Jane, but for a perplexing bit of advice the doctor gave me."
+
+Jane sat straight in her chair again, and looked at Mr. Halliburton. The
+colour was beginning to return to her face. He continued:
+
+"Dr. Carrington earnestly recommends me to remove from London.
+Indeed--he said--that it was necessary--if I would get well. No wonder
+that you found my manner absent," he continued very rapidly after his
+hesitation, "with that unpalatable counsel to digest."
+
+"Did he think you very ill?" she breathed.
+
+"He did not say I was 'very ill,' Jane. I am not very ill, as you may
+see for yourself. My dear, what he said was that my lungs
+were--were----"
+
+"Diseased?" she put in.
+
+"Diseased. Yes, that was it," he truthfully replied. "It is the term
+that medical men apply when they wish to indicate delicacy. And he
+strenuously recommended me to leave London."
+
+"For how long? Did he say?"
+
+"He said for good."
+
+Jane felt startled. "How could it be done, Edgar?"
+
+"In truth I do not know. If I leave London I leave my living behind me.
+Now you see why I was so absorbed at tea-time. When you saw me go out, I
+was going round to Allen's."
+
+"And what does _he_ say?" she eagerly interrupted.
+
+"Oh, he seems to think it a mere nothing, compared with Dr. Carrington.
+He agreed with him on one point--that I ought to live out of London."
+
+"Edgar, I will tell you what I think must be done," said Jane, after a
+pause. "I have not had time to reflect much upon it: but it strikes me
+that it would be advisable for you to see another doctor, and take his
+opinion: some man who is clever in affections of the lungs. Go to him
+to-morrow, without any delay. Should he say that you must leave London,
+of course we must leave it, no matter what the sacrifice."
+
+The advice corresponded with Mr. Halliburton's own opinion, and he
+resolved to follow it. A conviction amounting to a certainty was upon
+him, that, go to what doctor he might, the fiat would be the same as Dr.
+Carrington's. He did not say so to Jane. On the contrary, he spoke of
+these insurance-office doctors as being over-fastidious in the interests
+of the office; and he tried to deceive his own heart with the sophistry.
+
+
+"Shall you apply to another office to insure your life?" Jane asked.
+
+"I would, if I thought it would not be useless."
+
+"You think it would be useless?"
+
+"The offices all keep their own doctors, and those doctors, it is my
+belief, are unnecessarily particular. I should call them crotchety,
+Jane."
+
+"I think it must amount to this," said Jane; "that if there is anything
+seriously the matter with you, no office will be found to do it; but if
+the affection is only trifling or temporary you may be accepted."
+
+"That is about it. Oh, Jane!" he added, with an irrepressible burst of
+anguish, "what would I not give to have insured my life before this came
+upon me! All those past years! They seem to have been allowed to run to
+waste, when I might have been using them to lay up in store for the
+children!"
+
+How many are there of us who, looking back, can feel that our past
+years, in some way or other, have _not_ been allowed to run to waste?
+
+What a sleepless night that was for him! What a sleepless night for his
+wife! Both rose in the morning equally unrefreshed.
+
+"To what doctor will you go?" Jane inquired as she was dressing.
+
+"I have been thinking of Dr. Arnold of Finsbury," he replied.
+
+"Yes, you could not go to a better. Edgar, you will let me accompany
+you?"
+
+"No, no, Jane. Your accompanying me would do no good. You could not go
+into the room with me."
+
+She saw the force of the objection. "I shall be so very anxious," she
+said, in a low tone.
+
+He laughed at her; he was willing to make light of it if it might ease
+her fears. "My dear, I will come home at once and report to you: I will
+borrow Jack's seven-leagued boots, that I may come to you the quicker."
+
+"You know that I _shall_ be anxious," she repeated, feeling vexed.
+
+"Jane," he said, his tone changing: "I see that you are more anxious
+already than is good for you. It is not well that you should be so."
+
+"I wish I could be with you! I wish I could hear, as you will, Dr.
+Arnold's opinion from his own lips!" was all she answered.
+
+"I will faithfully repeat it to you," said Mr. Halliburton.
+
+"Faithfully--word for word? On your honour?"
+
+"Yes, Jane, I will. You have my promise. Good news I shall be only too
+glad to tell you; and, should it be the worst, it will be necessary that
+you should know it."
+
+"You must be there before ten o'clock," she observed; "otherwise there
+will be little chance of seeing him."
+
+"I shall be there by nine, Jane. To spare time later would interfere too
+much with my day's work."
+
+A thought crossed Jane's mind--if the fiat were unfavourable what would
+become of his day's work then--all his days? But she did not utter it.
+
+"Oh, papa," cried Janey at breakfast, "was it not a beautiful party! Did
+you _ever_ enjoy yourself so much before?"
+
+"I don't suppose you ever did, Janey," he replied, in kindly tones.
+
+"No, that I never did. Alice Harvey's birthday comes in summer, and she
+says she knows her mamma will let her give just such another!
+Mamma!"--turning to Mrs. Halliburton.
+
+"Well, Jane?"
+
+"Shall you let me have a new frock for it? You know I tore mine last
+night."
+
+"All in good time, Janey. We don't know where we may all be then."
+
+No, they did not. A foreshadowing of it was already upon the spirit of
+Mrs. Halliburton. Not upon the children: they were spared it as yet.
+
+"Do not be surprised if you see me waiting for you when you come out of
+Dr. Arnold's," said Jane to her husband, in low tones, as he was going
+out.
+
+"But, Jane, why? Indeed, I think it would be foolish of you to come. My
+dear, I never knew you like this before."
+
+Perhaps not. But when, before, had there been cause for this
+apprehension?
+
+Jane watched him depart. Calm as she contrived to remain outwardly, she
+was in a terribly restless, nervous state; little accustomed as she was
+so to give way. A sick feeling was within her, a miserable sensation of
+suspense; and she could scarcely battle with it. You may have felt the
+same, in the dread approach of some great calamity. The reading over,
+Janey got her books about, as usual. Mrs. Halliburton took charge of her
+education in every branch, excepting music: for that she had a master.
+She would not send Jane to school. The child sat down to her books, and
+was surprised at seeing her mother come into the room with her things
+on.
+
+"Mamma! Are you going out?"
+
+"For a little time, Jane."
+
+"Oh, let me go! Let me go too!"
+
+"Not this morning, dear. You will have plenty of work--preparing the
+lessons that you could not prepare last night."
+
+"So I shall," said Janey. "I thought perhaps you meant to excuse them,
+mamma."
+
+It was almost _impossible_ for Jane to remain in the house, in her
+present state of agitation. She knew that it did appear absurdly foolish
+to go after her husband; but, walk somewhere she must: how could she
+turn a different way from that which he had taken? It was some distance
+to Finsbury; half an hour's walk at least. Should she go, or should she
+not, she asked herself as she went out of the house. She began to think
+that she might have remained at home had she exercised self-control. She
+had a great mind to turn back, and was slackening her pace, when she
+caught sight of Mr. Allen at his surgery window.
+
+An impulse came over her that she would go in and ask his opinion of her
+husband. She opened the door and entered. The surgeon was making up some
+pills.
+
+"You are out early, Mrs. Halliburton!"
+
+"Yes," she replied. "Mr. Halliburton has gone to Finsbury Square to see
+Dr. Arnold, and I----Do you think him very ill?" she abruptly broke off.
+
+"I do not, myself. Carrington----Did you know he had been to Dr.
+Carrington?" asked Mr. Allen, almost fearing he might be betraying
+secrets.
+
+"I know all about it. I know what the doctor said. Do you think Dr.
+Carrington was mistaken?"
+
+"In a measure. There's no doubt the lungs are affected, but I believe
+not to the grave extent assumed by Dr. Carrington."
+
+"He assumed, then, that they were affected to a grave extent?" she
+hastily repeated, her heart beating faster.
+
+"I thought you said you knew all about it, Mrs. Halliburton?"
+
+"So I do. He may possibly not have told me the very worst said by Dr.
+Carrington; but he told me quite sufficient. Mr. Allen, _you_ tell
+me--do you think that there is a chance of his recovery?"
+
+"Most certainly I do," warmly replied the surgeon. "Every chance, Mrs.
+Halliburton. I see no reason whatever why he should not keep as well as
+he is now, and live for years, provided he takes care of himself. It
+appears that Dr. Carrington very strongly urged his removing into the
+country; he went so far as to say that it was his only chance for
+life--and in that I think he went too far again. But the country would
+undoubtedly do for him what London will not."
+
+"You think that he ought to remove to the country?" she inquired,
+showing no sign of the terror those incautious words brought her--"his
+only chance for life."
+
+"I do. If it be possible for him to manage his affairs so as to get
+away, I should say let him do so by all means."
+
+"It _must_ be done, you know, Mr. Allen, if it is essential."
+
+"In my judgment it should be done. Many and many a time I have said to
+him myself, 'It's a pity but that you could be out of this heavy
+London!' Fogs affect him, and smoke affects him--the air altogether
+affects him: and I only wonder it has not told upon him before. As Dr.
+Carrington observed to him, there are some constitutions which somehow
+will not thrive here."
+
+Mrs. Halliburton rose with a sigh. "I am glad you do not think so very
+seriously of him," she breathed.
+
+"I do not think _seriously_ of him at all," was the surgeon's answer. "I
+confess that he is not strong, and that he must have care. The pure air
+of the country, and relaxation from some of his most pressing work, may
+do wonders for him. If I might advise, I should say, Let no pecuniary
+considerations keep him here. And that is very disinterested advice,
+Mrs. Halliburton," concluded the doctor, laughing, "for, in losing you,
+I should lose both friends and patients."
+
+Jane went out. Those ominous words were still ringing in her ears--"his
+only chance for life."
+
+Forcing herself to self-control, she did _not_ go to meet Mr.
+Halliburton. She returned home and took off her things, and gave what
+attention she could to Jane's lessons. But none can tell the suspense
+that was agitating her: the ever-restless glances she cast to the
+window, to see him pass. By-and-by she went and stood there.
+
+At last she saw him coming along in the distance. She would have liked
+to fly to meet him--to say, What is the news? but she did not. More
+patience, and then, when he came in at the front door, she left the room
+she was in, and went with him into the drawing-room, her face white as
+death.
+
+He saw how agitated she was, strive as she would for calmness. He stood
+looking at her with a smile.
+
+"Well, Jane, it is not so very formidable, after all."
+
+Her face grew hot, and her heart bounded on. "What does Dr. Arnold say?
+You know, Edgar, you promised me the truth without disguise."
+
+"You shall have it, Jane. Dr. Arnold's opinion of me is not
+unfavourable. That the lungs are to a certain extent affected, is
+indisputable, and he thinks they have been so for some time. But he sees
+nothing to indicate present danger to life. He believes that I may grow
+into an old man yet."
+
+Jane breathed freely. A word of earnest thanks went up from her heart.
+
+"With proper diet--he has given me certain rules for living--and pure
+air and sunshine, he considers that I have really little to fear. I told
+you, Jane, those insurance doctors make the worst of things."
+
+"Dr. Arnold, then, recommends the country?" observed Jane, paying no
+attention to the last remark.
+
+"Very strongly. Almost as strongly as Dr. Carrington."
+
+Jane lifted her eyes to her husband's face. "Dr. Carrington said, you
+know, that it was your only chance of life."
+
+"Not quite as bad as that, Jane," he returned, never supposing but he
+must himself have let the remark slip, and wondering how he came to do
+so. "What Dr. Carrington said was, that it was London _versus_ life."
+
+"It is the same thing, Edgar. And now, what is to be done? Of course we
+have no alternative; into the country we must go. The question is,
+where?"
+
+"Ay, that is the question," he answered. "Not only where, but what to
+do? I cannot drop down into a fresh place, and expect teaching to
+surround me at once, as if it had been waiting for me. But I have not
+time to talk now. Only fancy! it is half-past ten."
+
+Mr. Halliburton went out and Jane remained, fastened as it were to her
+chair. A hundred perplexing plans and schemes were already working in
+her brain.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+SEEKING A HOME.
+
+
+Plans and schemes continued to work in Mrs. Halliburton's brain for days
+and days to come. Many and many an anxious consultation did she and her
+husband hold together--where should they go? What should they do? That
+it was necessary to do something, and speedily, events proved,
+independently of what had been said by the doctors. Before another month
+had passed over his head, Mr. Halliburton had become so much worse that
+he had to resign his post at King's College. But, to the hopeful minds
+of himself and Jane, the country change was to bring its remedy for all
+ills. They had grown to anticipate it with enthusiasm.
+
+His thoughts naturally ran upon teaching, as his continued occupation.
+He knew nothing of any other. All England was before him; and he
+supposed he might obtain a living at it, wherever he might go. Such
+testimonials as his were not met with every day. His cousin Julia had
+married a man of some local influence (as Mr. Halliburton had
+understood) in the city in which they resided, the chief town of one of
+the midland counties: and a thought crossed his mind more than once,
+whether it might not be well to choose that same town to settle in.
+
+"They might be able to recommend me, you see, Jane," he observed to his
+wife, one evening as they were sitting together, after the children were
+in bed. "Not that I should much like to ask any favour of Julia."
+
+"Why not?" said Jane.
+
+"Because she is not a pleasant person to ask a favour of: it is many
+years since I saw her, but I well remember that. Another reason why I
+feel inclined to that place is that it is a cathedral town. Cathedral
+towns have many of the higher order of the clergy in them; learning is
+sure to be considered there, should it not be anywhere else.
+Consequently there would be an opening for classical teaching."
+
+Jane thought the argument had weight.
+
+
+"And there's yet another thing," continued Mr. Halliburton. "You
+remember Peach?"
+
+"Peach?--Peach?" repeated Jane, as if unable to recall the name.
+
+"The young fellow I had so much trouble with, a few years ago--drilling
+him between his terms at Oxford. But for me, he never would have passed
+either his great or his little go. He did get plucked the first time he
+went up. You must remember him, Jane: he has often taken tea with us
+here."
+
+"Oh, yes--yes! I remember him now. Charley Peach."
+
+"Well, he has recently been appointed to a minor canonry in that same
+cathedral," resumed Mr. Halliburton. "Dr. Jacobs told me of it the other
+day. Now I am quite sure that Peach would be delighted to say a word for
+me, or to put anything in my way. That is another reason why I am
+inclined to go there."
+
+"I suppose the town is a healthy one?"
+
+"Ay, that it is; and it is seated in one of the most charming of our
+counties. There'll be no London fogs or smoke there."
+
+"Then, Edgar, let us decide upon it."
+
+"Yes, I think so--unless we should hear of an opening elsewhere that may
+promise better. We must be away by Midsummer, if we can, or soon after.
+It will be sharp work, though."
+
+"What trouble it will be to pack the furniture!" she exclaimed.
+
+"Pack what furniture, Jane? We must sell the furniture."
+
+"Sell the furniture!" she uttered, aghast.
+
+"My dear, it would never do to take the furniture down. It would cost
+almost as much as it is worth. There's no knowing, either, how long it
+might be upon the road, or what damage it might receive. I expect it
+would have to go principally by water."
+
+"By water!" cried Mrs. Halliburton.
+
+"I fancy so--by barge, I mean. Waggons would not take it, except by
+paying heavily. A great deal of the country traffic is done by water.
+This furniture is old, Jane, most of it, and will not bear rough
+travelling. Consider how many years your father and mother had it in
+use."
+
+"Then what should we do for furniture when we get there?" asked Jane.
+
+"Buy new with the money we receive from the sale of this. I have been
+reflecting upon it a good deal, Jane, and fancy it will be the better
+plan. However, if you care for this old furniture, we must take it."
+
+Jane looked round upon it. She did care for the time-used furniture; but
+she knew how old it was, and was willing to do whatever might be best. A
+vision came into her mind of fresh, bright furniture, and it looked
+pleasant in imagination. "It would certainly be a great deal to pack and
+carry," she acknowledged. "And some of it is not worth it."
+
+"And it would be more than we should want," resumed Mr. Halliburton.
+"Wherever we go we must be content with a small house; at any rate at
+first. But it will be time enough to go into these details, Jane, when
+we have finally decided upon our destination."
+
+"Oh, Edgar! I shall be so sorry to take the boys from King's College."
+
+"Jane," he said, a flash of pain crossing his face as he spoke, "there
+are so many things connected with it altogether that cause me sorrow,
+that my only resource is not to think upon them. I might be tempted to
+repine to ask in a spirit of rebellion why this affliction should have
+come upon us. It is God's decree, and it is my duty to submit as
+patiently as I can."
+
+It was her duty also: and she knew it as she laid her hand upon her
+weary brow. A weary, weary brow from henceforth, that of Jane
+Halliburton!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+A DYING BED.
+
+
+In a handsome chamber of a handsome house in Birmingham, an old man lay
+dying. For most of his life he had been engaged in a large wholesale
+business--had achieved local position, had accumulated moderate wealth.
+But neither wealth nor position can ensure peace to a death-bed; and the
+old man lay on his, groaning over the past.
+
+
+The season was that of mid-winter. Not the winter following the intended
+removal of Mr. Halliburton from London, as spoken of in the last
+chapter, but the winter preceding it--for it is necessary to go back a
+little. A hard, sharp, white day in January: and the fire was piled high
+in the sick room, and the large flakes of snow piled themselves outside
+on the window frames and beat against the glass. The room was fitted up
+with every comfort the most fastidious invalid could desire; and yet, I
+say, nothing seemed to bring comfort to the invalid lying there. His
+hands were clenched as in mortal agony; his eyes were apparently
+watching the falling snow. The eyes saw it not: in reality they were
+cast back to where his mind was--the past.
+
+What could be troubling him? Was it that loss, only two years ago, by
+which one-half of his savings had been engulfed? Scarcely. A man
+dying--as he knew he was--would be unlikely to care about that now.
+Ample competence had remained to him, and he had neither son nor
+daughter to inherit. Hark! what is it that he is murmuring between his
+parched lips, to the accompaniment of his clenched hands?
+
+"I see it all now; I see it all! While we are buoyed up with health and
+strength, we continue hard, selfish, obstinate in our wickedness. But
+when death comes, we awake to our error; and death has come to me, and I
+have awakened to mine. Why did I turn him out like a dog? He had neither
+kith nor kin, and I sent him adrift on the world, to fight with it or to
+starve! He was the only child of my sister, and she was gone. She and I
+were of the same father and mother; we shared the same meals in
+childhood, the same home, the same play, the same hopes. She wrote to me
+when she was dying, as I am dying now: 'Richard, should my poor boy be
+left fatherless--for my husband's health seems to be failing--be his
+friend and protector for Helen's sake, and may Heaven bless you for it!'
+And I scoffed at the injunction when the boy offended me, and turned him
+out. _Shall I have to answer for it?_"
+
+The last anxious doubt was uttered more audibly than the rest; it
+escaped from his lips with a groan. A woman who was dozing over the fire
+started up.
+
+"Did you call, sir?"
+
+"No. Go out and leave me."
+
+"But----"
+
+"Go out and leave me," he repeated, with anger little fitted to his
+position. And the woman was speeding from the room, when he caught at
+the curtain and recalled her.
+
+"Are they not come?"
+
+"Not yet, sir. But, with this heavy fall, it's not to be wondered at.
+The highways must be almost impassable. With good roads they might have
+been here hours ago."
+
+She went out. He lay back on his pillow: his eyes wide open, but wearing
+the same dreamy look. You may be wondering who he is; though you
+probably guess, for you have heard of him once before as Mr. Cooper, the
+uncle who discarded Edgar Halliburton.
+
+I must give you a few words of retrospect. Richard Cooper was the eldest
+of three children; the others were a brother and a sister: Richard,
+Alfred, and Helen. Alfred and Helen both married; Richard never did
+marry. It was somewhat singular that the brother and sister should both
+die, each leaving an orphan; and that the orphans should find a home in
+the house of their Uncle Richard. Julia Cooper, the brother's orphan,
+was the first to come to it, a long time before Edgar Halliburton came.
+Helen had married the Rev. William Halliburton, and she died at his
+rectory in Devonshire--sending that earnest prayer to her brother
+Richard which you have just heard him utter. A little while, and her
+husband, the rector, also died; and then it was that Edgar went up to
+his Uncle Richard's. Fortunate for these two orphan children, it
+appeared to be, that their uncle had not married and could give them a
+good home.
+
+A good home he did give them. Julia left it first to become the wife of
+Anthony Dare, a solicitor in large practice in a distant city. She
+married him very soon after her cousin Edgar came to his uncle's. And it
+was after the marriage of Julia that Edgar was discarded and turned
+adrift. Years, many years, had gone by since then; and here lay Richard
+Cooper, stricken for death and repenting of the harshness, which he had
+not repented of or sought to atone for all through those long years. Ah,
+my friends! whatsoever may lie upon our consciences, however we may have
+contrived to ignore it during our busy lives, be assured that it will
+find us out on our death-bed!
+
+Richard Cooper lay back on his pillow, his eyes wide open with their
+inward tribulation. "Who knows but there would be time yet?" he suddenly
+murmured. And the thought appeared to rouse his mind and flush his
+cheek, and he lifted his hand and grasped the bell-rope, ringing it so
+loudly as to bring two servants to the room.
+
+
+"Go up, one of you, to Lawyer Weston's," he uttered. "Bring him back
+with you. Tell him I want to alter my will, and that there may yet be
+time. Don't send--one of _you_ go," he repeated in tones of agonising
+entreaty. "Bring him; bring him back with you!"
+
+As the echo of his voice died away there came a loud summons at the
+street door, as of a hasty arrival. "Sir," cried one of the maids,
+"they're come at last! I thought I heard a carriage drawing up in the
+snow."
+
+"Who's come?" he asked in some confusion of mind. "Weston?"
+
+"Not him, sir; Mr. and Mrs. Dare," replied the servant as she hurried
+out.
+
+A lady and gentleman were getting out of a coach at the door. A tall,
+very tall man, with handsome features, but an unpleasantly free
+expression. The lady was tall also, stout and fair, with an imperious
+look in her little turned-up nose. "Are we in time?" the latter asked of
+the servants.
+
+"It's nearly as much as can be said, ma'am," was the answer. "But he has
+roused up in the last hour, and is growing excited. The doctors thought
+it might be so: that he'd not continue in the lethargy to the last."
+
+They went on at once to the sick chamber. Every sense of the dying man
+appeared to be on the alert. His hands were holding back the curtain,
+his eyes were strained on the door. "Why have you been so long?" he
+cried in a voice of strength they were surprised to hear.
+
+"Dear uncle," said Mrs. Dare, bending over the bed and clasping the
+feeble hands, "we started the very moment the letter came. But we could
+not get along--the roads are dreadfully heavy."
+
+"Sir," whispered a servant in the invalid's ear, "are we to go now for
+Lawyer Weston?"
+
+"No, there's no need," was the prompt answer. "Anthony Dare, you are a
+lawyer," continued Mr. Cooper; "you'll do what I want done as well as
+another. Will you do it?"
+
+"Anything you please, sir," was Mr. Dare's reply.
+
+"Sit down, then; Julia, sit down. You may be hungry and thirsty after
+your journey; but you must wait. Life's not ebbing out of you, as it is
+out of me. We'll get this matter over, that my mind may be so far at
+rest; and then you can eat and drink of the best that my house affords.
+I am in mortal pain, Anthony Dare."
+
+Mrs. Dare was silently removing some of her outer wrappings, and
+whispering with the servant at the extremity of the roomy chamber; but
+Mr. Dare, who had taken off his great-coat and hat in the hall,
+continued to stand by the sick bed.
+
+"I am sorry to hear it, sir," he said, in reply to Mr. Cooper's
+concluding sentence. "Can the medical men afford you no relief?"
+
+"It is pain of mind, Anthony Dare, not pain of body. _That_ pain has
+passed from me. I would have sent for you and Julia before, but I did
+not think until yesterday that the end was so near. Never let a man be
+guilty of injustice!" broke forth Mr. Cooper, vehemently. "Or let him
+know that it will come home to him to trouble his dying bed."
+
+"What can I do for you, sir?" questioned Mr. Dare.
+
+"If you will open that bureau, you'll find pen, ink, and paper. Julia,
+come here: and see that we are alone."
+
+The servant left the room, and Mrs. Dare came forward, divested of her
+cloaks. She wore a handsome dark-blue satin dress (much the fashion at
+that time) with a good deal of rich white lace about it, a heavy gold
+chain, and some very showy amethysts set in gold. The jewellery was
+real, however, not sham; but altogether her attire looked somewhat out
+of place for a death-chamber.
+
+The afternoon was drawing to a close. What with that and the dense
+atmosphere outside, the chamber had grown dim. Mr. Dare disposed the
+writing materials on a small round table at the invalid's elbow, and
+then looked towards the distant window.
+
+"I fear I cannot see, sir, without a light."
+
+"Call for it, Julia," said the invalid.
+
+A lamp was brought in and placed on the table, so that its rays should
+not affect those eyes so soon to close to all earthly light. And Mr.
+Dare waited, pen in hand.
+
+"I have been hard and wilful," began Mr. Cooper, putting up his
+trembling hands. "I have been obdurate, and selfish, and unjust; and now
+it is keeping peace from me----"
+
+"But in what way, dear uncle?" softly put in Mrs. Dare; and it may as
+well be remarked that whenever Mrs. Dare attempted to speak softly and
+kindly it seemed to bear an unnatural sound to others' ears.
+
+"In what way?--why, with regard to Edgar Halliburton," said Mr. Cooper,
+the dew breaking out upon his brow. "In seeking to follow the calling
+marked out for him by his father, he only did his duty; and I should
+have seen it in that light but for my own obstinate pride and self-will.
+I did wrong to discard him: I have done wrong ever since in keeping him
+from me, in refusing to be reconciled. Are you listening, Anthony Dare?"
+
+"Certainly, sir. I hear."
+
+"Julia, I say that there was no reason for my turning him away. There
+has been no reason for my keeping him away. I have refused to be
+reconciled: I have sent back his letters unopened; I have held him at
+contemptuous defiance. When I heard that he had married, I cast harsh
+words to him because he had not asked my consent, though I was aware all
+the time, that I had given him no opportunity to ask it--I had harshly
+refused all overtures, all intercourse. I cast harsh words to his wife,
+knowing her not. But I see my error now. Do you see it, Julia? Do you
+see it, Anthony Dare?"
+
+"Would you like to have him sent for, sir?" suggested Mr. Dare.
+
+"It is too late. He could not be here in time. I don't know, either,
+where he lives in London, or what his address may be. Do you?"--looking
+at his niece.
+
+"Oh dear, no," she replied, with a slightly contemptuous gesture of the
+shoulders. As much as to imply that to know the address of her cousin
+Edgar was quite beneath her.
+
+
+"No, he could not get here," repeated the dying man, whilst Mrs. Dare
+wiped the dews that had gathered on his pallid and wrinkled brow.
+"Julia! Anthony! Anthony Dare!"
+
+"Sir, what is it?"
+
+"I wish you both to listen to me. I cannot die with this injustice
+unrepaired. I have made my will in Julia's favour. It is all left to
+her, except a few trifles to my servants. When the property comes to be
+realised, there will be at least sixteen thousand pounds, and but for
+that late mad speculation I entered into there would have been nearly
+forty thousand."
+
+He paused. But neither Mr. nor Mrs. Dare answered.
+
+"You are a lawyer, Anthony, and could draw up a fresh will. But there's
+no time, I say. What is darkening the room?" he abruptly broke off to
+ask.
+
+Mr. Dare looked hastily up. Nothing was darkening the room, except the
+gradually increasing gloom of evening.
+
+"My sight is growing dim, then," said the invalid. "Listen to me, both
+of you. I charge you, Anthony and Julia Dare, that you divide this money
+with Edgar Halliburton. Give him his full share; the half, even to a
+farthing. Will you do so, Anthony Dare?"
+
+"Yes, I will, sir."
+
+"Be it so. I charge you both solemnly--do not fail. If you would lay up
+peace for the time when you shall come to be where I am--do not fail.
+There's no time legally to do what is right; I feel that there is not.
+Ere the deed could be drawn up I should be gone, and could not sign it.
+But I leave the charge upon you; the solemn charge. The half of my money
+belongs of right to Edgar Halliburton: Julia has claim only to the other
+half. Be careful how you divide it: you are sole executor, Anthony Dare.
+Have you your paper ready?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Then dot down a few words, as I dictate, and I will sign them. 'I,
+Richard Cooper, do repent of my injustice to my dear nephew, Edgar
+Halliburton. And I desire, by this my last act on my death-bed, to
+bequeath to him the half of the money and property I shall die possessed
+of; and I charge Anthony Dare, the executor of my will, to carry out
+this act and wish as strictly as though it were a formal and legal one.
+I desire that whatever I shall die possessed of, save the bequests to my
+servants, may be equally divided between my nephew Edgar and my niece
+Julia.'"
+
+The dying man paused. "I think that's all that need be said," he
+observed. "Have you finished writing it, Anthony Dare?"
+
+Mr. Dare wrote fast and quickly, and was concluding the last words. "It
+is written, sir."
+
+"Read it."
+
+Mr. Dare proceeded to do so. Short as the time was which it took to
+accomplish this, the old man had fallen into a doze ere it was
+concluded; a doze or a partial stupor. They could not tell which; but,
+in leaning over him, he woke up with a start.
+
+"I can't die with this injustice unrepaired!" he cried, his memory
+evidently ignoring what had just been done. "Anthony Dare, your wife has
+no right to all my money. I shall leave half of it to Edgar. I want you
+to write it down."
+
+"It is done, sir. This is the paper."
+
+
+"Where? where? Why don't you get light into the room? It's dark--dark.
+This? Is this it?"--as Mr. Dare put it into his hand. "Now, mind!" he
+added, his tone changing to one of solemn enjoinder; "mind you act upon
+it. Julia has no right to more than her half share; she must not take
+more: money kept by wrong, acquired by injustice, never prospers. It
+would not bring you good, it would not bring a blessing. Give Edgar his
+legal half; and give him his old uncle's love and contrition. Tell him,
+if the past could come over again there should be no estrangement
+between us."
+
+He lay panting for a few minutes, and then spoke again, the paper having
+fallen unnoticed from his hand.
+
+"Julia, when you see Edgar's wife--Did I sign that paper?" he broke off.
+
+"No, sir," said Mr. Dare. "Will you sign it now?"
+
+"Ay. But, signed or not signed, you'll equally act upon it. I don't put
+it forth as a legal document; I suppose it would not, in this informal
+state, stand good in law. It is only a reminder to you, Anthony Dare,
+that you may not forget my wishes. Hold me up in bed, and have lights
+brought in."
+
+Anthony Dare drew the curtain back, and the rays of the lamp flashed
+upon the dying man. Mr. Dare looked round for a book on which to place
+the paper while it was signed.
+
+"I want a light," came again from the bed, in a pleading tone. "Julia,
+why don't you tell them to bring in the lamp?"
+
+"The lamp is here, uncle. It is close to you."
+
+"Then there's no oil in it," he cried. "Julia, I _will_ have lights
+here. Tell them to bring up the dining-room lamps. Don't ring; go and
+see that they are brought."
+
+Unwilling to oppose him, and doubting lest his sight should really have
+gone, Mrs. Dare went out, and returned with one of the servants and more
+light. Mr. Cooper was then lying back on his pillow, dozing and
+unconscious.
+
+"Has he signed the paper?" Mrs. Dare whispered to her husband.
+
+He shook his head negatively, and pointed to it. It was lying on the
+bed, just as Mrs. Dare had left it. Mrs. Dare caught it up from any
+prying eyes that might be about, folded it, and held it securely in her
+hand.
+
+"He will wake up again presently, and can sign it then," observed Mr.
+Dare, just as a gentle ring was heard at the house door.
+
+"It's the doctor," said the servant; "I know his ring."
+
+But the old man never did sign the paper, and never woke up again. He
+lay in a state of lethargy throughout the night. Mr. and Mrs. Dare
+watched by his bedside; the servants watched; and the doctors came in at
+intervals. But there was no change in his state; until the last great
+change. It occurred at daybreak; and when the neighbours opened their
+windows to the cold and the snow, the house of Richard Cooper remained
+closed. Death was within it.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+HELSTONLEIGH.
+
+
+I believe that most of the readers of "The Channings" will not like this
+story less because its scene is laid in the same place, Helstonleigh.
+
+I narrate to you, as you may have already discovered, a great deal of
+truth: of events that have actually happened, combined with fiction. I
+can only do this from my own personal experience, by taking you to the
+scenes and places where I have lived. Of this same town, Helstonleigh, I
+could relate to you volumes. No place in the world holds so green a spot
+in my memory. Do you remember Longfellow's poem--"My Lost Youth"?
+
+    "Often I think of the beautiful town,
+      That is seated by the sea;
+    Often in thought go up and down
+    The pleasant streets of that dear old town,
+      And my youth comes back to me.
+        And a verse of a Lapland song
+        Is haunting my memory still:
+        'A boy's will is the wind's will,
+    And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.'
+
+    "I remember the gleams and glooms that dart
+      Across the schoolboy's brain;
+    The song and the silence in the heart,
+    That in part are prophecies, and in part
+      Are longings wild and vain.
+        And the voice of that fitful song
+        Sings on, and is never still:
+        'A boy's will is the wind's will,
+    And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.'
+
+    "There are things of which I may not speak;
+      There are dreams that cannot die;
+    There are thoughts that make the strong heart weak,
+    And bring a pallor into the cheek,
+      And a mist before the eye.
+        And the words of that fatal song
+        Come over me like a chill:
+        'A boy's will is the wind's will,
+    And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.'
+
+    "Strange to me now are the forms I meet
+      When I visit the dear old town;
+    But the native air is pure and sweet,
+    And the trees that o'ershadow each well-known street,
+      As they balance up and down,
+        Are singing the beautiful song,
+        Are sighing and whispering still:
+        'A boy's will is the wind's will,
+    And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.'
+
+    "And Deering's woods are fresh and fair,
+      And with joy that is almost pain
+    My heart goes back to wander there,
+    And among the dreams of the days that were
+      I find my lost youth again.
+        And the music of that old song
+        Throbs in my memory still:
+        'A boy's will is the wind's will,
+    And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.'"
+
+Those are some of its verses, and what "Deering" is to Longfellow,
+"Helstonleigh" is to me.
+
+The Birmingham stage-coach came into Helstonleigh one summer's night,
+and stopped at its destination, the Star-and-Garter Hotel, bringing with
+it some London passengers. The direct line of rail to Helstonleigh from
+London was not then opened; and this may serve to tell you how long it
+is ago. A lady and a little girl stepped from the inside of the coach,
+and a gentleman and three boys got down from the outside. The latter
+were soaking. Almost immediately after leaving Birmingham, to which
+place the rail had conveyed them, the rain had commenced to pour in
+torrents, and those outside received its full benefit. The coach was
+crammed, inside and out, but with the other passengers we have nothing
+to do. We have with these; they were the Halliburtons.
+
+For the town which Mr. Halliburton had been desirous to remove to, the
+one in which his cousin, Mrs. Dare, resided, was no other than
+Helstonleigh.
+
+Mrs. Halliburton drew a long face when she set eyes on her husband's
+condition. "Edgar! you must be wet through and through!"
+
+"Yes, I am. There was no help for it."
+
+"You should have come inside when I wanted you to do so," she cried, in
+a voice of distress. "You should indeed."
+
+"And have suffered you to take my place outside? Nonsense, Jane!"
+
+Jane looked at the hotel. "We had better remain here for the night. What
+do you think?"
+
+"Yes, I think so," he replied. "It is too wet to go about looking after
+anything that might be less expensive. Inquire if we can have rooms,
+Jane, whilst I see after the luggage."
+
+Mrs. Halliburton went in, leading Janey, and was confronted by the
+barmaid, a smart young woman in a smart cap. "Can we sleep here
+to-night?" she inquired.
+
+"Yes, certainly. How many beds?"
+
+"I will go up with you and see," said Mrs. Halliburton. "Be so kind as
+not to put us in your more expensive rooms," she added, in a lower tone.
+
+The barmaid looked at her from top to toe, as it is much in the habit of
+barmaids to do when such a request is preferred. She saw a lady in a
+black silk dress, a cashmere shawl, and a plain straw bonnet, trimmed
+with white. Simple as the attire was, quiet as was the demeanour, there
+was that about Mrs. Halliburton, in her voice, her accent, her bearing
+altogether, which proclaimed her the gentlewoman; and the barmaid
+condescended to be civil.
+
+"I have nothing to do with the rooms," she said; "I'll call the
+chambermaid. My goodness! You had better get those wet things off, sir,
+unless you want to be laid up with cold."
+
+The words were uttered in surprise, as her eyes encountered Mr.
+Halliburton. He looked taller, and thinner, and handsomer than ever; but
+he had a hollow cough now, and his cheek was hectic, and he was
+certainly wet through.
+
+The chambermaid allotted them rooms. Mr. Halliburton, after rubbing
+himself dry with towels, got into a warmed bed, and had warm drink
+supplied to him. Jane, after unpacking what would be wanted for the
+night, returned to the sitting-room, to which her children had been
+shown. A good-natured maid, seeing the boys' clothes were damp, had
+lighted a fire, and they were kneeling round it, having been provided
+with bread and butter and milk. Intelligent, truthful, good-looking boys
+they were, with clear skins and bright, honest eyes, and open
+countenances. Janey had fallen asleep on a chair, her flaxen curls
+making her a pillow on its elbow. The boys crowded to one side of the
+fireplace when their mother came in, leaving the larger space for her;
+and William rose and gave her a chair. Mrs. Halliburton sat down, having
+laid on the table a Book of Common Prayer, which she had brought in her
+hand.
+
+"Mamma, I hope papa will not be ill!"
+
+"Oh, William, I fear it. Such a terrible wetting! And to be so long in
+it! How is it that he was so much worse than you are?"
+
+"Because he sat at the end, and the gentleman next him did not hold the
+umbrella over him at all. When it came on to rain, some of the
+passengers had umbrellas and some had not, so they were divided for the
+best. We three had one between us, and we were wedged in between two fat
+old men, who helped to keep us dry. What a pity there was not a place
+for papa inside!"
+
+"Yes; or if he would only have taken mine!" cried Mrs. Halliburton. "A
+wetting would not have hurt me, as it may hurt him. What place did they
+call that, William, where I got out to ask him to change?"
+
+"Bromsgrove Lickey. Mamma, you have had no tea!"
+
+"I do not care for any," she sighed. Hers was a hopeful nature; but
+something within her, this evening, seemed to whisper of trial for the
+future. She turned to the table, where stood the remains of the
+children's meal, cut a piece of bread from the loaf, and slowly spread
+it with butter. Then she poured out a little milk.
+
+"Dear mamma, do have some tea!" cried William; "that's nothing but our
+milk and water."
+
+She shook her head and took the milk. Tea would only be an additional
+expense, and she was too completely dispirited to care what she drank.
+
+"I will read now," she said, taking up the Prayer-book. "And afterwards,
+I think, you had better say your prayers here, near the fire, as you
+have been so wet."
+
+She chose a short psalm, and read it aloud. Then the children knelt
+down, each at a separate chair, to say their prayers in silence. Not as
+children's prayers are sometimes hurried over, knelt they; but with
+lowly reverence, their heads bowed, their young hearts lifted, never
+doubting but they were heard by God. They had been trained in a good
+school.
+
+Did you ever have a sale of old things? Goods and chattels which may
+have served your purpose and looked well in their places, seem so old
+when they come to be exhibited that you feel half-ashamed of them? And
+as to the sum they realise--you will not have much trouble in hoarding
+it. Had Mr. Halliburton known the small sum that would be the result of
+his sale; had Jane dreamt that they would go for an "old song," they had
+never consented to part with them. Better have been at the cost of
+carrying them to Helstonleigh. Their bedding, blankets, etc., they did
+take: and it was well they did so.
+
+I feel almost afraid to tell you how very little money they had in hand
+when they arrived. All their worldly wealth was little more than a
+hundred and twenty pounds. Debts had to be paid before leaving London;
+and it cost money to give up their house without notice, for their
+landlord was severe.
+
+One hundred and twenty pounds! And with this they had to buy fresh
+furniture, and to live until teaching came in. A forlorn prospect on
+which to recommence the world! No wonder that Jane shunned even tea at
+the inn, or any other expense that might lessen their funds! But hope is
+buoyant in the human heart: and unless it were so, half the world might
+lay themselves down to die.
+
+Morning came: a bright, sunny, beautiful morning after the rain. Not,
+apparently, had Mr. Halliburton suffered. His limbs felt a little stiff,
+but that would go off before the day closed. Their plans were to take a
+small house, as cheap a one as they could find, in accordance with--you
+really must for once excuse the word--gentility. That--a tolerably fair
+appearance--was necessary to Mr. Halliburton's success as a teacher.
+
+"A dry, healthy spot, a little way out of the town," mused the landlord
+of the "Star," to whom they communicated their desire. "The London Road
+would be the place then. And you probably will find there such a house
+as you require."
+
+They found their way to the London Road--a healthy suburb of the town;
+and there discovered a house they thought might suit them: a
+semi-detached house of good appearance, inclosed by iron railings, and
+standing a little back from the road. A sitting-room was on either side
+the entrance, a kitchen at the back. Three bedrooms were above; and
+above these again was a garret. A small garden was behind the house; and
+beyond that was a field, which did not belong to them. The adjoining
+house was similar to this one; but that possessed a large and productive
+garden. An inmate of that house showed them over this one, dressed as a
+Quakeress. Her features were plain, but her complexion was fair and
+delicate, and she had calm blue eyes.
+
+"The rent of the house is thirty-two pounds per annum," she said, in
+reply to Mrs. Halliburton's question. "It belongs to Thomas Ashley; but
+thee must not apply to him. I will furnish thee with the address of the
+agent, who has the letting of Friend Ashley's houses. It is Anthony
+Dare. You will find the house pleasant and healthy, if you decide upon
+it," she added, speaking to both of them.
+
+The latter name had struck upon Mr. Halliburton's ear. "Jane!" he
+whispered to his wife, "that must be the Mr. Dare who married my cousin,
+Julia Cooper. His name was Anthony Dare."
+
+Mr. Halliburton proceeded alone to the office of Mr. Dare, the gentleman
+you met at Mr. Cooper's; Mrs. Halliburton returning to her children at
+the hotel. They had decided to take the house. Mr. Dare was not at home.
+"In London, with his wife," the head clerk said. But the clerk had power
+to let the house. Mr. Halliburton gave him some particulars with regard
+to himself, and they were considered satisfactory; but he did not
+mention that he was related to Mrs. Dare.
+
+The next thing was about furniture. The clerk directed Mr. Halliburton
+to a warehouse where both new and second-hand things might be obtained,
+and he proceeded to it, calling in at the "Star" for his wife. She knew
+a great deal more about furniture than he. They did the best they could,
+spending about fifty pounds. A Kidderminster carpet was bought for the
+best sitting-room. The other room, which was to be Mr. Halliburton's
+study, and the bedrooms, went for the present without any. "We will buy
+all those things when we have succeeded a bit," said Mr. Halliburton.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+ANNA LYNN.
+
+
+They slept that night again at the "Star," and the following morning
+early, they and their furniture took possession together of the house. A
+busy day they found it, arranging things. Jane--who had determined, as
+the saying runs, "to put her shoulder to the wheel," not only on this
+day, but on future days--did not intend to engage a regular servant.
+That, like the carpets, might be indulged in as they succeeded; but in
+the mean time she thought a young girl might be found who would come in
+for a few hours daily, and do what they wanted done.
+
+In the course of the morning, the fair, pleasant face of the Quakeress
+was seen approaching the back door from the garden. She wore a lilac
+print gown, a net kerchief crossed under it on her neck, and the
+peculiar net cap, with its high caul and neat little border.
+
+"I have stepped in to ask if I can help thee with thy work," she began.
+"Thee hast plenty to do, setting things straight, and thy husband does
+not look strong. I will aid if thee pleasest."
+
+"You are very kind to be so thoughtful for a stranger," replied Jane,
+charmed with the straightforward frankness of the Quakeress. "I hope you
+will first tell me to whom I am indebted."
+
+"Thee can call me Patience," was the ready reply. "I live next door,
+with Samuel Lynn and his daughter Anna. His wife died soon after the
+child was born. I was related to Anna Lynn; and when she was departing
+she sent for me, and begged me not to leave her child, unless Samuel
+should take unto himself another wife. But that appears to be far from
+his thoughts. He loves the child much; she is as the apple of his eye."
+
+"Is Mr. Lynn in business?" asked Jane.
+
+"Not on his own account now. He was a glove manufacturer, as a young
+man, but he had not a large capital; and when the British ports were
+opened for the admission of gloves from the French, it ruined him--as it
+did many others in the city. Only the rich masters could stand that.
+Numbers went then."
+
+"Went!" echoed Jane. "Went where?"
+
+"To ruin. Ah! I remember it: though it is a long time ago now. It was, I
+think, in the year 1825. I cannot describe to thee the distress and
+destruction it brought upon this city, until then so flourishing. The
+manufacturers had to close their works, and the men went about the
+streets starving."
+
+"Did the distress continue long?"
+
+"For weeks, and months, and years. The town will never be again, in that
+respect, what it has been. Samuel Lynn was a man of integrity, and he
+gave up business while he could pay everyone, and accepted the post of
+manager in the manufactory of Thomas Ashley. Thomas Ashley is one of the
+first manufacturers in the city, as his father was before him. When thee
+shall know the place and the people better, thee will find that there is
+not a name more respected throughout Helstonleigh than that of Thomas
+Ashley."
+
+"I suppose he is a rich man?"
+
+
+"Yes, he is rich," replied Patience, who was as busy with her hands as
+she was in talking. "His household is expensive, and he keeps his open
+and his close carriages; but for all that he must be putting by money.
+It is not for his riches that Thomas Ashley is respected, but for his
+high character. There is not a more just man living than Thomas Ashley;
+there is not a manufacturer in the town who is so considerate and kind
+to his workmen. His rate of wages is on the highest scale, and he is
+incapable of oppression. He has a son and daughter. He, the boy, causes
+him much uneasiness and cost."
+
+"Is he--not steady?" hastily asked Jane.
+
+"Bless thee, it is not that!" was the laughing answer of Patience. "He
+is but a young boy yet. When he was fourteen months old, the nurse let
+him fall from her arms, from the first landing to the hall below. At
+first they thought he was not hurt: Margaret Ashley herself thought it;
+the doctors thought it. But in a little time injury grew apparent. It
+lay in one of the hips; he is often in great pain, and will be lame for
+life. Abscess after abscess forms in the hip. They take him to the
+sea-side; to doctors in London; but nothing cures him. A beautiful boy
+as you ever saw; but his hurt renders him peevish. He is fond of books;
+and David Byrne, who is a Latin and Greek scholar, goes daily to
+instruct him; but the boy is thrown back by his fits of illness. It is a
+great grief to Thomas and Margaret Ashley. They----Why, Anna, is it
+thee? What dost thou do here?"
+
+Mrs. Halliburton turned from the kitchen cupboard, where she and
+Patience were arranging crockery, to behold a little girl who was no
+doubt Anna Lynn. Dark blue eyes were deeply set beneath their long
+lashes, which lay on a damask and dimpled cheek; her pretty teeth shone
+like pearls between her smiling lips, and her chestnut hair fell in a
+mass of careless curls upon her neck. Never, Mrs. Halliburton thought,
+had she seen a face so lovely. Jane was a pretty child; but Jane faded
+into nothing in comparison with the vision standing there.
+
+"Thee has thy cap off again, Anna!" cried the Quakeress, with some
+asperity of tone. "Art thee not ashamed to be so bold?--going about with
+thy head uncovered!"
+
+"The cap came off, Patience," gently responded Anna. She had a sweetly
+timid manner; a modest expression.
+
+"Thee need not tell me what is untrue. When the cap is tied on, it will
+not come off, unless purposely removed. Go home and put it on. Thee may
+come back again. Perhaps Friend Halliburton will permit thee to stay
+awhile with her children, who are arranging their books in the study. Is
+thy French lesson learnt?"
+
+"Not quite," replied Anna, running away.
+
+She returned with a pretty little white net cap on, the model of that
+worn by Patience. Her luxuriant curls were pushed under it, and the
+crimped border rested on the fair forehead.
+
+"Nay, there is no call to put all thy hair out of sight, child," said
+Patience. "Where are thy combs."
+
+"In my hair, Patience."
+
+Patience took off the cap, formed two flat curls, by means of the combs,
+on either side the temples, put the cap on again, and tucked the rest of
+the hair smoothly under it. Mrs. Halliburton then took Anna's hand, and
+led her to her own children.
+
+"What a pity it is to hide her hair!" she said afterwards to Patience.
+
+"Dost thee think so? It is the custom with our people. Anna's hair is
+fine, and of a curly nature. Brush it as I will, it curls; and she has
+acquired a habit of taking her cap off when I am not watching. Her
+father, I grieve to say, will let her sit by the hour together, her hair
+down, as thee saw it now, and her cap anywhere. I believe he thinks
+nothing she does is wrong. I talk to him much."
+
+"I never saw a more beautiful child!" said Jane, warmly.
+
+"I grant thee that she is fair; but she is eleven years old now, and her
+vanity should be checked. She is sometimes invited to the Ashleys',
+where she sees the mode in which Mary Ashley is dressed, according to
+the fashion of the world, and it sets her longing. Samuel Lynn will not
+listen to me. He is pleased that his child should be received there as
+Mary Ashley's equal; he cannot forget the time when he was in a good
+position himself."
+
+"Who teaches Anna?"
+
+"She attends a small school for Friends, kept by Ruth Darby. It is the
+holidays now. Her father educates her well. She learns French and
+drawing, and other branches of study suitable for girls. Take care! let
+me help thee with that heavy table."
+
+Presently they went to see how things were getting on in the study. Jane
+could not keep her eyes from the face of that lovely child. It partly
+hindered her work, which there was little need of on that busy day; a
+day so busy that they were all glad when it was over, and they were at
+liberty to retire to rest.
+
+Rarely had Jane witnessed so beautiful a view as that which met her
+sight the following morning, when she drew up her blind. The previous
+day had been hazy--nothing was to be seen; now the atmosphere had
+cleared. The great extent of scenery spread around, the green fields,
+the growing corn, the sparkling rivulets, the woods with their darker
+and their brighter trees, the undulating slopes--all were charming. But
+beyond all, and far more charming, bounding the landscape in the distant
+horizon, stretched the long chain of the far-famed Malvern Hills. As
+the sun cast upon them its light and shade, their outline so clearly
+depicted against the sky, and their white villas peeping out from the
+trees at their base--Jane felt that she could have gazed for ever. A
+wondrous picture is that of Malvern, as seen from Helstonleigh in the
+freshness of the early morning.
+
+"Edgar!" she impulsively exclaimed, turning to the bed--for Mr.
+Halliburton had not risen--"you never saw anything more beautiful than
+the view from this window. I am sure half the Londoners never dreamt of
+anything like it."
+
+There was no reply. "Perhaps he may be still asleep," she thought. But
+upon approaching the bed, she saw that his eyes were open.
+
+"Jane," he gasped, "I am ill."
+
+"Ill!" she repeated, a spasm darting through her heart.
+
+"Every limb is paining me. My head aches, and I am burning with fever. I
+have felt it coming on all night."
+
+She bent down; she felt his hands and his hot face--all burning, as he
+said, with fever.
+
+"We must call in a doctor," she quietly said, suppressing every sign of
+dismay, that it might not agitate him. "I will ask Patience to recommend
+one."
+
+"Yes; better have a doctor at once. What will become of us? If I should
+be going to have an illness----"
+
+"Stay, Edgar; do not give way to sad anticipations," she gently said. "A
+brave mind, you know, goes half way towards a cure. It is the effect of
+that wetting; the cold must have been smouldering within you."
+
+Smouldering only to burst out the fiercer for delay. Patience spoke in
+favour of their own medical man, a Mr. Parry, who lived near them and
+had a large practice. He came; and pronounced the malady to be rheumatic
+fever.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+ILLNESS.
+
+
+For nine weeks Mr. Halliburton never left his bed. His wife was worn to
+a shadow; what with waiting upon him, and battling with her anxiety. Her
+body was weary, her heart was sick. Do _you_ know the cost of illness?
+Jane knew it then.
+
+In two weeks more he could leave his easy-chair and crawl about the
+room; and by that time he was all eagerness to commence his operations
+for the future.
+
+"I must have some cards printed, Jane," he cried, one morning. "'Mr.
+Halliburton, Professor of Classics and Mathematics, late of King's
+Col--'--or should it be simply 'Edgar Halliburton?'" he broke off, to
+deliberate. "I wonder what the custom may be, down here?"
+
+"I think you should wait until you are stronger, before you order your
+cards," was Jane's reply.
+
+"But I can be getting things in train, Jane. I have been--how many weeks
+is it now?"
+
+"Eleven."
+
+"To be sure. It was June when we came; it is now September. I have been
+obliged to neglect the boys' lessons, too!"
+
+"They have been very good and quiet; have gone on with their lessons
+themselves. If we have trouble in other ways, we have a blessing in our
+children, Edgar. They are thoroughly loving and dutiful."
+
+"I don't know the ordinary terms of the neighbourhood," he resumed,
+after an interval of silence. "And--I wonder if people will want
+references? Jane"--after another silence--"you must put your things on,
+and go to Mrs. Dare's."
+
+"To Mrs. Dare's!" she echoed. "Now? I don't know her."
+
+"Never mind about not knowing her," he eagerly continued. "She is my
+cousin. You must ask whether they will allow themselves to be referred
+to. Peach will allow it also, I am quite certain. Do go, Jane."
+
+Invalids in the weak state of Mr. Halliburton are apt to be restlessly
+impatient when the mind is set upon any plan or project. Jane found that
+it would vex him much if she declined to go to Mrs. Dare, and she
+prepared for the visit. Patience directed her to their residence.
+
+It was situated at the opposite end of Helstonleigh. A handsome house,
+inclosed in a high wall, and bearing the imposing title of "Pomeranian
+Knoll." Jane entered the iron gates, walked round the carriage drive
+that inclosed the lawn, and rang the house bell. A showy footman in
+light blue livery, with a bunch of cords on his shoulder, answered it.
+
+"Can I see Mrs. Dare?"
+
+"What name, ma'am?"
+
+Jane gave in one of her visiting cards, wondering whether that was not
+too grand a proceeding, considering the errand upon which she had come.
+She was shown into an elegant room, to the presence of Mrs. Dare. That
+lady was in a costly morning dress, with chains, rings, bracelets, and
+other glittering jewellery about her: as she had worn the evening you
+saw her beside Mr. Cooper's death-bed.
+
+"Mrs. Halliburton?" she was repeating in doubt, when Jane entered, her
+eyes strained on the card. "What Mrs. Halliburton?" she added, not very
+civilly, turning her eyes upon Jane.
+
+Jane explained. The wife of Edgar Halliburton, Mrs. Dare's cousin.
+
+Mrs. Dare's presence of mind wholly forsook her. She grew deathly
+white; she caught at a chair for support; she was utterly unable to
+speak or to conceal her agitation. Jane could only look at her in
+amazement, wondering whether she was seized with sudden illness.
+
+
+A few moments and she recovered herself. She took a seat, motioned Jane
+to another, and asked, as she might have asked of any stranger, what her
+business might be. Jane explained it, somewhat at length.
+
+Mrs. Dare's surprise was great. She could not or would not understand;
+and her face flushed a deep red, and again grew deadly pale. "Edgar
+Halliburton come to live in Helstonleigh!" she repeated. "And you say
+you are his wife?"
+
+"I am his wife," was the reply of Jane, spoken with quiet dignity.
+
+
+"_What_ is it that you say he has in view, in coming here?"
+
+"I beg your pardon; I thought I had explained." And Jane went over the
+ground again--why he had been obliged to leave London, and his reasons
+for settling in Helstonleigh.
+
+"You could not have come to a worse place," said Mrs. Dare, who appeared
+to be annoyed almost beyond repression. "Masters of all sorts are so
+plentiful here that they tread on each other's heels."
+
+Discouraging news! And Jane's heart beat fast on hearing it. "My husband
+thought you and Mr. Dare would kindly interest yourselves for him. He
+knows that Mr. Peach will----"
+
+"No," interrupted Mrs. Dare, in decisive tones. "For Edgar Halliburton's
+own sake I must decline to recommend him; or, indeed, to interfere at
+all. It would only encourage fallacious hopes. Masters are here in
+abundance--I speak of private masters; they don't find half enough to
+do. Schools are also plentiful. The best thing will be to go to some
+place where there is a better opening, and not to settle himself here at
+all!"
+
+"But we have already settled here," replied Jane.
+
+A thought suddenly struck Mrs. Dare. "It can never be Edgar who has
+taken Mr. Ashley's cottage in the London Road? I remember the name was
+said to be Halliburton."
+
+
+"The same. It was let to us by Mr. Dare's clerk."
+
+Mrs. Dare sat biting her lips. That she was grievously annoyed was
+evident, but in deference to good manners, which were partially
+returning to her, she strove to repress its signs. "I presume your
+husband is poor, Mrs. Halliburton?"
+
+"We are very poor."
+
+"It is generally the case with teachers, as I have observed. Well, I
+can only give one answer to your application--that we must decline all
+interference. I hope Edgar will not think of applying again to us upon
+the subject."
+
+Jane rose. Mrs. Dare remained seated. And yet she prided herself upon
+her good breeding!
+
+"I had forgotten a question which my husband particularly desired me to
+ask," Jane said, turning back, as she was moving to the door. "Edgar saw
+by the papers that his uncle, Mr. Cooper, died the beginning of the
+year. Did he remember him on his death-bed, so far as to send a message
+of reconciliation?"
+
+Strange to say, the countenance of Mrs. Dare again changed; now to a
+burning heat, now to a livid pallor. She hesitated in her answer.
+
+"Yes," she said at length. "Mr. Cooper so far relented as to send him
+his forgiveness. 'Tell my nephew Edgar, if you ever see him, that I am
+sorry for my harshness; that I would treat him differently were the time
+to come over again.' I do not remember the precise words; but they were
+to that effect. There is no doubt that he would have wished to be
+reconciled; but time did not allow it. I should have written to Edgar of
+this, had I been acquainted with his address."
+
+"A letter addressed to King's College would always have found him. But
+he will be glad to hear this. He also bade me ask how Mr. Cooper's money
+was left--if you would kindly give him the information."
+
+Mrs. Dare bent her head. She was busy playing with her bracelet. "The
+will was proved in Doctors' Commons. Edgar Halliburton may see it by
+paying a shilling there."
+
+It was not a gracious answer, and Jane paused. "He cannot go to Doctors'
+Commons; he is not in London," she gently said.
+
+Mrs. Dare raised her head. A look, speaking plainly of defiance, had
+settled itself on her features. "It was left to me; the whole of it,
+except a few trifling legacies to his servants. What could Edgar
+Halliburton expect?"
+
+"I am sure that he did not expect anything," observed Jane. "Though I
+believe a hope has sometimes crossed his mind that Mr. Cooper might at
+the last relent, and remember him."
+
+"Nay," said Mrs. Dare, "he had behaved too disobediently for that.
+First, in opposing his uncle's wishes that he should enter into
+business; secondly, in his marriage."
+
+"In his marriage!" echoed Jane, a flush rising to her own face.
+
+"It was so. Mr. Cooper was exceedingly exasperated when he heard that
+Edgar had married. He looked upon the marriage, I believe, as
+undesirable for him in a pecuniary point of view. You must pardon my
+speaking of this to you personally. You appear to wish for the truth."
+
+The flush on Jane's face deepened to crimson.
+
+"It is true that I had no money," she said. "But I am the daughter of a
+clergyman, and was reared a gentlewoman!"
+
+"I suppose my uncle thought Edgar Halliburton should have married a
+fortune. However all that is past and gone, and it will do no good to
+recall it. I am sorry that you should have been so ill-advised for your
+own interests as to fix on this place to come to."
+
+Mrs. Dare rose. She had sat all this time; Jane had stood. "Tell Edgar,
+from me, that I am sorry to hear of his illness. Tell him there is no
+possible chance of success for him in Helstonleigh; no opening whatever!
+When I say that I hope he will speedily remove to some place less
+overdone with masters, I speak only in his own interest!"
+
+She rang the bell as she spoke, and gave Jane the tips of two of her
+fingers. The footman held open the hall door, and bowed her out. Jane
+went down the gravel sweep, determined never again to trouble Mrs. Dare.
+
+"Joseph!" cried Mrs. Dare, sharply.
+
+"Ma'am?"
+
+"Should that lady ever call again, I am not at home, remember!"
+
+"Very well, ma'am," was the man's reply.
+
+Mrs. Dare did not stay to hear it. She had flown upstairs to her room in
+trepidation. There she attired herself hastily and went out, bending her
+steps towards Mr. Dare's office. It was situated at the end of the town;
+and the door displayed a brass plate: "Mr. Dare, Solicitor."
+
+Mrs. Dare entered the outer room. "Is Mr. Dare alone?" she asked of the
+clerks.
+
+"No, ma'am. Mr. Ashley is with him."
+
+Chafing at the answer, for she was in a mood of great impatience, of
+inward tremor, Mrs. Dare waited for a few minutes. Mr. Ashley came out.
+A man of nearly forty years, rather above the middle height, with a
+fresh complexion, dark eyes, and well-formed features. A
+benevolent-looking, good man. His wife was a cousin of Mr. Dare's.
+
+Mr. Dare was seated at his table in his own room when his wife came in.
+She had turned again of an ashy paleness, and she dropped into a chair
+near to him.
+
+"What is the matter?" he asked in astonishment. "Are you ill?"
+
+"I think I shall die," she gasped. "I have had a mortal fright,
+Anthony."
+
+Mr. Dare rose. He was about to get her some water, or to call for it,
+but she caught his arm. "Stay, and hear me! Stay! Anthony, those
+Halliburtons have come to Helstonleigh. Come to live here!"
+
+Mr. Dare's mouth opened. "What Halliburtons?" he presently asked.
+
+"_They._ He has come here to settle. He wants to teach; and his wife has
+been with me, asking us to be referees. Of course I put the stopper upon
+that. The idea of _our_ having poor relations in the town who get their
+living by teaching!"
+
+A very disagreeable idea indeed; for those who were playing first
+fiddle in the place, and expected to play it still. But not for that did
+the man and wife stand gazing at each other; and the naturally bold look
+on Mr. Dare's face had faded considerably just then.
+
+"She asked about the will," said Mrs. Dare, dropping her voice to a
+whisper, and looking round with a shiver. "I thought I should have died
+with fear."
+
+Mr. Dare rallied his courage. Any little reminiscence that may have
+momentarily disturbed his equanimity he shook off, and was his own bold
+self again.
+
+"Nonsense, Julia! What is there to fear? The will is proved and acted
+upon. Whatever the old man may have uttered to us in his death ramblings
+was heard by ourselves alone. If any one _had_ heard it, I should not
+much care. A will's a will all the world over; and to act against it
+would be illegal."
+
+Mrs. Dare sat wiping her brow and gathering up _her_ courage. It came
+back by slow degrees.
+
+"Anthony, we must get them out of Helstonleigh. For more reasons than
+one we must get them out. They are in that house of Mr. Ashley's."
+
+He looked surprised. "They! Ay, to be sure: the name in the books is
+Halliburton. It never occurred to me that it could be they. I wonder if
+they are poor?"
+
+"Very poor, the wife said."
+
+"Just so," said Mr. Dare, with a pleasant smile. "I'll not ask for the
+rent this quarter, but let it go on a bit. We may get them out, Mrs.
+Dare."
+
+You need not be told that Anthony Dare and his wife had omitted to act
+upon Mr. Cooper's dying injunction. At the time they did really intend
+to fulfil it; they were not thieves or forgers. But Edgar Halliburton
+was not present to remind them of his claims: and, when the money came
+to be realised, to be in their own hands, there it was suffered to
+remain. Waiting for him, of course; they did not know precisely where to
+find him, and did not take any trouble to inquire. Very tempting and
+useful they found the money. A large portion of their own share went in
+paying back debts, for they lived at an extravagant rate; and--and in
+short they had intrenched upon that other share, and could not now have
+paid it over had they been ever so willing to do so. No wonder that Mrs.
+Dare had felt as one in mortal fear when she met Jane Halliburton face
+to face!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+A CHRISTMAS DREAM.
+
+
+Winter had come to Helstonleigh: frost hovered in the air and rested on
+the ground. How was Mr. Halliburton? He had never once been out since
+his illness, and he sat by the fire when he did not lie in bed, and his
+cough was racking him. He might, and probably would, have recovered
+health under more favourable auspices, but anxiety of mind was killing
+him. Their money was dwindling to a close, and delicacies they dared not
+get for him. Mr. Halliburton would say he did not require them; could
+not eat them if they were procured. Poor man! he craved for them in his
+inmost heart. Strange to say, he did not see his own danger. Or, rather,
+it would have been strange but that similar cases are met with every
+day. "When this cold weather has passed, and spring is in, then I shall
+get up my strength," was his constant cry. "Then I shall set about my
+work in earnest, and make my arrival and my plans known to Peach. It has
+been of no use troubling him beforehand." False, false hopes! fond,
+delusive hopes!
+
+Dr. Carrington had said that if he _took care_ of himself, he might live
+and be well. The other doctors had said the same. And there was no
+reason to doubt their judgment. But they had not bargained for an attack
+of rheumatic fever, or for the increased injury to the lungs which the
+same cause, that past soaking, had induced.
+
+On Christmas Eve, he and Jane were sitting over the fire in the
+twilight. He could come downstairs now; indeed, he did not appear to be
+so ill as he really was. The surgeon who attended him in the fever had
+been discharged long ago. "There's nothing the matter with me now but
+debility; and, only time will bring me out of that," Mr. Halliburton
+said, when he dismissed him. Jane was hopeful; more hopeful by fits and
+starts than continuously so; but she did really believe he might get
+well when winter had passed. They were sitting beside the fire, when a
+great bustle interrupted them. All the children trooped in at once, with
+the noise it is the delight of children not to stir without. Frank, who
+had been out, had entered the house with his arms full of holly and ivy,
+his bright face glowing with excitement. The others were attending him
+to show off the prize.
+
+"Look at all this Christmas, mamma!" cried he. "I have bought it."
+
+"Bought it?" repeated Jane. "My dear Frank, did I not tell you we must
+do without Christmas this year?"
+
+"But it cost nothing, mamma. Only a penny!"
+
+Jane sighed. She did not say to the children that even a penny was no
+longer "nothing."
+
+"You know that penny I have kept in my pocket a long while," went on
+Frank in excitement, addressing the assemblage. "Well, I thought if
+mamma would not buy some Christmas, I would."
+
+"But you did not buy all that for a penny, Frank? We should pay sixpence
+for it in London."
+
+"I did, though, mamma. I had it of that old man who lives in the cottage
+higher up the road, with the big garden to it. He was going to cut me
+more, but I told him this was plenty. You should have seen the heaps he
+gave a woman for twopence: she wanted a wheelbarrow to carry it away."
+
+Janey clapped her hands, and began to dance. "I shall help you to dress
+the rooms! We must have a merry Christmas!"
+
+Mr. Halliburton drew her to him. "Yes, we must have a merry Christmas,
+must we not, Janey? Jane"--turning to his wife--"can you manage to have
+a nice dinner for us? Christmas only comes once a year."
+
+He looked up with his haggard face: very much as though he were longing
+for a nice dinner then.
+
+"I will see what I can do," said Jane in reply, smothering down another
+sigh. "I am going out presently to the butcher's. A joint of beef will
+be best; and though the pudding's a plain one, I hope it will be good.
+Yes, we must keep Christmas."
+
+Christmas-day dawned, and in due time they assembled as usual. Jane
+intended to go to church that day. During her husband's illness she had
+been obliged to send the children alone. They had been trained to know
+what church meant, and did not require some one with them to keep them
+in order there. A good thing if the same could be said of all children!
+
+It was a clear, bright morning, cold and frosty. Mr. Halliburton came
+down just as they were starting.
+
+"I feel so much better to-day!" he exclaimed. "I could almost go with
+you myself. Jane"--smiling at her look of consternation--"you need not
+be startled: I do not intend to attempt it. William, you are not ready."
+
+"Mamma said I was to stay with you, papa."
+
+"Stay with me! There's not the least necessity for that. I tell you all
+I am feeling better to-day--quite well. You can go with the rest,
+William."
+
+William looked at his mother, and for a moment Jane hesitated. Only for
+a moment. "I would rather he remained, Edgar," she said. "Betsy will be
+gone by twelve o'clock. Indeed, I should not feel comfortable at the
+thought of your being alone."
+
+"Oh, very well," replied Mr. Halliburton, quite gaily. "I suppose you
+must remain, William, or we shall have mamma leaving when the service is
+only half over to see whether I have not fallen into the fire."
+
+Jane had all the household care upon her shoulders now, and a great
+portion of the household work. Though an active domestic manager, she
+had known nothing practically of the more menial work of a house; she
+knew it only too well now. The old saying is a very true one: "Necessity
+makes us acquainted with strange bedfellows." This young girl, Betsy,
+who came in part of each day to assist, was almost as much trouble as
+profit. She had said to Jane on Christmas Eve: "If you please, mother
+says I am to be at home to-morrow, if it's convenient." I am! However,
+Jane and the young lady came to a compromise. She was to go home at
+twelve and come back later to wash up the dishes. Of course it entailed
+upon Jane all the trouble of preparing dinner.
+
+Have you ever known one of these cases yourself? Where a lady--a lady,
+mind you, as Jane was--has had to put aside her habits of refinement,
+pin up her gown, and turn to and cook; roast the meat and boil potatoes,
+and all the ether essential items? Many a one is doing it now in real
+life. Jane Halliburton was not a solitary example. The pudding had been
+made the day before and partly boiled: it was now on the fire, boiling
+again, and the rest of the dinner she would do on her return from
+church.
+
+It was something wonderful, the improvement in Mr. Halliburton's health
+that day. He took his part with William in reading the psalms and
+lessons while the rest were at church: it was what he had been unable to
+do for a long time in consequence of his cough and laboured breathing.
+The duty over, he lay back in his chair; in thought apparently, not
+exhaustion.
+
+"Peace on earth, and good will towards men!" he repeated presently, in a
+fervent, but somewhat absent tone. "William, my boy, I think peace must
+be coming to me at last. I do feel so well."
+
+"What peace, papa?" asked William, puzzled.
+
+"The peace of renewed health, of hope; freedom from worry. The Christmas
+season and the bright day have taken away all my despondency. Let me go
+on like this, and in another month I shall be out and at work."
+
+William's eyes sparkled. He fully believed it all. Boys are sanguine.
+
+They were to dine at three o'clock, and Jane did her best to prepare it.
+During the process, Patience appeared at the back door with a plate of
+oranges. "Will thee accept of these for thy children?" asked she.
+
+"How kind you are!" exclaimed Jane, in a grateful impulse, as she
+thought of her children. Of such little treats they had latterly enjoyed
+a scanty share. "Patience, I hope you did not buy them purposely?"
+
+"Had I had to buy them, thee would not have seen them," returned the
+candid Quakeress. "A friend of Samuel Lynn's, who lives at Bristol,
+sends us a small case every winter. When I was unpacking it this morning
+I said to him, 'The young ones at the next door would be pleased with a
+few of these'; but he did not answer. Thee must not think him selfish;
+he is not a selfish man; but he cannot bear to see anything go beside
+the child. Anna looked at him eagerly; she would have been pleased to
+send half the box: and he saw it. 'Take in a few, Patience,' he cried."
+
+"I am much obliged to him, and to you also," repeated Jane. "Patience,
+Mr. Halliburton is so much better to-day! Go in, and see him."
+
+Patience went into the parlour, carrying the oranges with her. When she
+came out again there was a grave expression on her serene face.
+
+"Thee will do well not to count upon this apparent improvement in thy
+husband."
+
+Jane's heart went down considerably. "I do not exactly count upon it,
+Patience," she confessed; "but he does seem to have changed so much for
+the better that I feel in greater spirits than I have felt this many a
+day. His cough seems almost well."
+
+"I do not wish to throw a damp upon thee; still, were I thee, I would
+not reckon upon it. These sudden improvements sometimes turn out to have
+been deceitful. Fare thee well!"
+
+Jane went into the parlour. The children were gathered round the plate
+of oranges. "Mamma, do look!" cried Janey. "Are they not good? There
+are six: one apiece for us all. I wonder if papa could eat one? Gar, you
+are not to touch. Papa, could you eat an orange?"
+
+Unseen by the children, Mr. Halliburton had been straining his eager
+gaze upon the oranges. His mouth parched with inward fever, his throat
+dry, they appeared, coming thus unexpectedly before him, what the
+long-wished-for spring of water is to the fainting traveller in the
+desert. Jane caught the look, and handed the plate to him. "You would
+like one, Edgar?"
+
+"I am thirsty," he said, in tones savouring of apology, for the oranges
+seemed to belong to the children rather than to him. "I think I must eat
+mine before dinner. Cut it into four, will you?"
+
+He took up one of the quarters. "It is delicious!" he exclaimed. "It is
+so refreshing!"
+
+The children stood around and watched him. They enjoyed oranges, but
+scarcely with a zest so intense as that.
+
+When Jane returned to the kitchen, she found a helpmate. The maid from
+next door, Grace, a young Quakeress, fair and demure, was standing
+there. She had been sent by Patience to do what she could for half an
+hour. "How considerate she is!" thought grateful Jane.
+
+They dined in comfort, Grace waiting on them. Afterwards the oranges
+were placed upon the table. Master Gar caught up the plate, and
+presented it to his mother. "Papa has had his," quoth he.
+
+"Not for me, Gar," said Jane. "I do not eat oranges. I will give mine to
+papa."
+
+The three younger children speedily attacked theirs. William did not. He
+left his by the side of the one rejected by his mother, and set the
+plate by Mr. Halliburton.
+
+"Do you intend these for me, William?"
+
+"Yes, papa."
+
+Frank looked surprised. "William, you don't mean to say you are not
+going to eat your orange? Why, you were as glad as any of us when they
+came."
+
+"I eat oranges when I want them," observed William, with an affectation
+of carelessness, which betrayed a delicacy of feeling that might have
+done honour to one older than he. "I have had too good a dinner to care
+about oranges."
+
+Mr. Halliburton drew William towards him, and looked steadfastly into
+his face with a meaning smile. "Thank you, my darling," he whispered:
+and William coloured excessively as he sat down.
+
+Mr. Halliburton ate the oranges, and appeared as if he could have eaten
+as many more. Then he leaned his head back on the pillow which was
+placed over his chair, and presently fell asleep.
+
+"Be very still, dear children," whispered Jane.
+
+They looked round, saw why they were to be still, and hushed their busy
+voices. William pulled a stool to his mother's feet, and took his seat
+on it, holding her hand between his.
+
+"Papa will soon be well again now," he softly said. "Don't you think so,
+mamma?"
+
+"Indeed I hope he will," she answered.
+
+"But don't you _think_ it?" he persisted; and Jane detected an anxiety
+in his tone. Could there have been a shadow of fear upon the boy's own
+heart? "He said mamma, whilst you were at church, that in another month
+he should be strong again."
+
+"Not quite so soon as that, I fear, William. He has been so much
+reduced, you know. Later: if he goes on as well as he appears to be
+going on now."
+
+Jane set the children to that renowned game. "Cross questions and
+crooked answers." You may have had the pleasure of playing it: if so,
+you will remember that it consists chiefly of whispering. It is
+difficult to keep children quiet long together.
+
+"Where am I?" cried a sudden voice, startling the children in the midst
+of their silent whispers.
+
+It came from Mr. Halliburton. He had slept about half an hour, and was
+now looking round in bewilderment, his head starting away from the
+pillow. "Where am I?" he repeated.
+
+"You have been asleep, papa," cried Frank.
+
+"Asleep! Oh, yes! I remember. You are all here, and it is Christmas
+Day. I have been dreaming."
+
+"What about, papa?"
+
+Mr. Halliburton let his head fall back on the pillow again. He fixed his
+eyes on vacancy, and there ensued a silence. The children looked at him.
+
+"Singular things are dreams," he presently exclaimed. "I thought I was
+on a broad, wide road--an immense road, and it was crowded with people.
+We were all going one way, stumbling and tripping along----"
+
+"What made you stumble, papa?" interrupted Janey, whose busy tongue was
+ever ready to talk.
+
+"The road was full of impediments," continued Mr. Halliburton, in a
+dreamy tone, as if his mental vision were buried in the scene and he was
+relating what had actually occurred. "Stones, and hillocks, and
+brambles, and pools of shallow water, and long grass that got entangled
+round our feet: nothing but difficulties and hindrances. At the end, in
+the horizon, as far as the eye could reach--very, very far away
+indeed--a hundred times as far away as the Malvern Hills appear to be
+from us--there shone a brilliant light. So brilliant! You have never
+seen anything like it in life, for the naked eye could not bear such
+light. And yet we seemed to look at it, and our sight was not dazzled!"
+
+"Perhaps it was fireworks?" interrupted Gar. Mr. Halliburton went on
+without heeding him.
+
+"We were all pressing on to get to the light, though the distant journey
+seemed as if it could never end. So long as we kept our eyes fixed on
+the light, we could see how we walked, and we passed over the rough
+places without fear. Not without difficulty. But still we did pass them,
+and advanced. But the moment we took our eyes from the light, then we
+were stopped; some fell; some wandered aside, and would not try to go
+forward; some were torn by the brambles; some fell into the water; some
+stuck in the mud; in short, they could not get on any way. And yet they
+knew--at least, it seemed that they knew--that if they would only lift
+their eyes to the light, and keep them steadfastly on it, they were
+certain to be helped, and to make progress. The few who did keep their
+eyes on it--very few they were!--steadily bore onwards. The same
+hindrances, the same difficulties were in their path, so that at times
+they also felt tempted to despair--to fear they could not get on. But
+their fears were groundless. So long as they did not take their eyes
+from the light, it guided them in certainty and safety over the rough
+places. It was a helper that could not fail; and it was ready to guide
+every one--all those millions and millions of travellers. To guide them
+throughout the whole of the way until they had gained it."
+
+The children had become interested and were listening with hushed lips.
+"Why did they not all let it guide them?" breathlessly asked William.
+"Nothing can be more easy than to keep our eyes on a light that does
+not dazzle. What did you do, papa?"
+
+"It seemed that the light would only shine on one step at a time,"
+continued Mr. Halliburton, not in answer to William, but evidently
+absorbed in his own thoughts. "We could not see further than the one
+step, but that was sufficient; for the moment we had taken it, then the
+light shone upon another. And so we passed on, progressing to the end,
+the light seeming brighter and brighter as we drew near to it."
+
+"Did you get to it, papa?"
+
+"I am trying to recollect, William. I seemed to be quite close to it. I
+suppose I awoke then."
+
+Mr. Halliburton paused, still in thought: but he said no more. Presently
+he turned to his wife. "Is it nearly tea-time, Jane? I cannot think what
+makes me so thirsty."
+
+"We can have tea now, if you like," she replied. "I will go and see
+about it."
+
+She left the room, and Janey ran after her. In the kitchen, making a
+great show and parade of being at work amidst plates and dishes, was a
+damsel of fifteen, her hair curiously twisted about her head, and her
+round, green eyes wide open. It was Betsy.
+
+"That was good pudding," cried she, turning her face to Mrs.
+Halliburton. "Better than mother's."
+
+She alluded to a slice which had been given her. Jane smiled. "We want
+tea, Betsy."
+
+"Have it in directly, mum," was Miss Betsy's acquiescent response.
+
+Scarcely were the words spoken, when a commotion was heard in the
+sitting-room. The door was flung open, and the boys called out, the tone
+of their voices one of utter alarm. Jane, the child, and the maid, made
+but one step to the room. All Jane's fears had flown to "fire."
+
+Fire had been almost less startling. Mr. Halliburton was lying back on
+the pillow with a ghastly face, his mouth, and shirt-front stained with
+blood. He could not speak, but he asked assistance with his imploring
+eyes. In coughing he had broken a blood-vessel.
+
+Jane did not faint; did not scream. Her whole heart turned sick, and she
+felt that the end had come. Janey sank down on the floor with a faint
+cry, and hid her face on the sofa. One glimpse was sufficient for Betsy.
+The moment she had taken it, she subsided into a succession of shrieks;
+flew out of the house and burst into that of Mr. Lynn. There she
+terrified the sober family by announcing that Mr. Halliburton was lying
+with his throat cut.
+
+Mr. Lynn and Patience hurried in, ordering Anna to remain where she was.
+They saw what was the matter, and placed him in a better position:
+Patience helping Mrs. Halliburton to sponge his face.
+
+"Shall I get the doctor for thee, friend?" asked the Quaker of Jane. "I
+shall bring him quicker, maybe, than one of thy lads would."
+
+"Oh! yes, yes!"
+
+"I warned thee not to be sanguine," whispered Patience, when Mr. Lynn
+had gone. "I feared it might be only the deceitfulness of the ending."
+
+The ending! what a confirmation of Jane's own fears! She turned her eyes
+despairingly on Patience.
+
+Mr. Halliburton opened his trembling lips, as though he would have
+spoken. Patience stopped him.
+
+"Thee must not talk, friend. If thee hast need of anything, can thee not
+make a sign?"
+
+He gave them to understand that he wanted water. This was given to him,
+and he appeared to be more composed.
+
+"There is nothing else that I can do just now," observed Patience. "I
+will go back and take thy little girl with me. See her, hiding there!"
+
+Patience did so. Betsy cowered over the fire in the kitchen, and the
+three boys and their mother stood round the dying man.
+
+"Children!" he gasped.
+
+"Oh, Edgar! do not speak!" interrupted Jane.
+
+He smiled as he looked at her, very much as though he knew that it did
+not matter whether he spoke or remained silent. "I am at the journey's
+end, Jane; close to the light. Children," he panted at slow intervals,
+"when I told you my dream, I little thought it was only a type of the
+present reality. I think it was sent to me that I might tell it you, for
+I now see its meaning. You are travelling on to that light, as I thought
+I was--as I have been. You will have the same stumbling-blocks to walk
+over; none are exempt from them; trials, and temptations, and sorrows,
+and drawbacks. But the light is there, ever shining to guide you, for it
+is Heaven. Will you always look up to it?"
+
+He gathered their hands together, and held them between his. The boys,
+awe-struck, bewildered with terror and grief, could only gaze in silence
+and listen.
+
+"The light is God, my children. He is above you, and below you, and
+round about you everywhere. He is ready to help you at every step and
+turn. Make Him your guide; put your whole dependence upon Him,
+implicitly trust to Him to lighten your path, so that you may see to
+walk in it. He cannot fail. Look up to Him, and you will be unerringly
+guided, though it may be--though it probably will be--only step by step.
+Never lose your trust in God, and then rest assured He will conduct you
+to His own bright ending. Jane, let them take it to their hearts! May
+God bless you, my dear ones! and bring you to me hereafter!"
+
+He ceased, and lay exhausted; his eyes fondly seeking Jane's, her hand
+clasped in his. Jane's own eyes were dry and burning, and she appeared
+to be unnaturally calm. Gradually the fading eyes closed. In a very
+short time the knock of Samuel Lynn was heard at the door. He had
+brought the doctor. William, passing his handkerchief over his wet face,
+went to open it.
+
+Mr. Parry stepped into the room, and Jane moved from beside her husband
+to give place to him. "He sighed heavily a minute or two ago," she
+whispered.
+
+The surgeon looked at him. He bent his ear to the open mouth, and then
+gently unbuttoned the waistcoat, and listened for the beating of the
+heart. "His life passed away in that sigh," murmured the doctor to Jane.
+
+It was even so. Edgar Halliburton had gone into the light.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+THE FUNERAL.
+
+
+Jane looked around her--looked at all the terrors of her situation. The
+first burst of grief over, and a day or two gone on, she could only look
+at it. She did not know which way to turn or what to do. It is true she
+placed implicit trust in God--in the LIGHT spoken of by her husband when
+he was passing away. Throughout her life she had borne an ever-present,
+lively trust in God's unchanging care; and she had incessantly striven
+to implant the same trust in the minds of her children. But in this
+season of dread anxiety, of hopeless bereavement, you will not think
+less well of her for hearing that she did give way to despondency,
+almost to despair.
+
+From tears for him who had been the dear partner of her life, to anxiety
+for the future of his children--from anxiety for them, to pecuniary
+distress and embarrassment--so passed on her hours from Christmas night.
+Calm she had contrived to be in the presence of others; but it was the
+calm of an aching heart. She dreaded her own reflections. When she rose
+in the morning she said, "How shall I bear up through the day?" and when
+she went to her bed, it would be, "How shall I drag through the right?"
+Tossing, turning, moaning; walking the room in the darkness when no eye
+was upon her; kneeling, almost without hope, to pour forth her
+tribulations to God--who would believe that, in the daytime, before
+others, she could be so apparently serene? Only once did she give way,
+and that was the day before the funeral.
+
+Patience sympathised with her in a reasoning sort of way. It had been
+next to impossible for Jane to keep her pecuniary anxiety from Patience,
+who advised and assisted her in making the various arrangements. It was
+necessary to go to work in the most sparing manner possible; and it
+ended in Jane's taking Patience into her full confidence.
+
+"If thee can but keep a house over thy head, so as to retain thy
+children with thee, thee wilt get along. Do not be cast down."
+
+"Oh, Patience, that is what I have been thinking about--how am I to keep
+the house together. I do not see that I can do it."
+
+"The furniture is thine," observed Patience. "Thee might let two or
+three of thy rooms, so as to cover the rent."
+
+"I have thought all that over and over again to myself," sighed Jane.
+"But, Patience--allowing that the rent were made in that way--how are we
+to live?"
+
+"Thee must occupy thy time in some way. Thee can sew! Dost thee know
+dress-making?"
+
+"No--only sufficient of it to make my own plain gowns and Jane's frocks.
+As to plain sewing, I could never earn food at it--it is so badly paid.
+And there will be the education of my boys, and their clothing."
+
+"Thee hast anxiety before thee--I see it," said Patience, in a grave
+tone. "Still, I would not have thee be cast down. Thee will make thyself
+ill, and that will not be the way to mend thy condition."
+
+Jane sat down, her hands clasped on her knees, her mind viewing her dark
+troubles. "If I were but clear, I should have better hope," she said,
+lifting her face in its sad sorrow. "Patience, we owe half a year's
+rent; and there will be the funeral expenses besides."
+
+"Hast thee no kindred that would aid thee in thy strait?"
+
+Jane shook her head. The only "kindred" she possessed in the whole world
+was one who had barely enough for his own poor wants--her brother
+Francis.
+
+"Hast thee no little property to dispose of?" continued Patience.
+"Watches, or things of that kind?"
+
+There was her husband's watch. But Jane's pale face crimsoned at the
+idea of parting with it in that manner. It was a good watch, and had
+long ago been promised to William.
+
+"I can understand thy flush of aversion," said Patience, kindly. "I
+would not be the one to suggest aught to hurt thy feelings; but thy
+necessities may leave no alternative."
+
+A conviction that they would leave none was already stealing over Jane.
+She possessed a few trinkets herself, not of much value, and a little
+silver. All might have to go, not excepting the watch. "Would there be a
+difficulty in disposing of them, Patience?" she asked aloud.
+
+"None at all: there is the pawn-shop," said the plain-speaking
+Quakeress. "I do not know what many would do without it. I can tell thee
+that some of the great ones of this city send their plate to it on
+occasion. Thee would not like to go to such a place thyself, but thy
+servant's mother, Elizabeth Carter, is a discreet woman: she would
+render thee this little service. As I tell thee, if thee can only
+surmount present difficulties, so as to secure a start, thee may get
+on."
+
+Surmount present difficulties! It seemed to Jane next door to an
+impossibility. She had the merest trifle of money left, was in debt, and
+without means, so far as she saw, of earning even food. She paid her
+last night visit to the room which contained the coffin, and went thence
+up to her bed, to toss the night through on her wet pillow, with a
+burning brow and an aching heart.
+
+It was a sad funeral to see, and one of the plainest of the plain. The
+clerk of the church, who had condescended to come up to escort it--a
+condescension he did not often vouchsafe to poor funerals, for they
+afforded nothing good to eat and drink--walked first, without a hatband.
+Then came the coffin, covered with a pall, and William and Frank behind
+it. Jane had not sent Gar, poor little fellow! She thought he might be
+better away. That was all; there were no attendants: the clerk, the two
+boys, the coffin, and the men who bore it.
+
+It was sad to see. The people stopped to look as it went along the
+streets, following with their eyes the poor fatherless children. One
+young man stood aside, raised his hat, and held it in his hand until the
+coffin had passed. But the young man had lived in foreign countries,
+where it is the custom to remain uncovered whilst a funeral goes by.
+
+He was buried at St. Martin's Church; and, singular to say, the
+officiating minister was the Rev. Mr. Peach. Mr. Peach did not know who
+he was interring: he had taken the service for St. Martin's rector.
+William heard his name: how many times had he heard his poor father
+mention the name in connection with his hopeful prospects! He burst into
+wailing sobs at the thought. Mr. Peach glanced off his book to look
+compassionately at the sobbing boy.
+
+The funeral was over, the last word of the service spoken, the first
+shovel of earth flung rattling on to the coffin. The clerk did not pay
+the compliment of his escort back again; indeed, there was nothing to
+escort but the two boys. They walked alone, with no company but their
+hatbands.
+
+In the evening, at dusk, they were gathered together--Jane and all the
+children. Tears seemed to have a respite: they had been shed of late all
+too plentifully.
+
+"I must speak to you, children," said Jane, lifting her head, and
+breaking the silence. "I may as well speak now, as let the days go on
+first. You are young, but you are old enough to understand me. Do you
+know, my darlings, how very sad our position is?"
+
+"In losing papa?" said Janey, catching her breath.
+
+"Yes, yes, in losing him," wailed Jane. "For that includes more than you
+suspect. But I wish to allude more particularly to the future. My dears,
+I do not see what is to become of us. We have no money; and we have no
+one to give us any or to lend us any; no one in the wide world."
+
+The children did not interrupt; only William moved his chair nearer to
+hers. She looked so young in her widow's cap: nearly as young as when,
+years ago, she had married him who had that day been put out of her
+sight for ever.
+
+"If we can only keep a roof over our heads," continued Jane, speaking
+very softly from the effort to subdue her threatening emotion, "we may
+perhaps struggle on. Perhaps. But it will be _struggling_; and you do
+not know half that the word implies. We may not have enough to eat. We
+may be cold and hungry--not once, but constantly; and we shall certainly
+have to encounter and endure the slights and humiliations attendant on
+extreme poverty. I do not know that we can retain a home; for we may, in
+a week or two, be turned from this."
+
+"But why be turned from this, mamma?"
+
+"Because there is rent owing, and I have not the means to pay it," she
+answered. "I have written to your uncle Francis, but I do not believe he
+will be able to help me. He----"
+
+"Why can't we go back to London to live?" eagerly interrupted little
+Gar. "It was so nice there! It was a better home than this."
+
+
+"You forget, Gar, that--that----" here she almost broke down, and had to
+pause a minute--"that our income there was earned by papa. He would not
+be there to earn it now. No, my dear ones; I have thought the future
+over in every way--thought until my brain has become confused--and the
+only possible chance that I can see, of our surmounting difficulties, so
+as to enable us to exist, is by endeavouring to keep this home. Patience
+suggests that I should let part of it. I had already thought of that;
+and I shall endeavour to do so. It may cover the rent and taxes. And I
+must try and do something else that will find us food."
+
+The children looked perfectly thunderstruck, especially the two elder
+ones, William and Jane. "Do something to find food!" they uttered,
+aghast. "Mamma, what do you mean?"
+
+It is so difficult to make children understand these unhappy
+things--those who have been brought up in comfort. Jane sighed, and
+explained further. Little desolate hearts they were who listened to her.
+
+
+"William," she resumed, "your poor papa's watch was to have been yours;
+but--I scarcely like to tell you--I fear I shall be obliged to dispose
+of it to help our necessities."
+
+A spasm shot across William's face. But, brave-hearted boy that he was,
+he would not let his mother see his disappointment, and looked
+cheerfully at her.
+
+"There is one thought that weighs more heavily on my mind than all--your
+education. How I shall manage to continue it I do not know. My darlings,
+I look upon this only in a degree less essential to you than food: you
+know that learning is better than house and land. I do not yet see my
+way clear in any way: it is very dark--almost as dark as it can be; and
+but for one Friend, I should despair."
+
+"What friend is that, mamma? Do you mean Patience?"
+
+"I mean God," replied Jane. "I know that He is a sure refuge to those
+who trust in Him. In my saddest moments, when I think how certain that
+refuge is, a ray of light flashes over me, bright as that glorious light
+in your papa's dream. Oh, my dear children! Perhaps we shall be helped
+to struggle on!"
+
+"Who will buy us new clothes?" cried Frank, dropping upon another phase
+of the difficulty. Jane sighed: it was all terribly indistinct.
+
+"In all the tribulation that will probably come upon us, the
+humiliations, the necessities, we must strive for patience to bear them.
+You do not yet understand the meaning of the term, _to bear_; but you
+will learn it all too soon. You must bear not only for your own sakes,
+because it is your lot, and you cannot go from it; not only for mine,
+but chiefly because it is the will of God. This affliction could not
+have come upon us unless God had permitted it, and I am quite sure,
+therefore, that it is in some way sent for our good. We shall not be
+utterly miserable if we can keep together in our house. You will aid me
+in it, will you not?"
+
+"In what way, mamma?" they eagerly asked, as if wishing to begin
+something then. "What can we do?"
+
+"You can aid me by being dutiful and obedient; by giving me no
+unnecessary anxiety or trouble; by cheerfully making the best of our
+privations; and you can strive to retain what you have already learnt by
+going diligently over your lessons together. All this will aid and
+comfort me."
+
+
+William's tears burst forth, and he laid his head on his mother's lap.
+"Oh, mamma dear, I will try and do for you all I can," he sobbed. "I
+will indeed."
+
+"Take comfort, my boy," she whispered, leaning tenderly over him.
+"Remember that your last act to your father was a loving sacrifice, in
+giving to him the orange that you would have enjoyed. I marked it,
+William. My darling children, let us all strive to bear on steadfastly
+to that far-off light, ever looking unto God."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+TROUBLE.
+
+
+A week elapsed, after the burial of Mr. Halliburton. By that time Jane
+had looked fully into the best and worst of her condition, and had, so
+to say, organised her plans. By the disposal of the watch, with what
+little silver they possessed, and ornaments of her own, she had been
+enabled to discharge the expenses of the funeral and other small debts,
+and to retain a trifle in hand for present wants.
+
+On the last day of the week, Saturday, she received an application for
+the rent. A stylish-looking stripling of some nineteen years, with light
+eyes and fair hair, called from Mr. Dare to demand it. Jane told him she
+could not pay him then, but would write and explain to Mr. Dare. Upon
+which the gentleman, whose manners were haughtily condescending, turned
+on his heel and left the house, not deigning to say good morning. As he
+was swinging out at the gate, Patience, coming home from market with a
+basket in her hand, met him. "How dost thee?" said she in salutation.
+But there was no response from the other, except that his head went a
+shade higher.
+
+"Do you know who that is?" inquired Jane, afterwards.
+
+"Of a surety. It is young Anthony Dare."
+
+"He has not pleasing manners."
+
+"Not to us. There is not a more arrogant youth in the town. But his
+private character is not well spoken of."
+
+Jane sat down to write to Mr. Dare. Her brother Francis, to whom she had
+explained her situation, had promised her the rent for the half-year
+due, sixteen pounds, by the middle of February. He could not let her
+have it before that period, he said, but she might positively count upon
+it then. She begged Mr. Dare to accord her the favour of waiting until
+then. Sealing her note, she sent it to him.
+
+On the Monday following, all was in readiness to _let_; and Jane was
+full of hope, looking for the advent of lodgers. The best parlour and
+the two best bedrooms had been vacated, and were in order. Jane slept
+now with her little girl, and the boys had mattresses laid down for them
+on the floor at the top of the house. They were to make the study their
+sitting-room from henceforth; and a card in the window displayed the
+announcement "Lodgings." The more modern word "apartments" had not then
+come into fashion at Helstonleigh.
+
+Patience came in after breakfast with a piece of grey merino in her
+hand.
+
+"Would thee like to make a frock for Anna?" asked she of Mrs.
+Halliburton. "Sarah Locke does them for her mostly, for it is work that
+I am not clever at; but Sarah sends me word she is too full of work this
+week to undertake it. I heard thee say thee made Janey's frocks. If thee
+can do this, and earn half-a-crown, thee art welcome. It is what I
+should pay Sarah."
+
+Jane took the merino in thankfulness. It was as a ray of hope, come to
+light up her heart. Only the instant before Patience entered she was
+wishing that something could arrive for her to do, never supposing that
+it would arrive. And now it had come!--and would bring her in
+two-and-sixpence! "Two-and-sixpence!" we may feel inclined to echo, in
+undisguised contempt for the trifle. Ay! but we may never have known the
+yearning want of two-and-sixpence, or of ten-and-sixpence either!
+
+Jane cut out the skirt by a pattern frock, and sat down to make it, her
+mind ruminating on the future. The children were at their lessons, round
+the table. "I have just two pounds seventeen and sixpence left,"
+deliberated Jane. "This half-crown will make it three pounds. I wonder
+how long we can live upon that? We have good clothes, and for the
+present the boys' boots are good. If I can let the rooms we shall have
+the rent, so that food is the chief thing to look to. We must spin the
+money out; must live upon bread and potatoes and a little milk, until
+something comes in. I wonder if five shillings a week would pay for bare
+food, and for coals? I fear----"
+
+Jane's dreams were interrupted. The front gate was swung open, and two
+people, men or gentlemen, approached the house door and knocked. Their
+movements were so quick that Jane caught only a glimpse of them. "See
+who it is, will you, William?"
+
+She heard them walk in and ask if she was at home. Putting down her
+work, she shook the threads from her black dress and went out to them,
+William returning to his lessons.
+
+The visitors were standing in the passage--one well-dressed man and one
+shabby one. The former made a civil demand for the half-year's rent due.
+Jane replied that she had written to Mr. Dare on the previous Saturday,
+explaining things to him, and asking him to wait a short time.
+
+"Mr. Dare cannot wait," was the rejoinder of the applicant, still
+speaking civilly. "You must allow me to remark, ma'am, that you are
+strangers to the town, that you have paid no rent since you entered the
+house----"
+
+"We believed it was the custom to pay half-yearly, as Mr. Dare did not
+apply for it at the Michaelmas quarter," interrupted Jane. "We should
+have paid then, had he asked for it."
+
+"At any rate, it is not paid," was the reply. "And--I am sorry, ma'am,
+to be under the necessity of leaving this man in possession until you do
+pay!"
+
+They walked deliberately into the best parlour; and Jane, amidst a
+rushing feeling of despair that turned her heart to sickness, knew that
+a seizure had been put into the house.
+
+As she stood in her bewilderment, Patience entered by the back door, the
+way she always did enter, and caught a glimpse of the shabby man. She
+drew Jane into the kitchen.
+
+"What does that man do here?" she inquired.
+
+For answer Jane sank into a chair and burst into sobs so violent as to
+surprise the calm Quakeress. She turned and shut the door.
+
+"Hush thee! Now hush thee! Thy children will hear and be terrified. Art
+thee behind with thy taxes?"
+
+For some minutes Jane could not reply. "Not for taxes," she said; "they
+are paid. Mr. Dare has put him in for the rent."
+
+Patience revolved the news in considerable astonishment. "Nay, but I
+think thee must be in error. Thomas Ashley would not do such a thing."
+
+"He has done it," sobbed Jane.
+
+"It is not in accordance with his character. He is a humane and
+considerate man. Verily I grieve for thee! That man is not an agreeable
+inmate of a house. We had him in ours last year!"
+
+"You!" uttered Jane, surprise penetrating even to her own grief. "You!"
+
+"They force us to pay church-rates," explained Patience. "We have a
+scruple to do so, believing the call unjust. For years Samuel Lynn had
+paid the claim to avert consequences; but last year he and many more
+Friends stood out against it. The result was, that that man, now in thy
+parlour, was put into our house. The amount claimed was one pound nine
+shillings; and they took out of our house, and sold, goods which had
+cost us eleven pounds, and which were equal to new."
+
+"Oh, Patience, tell me what I had better do!" implored Jane, reverting
+to her own trouble. "If we are turned out and our things sold, we must
+go to the workhouse. We cannot be in the streets."
+
+"Indeed, I feel incompetent to advise thee. Had thee not better see
+Anthony Dare, and try thy persuasion that he would remove the seizure
+and wait?"
+
+"I will go to him at once," feverishly returned Jane. "You will allow
+Janey to remain with you, Patience, while I do so?"
+
+"Of a surety I will. She----"
+
+At that moment the children burst into the kitchen, one after the other.
+"Mamma, who is that shabby-looking man come into the study? He has
+seated himself right in front of the fire, and is knocking it about. And
+the other is looking at the tables and chairs."
+
+It was Frank who spoke; impetuous
+
+Frank. Mrs. Halliburton cast a despairing look around her, and Patience
+drew their attention.
+
+"That man is here on business," she said to them. "You must not be rude
+to him, or he will be ten times more rude to you. The other will soon be
+gone. Your mother is going abroad for an hour; perhaps when she returns
+she will rid the house of him. Jane, child, thee can come with me and
+take thy dinner with Anna."
+
+Mrs. Halliburton waited until the better-looking of the two men was
+gone, and then started. It was a raw, cold day--what some people call a
+black frost. Black and gloomy it all looked to her, outwardly and
+inwardly, as she traversed the streets to the office of Mr. Dare.
+Patience had directed her, and the plate on the door, "Mr. Dare,
+Solicitor," showed her the right house. She stepped inside that door,
+which stood open, and knocked at one to the right of the passage.
+"Clerks' Room" was inscribed upon it.
+
+"Come in."
+
+Three or four clerks were in it. In one of them she recognized him who
+had just left her house. The other clerks appeared to defer to him, and
+called him "Mr. Stubbs." Jane, giving her name, said she wished to see
+Mr. Dare, and the request was conveyed to an inner room. It brought
+forth young Anthony.
+
+"My father is busy and cannot see you," was his salutation. "I can hear
+anything you may have to say. It will be the same thing."
+
+"Thank you," replied Jane, in courteous tones, very different from his.
+"But I would prefer to see Mr. Dare."
+
+"He is engaged, I say," sharply repeated Anthony.
+
+"I will wait, then. I must see him."
+
+Anthony Dare stalked back again. Jane, seeing a bench against the wall,
+sat down. It was about half-past twelve when she arrived there, and when
+the clock struck two, there she was still. Several clients, during that
+time, had come and gone; _they_ were admitted to Mr. Dare, but she sat
+on, neglected. At two o'clock Anthony came through the room with his hat
+on. He appeared to be going out.
+
+"What! are you here still?" he exclaimed, in genuine or affected
+surprise; never, in his ill-manners, removing his hat--he of whom it was
+his delight to hear it said that he was the most complete gentleman in
+Helstonleigh. "I assure you it is not of the least use your waiting. Mr.
+Dare will not be able to see you."
+
+"Mr. Dare can surely spare me a minute when he has done with others."
+
+"He cannot to-day. Can you not say to me what you want to say?"
+
+"Indeed I must see Mr. Dare himself. I will wait on, if you will allow
+me, hoping to do so."
+
+Anthony Dare vouchsafed no reply, and went out. One or two of the clerks
+looked round. They appeared not to understand why she sat on so
+persistently, or why Mr. Dare refused to see her.
+
+In about an hour's time the inner door opened. A tall man, with a bold,
+free countenance, looked into the room. Supposing it to be Mr. Dare,
+Jane rose and approached him. "Will you allow me a few minutes'
+conversation?" she asked. "I presume you are Mr. Dare?"
+
+He put up his hands as if to fence her off. "I have no time, I have no
+time," he reiterated, and shut the door in her face. Jane sat down again
+on the bench. "Stubbs, I want you," came forth from Mr. Dare's voice, as
+he opened the door an inch to speak it.
+
+Stubbs went in, remained a few minutes, and then returned, put on his
+hat, and walked out. His departure was the signal for considerable
+relaxation in the office duties. "When the cat's away--" you know the
+rest. Yawning, stretching, whispering, and laughing supervened. One of
+the clerks took from his pocket a paper of the biscuits called "Union"
+in Helstonleigh, and began eating them. Another pulled out a bottle, and
+solaced himself with some of its contents--whatever they might be.
+Suddenly the man with the biscuits got off his stool, and offered them
+to Mrs. Halliburton. Her pale, sad face may have prompted his good
+nature to the act.
+
+"You have waited a good while, ma'am, and perhaps have lost your dinner
+through it," he said.
+
+Jane took one of them. "You are very kind. Thank you," she faintly said.
+
+But not a crumb of it could she swallow. She had taken a slice of dry
+toast for her breakfast that morning, with half a cup of milk; and it
+was long since she had had a sufficiency of food at any meal. She felt
+weak, sick, faint; but anxiety and suspense were at work within,
+parching her throat, destroying her appetite. She held the biscuit in
+her fingers, resting on her lap, and, in spite of her efforts, the
+rebellious tears forced themselves to her eyes. Raising her hand, she
+quietly let fall her widow's veil.
+
+A poor-looking man came in, and counted out eight shillings, laying them
+upon the desk. "I couldn't make up the other two this week; I couldn't,
+indeed," he said, with trembling eagerness. "I'll bring twelve next
+week, please to say."
+
+"Mind you do," responded one of the clerks; "or you know what will be in
+store for you."
+
+The man shook his head. He probably did know; and, in going out, was
+nearly knocked over by a handsome lad of seventeen, who was running in.
+Very handsome were his features; but they were marred by the free
+expression which characterized Mr. Dare's.
+
+"I say, is the governor in?" cried he, out of breath.
+
+"Yes, sir. Lord Hawkesley's with him."
+
+"The deuce take Lord Hawkesley, then!" returned the young gentleman.
+"Where's Stubbs? I want my week's money, and I can't wait. Walker, I
+say, where's Stubbs?"
+
+"Stubbs is gone out, sir."
+
+"What a bother! Halloa! Here's some money! What is this?" continued the
+speaker, catching up the eight shillings.
+
+"It is some that has just been paid in, Master Herbert."
+
+"That's all right then," said he, slipping five of them into his jacket
+pocket. "Tell Stubbs to put it down as my week's money."
+
+He tore off. Jane sat on, wondering what she was to do. There appeared
+to be little probability that she would be admitted to Mr. Dare; and
+yet, how could she go home as she came--hopeless--to the presence of
+that man? No; she must wait still; wait until the last. She might catch
+a word with Mr. Dare as he was leaving. Jane could not help thinking his
+behaviour very bad in refusing to see her.
+
+The office was being lighted when Mr. Stubbs returned. One of the clerks
+pointed to the three shillings with his pen. "Kinnersley has brought
+eight shillings. He will make it twelve next week. Couldn't manage the
+ten this, he says."
+
+"Where are the eight shillings?" asked Stubbs. "I see only three."
+
+"Oh, Master Herbert came in, and took off five. He said you were to put
+it down as his week's money."
+
+"He'll take a little too much some day, if he's not checked," was the
+cynical reply of the senior clerk. "However, it's no business of mine."
+
+He put the three shillings into his own desk, and made an entry in a
+book. After that he went in to Mr. Dare, who was now alone. A large
+room, handsomely fitted up. Mr. Dare's table was near one of the
+windows: a desk, at which Anthony sometimes sat, was at the other. Mr.
+Dare looked up.
+
+"I could not do anything, sir," said Stubbs. "The other party will
+listen to no proposal at all. They say they'll throw it into Chancery
+first. An awful rage they are in."
+
+"Tush!" said Mr. Dare. "Chancery, indeed! They'll tell another tale in a
+day or two. Has Kinnersley been in?"
+
+"Kinnersley has brought eight shillings, and promises to bring twelve
+next Monday. Master Herbert carried off five of them, and left word it
+was for his week's money."
+
+"A smart blade!" cried Mr. Dare, apostrophizing his son with personal
+pride. "'Take it when I can,' is his motto. He'll make a good lawyer,
+Stubbs."
+
+"Very good," acquiesced Stubbs.
+
+"Is that woman gone yet?"
+
+"No, sir. My opinion is, she means to wait until she sees you."
+
+"Then send her in at once, and let's get it over," thundered Mr. Dare.
+
+In what lay his objection to seeing her? A dread lest she should put
+forth their relationship as a plea for his clemency? If so, he was
+destined to be agreeably disappointed. Jane did not allude to it; would
+not allude to it. After that interview held with Mrs. Dare, some three
+or four months before, she had dropped all remembrance of the
+connection: even the children did not know of it. She only solicited Mr.
+Dare's leniency now, as any other stranger might have solicited it.
+Little chance was there of Mr. Dare's acceding to her prayer: he and his
+wife both wanted Helstonleigh to be free of the Halliburtons.
+
+"It will be utter ruin," she urged. "It will turn us, beggars, into the
+streets. Mr. Dare, I _promise_ you the rent by the middle of February.
+Unless it were certain, my brother would not have promised it to me.
+Surely you may accord me this short time."
+
+"Ma'am, I cannot--that is, Mr. Ashley cannot. It was a reprehensible
+piece of carelessness on my part to suffer the rent to go on for half a
+year, considering that you were strangers. Mr. Ashley will look to me to
+see him well out of it."
+
+"There is sufficient furniture in my house, new furniture, to pay what
+is owing three times over."
+
+"May be, as it stands in it. Things worth forty pounds in a house, won't
+fetch ten at a sale."
+
+"That is an additional reason why I----"
+
+"Now, my good lady," interrupted Mr. Dare, with imperative civility,
+"one word is as good as a thousand; and that word I have said. I cannot
+withdraw the seizure, except on receipt of the rent and costs. Pay them,
+and I shall be most happy to do it. If you stop here all night I can
+give you no other answer; and my time is valuable."
+
+He glanced at the door as he spoke. Jane took the hint, and passed out
+of it. As much by the tone, as by the words, she gathered that there was
+no hope whatever.
+
+The streets were bright with gas as she hurried along, her head bent,
+her veil over her face, her tears falling silently. But when she left
+the town behind her, and approached a lonely part of the road where no
+eye was on her, no ear near her, then the sobs burst forth uncontrolled.
+
+"No eye on her? no ear near her?" Ay, but there was! There was one Eye,
+one Ear, which never closes. And as Jane's dreadful trouble resolved
+itself into a cry for help to Him who ever listens, there seemed to
+come a feeling of peace, of _trust_, into her soul.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+THOMAS ASHLEY.
+
+
+Frank met her as she went in. It was dark; but she kept her veil down.
+
+"Oh, mamma, that's the most horrible man!" he began, in a whisper. "You
+know the cheese you brought in on Saturday, that we might not eat our
+bread quite dry; well, he has eaten it up, every morsel, and half a loaf
+of bread! And he has burnt the whole scuttleful of coal! And he swore
+because there was no meat; and he swore at us because we would not go to
+the public-house and buy him some beer. He said we were to buy it and
+pay for it."
+
+"I said you would not allow us to go, mamma," interrupted William, who
+now came up. "I told him that if he wanted beer he must go and get it
+for himself. I spoke civilly, you know, not rudely. He went into such a
+passion, and said such things! It is a good thing Jane was out."
+
+"Where is Gar?" she asked.
+
+"Gar was frightened at the man, and the tobacco-smoke made him sick, and
+he cried; and then he lay down on the floor, and went to sleep."
+
+_She_ felt sick. She drew her two boys into the parlour--dark there,
+except for the lamp in the road, which shone in. Pressing them in her
+arms, completely subdued by the miseries of her situation, she leaned
+her forehead upon William's shoulder, and burst once more into a most
+distressing flood of tears.
+
+They were alarmed. They cried with her. "Oh, mamma! what is it? Why
+don't you order the man to go away?"
+
+"My boys, I must tell you; I cannot keep it from you," she sobbed. "That
+man is put here to remain, until I can pay the rent. If I cannot pay it,
+our things will be taken and sold."
+
+William's pulses and heart alike beat, but he was silent, Frank spoke.
+"Whatever shall we do, mamma?"
+
+"I do not know," she wailed. "Perhaps God will help us. There is no one
+else to do it."
+
+Patience came in, for about the sixth time, to see whether Jane had
+returned, and how the mission had sped. They called her into the cold,
+dark room. Jane gave her the history of the whole day, and Patience
+listened in astonishment.
+
+"I cannot but believe that Thomas Ashley must have been mis-informed,"
+said she, presently. "But that you are strangers in the place, I should
+say you had an enemy who may have gone to him with a tale that thee can
+pay, but will not. Still, even in that case, it would be unlike Thomas
+Ashley. He is a kind and a good man; not a harsh one."
+
+"Mr. Dare told me he was expressly acting for Mr. Ashley."
+
+"Well, I say that I cannot understand it," repeated Patience. "It is not
+like Thomas Ashley. I will give thee an instance of his disposition and
+general character. There was a baker rented under him, living in a house
+of Thomas Ashley's. The baker got behind with his rent; other bakers
+were more favoured than he; but he kept on at his trade, hoping times
+would mend. Year by year he failed in his rent--Thomas Ashley, mark
+thee, still paying him regularly for the bread supplied to his family.
+'Why do you not stop his bread-money?' asked one, who knew of this, of
+Thomas Ashley. 'Because he is poor, and looks to my weekly money, with
+that of others, to buy his flour,' was Thomas Ashley's answer. Well,
+when he owed several years' rent, the baker died, and the widow was
+going to move. Anthony Dare hastened to Thomas Ashley. 'Which day shall
+I levy a distress upon the goods?' asked he. 'Not at all,' replied
+Thomas Ashley. And he went to the widow, and told her the rent was
+forgiven, and the goods were her own, to take with her when she left.
+That is Thomas Ashley."
+
+Jane bent her head in thought. "Is Mr. Lynn at home?" she asked. "I
+should like to speak to him."
+
+"He has had his tea and gone back to the manufactory, but he will be
+home soon after eight. I will keep Jane till bedtime. She and Anna are
+happy over their puzzles."
+
+"Patience, am I obliged to find that man in food?"
+
+"That thee art. It is the law."
+
+The noise made by Patience in going away, brought the man forth from the
+study, a candle in his hand. "When is that mother of yours coming back?"
+he roared out to the boys. Jane advanced. "Oh, you are here!" he
+uttered, wrathfully. "What are you going to give me to eat and drink? A
+pretty thing this is, to have an officer in, and starve him!"
+
+"You shall have tea directly. You shall have what we have," she
+answered, in a low tone.
+
+The kettle was boiling on the study fire. Jane lighted a fire in the
+parlour, and sent Frank out for butter. The man smoked over the study
+fire, as he had done all the afternoon, and Gar slept beside him on the
+floor, but William went now and brought the child away. Jane sent the
+man his tea in, and the loaf and butter.
+
+The fare did not please him. He came to the parlour and said he must
+have meat; he had had none for his dinner.
+
+"I cannot give it you," replied Jane. "We are eating dry toast and
+bread, as you may see. I sent butter to you."
+
+He stood there for some minutes, giving vent to his feelings in rather
+strong language; and then he went back to revenge himself upon the
+butter for the want of meat. Jane laid her hand upon her beating throat:
+beating with its tribulation.
+
+Between eight and nine Jane went to the next door. Samuel Lynn had come
+home for the evening, and was sitting at the table in his parlour,
+helping the two little girls with a geographical puzzle, which had
+baffled their skill. He was a little man, quiet in movement, pale and
+sedate in feature, dry and unsympathising in manner.
+
+"Thee art in trouble, friend, I hear," he said, placing a chair for
+Jane, whilst Patience came and called the children away. "It is sad for
+thee."
+
+"In great trouble," answered Jane. "I came in to ask if you would serve
+me in my trouble. I fancy perhaps you can do so if you will."
+
+"In what way, friend?"
+
+"Would you interest yourself for me with Mr. Ashley? He might listen to
+you. Were he assured that the money would be forthcoming in February, I
+think he might agree to give me time."
+
+"Friend, I cannot do this," was the reply of the Quaker. "My relations
+with Thomas Ashley are confined to business matters, and I cannot
+overstep them. To interfere with his private affairs would not be
+seemly; neither might he deem it so. I am but his servant, remember."
+
+The words fell upon her heart as ice. She believed it her only
+chance--some one interceding for her with Mr. Ashley. She said so.
+
+"Why not go to him thyself, friend?"
+
+"Would he hear me?" hastily asked Jane. "I am a stranger to him."
+
+"Thee art his tenant. As to hearing thee, that he certainly would.
+Thomas Ashley is of a courteous nature. The poorest workman in our
+manufactory, going to the master with a grievance, is sure of a patient
+hearing. But if thee ask me would he grant thy petition, there I cannot
+inform thee. Patience opines that thee, or thy intentions, may have been
+falsely represented to him. I never knew him resort to harsh measures
+before."
+
+"When would be the best time to see him? Is it too late to-night?"
+
+"To-night would not be a likely time, friend, to trouble him. He has not
+long returned from a day's journey, and is, no doubt, cold and tired. I
+met James Meeking driving down as I came home; he had left the master at
+his house. They have been out on business connected with the
+manufactory. Thee might see him in the morning, at his breakfast hour."
+
+Jane rose and thanked the Quaker. "I will certainly go," she said.
+
+"There is no need to say to him that I suggested it to thee, friend. Go
+as of thy own accord."
+
+Jane went home with her little girl. Their undesirable visitor looked
+out at the study door, and began a battle about supper. It ought to
+comprise, in his opinion, meat and beer. He _insisted_ that one of the
+boys should go out for beer. Jane steadily refused. She was tempted to
+tell him that the children of a gentleman were not despatched to
+public-houses on such errands. She offered him the money to go and get
+some for himself.
+
+It aroused his anger. He accused her of wanting to get him out of the
+house by stratagem, that she might lock him out; and he flung the pence
+back amongst them. Janey screamed, and Gar burst out crying. As Patience
+had said, he was not a pleasant inmate. Jane ran upstairs, and the
+children followed her.
+
+"Where is he to sleep?" inquired William.
+
+It is a positive fact that, until that moment, Jane had forgotten all
+about the sleeping. Of course he must sleep there, though she had not
+thought of it. Amidst the poor in her father's parish in London, Jane
+had seen many phases of distress; but with this particular annoyance she
+had never been brought into contact. However, it had to be done.
+
+What a night that was for her! She paced her room nearly throughout it,
+with quiet movement, Janey sleeping placidly--now giving way to all the
+dark appearances of her position, to uncontrollable despondency; now
+kneeling and crying for help in her heartfelt anguish.
+
+Morning came; the black frost had gone, and the sun shone. After
+breakfast Jane put on her shawl and bonnet.
+
+Mr. Ashley's residence was very near to them--only a little higher up
+the road. It was a large house, almost a mansion, surrounded by a
+beautiful garden. Jane had passed it two or three times, and thought
+what a nice place it was. She repeatedly saw Mr. Ashley walk past her
+house as he went to or came from the manufactory: she was not a bad
+reader of countenances, and she judged him to be a thorough gentleman.
+His face was a refined one, his manner pleasant.
+
+She found that she had gone at an untoward time. Standing before the
+hall door was Mr. Ashley's open carriage, the groom standing at the
+horse's head. Even as Jane ascended the steps the door opened, and Mr.
+and Mrs. Ashley were coming forth. Feeling terribly distressed and
+disappointed, she scarcely defined why, Jane accosted the former, and
+requested a few minutes' interview.
+
+Mr. Ashley looked at her. A fair young widow, evidently a lady. He did
+not recognise her. He had seen her before, but she was in a different
+style of dress now.
+
+Mr. Ashley raised his hat as he replied to her. "Is your business with
+me pressing? I was just going out."
+
+"Indeed it is pressing," she said; "or I would not think of asking to
+detain you."
+
+"Then walk in," he returned. "A little delay will not make much
+difference."
+
+Opening the door of a small sitting-room, apparently his own, he invited
+her to a seat near the fire. As she took it, Jane untied the crape
+strings of her bonnet and threw back her heavy veil. She was as white as
+a sheet, and felt choking.
+
+"I fear you are ill," Mr. Ashley remarked. "Can I get you anything?"
+
+"I shall be better in a minute, thank you," she panted. "Perhaps you do
+not know me, sir. I live in your house, a little lower down. I am Mrs.
+Halliburton."
+
+"Oh, I beg your pardon, madam; I did not remember you at first. I have
+seen you in passing."
+
+His manner was perfectly kind and open. Not in the least like that of a
+landlord who had just put a distress into his tenant's house.
+
+"I have come here to beseech your mercy," she began in agitation. "I
+have not the rent now, but if you will consent to wait until the middle
+of February, it will be ready. Oh, Mr. Ashley, do not oppress me for it!
+Think of my situation."
+
+"I never oppressed any one in my life," was the quiet rejoinder of Mr.
+Ashley, spoken, however, in a somewhat surprised tone.
+
+"Sir, it is oppression. I beg your pardon for saying so. I promise that
+the rent shall be paid to you in a few weeks: to force my furniture from
+me now, is oppression."
+
+"I do not understand you," returned Mr. Ashley.
+
+"To sell my furniture under the distress will be utter ruin to me and my
+children," she continued. "We have no resource, no home; we shall have
+to lie in the streets, or die. Oh, sir, do not take it!"
+
+"But you are agitating yourself unnecessarily, Mrs. Halliburton. I have
+no intention of taking your furniture."
+
+"No intention, sir!" she echoed. "You have put in a distress."
+
+"Put in a what?" cried he, in unbounded surprise.
+
+"A distress. The man has been in since yesterday morning."
+
+Mr. Ashley looked at her a few moments in silence. "Did the man tell you
+where he came from?"
+
+"It was Mr. Dare who put him in--acting for you. I went to Mr. Dare, and
+he kept me waiting nearly five hours in his outer office before he would
+see me. When he did see me, he declined to hear me. All he would say
+was, that I must pay the rent or he should take the furniture: acting
+for Mr. Ashley."
+
+A strangely severe expression darkened Mr. Ashley's face. "First of all,
+my dear lady, let me assure you that I knew nothing of this, or it
+should never have been done. I am surprised at Mr. Dare."
+
+Could she fail to trust that open countenance--that benevolent eye? Her
+hopes rose high within her. "Sir, will you withdraw the man, and give me
+time?"
+
+"I will."
+
+The revulsion of feeling, from despair and grief, was too great. She
+burst into tears, having struggled against them in vain. Mr. Ashley rose
+and looked from the window; and presently she grew calmer. When he sat
+down again she gave him the outline of her situation; of her present
+dilemma; of her hopes--poor hopes that they were!--of getting a scanty
+living through letting her rooms and doing some sewing, or by other
+employment. "Were I to lose my furniture, it would take from me this
+only chance," she concluded.
+
+"You shall not lose it through me," warmly spoke Mr. Ashley. "The man
+shall be dismissed from your house in half an hour's time."
+
+"Oh, thank you, thank you!" she breathed, rising to leave. "I have not
+been able to supply him with great things in the shape of food, and he
+uses very bad language in the hearing of my children. Thank you, Mr.
+Ashley."
+
+He shook hands with her cordially, and attended her to the hall door.
+Mrs. Ashley, a pretty, lady-like woman, somewhat stately in general,
+stood there still. Well wrapped in velvet and furs, she did not care to
+return to the warm rooms. Jane said a few words of apology for detaining
+her, and passed on.
+
+Mr. Ashley turned back to his room, drew his desk towards him, and began
+to write. His wife followed him. "Who was that, Thomas?"
+
+"Mrs. Halliburton: our widowed tenant, next door to Samuel Lynn's. You
+remember I told you of meeting the funeral. Two little boys were
+following alone."
+
+"Oh, poor little things! yes. What did she want?"
+
+Mr. Ashley made no reply: he was writing rapidly. The note, when
+finished, was sealed and directed to Mr. Dare. He then helped his wife
+into the carriage, took the reins, and sat down beside her. The groom
+took his place in the seat behind, and Mr. Ashley drove round the gravel
+drive, out at the gate, and turned towards Helstonleigh.
+
+"Thomas, you are going the wrong way!" said Mrs. Ashley, in
+consternation. "What are you thinking of?"
+
+"I shall turn directly," he answered. There was a severe look upon his
+face, and he drove very fast, by which signs Mrs. Ashley knew something
+had put him out. She inquired, and he gave her the outline of what he
+had just heard.
+
+"How could Anthony Dare act so?" involuntarily exclaimed Mrs. Ashley.
+
+"I don't know. I shall give him a piece of my mind to-morrow more
+plainly than he will like. This is not the first time he has attempted a
+rascally action under cover of my name."
+
+"Shall you lose the rent?"
+
+"I think not, Margaret. She said not, and she carries sincerity in her
+face. I am sure I shall not lose it if she can help it. If I do, I must,
+that's all. I never yet added to the trouble of those in distress, and I
+never will."
+
+He pulled up at Mrs. Halliburton's house, which she had just reached
+also. The groom came to the horse, and Mr. Ashley entered. The "man" was
+comfortably stretched before the study fire, smoking his short pipe. Up
+he jumped when he saw Mr. Ashley, and smuggled his pipe into his pocket.
+His offensive manner had changed to humble servility.
+
+"Do you know me?" shortly inquired Mr. Ashley.
+
+The man pulled his hair in token of respect. "Certainly, sir. Mr.
+Ashley."
+
+"Very well. Carry this note to Mr. Dare."
+
+The man received the note in his hand, and held it there, apparently, in
+some perplexity. "May I leave, sir, without the authority of Mr. Dare?"
+
+"I thought you said you knew me," was Mr. Ashley's reply, haughty
+displeasure in his tone.
+
+"I beg pardon, sir," replied the man, pulling his hair again, and making
+a movement of departure. "I suppose I bain't a-coming back, sir?"
+
+"You are not."
+
+He took up a small bundle tied in a blue handkerchief, which he had
+brought with him and appeared excessively careful of, caught at his
+battered hat, ducked his head to Mr. Ashley, and left the house, the
+note held between his fingers. Would you like to see what it contained?
+
+     "Dear Sir,--I find that you have levied a distress on Mrs.
+     Halliburton's goods for rent due to me. That you should have
+     done so without my authority astonishes me much; that you
+     should have done so at all, knowing what you do of my
+     principles, astonishes me more. I send the man back to you. The
+     costs of this procedure you will either set down to me, or pay
+     out of your own pocket, whichever you may deem the more just;
+     but you will _not_ charge them to Mrs. Halliburton. Have the
+     goodness to call upon me to-morrow morning in East Street.
+
+     "THOMAS ASHLEY."
+
+"He will not trouble you again, Mrs. Halliburton," observed Mr. Ashley,
+with a pleasant smile, as he went out to his carriage.
+
+Jane stood at her window. She watched the man go towards Helstonleigh
+with the note; she watched Mr. Ashley step into his seat, turn his
+horse, and drive up the road. But all things were looking misty to her,
+for her eyes were dim.
+
+"God did hear me," was her earnest thought.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+HONEY FAIR.
+
+
+Helstonleigh abounded with glove manufactories. It was a trade that
+might be said to be a blessing to the localities where it was carried
+on, since it was one of the very few employments that furnished to the
+poor female population easy, clean, and profitable work _at their own
+homes_. The evils arising to women who go out to work in factories have
+been rehearsed over and over again; and the chief evil--we will put
+others out of sight--is, that it takes the married woman from her home
+and her family. Her young children drag themselves up in her absence,
+for worse or for better; alone they must do it, for she has to be away,
+toiling for daily bread. There is no home privacy, no home comfort, no
+home happiness; the factory is their life, and other interests give way
+to it. But with glove-making the case was different. Whilst the husbands
+were at the manufactories pursuing their day's work, the wives and elder
+daughters were earning money easily and pleasantly at home. The work was
+clean and profitable; all that was necessary for its accomplishment
+being common skill as a seamstress.
+
+Not five minutes' walk from Mrs. Halliburton's house, and nearer to
+Helstonleigh, a turning out of the main road led you to quite a colony
+of workwomen--gloveresses, as they were termed in the local phraseology.
+It was a long, wide lane; the houses, some larger, some smaller, built
+on either side of it. A road quite wide enough for health if the
+inhabitants had only kept it as it ought to have been kept: but they did
+not do so. The highway was made a common receptacle for refuse. It was
+so much easier to open the kitchen door (most of the houses were entered
+at once by the kitchen), and to "chuck" things out, _pêle-mêle_, rather
+than be at the trouble of conveying them to the proper receptacle, the
+dust-bin at the back. Occasionally a solitary policeman would come,
+picking his way through the dirt and dust, and order it to be removed;
+upon which some slight improvement would be visible for a day or two.
+The name of this charming place was Honey Fair; though, in truth, it was
+redolent of nothing so pleasant as honey.
+
+Of the occupants of these houses, the husbands and elder sons were all
+glove operatives; several of them in the manufactory of Mr. Ashley. The
+wives sewed the gloves at home. Many a similar colony to Honey Fair was
+there in Helstonleigh, but in hearing of one you hear of all. The trade
+was extensively pursued. A very few of the manufactories were of the
+extent that was Mr. Ashley's; and they gradually descended in size,
+until some comprised not half a score workmen, all told; but whose
+masters alike dignified themselves by the title of "manufacturer."
+
+There flourished a shop in the general line in Honey Fair kept by a Mrs.
+Buffle, a great gossip. Her husband, a well-meaning, steady little man,
+mincing in his speech and gait, scrupulously neat and clean in his
+attire, and thence called "the dandy," was chief workman at one of the
+smallest of the establishments. He had three men and two boys under him;
+and so he styled himself the "foreman." No one knew half so much of the
+affairs of their neighbours as did Mrs. Buffle; no one could tell of the
+ill-doings and shortcomings of Honey Fair as she could. Many a gloveress
+girl, running in at dusk for a halfpenny candle, did not receive it
+until she had first submitted to a lecture from Mrs. Buffle. Not that
+her custom was all of this ignoble description: some of the gentlemen's
+houses in the neighbourhood would deal with her in a chance way, when
+out of articles at home. Her wares were good; her home-cured bacon was
+particularly good. Amidst other olfactory treats indigenous to Honey
+Fair was that of pigs and pig-sties, kept by Mrs. Buffle.
+
+Occasionally Mrs. Halliburton would go to this shop; it was nearer to
+her house than any other; and, in her small way, had been extensively
+patronised by her. Of all her customers, Mrs. Halliburton was the one
+who most puzzled Mrs. Buffle. In the first place, she never gossiped; in
+the second, though evidently a lady, she would carry her purchases home
+herself. The very servants from the very large houses, coming flaunting
+in their smart caps, would loftily order their pound of bacon or
+shillingsworth of eggs sent home for them. Mrs. Halliburton took hers
+away in her own hand; and this puzzled Mrs. Buffle. "But her pays ready
+money," observed that lady, when relating this to another customer, "so
+'tain't my place to grumble."
+
+During the summer weather, whenever Jane had occasion to walk through
+Honey Fair, on her way to this shop, she would linger to admire the
+women at their open doors and windows, busy over their nice clean work.
+Rocking the cradle with one foot, or jogging the baby on their knees, to
+a tune of their own composing, their hands would be ever active at their
+employment. Some made the gloves; that is, seamed the fingers together
+and put in the thumbs, and these were called "makers." Some welted, or
+hemmed the gloves round at the edge of the wrist; these were called
+"welters." Some worked the three ornamental lines on the back; and these
+were called "pointers." Some of the work was done in what was called a
+patent machine, whereby the stitches were rendered perfectly equal. And
+some of the stouter gloves were stitched together, instead of being
+sewn: stitching so beautifully regular and neat, that a stranger would
+look at it in admiration. In short, there were different branches in the
+making and sewing of gloves, as there are in most trades.
+
+It now struck Jane that she might find employment at this work until
+better times should come round. True, she had never worked at it; but
+she was expert with her needle, and it was easily acquired. She
+possessed a dry, cool hand, too; a great thing where sewing-silk,
+sometimes floss silk, has to be used. What cared she for lowering
+herself to the employment only dealt out to the poor? Was she not poor
+herself? And who knew her in Helstonleigh?
+
+The day that Mr. Ashley removed the dreaded visitor from her house, Jane
+had occasion to speak to Elizabeth Carter, her young servant's mother.
+At dusk, putting aside the frock she was making for Anna, Jane proceeded
+to Honey Fair, in which perfumed locality Mrs. Carter lived. An
+agreement had been entered into that Betsy should still go to Mrs.
+Halliburton's to do the washing (after her own fashion, but Jane could
+not afford to be fastidious now), and also what was wanted in the way of
+scouring--Betsy being paid a trifle in return, and instructed in the
+mysteries of reading and writing.
+
+"'Taint no profit," observed Mrs. Carter to a crony, "but 'taint no
+loss. Her won't do nothing at home, let me cry after her as I will. Out
+her goes, gampusing to this house, gampusing to that; but not a bit of
+work'll her stick to at home. If these new folks can keep her to work a
+bit, so much the better; it'll be getting her hand in; and better still,
+if they teaches her to read and write. Her wouldn't learn nothing from
+the school-missis."
+
+Not a very favourable description of Miss Betsy. But, what the girl
+chiefly wanted was a firm hand over her. Her temper and disposition were
+good; but she was an only child, and her mother, though possessing a
+firm hand, and a firm tongue, too, in general--none more so in Honey
+Fair--had spoilt and indulged Miss Betsy until her authority was gone.
+
+After her business was over this evening with Mrs. Carter, Jane, who
+wanted some darning cotton, turned into Mrs. Buffle's shop. That
+priestess was in her accustomed place behind the counter. She curtseyed
+twice, and spoke in a low, subdued tone, in deference to the widow's cap
+and bonnet--to the deep mourning altogether, which Mrs. Buffle's
+curiosity had not had the gratification of beholding before.
+
+"Would you like it fine or coarse, mum? Here's both. 'Taint a great
+assortment, but it's the best quality. I don't have much call for
+darning cotton, mum; the folks round about is always at their gloving
+work."
+
+"But they must mend their stockings," observed Jane.
+
+"Not they," returned Mrs. Buffle. "They'd go in naked heels, mum, afore
+they'd take a needle and darn 'em up. They have took to wear them untidy
+boots to cover the holes, and away they go with 'em unlaced; tongue
+hanging, and tag trailing half a mile behind 'em. Great big slatterns,
+they be!"
+
+"They seem always at work," remarked Jane.
+
+"Always at work!" repeated Mrs. Buffle. "You don't know much of 'em,
+mum, or you'd not say it. They'll play one day, and work the next;
+that's their work. It's only a few of the steady ones that'll work
+regular, all the week through."
+
+"What could a good, steady workwoman earn a week at the glove-making?"
+
+"That depends, mum, upon how close she stuck to it," responded Mrs.
+Buffle.
+
+"I mean, sitting closely."
+
+"Oh, well," debated Mrs. Buffle carelessly, "she might earn ten
+shillings a week, and do it comfortable."
+
+Ten shillings a week! Jane's heart beat hopefully. Upon ten shillings a
+week she might manage to exist, to keep her children from starvation,
+until better days arose. _She_, impelled by necessity, could sit longer
+and closer, too, than perhaps those women did. Mrs. Buffle continued,
+full of inward gratulation that her silent customer had come round to
+gossip at last.
+
+"They be the improvidentest things in the world, mum, these gloveress
+girls. Sundays they be dressed up as grand as queens, flowers inside
+their bonnets, and ribbuns out, a-setting the churches and chapels
+alight with their finery; and then off for walks with their sweethearts,
+all the afternoon and evening. Mondays is mostly spent in waste,
+gathering of themselves at each other's houses, talking and laughing,
+or, may be, off to the fields again--anything for idleness. Tuesdays is
+often the same, and then the rest of the week they has to scout over
+their work, to get it in on the Saturday. Ah! you don't know 'em, mum."
+
+Jane paid for her darning cotton and came away, much to Mrs. Buffle's
+regret. "Ten shillings a week," kept ringing in her ears.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+MRS. REECE AND DOBBS.
+
+
+Jane was busy that evening; but the following morning she went into
+Samuel Lynn's. Patience was in the kitchen, washing currants for a
+pudding; the maid upstairs at her work. Jane held the body of Anna's
+frock in her hand. She wished to try it on.
+
+"Anna is not at home," was the reply of Patience. "She is gone to spend
+the day with Mary Ashley."
+
+Jane felt sorry; she had been in hopes of finishing it that day.
+"Patience," said she, "I want to ask your advice. I have been thinking
+that I might get employment at sewing gloves. It seems easy work to
+learn."
+
+"Would thee like the work?" asked Patience. "Ladies have a prejudice
+against it, because it is the work supplied to the poor. Not but that
+some ladies in this town, willing to eke out their means, do work at it
+in private. They get the work brought out to them and taken in."
+
+"That would be the worst for me," observed Jane: "taking in the work. I
+do fear I should not like it."
+
+"Of course not. Thee could not go to the manufactory and stand amid the
+crowd of women for thy turn to be served as one of them. Wait thee an
+instant."
+
+Patience dried her hands upon the roller-towel, and took Jane into the
+best parlour, the one less frequently used. Opening a closet, she
+reached from it a small, peculiar-looking machine, and some unmade
+gloves: the latter were in a basket, covered over with a white cloth.
+
+"This is different work from what the women do," said she. "It is what
+is called the French point, and is confined to a few of the chief
+manufacturers. It is not allowed to be done publicly, lest all should
+get hold of the stitch. Those who employ the point have it done in
+private."
+
+"Who does it here?" exclaimed Jane.
+
+"I do," said Patience, laughing. "Did thee think I should be like the
+fine ladies, ashamed to put my hand to it? I and James Meeking's wife do
+all that is at present being done for the Ashley manufactory. But now,
+look thee. Samuel Lynn was saying only last night, that they must search
+out for some other hand who would be trustworthy, for they want more of
+the work done. It is easy to learn, and I know they would give it thee.
+It is a little better paid than the other work, too. Sit thee down and
+try it."
+
+Patience fixed the back of the glove in the pretty little square
+machine, took the needle--a peculiar one--and showed how it was to be
+done. Jane, in a glow of delight, accomplished some stitches readily.
+
+"I see thee would be handy at it," said Patience. "Thee can take the
+machine indoors to-day and practise. I will give thee a piece of old
+leather to exercise upon. In two or three days thee may be quite
+perfect. I do not work very much at it myself, at which Samuel Lynn
+grumbles. It is all my own profit, what I earn, so that he has no
+selfish motive in urging me to work, except that they want more of it
+done. But I have my household matters to attend to, and Anna takes up my
+time. I get enough for my clothes, and that is all I care for."
+
+"I know I could do it! I could do it well, Patience."
+
+"Then I am sure thee may have it to do. They will supply thee with a
+machine, and Samuel Lynn will bring thy work home and take it back
+again, as he does mine. He----"
+
+William was bursting in upon them with a beaming face. "Mamma, make
+haste home. Two ladies are asking to see the rooms."
+
+Jane hurried in. In the parlour sat a pleasant-looking old lady in a
+large black silk bonnet. The other, smarter, younger (but _she_ must
+have been forty at least), and very cross-looking, wore a Leghorn bonnet
+with green and scarlet bows. She was the old lady's companion,
+housekeeper, servant, all combined in one, as Jane found afterwards.
+
+"You have lodgings to let, ma'am," said the old lady. "Can we see them?"
+
+"This is the sitting-room," Jane was beginning; but she was interrupted
+by the smart one in a snappish tone.
+
+"_This_ the sitting-room! Do you call this furnished?"
+
+"Don't be hasty, Dobbs," rebuked her mistress. "Hear what the lady has
+to say."
+
+"The furniture is homely, certainly," acknowledged Jane. "But it is new
+and clean. That is a most comfortable sofa. The bedrooms are above."
+
+The old lady said she would see them, and they proceeded upstairs. Dobbs
+put her head into one room, and withdrew it with a shriek. "This room
+has no bedside carpets."
+
+"I am sorry to say that I have no bedside carpets at present," said
+Jane, feeling all the discouragement of the avowal. "I will get some as
+soon as I possibly can, if any one taking the rooms will kindly do
+without them for a little while."
+
+"Perhaps we might, Dobbs," suggested the old lady, who appeared to be of
+an accommodating, easy nature; readily satisfied.
+
+"Begging your pardon, ma'am, you'll do nothing of the sort," returned
+Dobbs. "We should have you doubled up with cramp, if you clapped your
+feet on to a cold floor. _I_ am not going to do it."
+
+"I never do have cramp, Dobbs."
+
+"Which is no reason, ma'am, why you never should," authoritatively
+returned Dobbs.
+
+"What a lovely view from these back windows!" exclaimed the old lady.
+"Dobbs, do you see the Malvern Hills?"
+
+"We don't eat and drink views," testily responded Dobbs.
+
+"They are pleasant to look at though," said her mistress. "I like these
+rooms. Is there a closet, ma'am, or small apartment that we could have
+for our trunks, if we came?"
+
+"We are not coming," interrupted Dobbs, before Jane could answer.
+"Carpetless floors won't suit us, ma'am."
+
+"There is a closet here, over the entrance," said Jane to the old lady,
+as she opened the door. "Our own boxes are in it now, but I can have
+them moved upstairs."
+
+"So there's a cock-loft, is there?" put in Dobbs.
+
+"A what?" cried Jane, who had never heard the word. "There is nothing
+upstairs but an attic. A garret, as it is called here."
+
+"Yes," burst forth Dobbs, "it is called a garret by them that want to be
+fine. Cock-loft is good enough for us decent folk: we've never called it
+anything else. Who sleeps up there?" she summarily demanded.
+
+"My little boys. This was their room, but I have put them upstairs that
+I may let this one."
+
+"There ma'am!" said Dobbs, triumphantly, as she turned to her mistress.
+"You'll believe me another time, I hope! I told you I knew there was a
+pack of children. One of 'em opened the door to us."
+
+"Perhaps they are quiet children," said the old lady, who had been so
+long used to the grumbling and domineering of Dobbs, that she took it as
+a matter of course.
+
+"They are, indeed," said Jane, "quiet, good children. I will answer for
+it that they will not disturb you in any way."
+
+"I should like to see the kitchen, ma'am," said the old lady.
+
+"We only want the use of it," snapped Dobbs. "Our kitchen fire goes out
+after dinner, and I boil the kettle for tea in the parlour."
+
+"Would attendance be required?" asked Jane of the old lady.
+
+"No, it wouldn't," answered Dobbs, in the same tart tone. "I wait upon
+my missis, and I wait upon myself, and we have a woman in to do the
+cleaning, and the washing goes out."
+
+The answer gave Jane great relief. _Attending_ upon lodgers had been a
+dubious prospect in more respects than one.
+
+"It's a very good kitchen," said the old lady, as they went in, and she
+turned round in it.
+
+"I'll be bound it smokes," said Dobbs.
+
+"No, it does not," replied Jane.
+
+"Where's the coalhouse?" asked Dobbs. "Is there two?"
+
+"Only one," said Jane. "It is at the back of the kitchen."
+
+"Then--if we did come--where could our coal be put?" fiercely demanded
+Dobbs. "I must have my coalhouse to myself, with a lock and key. I don't
+want the house's fires supplied from my missis's coal."
+
+Jane's cheeks flushed as she turned to the old lady. "Allow me to assure
+you that your property--of whatever nature it may be--will be perfectly
+sacred in this house. Whether locked up or not, it will be left
+untouched by me and mine."
+
+"To be sure, ma'am," pleasantly returned the old lady. "I'm not afraid.
+You must not mind what Dobbs says: she means nothing."
+
+"And our safe for meat and butter," proceeded that undaunted
+functionary. "Is there a key to it?"
+
+"And now about the rent?" said the old lady, giving Jane no time to
+answer that there was a key.
+
+Jane hesitated. And then, with a flush, asked twenty shillings a week.
+
+"My conscience!" uttered Dobbs. "Twenty shillings a week. And us finding
+spoons and linen!"
+
+"Dobbs," said the old lady. "I don't see that it is so very out of the
+way. A parlour, two bedrooms, a closet, and the kitchen, all
+furnished----"
+
+"The closet's an empty, dark hole, and the kitchen's only the use of it,
+and the bedrooms are carpetless," reiterated Dobbs, drowning her
+mistress's voice. "But, if anybody asked you for your head, ma'am, you'd
+just cut it off and give it, if I wasn't at hand to stop you."
+
+"Well, Dobbs, we have seen nothing else to suit us up here. And you know
+I want to settle myself at this end of the town, on account of it being
+high and dry. Parry says I must."
+
+"We have not half looked yet," said Dobbs.
+
+"A pound a-week is a good price, ma'am; and we have not paid quite so
+much where we are: but I don't know that it's unreasonable," continued
+the old lady to Jane. "What shall we do, Dobbs?"
+
+"Do, ma'am! Why, of course you'll come out, and try higher up. To take
+these rooms without looking out for others, would be as bad as buying a
+pig in a poke. Come along, ma'am. Bedrooms without carpets won't do for
+us at any price," she added to Jane by way of a party salutation.
+
+They left the house, the lady with a cordial good morning, Dobbs with
+none at all; and went quarrelling up the road. That is, the old lady
+reasoning, and Dobbs disputing. The former proposed, if they saw nothing
+to suit them better, to purchase bedside carpeting: upon which Dobbs
+accused her of wanting to bring herself to the workhouse.
+
+Patience, who had watched them away, from her parlour window, came in to
+learn the success. She brought in with her the machine, a plain piece of
+leather, the size of the back of a glove, neatly fixed in it. Jane's
+tears were falling.
+
+"I think they would have taken them had there been bedside carpets,"
+sighed she. "Oh, Patience, what a help it would been! I asked a pound a
+week."
+
+"Did thee? That was a good price, considering thee would not have to
+give attendance."
+
+"How do you know I should not?" asked Jane.
+
+"Because I know Hannah Dobbs waits upon her mistress," replied Patience.
+"She is the widow of Joseph Reece, and he left her well off. I heard
+they were coming to live up this way. Did they quite decline them?
+Because, I can tell thee what. We have some strips of bedside carpet not
+being used, and I would not mind lending them till thee can buy others.
+It is a pity thee should lose the letting for the sake of a bit of
+carpet."
+
+Jane looked up gratefully. "What should I have done without you,
+Patience?"
+
+"Nay, it is not much: thee art welcome. I would not risk the carpet with
+unknown people, but Hannah Dobbs is cleanly and careful."
+
+"She has a very repelling manner," observed Jane.
+
+"It is not agreeable," assented Patience, with a smile; "but she is
+attached to her mistress, and serves her faithfully."
+
+Jane sat down to practise upon the leather, watching the road at the
+same time. In about an hour she saw Mrs. Reece and Dobbs returning.
+William went out, and asked if they would step in.
+
+They were already coming. They had seen nothing they liked so well. Jane
+said she believed she could promise them bedside carpets.
+
+"Then, I think we will decide, ma'am," said the old lady. "We saw one
+set of rooms, very nice ones; and they asked only seventeen shillings
+a-week: but they have a young man lodger, a pupil at the infirmary, and
+he comes home at all hours of the night. Dobbs questioned them till they
+confessed that it was so."
+
+"I know what them infirmary pupils is," indignantly put in Dobbs. "I am
+not going to suffer my missis to come in contact with their habits.
+There ain't one of 'em as thinks anything of stopping out till morning
+light. And before the sun's up they'll have a pipe in their mouths,
+filling the house with smoke! It's said, too, that there's mysterious
+big boxes brought to 'em, for what they call the 'furtherance of
+science': perhaps some of the churchyard sextons could tell what's in
+'em!"
+
+"Well, Dobbs. I think we may take this good lady's rooms. I'm sure we
+shan't get better suited elsewhere."
+
+Dobbs only grunted. She was tired with her walk, and had really no
+objection to the rooms; except as to price: that, she persisted in
+disputing as outrageous.
+
+"I suppose you would not take less?" said the old lady to Jane.
+
+Jane hesitated; but it was impossible for her to be otherwise than
+candid and truthful. "I would take a trifle less, sooner than not let
+you the rooms; but I am very poor, and every shilling is a consideration
+to me."
+
+"Well, I will take them at the price," concluded the good-natured old
+lady. "And Dobbs, if you grumble, I can't help it. Can we come in--let
+me see?--this is Wednesday----"
+
+"I won't come in on a Friday for anybody," interrupted Dobbs fiercely.
+
+"We will come in on Tuesday next, ma'am," decided the old lady. "Before
+that, I'll send in a trolley of coal, if you'll be so kind as to receive
+it."
+
+"And to lock it up," snapped Dobbs.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+THE GLOVE OPERATIVES.
+
+
+At the hours of going to and leaving work, the Helstonleigh streets were
+alive with glove operatives, some being in one branch of the trade, some
+in another. There were parers, grounders, leather-sorters, dyers,
+cutters, makers-up, and so on: all being necessary, besides the sewing,
+to turn out one pair of gloves; though, I dare say, you did not think
+it. The wages varied according to the particular work, or the men's
+ability and industry, from fifteen shillings a week to twenty-five: but
+all could earn a good living. If a man gained more than twenty-five, he
+had a stated salary; as was the case with the foremen. These wages,
+joined to what was earned by the women, were sufficient to maintain a
+comfortable home, and to bring up children decently. Unfortunately the
+same drawbacks prevailed in Helstonleigh that are but too common
+elsewhere; and they may be classed under one general head--improvidence.
+The men were given to idling away at the public-houses more time than
+was good for them: the women to scold and to quarrel. Some were
+slatterns; and a great many gave their husbands the welcome of a home of
+discomfort, ill-management, and dirt: which, of course, had the effect
+of sending them out all the more surely.
+
+Just about this period, the men had their especial grievance--or thought
+they had: and that was, a low rate of wages and not full employment. Had
+they paid a visit to other places and compared their wages with some
+earned by operatives of a different class, they had found less cause to
+complain. The men were rather given to comparing present wages with
+those they had earned before the dark crisis (dark as far as
+Helstonleigh's trade was concerned) when the British ports were opened
+to foreign gloves. But few, comparatively speaking, of the manufacturers
+had weathered that storm. Years have elapsed since then: but the
+employment remained scarce, and the wages (I have quoted them to you)
+low. Altogether, the men were, many of them, dissatisfied. They even
+went so far as to talk of a "strike"; strikes being less common in those
+days than they are in these.
+
+It was Saturday night, and the streets were crowded. The hands were
+pouring out of the different manufactories; clean-looking, respectable
+workmen, as a whole: for the branches of glove-making are for the most
+part of a cleanly nature. Some wore their white aprons; some had rolled
+them up round their waists. A few--very few, it must be owned--were
+going to their homes, but the greater portion were bound for the
+public-house.
+
+One of the most extensively patronised of the public-houses was The
+Cutters' Arms. On a Saturday night, when the men's pockets were lined,
+this would be crowded. The men flocked into it now and filled it,
+although its room for entertainment was very large. The order from most
+of them was a pint of mild ale and some tobacco.
+
+"Any news, Joe Fisher?" asked a man, when the pipes were set going.
+
+Joe Fisher tossed his head and growled. He was a tall, dark man; clothes
+and condition both dilapidated. The questioner took a few whiffs, and
+repeated his question. Joe growled again, but did not speak.
+
+"Well, you might give a chap a civil answer, Fisher."
+
+"What's the matter, you two?" cried a third.
+
+"Ben Wilks asks me is there any news!" called out Fisher, indignantly.
+"I thought he might ha' heered on't without asking. Our pay was docked
+again to-night; that's the news."
+
+"No!" uttered Wilks.
+
+"It were," said Fisher savagely. "A shilling a week less, good. Who's
+a-going to stand it?"
+
+"There ain't no help for standing it," interposed a quiet-looking man
+named Wheeler. "I suppose the masters is forced to lower. They say so."
+
+"Have your master forced hisself to it?" angrily retorted Fisher.
+
+"Well, Fisher, you know I'm fortunate. As all is that gets in to work at
+Ashley's."
+
+"And precious good care they take to stop in!" cried Fisher, much
+aggravated. "No danger that Ashley's hands'll give way and afford
+outsiders a chance."
+
+"Why should they give way?" sensibly asked Wheeler. "_You_ need never
+think to get in at Ashley's, Fisher, so there's no cause for you to
+grumble."
+
+A titter went round at Fisher's expense. He did not like it. "I might
+stand my chance with others, if there was room. Who says I couldn't?
+Come, now!"
+
+A man laughed. "You had better ask Samuel Lynn that question, Fisher.
+Why, he wouldn't look at you! You are not steady enough for him."
+
+"Samuel Lynn may go along for a ill-natured broadbrim!" was Fisher's
+retort. "There'd not be half the difficulty in getting in with Mr.
+Ashley hisself."
+
+"Yes, there would," said Wheeler, quietly. "Mr. Ashley pays first wages,
+and he'll have first hands. Quaker Lynn knows what he's about."
+
+"Don't dispute about nothing, Fisher," interrupted a voice, borne
+through the clouds of smoke from the far end of the room. "To lose a
+shilling a week is bad, but not so bad as losing all. I have heard ill
+news this evening."
+
+Fisher stretched up his long neck. "Who's that a-talking? Is it Mr.
+Crouch?"
+
+It was Stephen Crouch; the foreman in a large firm, and a respectable,
+intelligent man. "Do you remember, any of you, that a report arose some
+time ago about Wilson and King? A report that died away again?"
+
+"That they were on their last legs," replied several voices. "Well?"
+
+"Well, they are off them now," continued Stephen Crouch.
+
+Up rose a man, his voice shaking with emotion. "It's not true, Mr.
+Crouch, sure--ly!"
+
+"It is, Vincent. Wilson and King are going to wind up. It will be
+announced next week."
+
+"Mercy help us! There'll be forty more hands throwed out! What's to
+become of us all?"
+
+A dead silence fell on the room. Vincent broke it. Hope is strong in the
+human heart. "Mr. Crouch, I don't think it can be true. Our wages was
+all paid up to-night. And we have not heard a breath on't."
+
+"I know all that," said Stephen Crouch. "I know where the money came
+from to pay them. It came from Mr. Ashley."
+
+The assertion astonished the room. "From Mr. Ashley! Did he tell it
+abroad?"
+
+"_He_ tell it!" indignantly returned Stephen Crouch. "Mr. Ashley is an
+honourable man. No. Wilson and King have a tattler too near to them;
+that's how it came out. Not but what it would have been known all over
+Helstonleigh on Monday, all particulars. Every sixpence, pretty near,
+that Wilson and King have, is locked up in their stock. They expected
+remittances by the London mail this morning, and they did not come. They
+went to the bank. The bank was shy, and would not make advances; and
+they had nothing in hand for wages. They went to Mr. Ashley and told him
+their perplexity, and he drew a cheque. The bank cashed that, with a
+bow. And if it had not been for Mr. Ashley, Ned Vincent, you and the
+rest of their hands would have gone home to-night with empty pockets."
+
+"Will Mr. Ashley lose the money?"
+
+"Not he. He knew there was no danger of that, when he lent it. Nobody
+will lose by Wilson and King. They have more than enough to pay
+everybody in full; only their money's locked up."
+
+"Why are they giving up?"
+
+"Because they can't keep on. They have been losing a long while. What do
+you ask--what will they do? They must do as others have done before
+them, who have been unable to keep on. If Wilson and King had given up
+ten years ago, they had then each a nice little bit of property to
+retire upon. But it has been sunk since. There are too many others in
+this city in the same ease."
+
+"And what's to become of us hands that's throwed out?" asked Vincent,
+returning to his own personal grievance.
+
+"You must try and get taken on somewhere else, Vincent," observed
+Stephen Crouch.
+
+"There ain't a better cutter than Ned Vincent going," cried another
+voice. "He won't wait long."
+
+"I don't know about that," returned Vincent gloomily. "The masters is
+overdone with hands."
+
+"Of all the bad luck as ever fell upon a town, the opening of the ports
+to them foreign French was the worst for Helstonleigh," broke in the
+intemperate voice of Fisher.
+
+
+"Hold th' tongue, Fisher!" exclaimed a sensible voice. "We won't get
+into them discussions again. Didn't we go over 'em, night after night,
+and year after year, till we were heart-sick?--and what did they ever
+bring us but ill-feeling? It's done, and it can't be undone. The ports
+be open, and they'll never be closed again."
+
+"Did the opening of 'em ruin the trade of Helstonleigh, or didn't it?
+Answer me that," said Fisher.
+
+"It did. We know it to our cost," was the sad answer. "But there's no
+help for it."
+
+"Oh," returned Fisher ironically. "I thought you were going to hold out
+that the opening of 'em was a boon to the place, and the keeping 'em
+open a blessing. That 'ud be a new dodge. _Why_ do they keep 'em open?"
+
+"Just hark at Fisher!" said Mr. Buffle in a mincing tone. "He wants to
+know why Government keeps open the British ports. Don't every dozen of
+gloves that comes into the country pay a heavy duty? Is it likely
+Government would give up that, Fisher?"
+
+"What did they do afore they had it?" roared Fisher. "If they did
+without the duty then, they could do without it now."
+
+"I have heered of some gents as never tasted sugar," returned Mr.
+Buffle; "but I never heered of one, who had the liking for it, as was
+willing to forego the use of it. It's a case in pint; the Government
+have tasted the sweets of the glove-duty, and they stick to it."
+
+"Avaricious wolves!" growled Fisher. "But you are a fool, dandy, for all
+that. What's a bit of paltry duty, alongside of our wants? If a few of
+them great Government lords had to go on empty stomachs for a month,
+they'd know what the opening of ports means."
+
+"In all political changes, such as this, certain localities must
+suffer," broke in the quiet voice of Stephen Crouch. "It will be the
+means of increasing commerce wonderfully; and we, that the measure
+crushed, must be content to suffer for the general good. The effects to
+us can never be undone. I know what you say, Fisher," he continued,
+silencing Fisher by a gesture. "I know that the ports might be re-closed
+to-morrow, if Government so willed it. But it could not undo for us what
+has been done. It could not repair the ruin that was wrought on
+Helstonleigh. It could not reinstate firms in business; or refund to the
+masters their wasted capital; or collect the hands it scattered over the
+country, to find a bit of work, to beg, or to starve; or bring the dead
+back to life. It could not do any of this. Neither would it restore a
+flourishing trade to those of us who are left."
+
+"What's that last, Crouch?"
+
+"It never would," emphatically repeated Stephen Crouch. "A shattered
+trade cannot be brought together again. It is like a shattered glass:
+you may mourn over the pieces, but you cannot put them together. Believe
+me, or not, as you please, my friends, but the only thing remaining is,
+to make the best of what is left to us. There are other trades a deal
+worse off than we are."
+
+"I have talked to ye about that there move--a strike," resumed Fisher,
+after a pause. "We shall get no good till we try it----"
+
+"Fisher, don't you be a fool and show it," was the imperative
+interruption of Stephen Crouch. "I have explained to you till I am
+tired, what would be the effects of a strike. It would just finish you
+bad workmen up, and send you and your children into the nearest dry
+ditch for a floor, with the open skies above you for a roof."
+
+"We have never tried a strike in Helstonleigh," answered Fisher, holding
+to his own opinion.
+
+"And I trust we never shall," returned the intelligent foreman. "Other
+trades may have their strikes if they choose, and it's not our business
+to find fault with them for it; but the glove trade has hitherto kept
+itself aloof from strikes, and it's to be hoped it always will. You
+cannot understand how a strike works, Joe Fisher, or you'd not let your
+head be running on it."
+
+"Others' heads be running on it as well as mine, Master Crouch," said
+Fisher, nodding significantly.
+
+"It is not improbable," was the equable rejoinder of Stephen Crouch. "Go
+and strike next week, half a dozen of you. I mean the operatives of half
+a dozen firms."
+
+"Every firm in the place must strike," interrupted Fisher hastily. "A
+few on us doing it would only make bad worse."
+
+Stephen Crouch smiled. "Exactly. But the difficulty, Fisher, will be,
+that all the firms _won't_ strike. Ask the men in our firm to strike;
+ask those in Ashley's; ask others that we could name--and what would
+their answer be? Why, that they know when they are well off. Suppose,
+for argument's sake, that we did all strike; suppose all the hands in
+Helstonleigh struck next Monday morning, and the manufactories had to be
+closed? Who would have the worst of it?--we or the masters?"
+
+"The masters," returned Fisher in an obstinate tone.
+
+"No. The masters have good houses over their heads, and their bankers'
+books to supply their wants while they are waiting--and their orders are
+not so great that they need fear much pressure on that score. The London
+houses would dispatch a few extra orders to Paris and Grenoble, and the
+masters here might enjoy a nice little trip to the sea-side while our
+senses were coming back to us. But where should we be? Out at elbows,
+out at pocket, out at heart; some starving, some in the workhouse. If
+you want to avoid those contingencies, Joe Fisher, you'll keep from
+strikes."
+
+Fisher answered by an ironical cheer. "Here, missis," said he to the
+landlady, who was then passing him, "let's have another pint, after
+that."
+
+"That'll make nine pints you owe for since Monday night, Joe Fisher,"
+responded the landlady.
+
+"What if I do?" grunted Fisher irascibly. "I am able to pay. _I_ ain't
+out of work."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI.
+
+THE LADIES OF HONEY FAIR.
+
+
+It was Saturday night in Honey Fair. A night when the ladies were at
+leisure to abandon themselves to their private pursuits. The work of the
+past week had gone into the warehouses; and the fresh work brought out
+would not be begun until Monday morning. Some of them, as Mrs. Buffle
+has informed us, did not begin it then. The women chiefly cleaned their
+houses and mended their clothes; some washed and ironed--Honey Fair was
+not famous for its management--not going to bed till Sunday morning;
+some did their marketing; and a few, careless and lazy, spent it in
+running from house to house, or congregated in the road to gossip.
+
+About half-past eight, one of the latter suddenly lifted the latch of a
+house door and thrust in her head. It was Joe Fisher's wife. Her face
+was red, and her cap in tatters.
+
+"Is our Becky in here, Mrs. Carter?"
+
+Mrs. Carter was busy. She was the maternal parent of Miss Betsy. Her
+kitchen fire was out, her furniture was heaped one thing upon another; a
+pail of water stood ready to wash the brick floor, when she should have
+finished rubbing up the grate, and her hands and face were as grimy as
+the black-lead.
+
+"There's no Becky here," snapped she.
+
+"I can't find her," returned Mrs. Fisher. "I thought her might be along
+of your Betsy. I say, here's your husband coming round the corner.
+There's Mark Mason and Robert East and Dale along of him. And--my! what
+has that young 'un of East's been doing to hisself? He's black from head
+to foot. Come and look."
+
+Mrs. Carter disdained the invitation. She was a hard-working, thrifty
+woman, but a cross one. Priding herself upon her cleanliness, she
+perpetually returned loud thanks that she was not as the dirty ones
+around her. She was the Pharisee amidst many publicans.
+
+"If I passed my time staring and gossiping as some does, where 'ud my
+work be?" was her rebuke. "Shut the door, Suke Fisher."
+
+Suke Fisher did as she was bid. She turned her wrists back upon her
+hips, and walked to meet the advancing party, having discerned their
+approach by the light of the gas-lamps. "Be you going to be sold for a
+blackamoor?" demanded she of the boy.
+
+The boy laughed. His head, face, shoulders, hands, were ornamented with
+a thick, black liquid, not unlike blacking. He appeared to enjoy the
+treat, as if he had been anointed with some fragrant oil.
+
+"He is not a bad spectacle, is he, Dame Fisher?" remarked the young man,
+whom she had called Robert East.
+
+"What's a-done it?" questioned she.
+
+"Him and Jacky Brumm got larking, and upset the dye-pot upon themselves.
+We rubbed 'em down with the leather shreds, but it keeps on dripping
+from their hair."
+
+"Won't Charlotte warm his back for him!" apostrophised Mrs. Fisher.
+
+The boy threw a disdainful look at her, in return for the remark.
+"Charlotte's not so fond of warming backs. She never even scolds for an
+accident."
+
+The boy and Robert East were half-brothers. They entered one of the
+cottages. Robert East and his sister were between twenty and thirty, and
+the boy was ten. Their mother had died early, and the young boy's
+mother, their father's second wife, died when the child was born. The
+father also died. How Robert and his sister, the one then seventeen, the
+other fourteen, had struggled to make a living for themselves, and to
+bring up the baby, they alone knew. The manner in which they had
+succeeded was a marvel to many; none were more respectable now than they
+were in all Honey Fair.
+
+Charlotte, neat and nice, sat by her bright kitchen fire, a savoury stew
+cooking on the hob beside it. It was her custom to have something good
+for supper on a Saturday night. Did she make home attractive on that
+night to draw her brother from the seductions of the public-house? Most
+likely. And she had her reward: for Robert never failed to come. The
+cloth was laid, the red bricks of the floor were clean, and Charlotte's
+face, as she looked up from her stocking-mending, was bright. It
+darkened to consternation, however, when she cast her eyes on the boy.
+
+"Tom, what _have_ you been doing?"
+
+"Jacky Brumm threw a pot of dye over me, Charlotte."
+
+"There's not much real damage, Charlotte," interposed her brother. "It
+looks worse than it is. I'll get it out of his hair presently, and put
+his clothes into a pail of water. What have you got to-night? It smells
+good."
+
+He alluded to supper, and took off the lid of the saucepan to peep in.
+She had some stewed beef, with carrots, and the savoury steam ascended
+to Robert's pleased face.
+
+Very few in Honey Fair managed as did Charlotte East. How she did her
+housework no one knew. Not a woman, married or single, got through more
+glove-sewing than Charlotte. Not one kept her house in better order: and
+her clothes and her brother's were neat and respectable, week-days as
+well as Sundays. Her work was taken into the warehouse on Saturday
+mornings, and her marketing was done. In the afternoon she cleaned her
+house, and by four o'clock was ready to sit down to her mending. No one
+ever saw her in a bustle, and yet all her work was done; and well done.
+Perhaps one great secret of it was that she rose very early in the
+morning, winter and summer.
+
+"Look, Robert, here is a nice book I have bought," said she, putting a
+periodical into his hands. "It comes out weekly. I shall take it in."
+
+Robert turned over the leaves. "It seems very interesting," he said
+presently. "Here's a paper that tells all about the Holy Land. And
+another that tells us how glass is made; I have often wondered."
+
+"You can read it to us of an evening while I work," said she. "It will
+be quite a help to our getting on Tom: almost as good as sending him to
+school. I gave----"
+
+The words were interrupted. The door was violently burst open, and a
+woman entered the kitchen; knocking at doors before entering was not the
+fashion in Honey Fair. The intruder was Mrs. Brumm.
+
+"I say, Robert East, did you see anything of my husband?"
+
+"I saw him go into the Horned Ram."
+
+"Then I wish the Horned Ram was into him!" wrathfully retorted Mrs.
+Brumm. "He vowed faithfully he'd come home with his wages the first
+thing after leaving work. He knows I have not a thing in the place for
+to-morrow--and Dame Buffle looking out for her money. I have a good mind
+to go down to the Horned Ram, and be on to him!"
+
+Robert East offered no opinion upon this delicate point. He remembered
+the last time Mrs. Brumm had gone to the Horned Ram to be "on" to her
+husband, and what it had produced. A midnight quarrel that disturbed the
+slumbers of Honey Fair.
+
+"Who was along of him?" pursued she.
+
+"Three or four of them. Hubbard and Jones, I saw go in: and Adam
+Thorneycroft."
+
+A quick rising of the head, as if startled, and a faint accession of
+colour, told that one of those names had struck, perhaps unpleasantly,
+on the ear of Charlotte East. "Where are your own earnings?" she asked
+of Mrs. Brumm.
+
+"I have had to take them to Bankes's," was the rueful reply. "It's a
+good deal now, and they're in a regular tantrum this week, and wouldn't
+even wait till Monday. They threatened to tell Brumm, and it frightened
+me out of my seventeen senses. And now, for him to go into that dratted
+Horned Ram with his wages! and me without a pennypiece! It's not more
+for the necessaries I want to get in, than for the things that is in
+pawn. I can't iron nothing: the irons is there."
+
+Charlotte, busy still, turned round. "I would not put in irons, and such
+things, that I wanted to use."
+
+"I dare say you wouldn't!" tartly responded Mrs. Brumm. "One has to put
+in what one's got, and the things our husbands won't miss the sight of.
+It's fine to be you, Charlotte East, setting yourself up for a lady, and
+never putting your foot inside the pawn-shop, with your clean hands and
+your clean kitchen on a Saturday night, sitting down to a hot supper,
+while the rest of us is a-scrubbing!"
+
+Charlotte laughed good-humouredly. "If I tried to set myself up for a
+lady, I could not be one. I work as hard as anybody; only I get it done
+betimes."
+
+Mrs. Brumm sniffed--having no ready answer at hand. And at that moment
+Tom East, encased in black, peeped out of the brewhouse, where he had
+been sent by Charlotte to wash the dye off his hands. "Sakes alive!"
+uttered Mrs. Brumm, aghast at the sight.
+
+"Jacky's worse than me," responded Tom, rather proud of having to say
+so much. Robert explained to her how it had happened.
+
+"And our Jacky's as bad as that!" she cried. "Won't I wring it out of
+him!"
+
+"Nonsense," said Robert; "it was an accident. Boys will be boys."
+
+"Yes, they will: and it's not the men that have to wash for 'em and keep
+'em clean!" retorted Mrs. Brumm, terribly wrathful. "And me at a
+standstill for my irons! And that beast of a Brumm stopping out."
+
+"I will lend you my irons," said Charlotte.
+
+"I won't take 'em," was the ungracious reply. "If I don't get my own, I
+won't borrow none. Brumm, he'll be looking out for his Sunday clean
+shirt to-morrow, and he won't get it; and that'll punish him more than
+anything else. There's not a man in Honey Fair as likes to go sprucer on
+a Sunday than Brumm."
+
+"So much the better," said Charlotte. "When men lose pride in their
+appearance, they are apt to lose it in their conduct."
+
+"You must always put in your word for folks, Charlotte East, let 'em be
+ever so bad," was Mrs. Brumm's parting salutation, as she went off and
+shut the door with a bang.
+
+Meanwhile Timothy Carter, Mrs. Carter's husband, had turned into his own
+dwelling, after leaving Robert East. The first thing to greet him was
+the pail of water. Mrs. Carter had completed her grate, and was dashing
+her water on to the floor. Timothy received it on his legs.
+
+"What's that for?" demanded Timothy, who was a meek and timid little
+man.
+
+"Why do you brush in so sharp, then?" cried she. "Who was to know you
+was a-coming?"
+
+Timothy had not "brushed in sharp;" he had gone in quietly. He stood
+ruefully shaking the wet from his legs, first one, then the other, and
+afterwards began to pick his way on tiptoe towards the fireplace.
+
+"Now, it's of no use your attempting to sit down yet," rebuked his wife,
+in her usual cross accents. "There ain't no room for you at the fire,
+and there ain't no warmth in it; it's but this blessed minute lighted.
+Sit yourself on that table, again the wall, and then your legs'll be in
+the dry."
+
+"And there I may sit for an hour, for you'll be all that time before you
+have finished, by the looks on't," he ventured to remonstrate.
+
+"And half another hour to the end of it," answered she. "There's Betsy,
+as ought to be helping, gadding out somewhere ever since she came home
+at seven o'clock."
+
+"You says to me, says you, 'You come home to-night, Tim, as soon as
+work's over, and don't go drinking!' You know you did," repeated Timothy
+in an injured tone.
+
+"And it's a good thing as you have come, or you'd have heard my tongue
+in a way you wouldn't like!" was Mrs. Carter's reply.
+
+Timothy sighed. That tongue was the two-edged sword of his life: how
+dreaded, none but himself could tell. He had mounted the table in
+obedience to orders, but he now got off again.
+
+"What are you after now?" shrilly demanded Mrs. Carter, who was on her
+knees, scouring the bricks.
+
+"I want my pipe and 'baccy."
+
+"You stop where you are," was the imperative answer, "and wait till I
+have time to get it;" and Timothy humbly sat down again.
+
+"You might get this done afore night, 'Lizabeth, as I've said over and
+over again," cried he, plucking up a little spirit. "When a man comes
+home tired, even if there ain't a bit o' supper for him, he expects a
+morsel o' fire to sit down to, so as he can smoke his pipe in quiet. It
+cows him, you see, to find his place in this ruck, where there ain't a
+dry spot to put the sole of his foot on, and nothing but a table with
+unekal legs to sit upon, and----"
+
+"I might get it done afore?" shrieked Mrs. Carter. "Afore! When, through
+that Betsy's laziness, leaving everything on my shoulders, I couldn't
+get in my gloving till four o'clock this afternoon! Every earthly thing
+have I had to do since then. I raked out my fire----"
+
+"What's the good of raking out the fire?" interposed Timothy.
+
+"Goodness help the simpleton! Wanting to know the good of raking out the
+fire--as if he was born yesterday! Can a grate be black-leaded while
+it's hot, pray?"
+
+"It might be black-leaded at some other time," debated he. "In a
+morning, perhaps."
+
+"I dare say it might, if I had not my gloving to do," she answered,
+trembling with wrath. "When folks takes out shop work, they has to get
+on with that--and is glad to do it. Where would you be if I earned
+nothing? It isn't much of a roof we should have over our heads, with
+your paltry fifteen or sixteen shillings a-week. You be nothing but a
+parer, remember."
+
+"There's no need to disparage of me, 'Lizabeth," he rejoined, with a
+meek little cough. "You knowed I was a parer before you ventured on me."
+
+"Just take your legs up higher, or you'll be knocking my cap with your
+dirty boots," said Mrs. Carter, who was nearing the table in her
+scrubbing.
+
+"I'll stand outside the door a bit, I think," he answered. "I am in your
+way everywhere."
+
+"Sit where you are, and lift up your legs," was the reiterated command.
+And Timothy obeyed.
+
+Cold and dreary, on he sat, watching the cleaning of the kitchen. The
+fire gave out no heat, and the squares of bricks did not dry. He took
+some silver from his pocket, and laid it in a stack on the table beside
+him, for his wife to take up at her leisure. She allowed him no chance
+of squandering _his_ wages.
+
+A few minutes, and Mrs. Carter rose from her knees and went into the
+yard for a fresh supply of water. Timothy did not wait for a second
+ducking. He slipped off the table, took a shilling from the heap, and
+stole from the house.
+
+Back came Mrs. Carter, her pail brimming. "You go over to Dame Buffle's,
+Tim, and----Why, where's he gone?"
+
+He was not in the kitchen, that was certain; and she opened the
+staircase door, and elevated her voice shrilly. "Are you gone tramping
+up my stairs, with your dirty boots? Tim Carter, I say, are you
+upstairs?"
+
+Of course Tim Carter was not upstairs: or he had never dared to leave
+that voice unanswered.
+
+"Now, if he has gone off to any of them sotting publics, he shan't hear
+the last of it," she exclaimed, opening the door and gazing as far as
+the nearest gas-light would permit. But Timothy was beyond her eye and
+reach, and she caught up the money and counted it. Fourteen shillings.
+One shilling of it gone.
+
+She knew what it meant, and dashed the silver into a wide-necked
+canister on the high mantelshelf, which contained also her own earnings
+for the week. It would have been as much as meek Tim Carter's life was
+worth to touch that canister, and she kept it openly on the
+mantel-piece. Many unfortunate wives in Honey Fair could not keep their
+money from their husbands even under lock and key. As she was putting
+the canister in its place again, Betsy came in. Mrs. Carter turned
+sharply upon her.
+
+"Now, miss! where have you been?"
+
+"Law, mother, how you fly out! I have only been to Cross's."
+
+"You ungrateful piece of brass, when you know there's so much to be done
+on a Satur-night that I can't turn myself round! You shan't go gadding
+about half your time. I'll put you from home entire, to a good tight
+service."
+
+Betsy had heard the same threat so often that its effect was gone. Had
+her mother only kept her in one-tenth of the subjection that she did her
+husband, it might have been better for the young lady. "I was only in at
+Cross's," she repeated.
+
+"What's the good of telling me that falsehood? I went to Cross's after
+you, but you wasn't there, and hadn't been there. You want a good sound
+shaking, miss."
+
+"If I wasn't at Cross's, I was at Mason's," was the imperturbable reply
+of Miss Betsy. "I was at Mason's first. Mark Mason came home and turned
+as sour as a wasp, because the place was in a mess. She was washing her
+children, and she's got the kitchen to do, and he began blowing up. I
+left 'em then, and went in to Cross's. Mason went back down the hill;
+so he'll come home tipsy."
+
+"Why can't she get her children washed afore he comes home?" retorted
+Mrs. Carter, who could see plenty of motes in her neighbours' eyes,
+though utterly blind to the beam in her own. "Such wretched management!
+Children ought to be packed out of the way by seven o'clock."
+
+"You don't get your cleaning over, any more than she does," remarked
+Miss Betsy boldly.
+
+Mrs. Carter turned an angry gaze upon her; a torrent of words breaking
+from her lips. "I get my cleaning over! I, who am at work every moment
+of my day, from early morning till late at night! You'd liken me to that
+good-for-nothing Het Mason, who hardly makes a dozen o' gloves in a
+week, and keeps her house like a pigsty! Where would you and your father
+be, if I didn't work to keep you, and slave to make the place sweet and
+comfortable? Be off to Dame Buffle's and buy me a besom, you ungrateful
+monkey: and then you turn to and dust these chairs."
+
+Betsy did not wait for a second bidding. She preferred going for besoms,
+or for anything else, to her mother's kitchen and her mother's scolding.
+Her coming back was another affair; she would be just as likely to
+propel the besom into the kitchen and make off herself, as to enter.
+
+She suddenly stopped now, door in hand, to relate some news.
+
+"I say, mother, there's going to be a party at the Alhambra
+tea-gardens."
+
+"A party at the Alhambra tea-gardens, with frost and snow on the
+ground!" ironically repeated Mrs. Carter. "Be off, and don't be an oaf."
+
+"It's true," said Betsy. "All Honey Fair's going to it. I shall go too.
+'Melia and Mary Ann Cross is going to have new things for it, and----"
+
+"Will you go along and get that besom?" cried angry Mrs. Carter. "No
+child of mine shall go off to their Alhambras, catching their death on
+the wet grass."
+
+"Wet grass!" echoed Betsy. "Why, you're never such a gaby as to think
+they'd have a party on the grass! It is to be in the big room, and
+there's to be a fiddle and a tam----"
+
+"----bourine" never came. Mrs. Carter sent the wet mop flying after Miss
+Betsy, and the young lady, dexterously evading it, flung-to the door and
+departed.
+
+A couple of hours later, Timothy Carter was escorted home, his own
+walking none of the steadiest. The men with him had taken more than
+Timothy; but it was that weak man's misfortune to be overcome by a
+little. You will allow, however, that he had taken enough, having spent
+his shilling and gone into debt besides. Mrs. Carter received
+him----Well, I am rather at a loss to describe it. She did not actually
+beat him, but her shrill voice might be heard all over Honey Fair,
+lavishing hard names upon helpless Tim. First of all, she turned out
+his pockets. The shilling was all gone. "And how much more tacked on to
+it?" asked she, wise by experience. And Timothy was just able to
+understand and answer. He felt himself as a lamb in the fangs of a wolf.
+"Eightpence halfpenny."
+
+"A shilling and eightpence halfpenny chucked away in drink in one
+night!" repeated Mrs. Carter. She gave him a short, emphatic shake, and
+propelled him up the stairs; leaving him without a light, to get to bed
+as he could. She had still some hours' work downstairs, in the shape of
+mending clothes.
+
+But it never once occurred to Mrs. Carter that she had herself to thank
+for his misdoings. With a tidy room and a cheerful fire to receive him,
+on returning from his day's work, Timothy Carter would no more have
+thought of the public-houses than you or I should. And if, as did
+Charlotte East, she had welcomed him with a good supper and a pleasant
+tongue, poor Tim in his gratitude had forsworn public-houses for ever.
+
+Neither, when Mark Mason staggered home, and _his_ wife raved at and
+quarrelled with him, to the further edification of Honey Fair, did it
+strike that lady that she could be in fault. As Mrs. Carter had said,
+Henrietta Mason did not overburden herself with work of any sort; but
+she did make a pretence of washing her four children in a bucket on a
+Saturday night, and her kitchen afterwards. The ceremony was delayed
+through idleness and bad management to the least propitious part of the
+evening. So sure as she had the bucket before the fire, and the children
+collected round it; one in, one just out roaring to be dried, and the
+two others waiting their turn for the water, all of them stark
+naked--for Mrs. Mason made a point of undressing them at once to save
+trouble--so sure, I say, as these ablutions were in progress, the
+children frantically crying, Mrs. Mason boxing, storming, and rubbing,
+and the kitchen swimming, in would walk the father. Words invariably
+ensued: a short, sharp quarrel; and he would turn out again for the
+nearest public-house, where he was welcomed by a sociable room and a
+glowing fire. Can any one be surprised that it should be so?
+
+You must not think these cases overdrawn; you must not think them
+exceptional cases. They are neither the one nor the other. They are
+truthful pictures, taken from what Honey Fair was then. I very much fear
+the same pictures might be taken from some places still.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII.
+
+MR. BRUMM'S SUNDAY SHIRT.
+
+
+But there's something to say yet of Mrs. Brumm. You saw her turning away
+from Robert East's door, saying that her husband, Andrew, had promised
+to come home that night and to bring his wages. Mrs. Brumm, a bad
+manager, as were many of the rest, would probably have received him with
+a sloppy kitchen, buckets, and besoms. Andrew had had experience of
+this, and, disloyal knight that he was, allowed himself to be seduced
+into the Horned Ram. He'd just take one pint and a pipe, he said to his
+conscience, and be home in time for his wife to get what she wanted. A
+little private matter of his own would call him away early. Pressed for
+a sum of money in the week which was owing to his club, and not
+possessing it, he had put his Sunday coat in pledge: and this he wanted
+to get out. However, a comrade sitting in the next chair to him at the
+Horned Ram had to get _his_ coat out of the same accommodating
+receptacle. Nothing more easy than for him to bring out Andrew's at the
+same time; which was done. The coat on the back of his chair, his pipe
+in his mouth, and a pint of good ale before him, the outer world was as
+nothing to Andrew Brumm.
+
+At ten o'clock, the landlord came in. "Andrew Brumm, here's your wife
+wanting to see you."
+
+Now Andrew was not a bad sort of man by any means, but he had a great
+antipathy to being looked after. A joke went round at Andrew's expense;
+for if there was one thing the men in general hated more than another,
+it was that their wives should come in quest of them to the
+public-houses. Mrs. Brumm received a sharp reprimand; but she saw that
+he was, as she expressed it, "getting on," so she got some money from
+him and kept her scolding for another opportunity.
+
+She did not go near the pawnbroker's to get her irons out. She bought a
+bit of meat and what else she wanted, and returned to Honey Fair. Robert
+East was closing his door for the night as she passed it. "Has Brumm
+come home?" he asked.
+
+"Not he, the toper! He is stuck fast at the Horned Ram, getting in for
+it nicely. I have been after him for some money."
+
+"Have you got your irons out?" inquired Charlotte, coming to the door.
+
+"No, nor nothing else; and there's pretty near half the kitchen in. It's
+him that'll suffer. He has been getting out his own coat, but he can't
+put it on. Leastways, he won't without a clean collar and shirt; and let
+him fish for _them_. Wait till to-morrow comes, Mr. 'Drew Brumm!"
+
+"Was _his_ coat in?" returned Charlotte, surprised.
+
+"That it was. Him as goes on so when I puts a thing or two in! He owed
+some money at his club, and he went and put his coat in for four
+shillings, and Adam Thorneycroft has been and fetched it out for him."
+
+"Adam Thorneycroft!" involuntarily returned Charlotte.
+
+"Thorneycroft's coat was in too, and he went for it just now, and Brumm
+gave him the ticket to get out his. Smith's daughter told me that. She
+was serving with her mother in the bar."
+
+"Is Adam Thorneycroft at the Horned Ram still?"
+
+"That he is: side by side with Brumm. A nice pair of 'em! Charlotte
+East, take my advice; don't you have anything to say to Thorneycroft. A
+woman had better climb up to the top of her topmost chimbley and pitch
+herself off, head foremost, than marry a man given to drink."
+
+Charlotte East felt vexed at the allusion--vexed that her name should be
+coupled openly with that of Adam Thorneycroft by the busy tongues of
+Honey Fair. That an attachment existed between herself and Adam
+Thorneycroft was true; but she did not wish the fact to become too
+apparent to others. Latterly she had been schooling her heart to forget
+him, for he was taking to frequent public-houses.
+
+Mrs. Brumm went home, and was soon followed by her husband. He was not
+much the worse for what he had taken: he was a little. Mrs. Brumm
+reproached him with it, and a wordy war ensued.
+
+They arose peaceably in the morning. Andrew was a civil, well-conducted
+man, and but for Horned Rams would have been a pattern to three parts of
+Honey Fair. He liked to be dressed well on Sunday and to attend the
+cathedral with his two children: he was very fond of listening to the
+chanting Mrs. Brumm--as was the custom generally with the wives of Honey
+Fair--stayed at home to cook the dinner. Andrew was accustomed to do
+many odd jobs on the Sunday morning, to save his wife trouble. He
+cleaned the boots and shoes, brushed his clothes, filled the coal-box,
+and made himself useful in sundry other ways. All this done, they sat
+down to breakfast with the two children, the unfortunate Jacky less
+black than he had been the previous night.
+
+"Now, Jacky," said Brumm, when the meal was over, "get yourself ready;
+it has gone ten. Polly too."
+
+"It's a'most too cold for Polly this morning," said Mrs. Brumm.
+
+"Not a bit on't. The walk'll do her good, and give her an appetite for
+dinner. What is for dinner, Bell? I asked you before, but you didn't
+answer."
+
+"It ain't much thanks to you as there's anything," retorted Mrs. Brumm,
+who rejoiced in the aristocratic name of Arabella. "You plant yourself
+again at the Horned Ram, and see if I worries myself to come after you
+for money. I'll starve on the Sunday first."
+
+"I can't think what goes of your money," returned Andrew. "There had not
+used to be this fuss if I stopped out for half an hour on the Saturday
+night, with my wages in my pocket. Where does yours go to?"
+
+"It goes in necessaries," shortly answered Mrs. Brumm. But not caring
+for reasons of her own to pursue this particular topic, she turned to
+that of the dinner. "I have half a shoulder of mutton, and I'm going to
+take it to the bake'us with a batter pudden under it, and to boil the
+taters at home."
+
+"That's capital!" returned Andrew, gently rubbing his hands. "There's
+nothing nicer than baked mutton and a batter pudden. Jacky, brush your
+hair well: it's as rough as bristles."
+
+"I had to use a handful of soda to get the dye out," said Mrs. Brumm.
+"Soda's awful stuff for making the hair rough."
+
+Andrew slipped out to the Honey Fair barber, who did an extensive
+business on Sunday morning, to be shaved. When he returned he went up to
+wash and dress, and finally uncovered a deal box where he was accustomed
+to find his clean shirt. With all Mrs. Brumm's faults she had neat ways.
+The shirt was not there.
+
+"Bell, where's my clean shirt?" he called out from the top of the
+stairs.
+
+Mrs. Bell Brumm had been listening for the words and received them with
+satisfaction. She nodded, winked, and went through a little pantomime of
+ecstasy, to the intense delight of the children, who were in the secret,
+and nodded and winked with her. "Clean shirt?" she called back again, as
+if not understanding.
+
+"My Sunday shirt ain't here."
+
+"You haven't got no Sunday shirt to-day."
+
+Andrew Brumm descended the stairs in consternation. "No Sunday shirt!"
+he repeated.
+
+"No shirt, nor no collar, nor no handkercher," coolly affirmed Mrs.
+Brumm. "There ain't none ironed. They be all in the wet and the rough,
+wrapped up in an old towel. Jacky and Polly haven't nothing either."
+
+Brumm stared considerably. "Why, what's the meaning of that?"
+
+"The irons are in pawn," shortly answered Mrs. Brumm. "You know you
+never came home with the money, so I couldn't get 'em out."
+
+Another wordy war. Andrew protested she had no "call" to put the irons
+in any such place. She impudently retorted that she should put the house
+in if she liked.
+
+A hundred such little episodes could be related of the domestic life of
+Honey Fair.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+THE MESSRS. BANKES.
+
+
+On the Monday morning, a troop of the gloveress girls flocked into
+Charlotte East's. They were taking holiday, as was usual with them on
+Mondays. Charlotte was a favourite. It is true, she "bothered" them, as
+they called it, with good advice, but they liked her in spite of it.
+Charlotte's kitchen was always tidy and peaceful, with a bright fire
+burning in it: other kitchens would be full of bustle and dirt.
+Charlotte never let them hinder her; she worked away at her gloves all
+the time. Charlotte was a glove-maker; that is, she sewed the fingers
+together, and put in the thumbs, forgits, and quirks. Look at your own
+gloves, English made. The long strips running up inside the fingers are
+the forgits; and the little pieces between, where the fingers open, are
+the quirks. The gloves Charlotte was occupied with now were of a very
+dark green colour, almost black, called corbeau in the trade, and they
+were sewn with white silk. Charlotte's stitches were as beautifully
+regular as though she had used a patent machine. The white silk and the
+fellow glove to the one she was making, lay inside a clean white
+handkerchief doubled upon her lap; other gloves, equally well covered,
+were in a basket at her side.
+
+The girls had come in noisily, with flushed cheeks and eager eyes.
+Charlotte saw that something was exciting them. They liked to tell her
+of their little difficulties and pleasures. Betsy Carter had informed
+her mother that there was going to be a "party at the Alhambra
+tea-gardens," if you remember; and this was the point of interest
+to-day. These "Alhambra tea-gardens," however formidable and perhaps
+suggestive the name, were very innocent in reality. They belonged to a
+quiet roadside inn, half a mile from the town, and comprised a large
+garden and extensive lawn. The view from them was beautiful; and many a
+party from Helstonleigh, far higher in the scale of society than these
+girls, would go there in summer to take tea and enjoy the view. A young,
+tall, handsome girl of eighteen had drawn her chair close to
+Charlotte's. She was the half-sister of Mark Mason, and had her home
+with him and his wife; supporting herself after a fashion by her work.
+But she was always in debt to them, and she and Mrs. Mark did not get
+along well together. She wore a new shawl, and straw bonnet trimmed with
+blue ribbons: and her dark hair fell in glossy ringlets--as was the
+fashion then. Two other girls perched themselves on a table. They were
+sisters--Amelia and Mary Ann Cross; others placed themselves where they
+could. Somewhat light were they in manner, these girls; free in speech.
+Nothing farther. If an unhappy girl did, by mischance, turn out badly,
+or, as the expressive phrase had it, "went wrong," she was forthwith
+shunned, and shunned for ever. Whatever may have been the faults and
+failings prevailing in Honey Fair, this sort of wrong-doing was not
+common amongst them.
+
+"Why, Caroline, that is new!" exclaimed Charlotte East, alluding to the
+shawl.
+
+Caroline Mason laughed. "Is it not a beauty?" cried she. And it may be
+remarked that in speech and accent she was superior to some of the
+girls.
+
+Charlotte took a corner of it in her hand. "It must have cost a pound at
+least," she said. "Is it paid for?"
+
+Again Caroline laughed. "Never you mind whether it's paid for or not,
+Charlotte. You won't be called upon for the money for it. As I told my
+sister-in-law yesterday."
+
+"You did not want it, Caroline; and I am quite sure you could not afford
+it. Your winter cloak was good yet. It is so bad a plan, getting goods
+on credit. I wish those Bankeses had never come near the place!"
+
+"Don't you run down Bankes's, Charlotte East," interposed Eliza Tyrrett,
+a very plain girl, with an ill-natured expression of face. "We should
+never get along at all if it wasn't for Bankes's."
+
+"You would get along all the better," returned Charlotte. "How much are
+they going to charge you for this shawl, Caroline?"
+
+Caroline and Eliza Tyrrett exchanged peculiar glances. There appeared to
+be some secret between them, connected with the shawl. "Oh, a pound or
+so," replied Caroline. "What was it, Eliza?"
+
+Eliza Tyrrett burst into a loud laugh, and Caroline echoed it. Charlotte
+East did not press for the answer. But she did press the matter against
+dealing with Bankes's; as she had pressed it many a time before.
+
+A twelvemonth ago, some strangers had opened a linen-draper's shop in a
+back street of Helstonleigh; brothers of the name of Bankes. They
+professed to do business upon credit, and to wait upon people at their
+own homes, after the fashion of hawkers. Every Monday would one of them
+appear in Honey Fair, a great pack of goods on his back, which would be
+opened for inspection at each house. Caps, shawls, gown-pieces, calico,
+flannel, and finery, would be displayed in all their fascinations. Now,
+you who are reading this, only reflect on the temptation! The women of
+Honey Fair went into debt; and it was three parts the work of their
+lives to keep the finery, and the system, from the knowledge of their
+husbands.
+
+"Pay us so much weekly," Bankes's would say. And the women did so: it
+seemed like getting a gown for nothing. But Bankes's were found to be
+strict in collecting the instalments; and how these weekly payments told
+upon the wages, I will leave you to judge. Some would have many
+shillings to pay weekly. Charlotte East and a few more prudent ones
+spoke against this system; but they made no impression. The temptation
+was too great. Charlotte assumed that this was how Caroline Mason's
+shawl had been obtained. In that, however, she was mistaken.
+
+"Charlotte, we are going down to Bankes's. There'll be a better choice
+in his shop than in his pack. You have heard of the party at the
+Alhambra. Well, it is to be next Monday, and we want to ask you what we
+shall wear. What would you advise us to get for it?"
+
+"Get nothing," replied Charlotte. "Don't go to Bankes's, and don't go to
+the Alhambra."
+
+The whole assembly sat in wonder, with open eyes. "Not go to the party!"
+echoed pert Amelia Cross. "What next, Charlotte East?"
+
+"I told you what it would be, if you came into Charlotte East's," said
+Eliza Tyrrett, a sneer on her countenance.
+
+"I am not against proper amusement, though I don't much care for it
+myself," said Charlotte. "But when you speak of going to a party at the
+Alhambra, somehow it does not sound respectable."
+
+The girls opened their eyes wider. "Why, Charlotte, what harm do you
+suppose will come to us? We can take care of ourselves, I hope?"
+
+"It is not that," said Charlotte. "Of course you can. Still it does not
+sound nice. It is like going to a public-house--you can't call the
+Alhambra anything else. It is quite different, this, from going there to
+have tea in the summer. But that's not it, I say. If you go to it, you
+would be running into debt for all sorts of things at Bankes's, and get
+into trouble."
+
+"My sister-in-law says you are a croaker, Charlotte; and she's right,"
+cried Caroline Mason, with good-humour.
+
+"Charlotte, it is not a bit of use your talking," broke in Mary Ann
+Cross vehemently. "We shall go to the party, and we shall buy new things
+for it. Bankes's have some lovely sarcenets, cross-barred; green, and
+pink, and lilac; and me and 'Melia mean to have a dress apiece off 'em.
+With a pink bow in front, and a white collar--my! wouldn't folks stare
+at us!--Twelve yards each it would take, and they are one-and-eightpence
+a yard."
+
+"Mary Ann, it would be just madness! There'd be the making, the lining,
+and the ribbon: five or six-and-twenty shillings each, they would cost
+you. Pray don't!"
+
+"How you do reckon things up, Charlotte! We should pay off weekly: we
+have time afore us."
+
+"What would your father say?"
+
+"Charlotte, just hold your noise about father," quickly returned Amelia
+Cross, in a hushed and altered tone. "You know we don't tell him about
+Bankes's."
+
+Charlotte found she might as well have talked to the winds. The girls
+were bent upon the evening's pleasure, and also upon the smart things
+they deemed necessary for it. A few minutes more and they left her; and
+trooped down to the shop of the Messrs. Bankes.
+
+Charlotte was coming home that evening from an errand to the town, when
+she met Adam Thorneycroft. He was somewhat above the common run of
+workmen.
+
+"Oh, is it you, Charlotte?" he exclaimed, stopping her. "I say, how is
+it that you'll never have anything to say to me now?"
+
+"I have told you why, Adam," she replied.
+
+"You have told me a pack of nonsense. I wouldn't lose you, Charlotte, to
+be made king of England. When once we are married, you shall see how
+steady I'll be. I will not enter a public-house."
+
+"You have been saying that you will not for these twelve months past,
+Adam," she sadly rejoined; and, had her face been visible in the dark
+night, he would have seen that it was working with agitation.
+
+"What does it hurt a man, to go out and take a quiet pipe and a glass
+after his work's over? Everybody does it."
+
+"Everybody does not. But I do not wish to contend. It seems to bring you
+no conviction. Half the miseries around us in Honey Fair arise from so
+much of the wages being wasted at the public-houses. I know what you
+would say--that the wives are in fault as well. So they are. I do not
+believe people were sent into the world to live as so many of us live:
+nothing but scuffle and discomfort, and--I may almost say
+it--sinfulness. One of these wretched households shall never be mine."
+
+"My goodness, Charlotte! How seriously you speak!"
+
+"It is a serious subject. I want to try to live so as to do my duty by
+myself and by those around me; to pass my days in peace with the world
+and with my conscience. A woman beaten down, cowed by all sorts of ills,
+could not do so; and, where the husband is unsteady, she must be beaten
+down. Adam, you know it is not with a willing heart I give you up, but I
+am forced to it."
+
+"How can you bring yourself to say this to me?" he rejoined.
+
+"I don't deny that it is hard," she faintly said, suppressing with
+difficulty her emotion. "This many a week I and duty have been having a
+conflict with each other: but duty has gained the mastery. I knew it
+would from the first----"
+
+"Duty be smothered!" interrupted Adam Thorneycroft. "I shall think you a
+born natural presently, Charlotte."
+
+"Yes, I know. I can't help it. Adam, we should never pull together, you
+see. Good-bye! We can be friends in future, if you like; nothing more."
+
+She held out her hand to him for a parting salutation. Adam, hurt and
+angry, flung it from him, and turned towards Helstonleigh: and Charlotte
+continued her way home, her tears dropping in the dusky night.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV.
+
+HARD TO BEAR.
+
+
+Mrs. Halliburton struggled on. A struggle, my reader, that it is to be
+hoped, for your comfort's sake, you have never experienced, and never
+will. She had learnt the stitch for the back of the gloves, and Mr. Lynn
+supplied her with a machine and with work. But she could not do it
+quickly as yet; though it was a hopeful day for her when she found that
+her weekly earnings amounted to six shillings.
+
+Mrs. Reece paid her twenty shillings a week. Or rather, Dobbs: for Dobbs
+was paymaster-general. Of that, Jane could use (she had made a close
+calculation) six shillings, putting by fourteen for rent and taxes. Her
+taxes were very light, part of them being paid by the landlord, as was
+the custom with some houses in Helstonleigh. But for this, the rent
+would have been less. Sorely tempted as she was, by hunger, by cold,
+almost by starvation, Jane was resolute in leaving the fourteen
+shillings intact. She had suffered too much from non-payment of the last
+rent, not to be prepared with the next. But--the endurance and
+deprivation!--how great they were! And she suffered far more for her
+children than for herself.
+
+One night, towards the middle of February, she felt very downhearted:
+almost as if she could not struggle on much longer. With her own
+earnings and the six shillings taken from Mrs. Reece's money she could
+count little more than twelve shillings weekly, and everything had to be
+found out of it. Coals, candles, washing--that is, the soap, firing,
+etc., necessary for Miss Betsy Carter to do it with; the boys'
+shoe-mending and other trifles, besides food. You will not, therefore,
+be surprised to hear that on this night they had literally nothing in
+the house but part of a loaf of bread. Jane was resolute in one
+thing--not to go into debt. Mrs. Buffle would have given credit,
+probably other shops also; but Jane believed that her sole chance of
+surmounting the struggle eventually was by keeping debt, even trifling
+debt, away. They had this morning eaten bread for breakfast; they had
+eaten potatoes and salt for dinner; and now, tea-time, there was bread
+again. All Jane had in her pocket was twopence, which must be kept for
+milk for the following morning; so they were drinking water now.
+
+They were round the fire; two of the boys kneeling on the ground to get
+the better blaze, thankful they had a fire at all. Their lessons were
+over for the day. William had been thoroughly well brought on by his
+father, in Greek, Latin, Euclid, and in English generally--in short, in
+the branches necessary to a good education. Frank and Gar were forward
+also; indeed, Frank, for his age, was a very good Latin scholar. But how
+could they do much good or make much progress by themselves? William
+helped his brothers as well as he could, but it was somewhat profitless
+work; and Jane was all too conscious that they needed to be at school.
+Altogether, her heart was sore within her.
+
+Another thing was beginning to worry her--a fear lest her brother should
+not be able to send the rent. She had fully counted upon it; but, now
+that the time of its promised receipt was at hand, fears and doubts
+arose. She was dwelling on it now--now, as she sat there at her work, in
+the twilight of the early spring evening. If the money did not come, all
+she could do would be to go to Mr. Ashley, tell him of her ill luck, and
+that he must take the things at last. They must turn out, wanderers on
+the wide earth; no----
+
+A plaintive cry interrupted her dream and recalled her to reality. It
+came from Jane, who was seated on a stool, her head leaning against the
+side of the mantel-piece.
+
+"She is crying, mamma," cried quick Frank; and Janey whispered something
+into Frank's ear, the cry deepening into sobs.
+
+"Mamma, she's crying because she's hungry."
+
+"Janey, dear, I have nothing but bread. You know it. Could you eat a
+bit?"
+
+"I want something else," sobbed Janey. "Some meat, or some pudding. It
+is such a long time since we had any. I am tired of bread; I am very
+hungry."
+
+There came an echoing cry from the other side of the fireplace. Gar had
+laid his head down on the floor, and he now broke out, sobbing also.
+
+"I am hungry too. I don't like bread any more than Janey does. When
+shall we have something nice?"
+
+Jane gathered them to her, one in each arm, soothing them with soft
+caresses, her heart aching, her own sobs choked down, one single comfort
+present to her--that God knew what she had to bear.
+
+Almost she began to fear for her own health. Would the intense anxiety,
+combined with the want of sufficient food, tell upon her? Would her
+sleepless nights tell upon her? Would her grief for the loss of her
+husband--a grief not the less keenly felt because she did not parade
+it--tell upon her? All _that_ lay in the future.
+
+She rose the next morning early to her work; she always had to rise
+early--the boys and Jane setting the breakfast. Breakfast! Putting the
+bread upon the table and taking in the milk. For twopence they had a
+quart of skimmed milk, and were glad to get it. Her head was heavy, her
+frame hot, the result of inward fever, her limbs were tired before the
+day began; worse than all, there was that utter weariness of mind which
+predisposes a sufferer from it to lie down and die. "This will never
+do," thought Jane; "I _must_ bear up."
+
+A dispute between Frank and Gar! They were good, affectionate boys; but
+little tempers must break out now and then. In trying to settle it, Jane
+burst into tears. It put an end to the fray more effectually than
+anything else could have done. The boys looked blank with consternation,
+and Janey burst into hysterical sobs.
+
+"Don't, Jane, don't," said the poor mother; "I am not well; but do not
+_you_ cry."
+
+"I am not well, either," sobbed Janey. "It hurts me here, and here." She
+put her hand to her head and chest, and Jane knew that she was weak from
+long-continued insufficiency of food. There was no remedy for it. Jane
+only wished she could bear for them all.
+
+Some time after breakfast there came the postman's knock at the door. A
+thickish letter--twopence to pay. The penny postal system had come in,
+but letters were not so universally prepaid then as they are now.
+
+Jane glanced over it with a beating heart. Yes, it was her brother's
+handwriting. Could the promised rent have really arrived? She felt sick
+with agitation.
+
+"I have no money at all, Frank. Ask Dobbs if she will lend you
+twopence."
+
+Away went Frank, in his quick and not very ceremonious manner,
+penetrating to the kitchen, where Dobbs happened to be. "Dobbs, will you
+please to lend mamma twopence? It is for a letter."
+
+"Dobbs, indeed! Who's 'Dobbs'?" retorted that functionary in wrath. "I
+am Mrs. Dobbs, if you please. Take yourself out of my sight till you can
+learn manners."
+
+"Won't you lend it? The postman's waiting."
+
+"No, I won't," returned Dobbs.
+
+Back ran Frank. "She won't lend it, mamma. She says I was rude to her,
+and called her Dobbs."
+
+"Oh, Frank!" But the postman was impatient, demanding whether he was to
+be kept there all day. Jane was fain to apply to Dobbs herself, and
+procured the loan. Then she ran upstairs with the letter, and her
+trembling fingers broke the seal. Two banknotes, for 10£. each, fell out
+of it. The promised loan had been sixteen pounds. The Rev. Francis Tait
+had contrived to spare four pounds more.
+
+Before Jane had recovered from her excitement--almost before a breath of
+thanks had gone up from her heart--she saw Mr. Ashley on the opposite
+side of the road, going towards Helstonleigh. Being in no state to weigh
+her actions, only conscious that the two notes lay in her hand--actual
+realities--she threw on her bonnet and shawl, and went across the road
+to Mr. Ashley. In her agitation, she scarcely knew what she did or said.
+
+"Oh, sir--I beg your pardon--but I have at this moment received the
+money for the back rent. May I give it to you now?"
+
+Mr. Ashley looked at her in surprise. A scarlet spot shone on her thin
+cheeks--a happy excitement was spread over her face of care. He read the
+indications plainly--that she was an eager payer, but no willing debtor.
+The open letter in her hand, and the postman opposite, told the tale.
+
+"There is no such hurry, Mrs. Halliburton," he said, smiling. "I cannot
+give you a receipt here."
+
+"You can send it to me," she said. "I would rather pay you than Mr.
+Dare."
+
+She held out the notes to him. He felt in his pocket whether he had
+sufficient change, found he had, and handed it to her. "That is it,
+madam--four sovereigns. Thank you."
+
+She took them hesitatingly, but did not close her hand. "Was there not
+some expense incurred when--when that man was put in?"
+
+"Not for you to pay, Mrs. Halliburton," he pointedly returned. "I hope
+you are getting pretty well through your troubles?"
+
+The tears came into her eyes, and she turned them away. Getting pretty
+well through her troubles! "Thank you for inquiring," she meekly said.
+"I shall, I believe, have the quarter's rent ready in March, when it
+falls due."
+
+"Do not put yourself out of the way to pay it," he replied. "If it would
+be more convenient to you to let it go on to the half-year, it would be
+the same to me."
+
+Her heart rose to the kindness. "Thank you, Mr. Ashley, thank you very
+much for your consideration; but I must pay as I go on, if I possibly
+can."
+
+Patience stood at her gate, smiling as she recrossed the road. She had
+seen what had passed.
+
+"Thee hast good news, I see. But thee wert in a hurry, to pay thy rent
+in the road."
+
+"My brother has sent me the rent and four pounds over. Patience, I can
+buy bedside carpets now."
+
+Patience looked pleased. "With all thy riches thee will scarcely thank
+me for this poor three and sixpence," holding out the silver to her.
+"Samuel Lynn left it; it is owing thee for thy work."
+
+Jane smiled sadly as she took it. Her riches! "How is Anna?" she asked.
+
+"She is nicely, thank thee, and is gone to school. But she was wilful
+over her lessons this morning. Farewell. I am glad thee art so far out
+of thy perplexities."
+
+Very far, indeed; and a great relief it was. Can you realize these
+troubles of Mrs. Halliburton's? Not, I think, as she realized them. We
+pity the trials and endurance of the poor; but, believe me, they are as
+nothing compared with the bitter lot of reduced gentlepeople. Jane had
+not been brought up to poverty, to scanty and hard fare, to labour, to
+humiliations, to the pain of debt. But for hope--and some of us know how
+strong that is in the human heart--and for that better hope, _trust_,
+Jane never could have gone through her trials. Her physical privations
+alone were almost too hard to bear. Can you wonder that an unexpected
+present of four pounds seemed as a mine of wealth?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV.
+
+INCIPIENT VANITY.
+
+
+But four pounds, however large a sum to look at, dwindles down sadly in
+the spending; especially when bedside carpets, and boys' boots--new ones
+and the mending of old ones--have to be deducted from it at the
+commencement. An idea had for some time been looming in Jane's mind;
+looming ominously, for she did not like to speak of it. It was, that
+William must go out and enter upon some employment, by which a little
+weekly money might be added to their stock. He was eager enough;
+indulging, no doubt, boy-like, peculiar visions of his own, great and
+grand. But these Jane had to dispel; to explain that for young boys,
+such as he, earning money implied hard work.
+
+His face flushed scarlet. Jane drew him to her and pressed her cheek
+upon his.
+
+"There would be no real disgrace in it, my darling. No work in itself
+brings disgrace; be it carrying out parcels or sweeping out a shop. So
+long as we retain our refinement of tone, of manner, our courteous
+conduct one to the other, we shall still be gentlepeople, let us work at
+what we may. William, I think it is your _duty_ to help in our need."
+
+"Yes, I see, mamma," he answered. "I will try and do it; anything that
+may turn up."
+
+Jane had not much faith in things "turning up." She believed that they
+must be sought for. That same evening she went into Mr. Lynn's, with the
+view to asking his counsel. There she found Anna in trouble. The cause
+was as follows.
+
+Patience, leaving Anna alone at her lessons, had gone into the kitchen
+to give some directions to Grace. Anna seized the opportunity to take a
+little recreation: not that it was greatly needed, for--spoilt child
+that she was!--she had merely looked at her books with vacant eyes, not
+having in reality learned a single word. First of all, off went her cap.
+Next, she drew from her pocket a small mirror, about the size of a
+five-shilling piece. Propping this against her books on the table before
+her, so that the rays of the lamp might fall upon it, she proceeded to
+admire herself, and twist her flowing hair round her pretty fingers to
+make a shower of ringlets. Sad vanity for a little born Quakeress! But
+it must be owned that never did mirror, small or large, give back a more
+lovely image than that child's. She had just arranged her curls, and was
+contemplating their effect to her entire satisfaction, when back came
+Patience sooner than she was expected, and caught the young lady at her
+impromptu toilette. What with the curls and what with the mirror, Anna
+did not know which to hurry away first.
+
+"Thee naughty child! Thee naughty, naughty child! What is to become of
+thee? Where did thee get this?"
+
+Anna burst into tears. In her perplexity she said she had "found" the
+mirror.
+
+"That thee did not," said Patience calmly. "I ask thee where thee got it
+from?"
+
+Of a remarkably pliant nature, wavering and timid, Anna never withstood
+long the persistent questioning of Patience. Amid many tears the truth
+came out. Lucy Dixon had brought it to school in her workbox. It was a
+doll's mirror, and she, Anna, had given her sixpence for it.
+
+"The sixpence that thy father bestowed upon thee yesterday for being a
+good girl," retorted Patience. "I told him thee would likely not make a
+profitable use of it. Come up to bed with thee! I will talk to thee
+after thee are in it."
+
+Of all things, Anna disliked to be sent to bed before her time. She
+sobbed, expostulated, and promised all sorts of amendment for the
+future. Patience, firm and quiet, would have carried her point, but for
+the entrance of Samuel Lynn. The fault was related to him by Patience,
+and the mirror exhibited. Anna clung around him in a storm of sobs.
+
+"Dear father! Dear, dear father, don't thee let me go to bed! Let me sit
+by thee while thee hast thy supper. Patience may keep the glass, but
+don't thee let me go."
+
+It was quite a picture--the child clinging there with her crimsoned
+cheeks, her wet eyelashes, and her soft flowing hair. Samuel Lynn,
+albeit a man not given to demonstration, strained her to him with a
+loving movement. Perhaps the crime of looking into a doll's glass and
+toying with her hair appeared to him more venial than it did to
+Patience; but then, she was his beloved child.
+
+"Will thee transgress again, Anna?"
+
+"No, I never will," sobbed Anna.
+
+"Then Patience will suffer thee to sit up this once. But thee must be
+careful."
+
+He placed her in a chair close to him. Patience, disapproving very much
+but saying nothing, left the room. Grace appeared with the supper-tray,
+and a message that Patience would take her supper in the kitchen. It was
+at this juncture that Mrs. Halliburton came in. She told the Quaker that
+she had come to consult him about William; and mentioned her intentions.
+
+"To tell thee the truth, friend, I have marvelled much that thee did
+not, under thy circumstances, seek to place out thy eldest son," was the
+answer. "He might be helping thee."
+
+"He is young to earn anything, Mr. Lynn. Do you see a chance of my
+getting him a place?"
+
+"That depends, friend, upon the sort of place he may wish for. I could
+help him to a place to-morrow. But it is one that may not accord with
+thy notions."
+
+"What is it?" eagerly asked Jane.
+
+"It is in Thomas Ashley's manufactory. We are in want of another boy,
+and the master told me to-day I had better inquire for one."
+
+"What would he have to do?" asked Jane. "And what would he earn?"
+
+"He would have to do anything he may be directed to do. Thy son is older
+than are our boys who come to us ordinarily, and he has been differently
+brought up; therefore I might put him to somewhat better employment. He
+might also be paid a trifle more. They sweep and dust, go on outdoor
+errands, carry messages indoors, black the gloves, get in coal; and they
+earn, if they are sharp, half-a-crown a week."
+
+Jane's heart sank within her.
+
+"But thy son, I say, might be treated somewhat differently. Not that he
+must be above doing any of these duties, should he be put to them. I can
+assure thee, friend, that some of the first manufacturers of this town
+have thus begun their career. A thoroughly practical knowledge of the
+business is only to be acquired by beginning at the first step of the
+ladder, and working upwards."
+
+"Did Mr. Ashley so begin?" She could scarcely tell why she asked the
+question. Unless it was that a feeling came over her that if Mr. Ashley
+had done these things, she would not mind William's doing them.
+
+"No, friend. Thomas Ashley's father was a man of means, and Thomas was
+bred up a classical scholar and a gentleman. He has never taken a
+practical part in the working of the business: I do that for him. His
+labours are chiefly confined to the correspondence and the keeping of
+the books. His father wished him to embrace a profession rather than be
+a glove manufacturer: but Thomas preferred to succeed his father. If
+thee would like thy son to enter our manufactory, I will try him."
+
+Jane was dubious. She felt quite sure that William would not like it.
+"He has been thinking of a counting-house, or a lawyer's or
+conveyancer's office," she said aloud. "He would like to employ his time
+in writing. Would there be difficulty in getting him into one?"
+
+"I do not opine a lawyer would take a boy of his size. They require
+their writing to be well and correctly done. About that, I cannot tell
+thee much, for I have nothing to do with lawyers. He can inquire."
+
+Jane rose. She stood by the table, unconsciously stroking Anna's flowing
+curls--for the cap had never been replaced, and Samuel Lynn found no
+fault with the omission. "I will speak candidly," said Jane. "I fear
+that the place you have kindly offered me would not be liked by William.
+Other employments, writing for example, would be more palatable.
+Nevertheless, were he unable to obtain anything else I should be glad to
+accept this. Will you give me three or four days for consideration?"
+
+"To oblige thee, I will, friend. When Thomas Ashley gives orders, he is
+prompt in having them attended to; and he spoke, as I have informed
+thee, about a fresh boy to-day. Would it not be a help to thee, friend,
+if thee got thy other two boys into the school attached to the
+cathedral?"
+
+"But I have no interest," said Jane. "I hear that education there is
+free; but I do not possess the slightest chance."
+
+"Thee may get a chance, friend. There's nothing like trying. I must tell
+thee that the school is not thought highly of, in consequence of the
+instruction being confined exclusively to Latin and Greek. In the old
+days this was thought enough; but people are now getting more
+enlightened. Thomas Ashley was educated there; but he had a private
+tutor at home for the branches not taught at the college; he had also
+masters for what are called accomplishments. He is one of the most
+accomplished men of the day. Few are so thoroughly and comprehensively
+educated as Thomas Ashley. I have heard say thy sons have begun Latin.
+It might be a help to them if they could get in."
+
+"I should desire nothing better," Jane breathlessly rejoined, a new hope
+penetrating her heart. "I have heard of the collegiate school here; but,
+until very recently I supposed it to be an expensive institution."
+
+"No, friend; it is free. The best way to get a boy in is by making
+interest with the head-master of the school, or with some of the
+cathedral clergy."
+
+A recollection of Mr. Peach flashed into Jane's mind as a ray of light.
+She bade good-night to Samuel Lynn and Anna, and to Patience as she
+passed the kitchen. Patience had been crying.
+
+"I am grieved about Anna," she explained. "I love the child dearly, but
+Samuel Lynn is blind to her faults; and it argues badly for the future.
+Thee cannot imagine half her vanity; I fear me, too, she is deceitful. I
+wish her father could see it! I wish he would indulge her less and
+correct her more! Good night to thee."
+
+Before concluding the chapter, it may as well be mentioned that a piece
+of good fortune about this time befell Janey. She found favour with
+Dobbs! How it came about perhaps Dobbs could not herself have told.
+Certainly no one else could.
+
+Mrs. Reece had got into the habit of asking Jane into her parlour to
+tea. She was a kind-hearted old lady and liked the child. Dobbs would
+afterwards be at work, generally some patching and mending to her own
+clothes; and Dobbs, though she would not acknowledge it to herself or to
+any one else, could not see to thread her needle. Needle in one hand and
+thread in the other, she would poke the two together for five minutes,
+no result supervening. Janey hit upon the plan of threading her a needle
+in silence, whilst Dobbs used the one; and from that time Jane kept her
+in threaded needles. Whether this conciliated Dobbs must remain a
+mystery, but she took a liking for Jane; and the liking grew into love.
+Henceforth Janey wanted for nothing. While the others starved, she lived
+on the fat of the land. Meat and pudding, fowls and pastry, whatever
+dinner in the parlour might consist of, Janey had her share of it, and a
+full share too. At first Mrs. Halliburton, from motives of delicacy,
+would not allow Jane to go in; upon which Dobbs would enter, boiling
+over with indignation, red with the exertion of cooking, and
+triumphantly bear her off. Jane spoke seriously to Mrs. Reece about it,
+but the old lady declared she was as glad to have the child as Dobbs
+was.
+
+Once, Janey came to a standstill over some apple pudding, which had
+followed upon veal cutlets and bacon. "I am quite full," said she, more
+plainly than politely: "I can't eat a bit more. May I give this piece
+upon my plate to Gar?"
+
+"No, you may not," snapped Dobbs, drowning Mrs. Reece's words, that she
+might give it and welcome. "How dare you, Janey? You know that boys is
+the loadstones of my life."
+
+Dobbs probably used the word loadstones to indicate a heavy weight. She
+seized the plate of pudding and finished it herself, lest it should find
+its way to the suggested quarter--a self-sacrifice which served to show
+her earnestness in the cause. Nothing gave Dobbs indigestion like apple
+pudding, and she knew she should be a martyr for four-and-twenty hours
+afterwards.
+
+Thus Jane, at least, suffered from henceforth no privations, and for
+this Mrs. Halliburton was very thankful. The time was to come, however,
+when she would have reason to be more so.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI.
+
+MR. ASHLEY'S MANUFACTORY.
+
+
+The happy thought, suggested by Samuel Lynn, Jane carried out. She
+applied in person to Mr. Peach, and he obtained an immediate entrance
+for Frank to the college school, with a promise for Gar to enter at
+quarter-day, the 25th of March. He was perfectly thunderstruck when he
+found that his old friend and tutor, Mr. Halliburton, was dead; had died
+in Helstonleigh; and that he--_he!_--had buried him. There was no need
+to ask him twice, after that, to exert his interest for the fatherless
+children. The school (I have told you what it was many years ago) was
+not held in the highest repute, from the reason spoken of by Samuel
+Lynn; vacancies often occurred, and admission was easy. It was one great
+weight off Jane's mind.
+
+William was not so fortunate. He was at that period very short for his
+age, timid in manner, and no office could be persuaded to take him.
+Nothing in the least congenial to him presented itself or could be
+found; and the result was that he resigned himself to Samuel Lynn, who
+introduced him to Mr. Ashley's extensive manufactory--to be initiated by
+degrees into all the mysteries necessary to convert a skin into a glove.
+And although his interest and curiosity were excited by what he saw, he
+pronounced it a "hateful" business.
+
+When the skins came in from the leather-dressers they were washed in a
+tub of cold water. The next day warm water, mixed with yolks of eggs,
+was poured on them, and a couple of men, bare-legged to the knee, got
+into the tub, and danced upon them, skins, eggs, and water, for two
+hours. Then they were spread in a field to dry, till they were as hard
+as lantern horn; then they were "staked," as it was called--a long
+process, to smooth and soften them. To the stainers next, to be stained
+black or coloured; next to the parers, to have the loose flesh pared
+from the inside, and to be smoothed again with pumice-stone--all this
+being done on the outside premises. Then they came inside, to the hands
+of one of the foremen, who sorted and marked them for the cutters. The
+cutters cut the skins into tranks (the shape of the hand in outline)
+with the separate thumbs and forgits, and sent them in to the slitters.
+The slitters slit the four fingers, and _shaped_ the thumbs and forgits:
+after that, they were ready for the women--three different women, you
+may remember, being necessary to turn out each glove, so far as the
+sewing went; for one woman rarely worked at more than her own peculiar
+branch, or was capable of working at it. This done, and back in the
+manufactory again, they had to be pulled straight, and "padded," or
+rubbed, a process by which they were brightened. If black gloves, the
+seams were washed over with a black dye, or else glazed; then they were
+hung up to dry. This done, they went into Samuel Lynn's room, a large
+room next to Mr. Ashley's private room, and here they were sorted into
+firsts, seconds, or thirds; the sorting being always done by Samuel
+Lynn, or by James Meeking the head foreman. It was called "making-up."
+Next they were banded round with a paper in dozens, labelled, and placed
+in small boxes, ready for the warehouses in London. A great deal, you
+see, before one pair of gloves could be turned out.
+
+The first morning that William went at six o'clock with Samuel Lynn, he
+was ordered to light the fire in Mr. Ashley's room, sweep it out, and
+dust it, first of all sprinkling the floor with water from a
+watering-pot. And this was to be part of his work every morning at
+present; Samuel Lynn giving him strict charge never to disturb anything
+on Mr. Ashley's desk. If he moved things to dust the desk, he was to lay
+them down again in the same places and in the same position. The duster
+consisted of some leather shreds tied up into a knot, the ends loose. He
+found he should have to wait on Mr. Ashley and Samuel Lynn, bring things
+they wanted, carry messages to the men, and go out when sent. A pair of
+shears, which he could not manage, was put into his hand, and he had to
+cut a damaged skin, useless for gloves, into narrow strips, standing at
+one of the counters in Samuel Lynn's room. William wondered whether they
+were to make another duster, but he found they were used in the
+manufactory in place of string. That done, a round, polished stick was
+handed to him, tapered at either end, which he had to pass over and over
+some small gloves to make them smooth, after the manner of a cook
+rolling out paste for a pie. He looked with dismay at the two young
+errand boys of the establishment, who were black with dye. But Samuel
+Lynn had distinctly told him that he would not be expected to place
+himself on their level. The rooms were for the most part very light, one
+or two sides being entirely of glass.
+
+On the evening of this first day, William, after he got home, sat there
+in sad heaviness. His mother asked how he liked his employment, and he
+returned an evasive answer. Presently he rose to go to bed, saying he
+had a headache. Up he went to the garret, and flung himself down on the
+mattress, sobbing as if his heart would break. Jane, suspecting
+something of this, followed him up. She caught him in her arms.
+
+"Oh, my darling, don't give way! Things may grow brighter after a time."
+
+"It is such a dreadful change!--from my books, my Latin and Greek, to go
+there and sweep out places like those two black boys!" he said
+hysterically, all his reticence gone.
+
+"My dear boy! my darling boy! I know not how to reconcile you, how to
+lessen your cares. Your experience of the sorrow of life is beginning
+early. You are hungry, too."
+
+"I am always hungry," answered William, quite unable to affect
+concealment in that hour of grief. "I heard one of those black boys say
+he had boiled pork and greens for dinner. I did so envy him."
+
+Jane checked her tears; they were rising rebelliously. "William, darling
+your lot seems just now very dark and painful, but it might be worse."
+
+"Worse!" he echoed in surprise. "How could it be worse? Mamma, I am no
+better than an errand-boy there."
+
+"It would be worse, William, if you were one of those poor black boys.
+Unenlightened; no wish for higher things; content to remain as they are
+for ever."
+
+"But that could never be," he urged. "To be content with such a life is
+impossible."
+
+"They are content, William."
+
+He saw the drift of the argument. "Yes, mamma," he acknowledged; "I did
+not reflect. It would be worse if I were quite as they are."
+
+"William, we can only bear our difficulties, and make the best of them,
+trusting to surmount them in the end. You and I must both do this. Trust
+is different from hope. If we only hope, we may lose courage; but if we
+fully and freely _trust_, we cannot. Patience and perseverance,
+endurance and trust, they will in the end triumph; never fear. If I
+feared, William, I should go into the grave with despair. I never lose
+my trust. I never lose my conviction, firm and certain, that God is
+watching over me, that He is permitting these trials for some wise
+purpose, and that in His own good time we shall be brought through
+them."
+
+William's sobs were growing lighter.
+
+"The time may come when we shall be at ease again," continued Jane;
+"when we shall look back on this time of trial, and be thankful that we
+did bear up and surmount it, instead of fainting under the burden. God
+will take care that the battle is not too hot for us, if we only resign
+ourselves, in all trust, to do the best. The future is grievously dim
+and indistinct. As the guiding light in your father's dream shone only
+on one step at a time, so can I see only one step before me."
+
+"What step is that?" he asked somewhat eagerly.
+
+"The one obvious step before me is to persevere, as I am now doing, to
+try and retain this home for you, my children; to work as I can, so as
+to keep you around me. I must strive to keep you together, and you must
+help me. Bear up bravely, William. Make the best of this unpleasant
+employment and its mortifications, and strive to overcome your
+repugnance to it. Be resolute, my boy, in doing your duty in it, because
+it is your duty, and because, William--because it is helping your
+mother."
+
+A shadow of the trust, so firm in his mother's heart, began to dawn in
+his. "Yes, it is my duty," he resolutely said. "I will try to do it--to
+hope and trust."
+
+Jane strained him to her. "Were you and I to give way now, darling, our
+past troubles would have been borne for nothing. Let us, I repeat, look
+forward to the time when we may say, 'We did not faint; we battled on,
+and overcame.' It _will_ come, William. Only trust to God."
+
+She quitted him, leaving him to reflection and resolve scarcely
+befitting his young years.
+
+The week wore on to its close. On the Saturday night, William, his face
+flushed, held out four shillings to his mother. "My week's wages,
+mamma."
+
+Jane's face flushed also. "It is more than I expected, William," she
+said. "I fancied you would have three."
+
+"I think the master fixed the sum," said William.
+
+"The master? Do you mean Mr. Ashley?"
+
+"We never say 'Mr. Ashley' in the manufactory; we say 'the master.' Mr.
+Lynn was paying the wages to-night. I heard them say that sometimes Mr.
+Lynn paid them, and sometimes James Meeking. Those two black boys have
+half-a-crown apiece. He left me to the last, and when the rest were
+gone, he looked at me and took up three shillings. Then he seemed to
+hesitate, and suddenly he locked the desk, went into the master's room,
+and spoke with him. He came back in a minute, unlocked the desk, and
+gave me four shillings. 'Thee hast not earned it,' he said, 'but I think
+thee has done thy best. Thee will have the same each week, so long as
+thee does so.'"
+
+Jane held the four shillings, and felt that she was growing quite rich.
+The rest crowded round to look. "Can't we have a nice dinner to-morrow
+with it?" said one.
+
+"I think we must," said Jane cheerily. "A nice dinner for once in a way.
+What shall it be?"
+
+"Roast beef," called out Frank.
+
+"Pork with crackling," suggested Janey. "That of Mrs. Reece's yesterday
+was so good."
+
+"Couldn't we have fowls and a jam pudding?" asked Gar.
+
+Jane smiled and kissed him. All the suggestions were beyond her purse.
+"We will have a meat pudding," she said; "that's best." And the children
+cheerfully acquiesced. They had implicit faith in their mother; they
+knew that what she said was best, would be best.
+
+On this same Saturday night Charlotte East was returning home from
+Helstonleigh, an errand having taken her thither after dark. Almost
+opposite to the turning to Honey Fair, a lane branched off, leading to
+some farm-houses; a lane, green and pleasant in summer, but bare and
+uninviting now. Two people turned into it as Charlotte looked across.
+She caught only a glance; but something in the aspect of both struck
+upon her as familiar. A gas-lamp at the corner shed a light upon the
+spot, and Charlotte suddenly halted, and stood endeavouring to peer
+further. But they were soon out of view. A feeling of dismay had stolen
+over Charlotte. She hoped she was mistaken; that the parties were not
+those she had fancied; and she slowly continued her way. A few paces
+more, she turned up the road leading to Honey Fair and found herself
+nearly knocked over by one who came running against her, apparently in
+some excitement and in a great hurry.
+
+"Who's this?" cried the voice of Eliza Tyrrett. "Charlotte East, I
+declare! I say, have you seen anything of Caroline Mason?"
+
+Charlotte hesitated. She hoped she had not seen her; though the
+misgiving was upon her that she had. "Did you think I might have seen
+her?" she returned. "Has she come this way?"
+
+"Yes, I expect she has come this way, and I want to find her," returned
+Eliza Tyrrett vehemently. "I saw her making off out of Honey Fair, and I
+saw who was waiting for her round the corner. I knew my company wasn't
+wanted then, and turned into Dame Buffle's for a talk; and there I found
+that Madam Carry has been telling falsehoods about me. Let me set on to
+her, that's all! I shall say what she won't like."
+
+"Who do you mean was waiting for her?" inquired Charlotte East.
+
+Eliza Tyrrett laughed. She was beginning to recover her temper. "You'd
+like to know, wouldn't you?" said she pertly. "But I'm not going to tell
+tales out of school."
+
+"I think I do know," returned Charlotte quietly. "I fear I do."
+
+"Do you? I thought nobody knew nothing about it but me. It has been
+going on this ten weeks. Did you see her, though, Charlotte?"
+
+"I thought I saw her, but I could not believe my eyes. She was
+with--with--some one she has no business to be with."
+
+"Oh, as to business, I don't know about that," carelessly answered Eliza
+Tyrrett. "We have a right to walk with anybody we like."
+
+"Whether it is good or bad for you?" returned Charlotte.
+
+"There's no 'bad' in it," cried Eliza Tyrrett indignantly. "I never saw
+such an old maid as you are, Charlotte East, never! Carry Mason's not a
+child, to be led into mischief."
+
+"Carry's very foolish," was Charlotte's comment.
+
+"Oh, of course _you_ think so, or it wouldn't be you. You'll go and tell
+upon her at home, I suppose, now."
+
+"I shall tell _her_," said Charlotte. "Folks should choose their
+acquaintances in their own class of life, if they want things to turn
+out pleasantly."
+
+"Were you not all took in about that shawl!" uttered Eliza Tyrrett, with
+a laugh. "You thought she went in debt for it at Bankes's, and her
+people at home thought so. Het Mason shrieked on at her like anything,
+for spending money on her back while she owed it for her board. _He_
+gave her that."
+
+"Eliza!"
+
+"He did. Law, where's the harm? He is rich enough to give all us girls
+in Honey Fair one apiece, and who'd be the worse for it? Only his
+pocket; and that can afford it. I wish he would!"
+
+"I wish you would not talk so, Eliza. She is not a fit companion for
+him, even though it is but to take a walk; and she ought to remember
+that she is not."
+
+"He wants her for a longer companion than that," observed Eliza Tyrrett;
+"that is, if he tells true. He wants her to marry him."
+
+"He--wants her to marry him!" repeated Charlotte, speaking the words in
+sheer amazement. "Who says so?"
+
+"He does. I should hardly think he can be in earnest, though."
+
+"Eliza Tyrrett, we cannot be speaking of the same person," cried
+Charlotte, feeling bewildered. "To whom have you been alluding?"
+
+"To the same that you have, I expect. Young Anthony Dare."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII.
+
+
+THE FORGOTTEN LETTER.
+
+
+It was the last day of March, and five o'clock in the afternoon. The
+great bell had rung in Mr. Ashley's manufactory, the signal for the men
+to go to their tea. Scuffling feet echoed to it from all parts, and
+clattered down the stairs on their way out. The ground floor was not
+used for the indoor purposes of the manufactory, the business being
+carried on in the first and second floors. The first flight of stairs
+opened into what was called the serving-room, a very large apartment;
+through this, on the right, branched off Mr. Ashley's room and Samuel
+Lynn's. On the left, various passages led to other rooms, and the upper
+flight of stairs was opposite to the entrance-stairs. The
+serving-counter, running completely across the room, formed a barrier
+between the serving-room and the entrance staircase.
+
+The men flocked into the serving-room, passed it, and rattled down the
+stairs. Samuel Lynn was changing his coat to follow, and William
+Halliburton was waiting for him, his cap on, for he walked to and fro
+with the Quaker, when Mr. Ashley's voice was heard from his room: the
+counting-house, as it was frequently called.
+
+"William!" It was usual to distinguish the boys by their Christian name
+only; the men by both their Christian and surnames. Samuel Lynn was "Mr.
+Lynn."
+
+"Did thee not hear the master calling to thee?"
+
+William had certainly heard Mr. Ashley's voice; but it was so unusual to
+be called by it, that he had paid no attention. He had very little
+communication with Mr. Ashley; in the three or four weeks he had now
+been at the manufactory Mr. Ashley had not spoken to him a dozen words.
+He hastened into the counting-house, taking off his cap in the presence
+of Mr. Ashley.
+
+"Have the men gone to tea?" inquired Mr. Ashley, who was sealing a
+letter.
+
+"Yes, sir," replied William.
+
+"Is George Dance gone?" George Dance was an apprentice, and it was his
+business to take the letters to the post.
+
+"They are all gone, sir, except Mr. Lynn; and James Meeking, who is
+waiting to lock up."
+
+"Do you know the post-office?"
+
+"Oh, yes, sir. It is in West Street, at the other end of the town."
+
+"Take this letter, and put it carefully in."
+
+William received the letter from Mr. Ashley, and dropped it into his
+jacket pocket. It was addressed to Bristol; the London mail-bags were
+already made up. Mr. Ashley put on his hat and departed, followed by
+Samuel Lynn and William. James Meeking locked up, as it was his
+invariable business to do, and carried the keys into his own house. He
+inhabited part of the ground floor of the premises.
+
+"Are thee not coming home with me this evening?" inquired Samuel Lynn of
+William, who was turning off the opposite way.
+
+"No; the master has given me a letter to post. I have also an errand to
+do for my mother."
+
+It happened (things do happen in a curious sort of way in this world)
+that Mrs. Halliburton had desired William to bring her in some candles
+and soap at tea-time, and to purchase them at Lockett's shop. Lockett's
+shop was rather far off; there were others nearer; but Lockett's goods
+were of the best quality, and his extensive trade enabled him to sell a
+halfpenny a pound cheaper. A halfpenny was a halfpenny with Jane then.
+William went on his way, walking fast.
+
+As he was passing the cathedral, he came into contact with the college
+boys, then just let out of school. It was the first day that Gar had
+joined; he had received his appointment, according to promise. Very
+thankful was Jane; in spite of the drawback of having to provide them
+with linen surplices. William halted to see if he could discern Gar
+amidst the throng: it was not unnatural that he should look for him.
+
+One of the boys caught sight of William standing there. It was Cyril
+Dare, the third son of Mr. Dare, a boy older and considerably bigger
+than William.
+
+"If there's not another of that Halliburton lot posted there!" cried he,
+to a knot of those around. "Perhaps he will be coming amongst us
+next--because we have not enough with the two! Look at the fellow,
+staring at us! He is a common errand-boy at Ashley's."
+
+Frank Halliburton, who, little as he was, wanted neither for spirit nor
+pluck, heard the words and confronted Cyril Dare. "That is my brother,"
+said he. "What have you to say against him?"
+
+Cyril Dare cast a glance of scorn on Frank, regarding him from top to
+toe. "You audacious young puppy! I say he is a snob. There!"
+
+"Then I say he is not," retorted Frank. "You are one yourself, for
+saying it."
+
+Cyril Dare, big enough to have crushed Frank to death, speedily had him
+on the ground, and treated him not very mercifully when there. William,
+a witness to this, but not understanding it, pushed his way through the
+crowd to protect Frank. All he saw was that Frank was down, and two big
+boys were kicking him.
+
+"Let him alone!" cried he. "How can you be so cowardly as to attack a
+little fellow? And two of you! Shame!"
+
+Now, if there was one earthly thing that the college boys would not
+brook, it was being interfered with by a stranger. William suffered.
+Frank's treatment had been nothing to what he had to submit to. He was
+knocked down, trampled on, kicked, buffeted, abused; Cyril Dare being
+the chief and primary aggressor. At that moment the under-master came in
+view, and the boys made off--all except Cyril Dare.
+
+Reined in against the wall, at a few yards' distance, was a lad on a
+pony. He had delicately expressive features, large soft brown eyes, a
+complexion too bright for health, and wavy dark hair. The face was
+beautiful; but two upright lines were indented in the white forehead, as
+if worn there by pain, and the one ungloved hand was white and thin. He
+was as old as William within a year; but, slight and fragile, would be
+taken to be much younger. Seeing and hearing--though not very
+clearly--what had passed, he touched his pony, and rode up to Cyril
+Dare. The latter was beginning to walk away leisurely, in the wake of
+his companions; the upper boys were rather fond of ignoring the presence
+of the under-master. Cyril turned at hearing himself called.
+
+"What! Is it you, Henry Ashley? Where did you spring from?"
+
+"Cyril Dare," was the answer, "you are a wretched coward."
+
+Cyril Dare was feeling anger yet, and the words did not lessen it. "Of
+course _you_ can say so!" he cried. "You know that you can say what you
+like with impunity. One can't chastise a cripple like you."
+
+The brilliant, painful colour flushed into the face of Henry Ashley. To
+allude openly to infirmity such as this is as iron entering into the
+soul. Upon a sensitive, timid, refined nature (and those suffering from
+this sort of affliction are nearly sure to possess that nature), it
+falls with a bitterness that can neither be conceived by others nor
+spoken of by themselves. Henry Ashley braved it out.
+
+"A coward, and a double coward!" he repeated, looking Cyril Dare full in
+the face, whilst the transparent flush grew hotter on his own. "You
+struck a young boy down, and then kicked him; and for nothing but that
+he stood up like a trump at your abuse of his brother."
+
+"You couldn't hear," returned Cyril Dare roughly.
+
+"I heard enough. I say that you are a coward."
+
+"Chut! They are snobs out-and-out."
+
+"I don't care if they are chimney-sweeps. It does not make you less a
+coward. And you'll be one as long as you live. If I had my strength, I'd
+serve you out as you served them out."
+
+"Ah, but you have not your strength, you know!" mocked Cyril. "And as
+you seem to be going into one of your heroic fits, I shall make a start,
+for I have no time to waste on them."
+
+He tore away. Henry Ashley turned his pony and addressed William. Both
+boys had spoken rapidly, so that scarcely a minute had passed, and
+William had only just risen from the ground. He leaned against the wall,
+giddy, as he wiped the blood from his face. "Are you much hurt?" asked
+Henry, kindly, his large dark eyes full of sympathy.
+
+"No, thank you; it is nothing," replied William. "He is a great coward,
+though, whoever he is."
+
+"It is Cyril Dare," called out Frank.
+
+"Yes, it is Cyril Dare," continued Henry Ashley. "I have been telling
+him what a coward he is. I am ashamed of him: he is my cousin, in a
+remote degree. I am glad you are not hurt."
+
+Henry Ashley rode away towards his home. Frank followed in the same
+direction; as did Gar, who now came in view. William proceeded up the
+town. He was a little hurt, although he had disowned it to Henry Ashley.
+His head felt light, his arms ached; perhaps the sensation of giddiness
+was as much from the want of food as anything. He purchased what was
+required for his mother; and then made the best of his way home again.
+Mr. Ashley's letter had gone clean out of his head.
+
+Frank, in the manner usual with boys, carried home so exaggerated a
+story of William's damages, that Jane expected to see him arrive
+half-killed. Samuel Lynn heard of it, and said William might stop at
+home that evening. It has never been mentioned that his hours were from
+six till eight in the morning, from nine till one, from two till five,
+and from six till eight. These were Mr. Lynn's hours, and William was
+allowed to keep the same; the men had half-an-hour less allowed for
+breakfast and tea.
+
+William was glad of the rest, after his battle, and the evening passed
+on. It was growing late, almost bedtime, when suddenly there flashed
+into his memory Mr. Ashley's letter. He put his hand into his
+jacket-pocket. There it lay, snug and safe. With a few words of
+explanation to his mother, so hasty and incoherent that she did not
+understand a syllable, he snatched his cap, and flew away in the
+direction of the town.
+
+Boys have good legs and lungs; and William scarcely slackened speed
+until he gained the post-office, not far short of a mile. Dropping the
+letter into the box, he stood against the wall to recover breath. A
+clerk was standing at the door whistling; and at that moment a
+gentleman, apparently a stranger, came out of a neighbouring hotel, a
+letter in hand.
+
+"This is the head post-office, I believe?" said he to the clerk.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Am I in time to post a letter for Bristol?"
+
+"No, sir. The bags for the Bristol mail are made up. It will be through
+the town directly."
+
+William heard this with consternation. If it was too late for this
+gentleman's letter, it was too late for Mr. Ashley's.
+
+He said nothing to any one that night; but he lay awake thinking over
+what might be the consequences of his forgetfulness. The letter might be
+one of importance; Mr. Ashley might discharge him for his neglect--and
+the weekly four shillings had grown into an absolute necessity. William
+possessed a large share of conscientiousness, and the fault disturbed
+him much.
+
+When he came down at six, he found his mother up and at work. He gave
+her the history of what had happened. "What can be done?" he asked.
+
+"Nay, William, put that question to yourself. What ought you to do?
+Reflect a moment."
+
+"I suppose I ought to tell Mr. Ashley."
+
+"Do not say 'I suppose,' my dear. You must tell him."
+
+"Yes, I know I must," he acknowledged. "I have been thinking about it
+all night. But I don't like to."
+
+"Ah, child! we have many things to do that we 'don't like.' But the
+first trouble is always the worst. Look it fully in the face, and it
+will melt away. There is no help for it in this matter, William; your
+duty is plain. There's Mr. Lynn looking out for you."
+
+William went out, heavy with the thought of the task he should have to
+accomplish after breakfast. He knew that he must do it. It was a duty,
+as his mother had said; and she had fully impressed upon them all, from
+their infancy, the necessity of looking out for their duty and doing it,
+whether in great things or in small.
+
+Mr. Ashley entered the manufactory that morning at his usual hour,
+half-past nine. He opened and read his letters, and then was engaged for
+some time with Samuel Lynn. By ten o'clock the counting-house was clear.
+Mr. Ashley was alone in it, and William knew that his time was come. He
+went in, and approached Mr. Ashley's desk.
+
+Mr. Ashley, who was writing, looked up. "What is it?"
+
+William's face grew red and white by turns. He was of a remarkably
+sensitive nature; and these sensitive natures cannot help betraying
+their inward emotion. Try as he would, he could not get a word out. Mr.
+Ashley was surprised. "What is the matter?" he wonderingly asked.
+
+"If you please, sir--I am very sorry--it is about the letter," he
+stammered, and was unable to get any further.
+
+"The letter!" repeated Mr. Ashley. "What letter? Not the letter I gave
+you to post?"
+
+"I forgot it, sir,"--and William's own voice sounded to his ear
+painfully clear.
+
+"Forgot to post it! That was unpardonably careless. Where is the
+letter?"
+
+"I forgot it, sir, until night, and then I ran to the post-office and
+put it in. Afterwards I heard the clerk say that the Bristol bags were
+made up, so of course it would not go. I am very sorry, sir," he
+repeated, after a pause.
+
+"How came you to forget it? You ought to have gone direct from here, and
+posted it."
+
+"So I did go, sir. That is I was going, but----"
+
+"But what?" returned Mr. Ashley, for William had made a dead standstill.
+
+"The college boys set on me, sir. They were ill-using my brother, and I
+interfered; and then they turned upon me. It made me forget the letter."
+
+
+"It was you who got into an affray with the college boys, was it?" cried
+Mr. Ashley. He had heard his son's version of the affair, without
+suspecting that it related to William.
+
+William waited by the desk. "If you please, sir, was it of great
+consequence?"
+
+"It might have been. Do not be guilty of such carelessness again."
+
+"I will try not, sir."
+
+Mr. Ashley looked down at his writing. William waited. He did not
+suppose it was over, and he wanted to know the worst. "Why do you stay?"
+asked Mr. Ashley.
+
+"I hope you will not turn me away for it, sir," he said, his colour
+changing again.
+
+"Well--not this time," replied Mr. Ashley, smiling to himself. "But I'll
+tell you what I should have felt inclined to turn you away for," he
+added--"concealing the fact from me. Whatever fault, omission, or
+accident you may commit, always acknowledge it at once; it is the best
+plan, and the easiest. You may go back to your work now."
+
+William left the room with a lighter step. Mr. Ashley looked after him.
+"That's an honest lad," thought he. "He might just as well have kept it
+from me; calculating on the chances of its not coming out: many boys
+would have done so. He has been brought up in a good school."
+
+Before the day was over, William came again into contact with Mr.
+Ashley. That gentleman sometimes made his appearance in the manufactory
+in an evening--not always. He did not on this one. When Samuel Lynn and
+William entered it on their return from tea, a gentleman was waiting in
+the counting-house on business. Samuel Lynn, who was, on such occasions,
+Mr. Ashley's _alter ego_, came out of the counting-house presently, with
+a note in his hand.
+
+"Thee put on thy cap, and take this to the master's house. Ask to see
+him, and say that I wait for an answer."
+
+William ran off with the note: no fear of his forgetting this time. It
+was addressed in the plain form used by the Quakers, "Thomas Ashley;"
+and could William have looked inside, he would have seen, instead of the
+complimentary "Sir," that the commencement was, "Respected Friend." He
+observed his mother sitting close at her window, to catch what remained
+of the declining light, and nodded to her as he passed.
+
+"Can I see Mr. Ashley?" he inquired, when he reached the house.
+
+The servant replied that he could. He left William in the hall, and
+opened the door of the dining-room; a handsome room, of lofty
+proportions. Mr. Ashley was slowly pacing it to and fro, whilst Henry
+sat at a table, preparing his Latin exercise for his tutor. It was Mr.
+Ashley's custom to help Henry with his Latin, easing difficulties to him
+by explanation. Henry was very backward with his classics; he had not
+yet begun Greek: his own private hope was, that he never should begin
+it. His sufferings rendered learning always irksome, sometimes
+unbearable. The same cause frequently made him irritable--an irritation
+that could not be checked, as it would have been in a more healthy boy.
+The servant told his master he was wanted, and Mr. Ashley looked into
+the hall.
+
+"Oh, is it you, William?" he said. "Come in."
+
+William advanced. "Mr. Lynn said I was to see yourself, sir, and to say
+that he waited for an answer."
+
+Mr. Ashley opened the note, and read it by the lamp on Henry's table. It
+was not dark outside, and the chandelier was not lighted, but Henry's
+lamp was. "Sit down," said Mr. Ashley to William, and left the room,
+note in hand.
+
+William felt it was something, Mr. Ashley's recognizing a difference
+between him and those black boys in the manufactory: they would scarcely
+have been told to sit in the hall. William sat down on the first chair
+at hand. Henry Ashley looked at him, and he recognized him as the boy
+who had been maltreated by the college boys on the previous day; but
+Henry was in no mood to be sociable, or even condescending--he never
+was, when over his lessons. His hip was giving him pain, and his
+exercise was making him fractious.
+
+"There! it's always the case! Another five minutes, and I should have
+finished this horrid exercise. Papa is sure to go away, or be called
+away, when he's helping me! It's a shame."
+
+Mrs. Ashley opened the door at this juncture, and looked into the room.
+"I thought your papa was here, Henry."
+
+"No, he is not here. He has gone to his study, and I am stuck fast. Some
+blessed note has come, which he has to attend to: and I don't know
+whether this word should be put in the ablative or the dative! I'll run
+the pen through it!"
+
+"Oh, Henry, Henry! Do not be so impatient."
+
+Mrs. Ashley shut the door again; and Henry continued to worry himself,
+making no progress, except in fretfulness. At length William approached
+him. "Will you let me help you?"
+
+Surprise brought Henry's grumbling to a standstill. "You!" he exclaimed.
+"Do you know anything of Latin?"
+
+"I am very much farther in it than what you are doing. My brother Gar is
+as far as that. Shall I help you? You have put that wrong; it ought to
+be in the accusative."
+
+"Well, if you can help me, you may, for I want to get it over," said
+Henry, with a doubting stress upon the "can." "You can sit down, if you
+wish to," he patronizingly added.
+
+"Thank you, I don't care about sitting down," replied William, beginning
+at once upon his task.
+
+The two boys were soon deep in the exercise, William not doing it, but
+rendering it easy to Henry; in the same manner that Mr. Halliburton,
+when he was at that stage, used to make it clear to him.
+
+"I say," cried Henry, "who taught you?"
+
+"Papa. He gave a great deal of time to me, and that got me on. I can see
+a wrong word there," added William, casting his eyes to the top of the
+page. "It ought to be in the vocative, and you have put it in the
+dative."
+
+"You are mistaken, then. Papa told me that: and he is not likely to be
+wrong. Papa is one of the best classical scholars of the day--although
+he is a manufacturer," added Henry, who, through his relatives, the
+Dares, had been infected with a contempt for business.
+
+"It should be in the vocative," repeated William.
+
+"I shan't alter it. The idea of your finding fault with Mr. Ashley's
+Latin! Let us get on. What case is this?"
+
+The last word of the exercise was being written, when Mr. Ashley opened
+the door and called to William. He gave him a note for Mr. Lynn, and
+William departed. Mr. Ashley returned to complete the interrupted
+exercise.
+
+"I say, papa, that fellow knows Latin," began Henry.
+
+"What fellow?" returned Mr. Ashley.
+
+"Why, that chap of yours who has been here. He has helped me through my
+exercise. Not doing it for me: you need not be afraid; but explaining to
+me how to do it. He made it easier to me than you do, papa."
+
+Mr. Ashley took the book in his hand, and saw that it was correct. He
+knew Henry could not, or would not, have made it so himself. Henry
+continued:
+
+"He said his papa used to explain it to him. Fancy one of your
+manufactory errand-boys saying 'papa.'"
+
+"You must not class him with the ordinary errand-boys, Henry. The boy
+has been as well brought up as you have."
+
+"I thought so; for he has impudence about him," was Master Henry's
+retort.
+
+"Was he impudent to you?"
+
+"To me? Oh no. He is as civil a fellow as ever I spoke to. Indeed, but
+for remembering who he was, I should call him a gentlemanly fellow.
+Whilst he was telling me, I forgot who he was, and talked to him as an
+equal, and _he_ talked to me as one. I call him impudent, because he
+found fault with your Latin."
+
+"Indeed!" returned Mr. Ashley, an amused smile parting his lips.
+
+"He says this word's wrong. That it ought to be in the vocative case."
+
+"So it ought to be," assented Mr. Ashley, casting his eyes on the word
+to which Henry pointed.
+
+"You told me the dative, papa."
+
+"That I certainly did not, Henry. The mistake must have been your own."
+
+"He persisted that it was wrong, although I told him it was your Latin.
+Papa, it is the same boy who had the row yesterday with Cyril Dare. What
+a pity it is, though, that a fellow so well up in his Latin should be
+shut up in a manufactory!"
+
+"The only 'pity' is, that he is in it too early," was the response of
+Mr. Ashley. "His Latin would not be any detriment to his being in a
+manufactory, or the manufactory to his Latin. I am a manufacturer
+myself, Henry. You appear to ignore that sometimes."
+
+"The Dares go on so. They din it into my ears that a manufacturer cannot
+be a gentleman."
+
+"I shall cause you to drop the acquaintance of the Dares, if you allow
+yourself to listen to all the false and foolish notions they may give
+utterance to. Cyril Dare will probably go into a manufactory himself."
+
+Henry looked up curiously. "I don't think so, papa."
+
+"I do," returned Mr. Ashley, in a significant tone. Henry was surprised
+at the news. He knew his father never advanced a decided opinion unless
+he had good grounds for it. He burst into a laugh. The notion of Cyril
+Dare's going into a manufactory tickled his fancy amazingly.
+
+
+
+
+PART THE SECOND.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+A SUGGESTED FEAR.
+
+
+One morning, towards the middle of April, Mrs. Halliburton went up to
+Mr. Ashley's. She had brought him the quarter's rent.
+
+"Will you allow me to pay it to yourself, sir--now, and in future?" she
+asked. "I feel an unconquerable aversion to having further dealings with
+Mr. Dare."
+
+"I can understand that you should have," said Mr. Ashley. "Yes, you can
+pay it to me, Mrs. Halliburton. Always remembering you know, that I am
+in no hurry for it," he added with a smile.
+
+"Thank you. You are very kind. But I must pay as I go on."
+
+He wrote the receipt, and handed it to her. "I hope you are satisfied
+with William?" she said, as she folded it up.
+
+"Quite so. I believe he gives satisfaction to Mr. Lynn. I have little to
+do with him myself. Mr. Lynn tells me that he finds him a remarkably
+truthful, open-natured boy."
+
+"You will always find him that," said Jane. "He is getting more
+reconciled to the manufactory than he was at first."
+
+"Did he not like it at first?"
+
+"No, he did not. He was disappointed altogether. He had hoped to find
+some employment more suited to the way in which he had been brought up.
+He cannot divest himself of the idea that he is looked upon as on a
+level with the poor errand-boys of your establishment, and therefore has
+lost caste. He had wished also to be in some office--a lawyer's, for
+instance--where the hours for leaving are early, so that he might have
+had the evening for his studies. But he is growing more reconciled to
+the inevitable."
+
+"I suppose he wished to continue his studies?"
+
+"He did so naturally. The foundation of an advanced education has been
+laid, and he expected it was to go on to completion. His brothers are
+now in the college school, occupied all day long with their studies, and
+of course William feels the difference. He gets to his books for an hour
+when he returns home in an evening; but he is weary, and does not do
+much good."
+
+"He appears to be a more persevering, thoughtful boy than are some,"
+remarked Mr. Ashley.
+
+"Very thoughtful--very persevering. It has been the labour of my life,
+Mr. Ashley, to foster good seed in my children; to reason with them, to
+make them my companions. They have been endowed, I am thankful to say,
+with admirable qualities of head and heart, and I have striven
+unweariedly to nourish the good in them. It is not often that boys are
+brought into contact with sorrow so early as they. Their father's death
+and my adverse circumstances have been real trials."
+
+"They must have been," rejoined Mr. Ashley.
+
+"While others of their age think only of play," she continued, "my boys
+have been obliged to learn the sad experiences of life; and it has given
+them a thought, a care, beyond their years. There is no necessity to
+_make_ Frank and Edgar apply to their lessons unremittingly; they do it
+of their own accord, with their whole abilities, knowing that education
+is the only advantage they can possess--the one chance of their getting
+on in the world. Had William been a boy of a different disposition, less
+tractable, less reflective, less conscientious, I might have found some
+difficulty in inducing him to work as he is doing."
+
+"Does he complain?" inquired Mr. Ashley.
+
+"Oh no, sir! He feels that it is his duty to work, to assist as far as
+he can, and he does it without complaining. I see that he cannot help
+feeling it. He would like to be in the college with his brothers; but I
+cheer him up, and tell him it may all turn out for the best. Perhaps it
+will."
+
+She rose as she spoke. Mr. Ashley shook hands with her, and attended her
+through the hall. "Your sons deserve to get on, Mrs. Halliburton, and I
+hope they will do so. It is an admirable promise for the future man when
+a boy displays thought and self-reliance."
+
+"Mamma!" suddenly exclaimed Janey, as they sat at breakfast the morning
+after this, "do you remember what to-day is? It is my birthday."
+
+Jane had remembered it. She had been almost in hopes that the child
+would not remember it. One year ago that day the first glimpse of the
+shadow so soon to fall upon them had shown itself. What a change! The
+contrast between last year and this was almost incredible. Then they had
+been in possession of a good home, were living in prosperity, in
+apparent security. Now--Jane's heart turned sick at the thought. Only
+one short year!
+
+"Yes, Janey dear," she replied in sadly subdued tones. "I did not forget
+it. I----"
+
+A double knock at the door interrupted what she would have further said.
+They heard Dobbs answer it: visitors were chiefly for Mrs. Reece.
+
+Who should be standing there but Samuel Lynn! He did not choose the
+familiar back way, as Patience did, had he occasion to call, but knocked
+at the front.
+
+"Is Jane Halliburton within?"
+
+"You can go and see," said crusty, disappointed Dobbs, flourishing her
+hand towards the study door. "It's not often that she's out."
+
+Jane rose at his entrance; but he declined to sit, standing while he
+delivered the message with which he had been charged.
+
+"Friend, thee need not send thy son to the manufactory again in an
+evening, except on Saturdays. On the other evenings he may remain at
+home from tea-time and pursue his studies. His wages will not be
+lessened."
+
+And Jane knew that the considerate kindness emanated from Thomas Ashley.
+
+She managed better with her work as the months went on. By summer she
+could do it quickly; the days were long then, and, by dint of sitting
+closely to it, she could earn twelve shillings a week. With William's
+earnings, and the six shillings taken from Mrs. Reece's payments, that
+made twenty-two. It was quite a fortune compared with what had been. But
+like most good fortunes it had its drawbacks. In the first place, she
+could not always earn it; she was compelled to steal unwilling time to
+mend her own and the children's clothes. In the second place, a large
+portion of it had to be devoted to buying their clothes, besides other
+incidental expenses; so that in the matter of housekeeping they were not
+much better off than before. Still, Jane did begin to think that she
+should see her way clearer. But there was sorrow of a different nature
+looming in the distance.
+
+One afternoon, which Jane was obliged to devote to plain sewing, she was
+sitting alone in the study when there came a hard short thump at it,
+which was Dobbs's way of making known her presence there.
+
+"Come in!"
+
+Dobbs came in and sat herself down opposite Jane. It was summer weather,
+and the August dust blew in at the open window. "I want to know what's
+the matter with Janey," began she, without circumlocution.
+
+"With Janey?" repeated Mrs. Halliburton. "What should be the matter with
+her? I know of nothing."
+
+"Of course not," sarcastically answered Dobbs. "Eyes appear to be given
+to some folks only to blind 'em--more's the pity! You can't see it; my
+missis can't see it; but I say that the child is ill."
+
+"Oh, Dobbs! I think you must be mistaken."
+
+"Now I'd thank you to be civil, if you please, Mrs. Halliburton,"
+retorted Dobbs. "You don't take me for a common servant, I hope. Who's
+'Dobbs'?"
+
+"I had no wish to be uncivil," said Jane. "I am so accustomed to hearing
+Mrs. Reece call you Dobbs, that----"
+
+"My missis is one case, and other folks is another," burst forth Dobbs,
+by way of interruption. "I have a handle to my name, I hope, which is
+Mrs. Dobbs, and I'd be obleeged to you not to forget it again. What's
+the reason that Janey's always tired now, I ask--don't want to
+stir--gets a bright pink in the cheeks and inside the hands?"
+
+"It is only the effect of the hot weather."
+
+The opinion did not please Dobbs. "There's not a earthly thing happens
+but it's laid to the weather," she angrily cried. "The weather, indeed!
+If Janey is not going off after her pa, it's an odd thing to me."
+
+Jane's heart-pulse stood still.
+
+"Does she have night-perspirations, or does she not?" demanded Dobbs.
+"She tells me she's hot and damp; so I conclude it is so."
+
+"Only from the heat--only from the heat," panted Jane eagerly. She dared
+not admit the fear.
+
+"Well, the first time I go down to the town, I shall take her to Parry.
+It won't be at your cost," she hastened to add in ungracious tones, for
+Jane was about to interrupt. "If she wants to know what she is took to
+the doctor for, I shall tell her it is to have her teeth looked at. She
+has a nasty cough upon her: perhaps you haven't noticed that! Some can't
+see a child decaying under their very nose, while strangers can see it
+palpable."
+
+"She has coughed since last week, the day of the rain, when she went
+with Anna Lynn into the field at the back, and they got their feet wet.
+Oh, I am sure there is nothing seriously the matter with her," added
+Jane, resolutely endeavouring to put the suggested fear from her. "I
+want her in: she must help me with my sewing."
+
+"Then she's not a-going to help," resolutely returned Dobbs. "She has
+had a good dinner of roast lamb, sparrow-grass and kidney potatoes, and
+she's sitting back in my easy chair, opposite to my missis in hers. Her
+wanting always to rest might have told some folks that she was ailing.
+When children are in health, their legs and wings and tongue are on the
+go from morning till night. You never need pervide 'em with a seat but
+for their meals; and, give 'em their way, they'd eat _them_ standing.
+Jane's always wanting to rest now, and she shall rest."
+
+"But, indeed she must help me to-day," urged Jane. "She can sew straight
+seams, and hem. Look at this heap of mending! and it must be finished
+to-night. I cannot afford to be about it to-morrow."
+
+"What sewing is it you want done?" questioned Dobbs, lifting up the work
+with a jerk. "I'll do it myself sooner than the child shall be
+bothered."
+
+"Oh no, thank you. I should not like to trouble you with it."
+
+"Now, I make the offer to do the work," crossly responded Dobbs; "and if
+I didn't mean to do it, I shouldn't make it. You'd do well to give it
+me, if you want it done. Janey shan't work this afternoon."
+
+Taking her at her word, and indeed glad to do so, Jane showed Dobbs a
+task, and Dobbs swung off with it. Jane called after her that she had
+not taken a needle and cotton. Dobbs retorted that she had needles and
+cotton of her own, she hoped, and needn't be beholden to anybody else
+for 'em.
+
+Jane sat on, anxious, all the afternoon. Janey remained in Mrs. Reece's
+parlour, and revelled in an early tea and pikelets. Jane was disturbed
+from her thoughts by the boisterous entrance of Frank and Gar; more
+boisterous than usual. Frank was a most excitable boy, and had been told
+that evening by the head master of the college school, the Reverend Mr.
+Keating, that he might be one of the candidates for the vacant place in
+the choir. This was enough to set Frank off for a week. "You know what a
+nice voice you say I have, mamma; what a good ear for music!" he
+reiterated. "As good, you tell us, as Aunt Margaret's used to be. I
+shall be sure to gain the post if you will let me try. We have to be at
+college for an hour morning and afternoon daily, but we can easily get
+that up if we are industrious. Some of the best Helstonleigh scholars
+who have shone at Oxford and Cambridge were choristers. And I should
+have about ten pounds a-year paid to me."
+
+Ten pounds a-year! Jane listened with a beating heart. It would more
+than keep him in clothes. She inquired more fully into particulars.
+
+The result was that Frank had permission to try for the vacant
+choristership, and gained it. His voice was the best of those tried. He
+went home in a glow. "Now, mamma, the sooner you set about a new
+surplice for me the better."
+
+"A new surplice, Frank!" Ah, it was not all profit.
+
+"A chorister must have two surplices, mamma. King's scholars can do with
+one, having them washed between the Sundays: choristers can't. We must
+have them always in wear, you know, except in Lent, and on the day of
+King Charles the Martyr."
+
+Jane smiled; he talked so fast. "What is that you are running on about?"
+
+"Goodness, mamma, don't you understand? All the six weeks of Lent, and
+on the 30th of January, the cathedral is hung with black, and the
+choristers have to wear black cloth surplices. They don't find the black
+ones: the college does that."
+
+Frank's success in gaining the place did not give universal pleasure to
+the college school. Since the day of the disturbance in the spring, in
+which William was mixed up, the two young Halliburtons had been at a
+discount with the desk at which Cyril Dare sat; and this desk pretty
+well ruled the school.
+
+"It's coming to a fine pass!" exclaimed Cyril Dare, when the result of
+the trial was carried into the school. "Here's the town clerk's own son
+passed over as nobody, and that snob of a Halliburton put in! Somebody
+ought to have told the dean what snobs they are."
+
+"What would the dean have cared?" grumbled another, whose young brother
+had been amongst the rejected ones. "To get good voices in the choir is
+all he cares for in the matter."
+
+"I say, where do they live--that set?"
+
+"In a house of Ashley's, in the London Road," answered Cyril Dare. "They
+couldn't pay the rent, and my father put a bum in."
+
+"Bosh, Dare!"
+
+"It's true," said Cyril Dare. "My father manages Ashley's rents, you
+know. They'd have had every stick and stone sold, only Ashley--he is a
+regular soft over some things--took and gave them time. Oh, they are a
+horrid lot! They don't keep a servant!"
+
+The blank astonishment this last item of intelligence caused at the
+desk, can't be described. Again Cyril's word was disputed.
+
+"They don't, I tell you," he repeated. "I taxed Halliburton senior with
+it one day, and he told me to my face they could not afford one. He
+possesses brass enough to set up a foundry, does that fellow. The eldest
+one is at Ashley's manufactory, errand-boy. Errand-boy! And here's this
+one promoted to the choir, over gentlemen's heads! He ought to be
+pitched into, ought Halliburton senior."
+
+In the school, Frank was Halliburton senior; Gar, Halliburton junior.
+"How is it that he says he was at King's College before he came here? I
+heard him tell Keating so," asked a boy.
+
+At this moment Mr. Keating's voice was heard. "Silence!" Cyril Dare let
+a minute elapse, and then began again.
+
+"Such a low thing, you know, not to keep servants! We couldn't do at all
+without five or six. I'll tell you what: the school may do as it likes,
+but our desk shall cut the two fellows here."
+
+And the desk did so; and Frank and Gar had to put up with many
+mortifications. There was no help for it. Frank was brave as a young
+lion; but against some sorts of oppression there is no standing up. More
+than once was the boy in tears, telling his griefs to his mother. It
+fell more on Frank than it did on Gar.
+
+Jane could only strive to console him, as she did William. "Patience and
+forbearance, my darling Frank! You will outlive it in time."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+SHADOWS IN HONEY FAIR.
+
+
+August was hot in Honey Fair. The women sat at their open doors, or even
+outside them; the children tumbled in the gutters; the refuse in the
+road was none the better for the month's heat.
+
+Charlotte East sat in her kitchen one Tuesday afternoon, busy as usual.
+Her door was shut, but her window was open. Suddenly the latch was
+lifted and Mrs. Cross came in: not with the bold, boisterous movements
+that were common to Honey Fair, but with creeping steps that seemed
+afraid of their own echoes, and a scared face.
+
+Mrs. Cross was in trouble. Her two daughters, Amelia and Mary Ann, to
+whom you have had the honour of an introduction, had purchased those
+lovely cross-barred sarcenets, green, pink, and lilac, and worn them at
+the party at the Alhambra: which party went off satisfactorily, leaving
+nothing behind it but some headaches for the next day, and a trifle of
+pecuniary embarrassment to Honey Fair in general. What with the finery
+for the party, and other finery, and what with articles really useful,
+but which perhaps _might_ have been done without, Honey Fair was pretty
+deeply in with the Messrs. Bankes. In Mrs. Cross's family alone, herself
+and her daughters owed, conjointly, so much to these accommodating
+tradesmen that it took eight shillings a week to keep them quiet. You
+can readily understand how this impoverished the weekly housekeeping;
+and the falsehoods that had to be concocted, by way of keeping the
+husband, Jacob Cross, in the dark, were something alarming. This was the
+state of things in many of the homes of Honey Fair.
+
+Mrs. Cross came in with timid steps and a scared face. "Charlotte, lend
+me five shillings for the love of goodness!" cried she, speaking as if
+afraid of the sound of her own voice. "I don't know another soul to ask
+but you. There ain't another that would have it to lend, barring Dame
+Buffle, and she never lends."
+
+"You owe me twelve shillings already," answered Charlotte, pausing for a
+moment in her sewing.
+
+"I know that. I'll pay you off by degrees, if it's only a shilling a
+week. I am a'most drove mad. Bankes's folks was here yesterday, and me
+and the girls had only four shillings to give 'em. I'm getting in
+arrears frightful, and Bankes's is as cranky over it as can be. It's all
+smooth and fair so long as you're buying of Bankes's and paying 'em; but
+just get behind, and see what short answers and sour looks you'll have!"
+
+"But Amelia and Mary Ann took in their work on Saturday and had their
+money?"
+
+"My patience! I don't know what us should do if they hadn't! We have to
+pay up everywhere. We're in debt at Buffle's, in debt to the baker, in
+debt for shoes; we're in debt on all sides. And there's Cross spending
+three shilling good of his wages at the public-house! It takes what me
+and the girls earn to pay a bit up here and there, and stop things from
+coming to Cross's ears. Half the house is in the pawn-shop, and what'll
+become of us I don't know. I can't sleep o' nights, hardly, for thinking
+on't."
+
+Charlotte felt sure that, were it her case, she should not sleep at all.
+
+
+"The worst is, I have to keep the little 'uns away from school. Pay for
+'em I can't. And a fine muck they get into, playing in the road all day.
+'What does these children do to theirselves at school, to get into this
+dirty mess?' asks Cross, when he comes in. 'Oh, they plays a bit in the
+gutter coming home,' says I. 'We plays a bit, father,' cries they, when
+they hears me, a-winking at each other to think how we does their
+father."
+
+Charlotte shook her head. "I should end it all."
+
+"End it! I wish we could end it! The girls is going to slave theirselves
+night and day this week and next. But it's not for my good: it's for
+their'n. They want to get their grand silks out o' pawn! Nothing but
+outside finery goes down with them, though they've not an inside rag to
+their backs. They leave care to me. Fools to be sure, they was, to buy
+them silks! They have been in the pawn-shop ever since, and Bankes's
+a-tearing 'em to pieces for the money!"
+
+"I should end it by confessing to Jacob," said Charlotte, when she could
+get in a word. "He is not a bad husband----"
+
+"And look at his passionate temper!" broke in Mrs. Cross. "Let it get to
+his ears that we have gone on tick to Bankes's and elsewhere, and he'd
+rave the house out of winders."
+
+"He would be angry at first, no doubt; but when he cooled down he would
+see the necessity of something being done, and help in it. If you all
+set on and put your shoulders to the wheel you might soon get clear.
+Live upon the very least that will satisfy hunger--the plainest
+food--dry bread and potatoes. No beer, no meat, no finery, no luxuries;
+and with the rest of the week's money begin to pay up. You'd be clear in
+no time."
+
+Mrs. Cross stared in consternation. "You be a Job's comforter,
+Charlotte! Dry bread and taters! who could put up with that?"
+
+"When poor people like us fall into trouble, it is the only way that I
+know of to get out of it. I'd rather mortify my appetite for a year than
+have my rest broken by care."
+
+"Your advice is good enough for talking, Charlotte, but it don't answer
+for acting. Cross must have his bit o' meat and his beer, his butter and
+his cheese, his tea and his sugar--and so must the rest on us. But about
+this five shillings?--do lend it me, Charlotte! It is for the landlord:
+we're almost in a fix with him."
+
+"For the landlord!" repeated Charlotte involuntarily. "You must keep
+_him_ paid, or it would be the worst of all."
+
+"I know we must. He was took bad yesterday--more's the blessing!--and
+couldn't get round; but he's here to-day as burly as beef. We haven't
+paid him for this three weeks," she added, dropping her voice to an
+ominous whisper; "and I declare to you, Charlotte East, that the sight
+of him at our door is as good to me as a dose of physic. Just now, round
+he comes, a-lifting the latch, and me turning sick the minute I sees
+him. 'Ready, Mrs. Cross?' asks he, in his short, surly way, putting his
+brown wig up. 'I'm sorry I ain't, Mr. Abbott, sir,' says I; 'but I'll
+have some next week for certain.' 'That won't do for me,' says he: 'I
+must have it this. If you can't give me some money, I shall apply to
+your husband.' The fright this put me into I've not got over yet,
+Charlotte; for Cross don't know but what the rent's paid up regular. 'I
+know what's going on,' old Abbott begins again, 'and I have knowed it
+for some time. You women in this Honey Fair, you pay your money to them
+Bankeses, which is the blight o' the place, and then you can't pay me.'
+Only fancy his calling Bankeses a blight!"
+
+"That's just what they are," remarked Charlotte.
+
+"For shame, Charlotte East! When one's way is a bit eased by being able
+to get a few things on trust, you must put in your word again it! Some
+of us would never get a new gown to our backs if it wasn't for Bankeses.
+Abbott's gone off to other houses, collecting; warning me as he'd call
+again in half an hour, and if some money wasn't ready for him then he'd
+go straight off to Jacob, to his shop o' work. If you can let me have
+one week for him, Charlotte--five shillings--I'll be ever grateful."
+
+Charlotte rose, unlocked a drawer, and gave five shillings to Mrs.
+Cross, thinking in her own mind that the kindest course would be for the
+landlord to go to Cross, as he had threatened.
+
+Mrs. Cross took the money. Her mind so far relieved, she could indulge
+in a little gossip; for Mr. Abbott's half-hour had not yet expired.
+
+"I say, Charlotte, what d'ye think? I'm afraid Ben Tyrrett and our Mary
+Ann is a-going to take up together."
+
+"Indeed!" exclaimed Charlotte. "That's new."
+
+"Not over-new. They have been talking together on and off, but I never
+thought it was serious till last Sunday. I have set my face dead against
+it. He has a nasty temper of his own; and he's nothing but a jobber at
+fifteen shillings a week, and his profits of the egg-whites. Our Mary
+Ann might do better than that."
+
+"I think she might," assented Charlotte. "And she is over-young to think
+of marrying."
+
+"Young!" wrathfully repeated Mrs. Cross. "I should think she is young!
+Girls are as soft as apes. The minute a chap says a word to 'em about
+marrying, they're all agog to do it, whether it's fit, or whether it's
+unfit. Our Mary Ann might look inches over Ben Tyrrett's head, if she
+had any sense in her. Hark ye, Charlotte! When you see her, just put in
+a word against it; maybe it'll turn her. Tell her you'd not have Tyrrett
+at a gift."
+
+"And that's true," replied Charlotte, with a laugh, as her guest
+departed.
+
+A few minutes, and Charlotte received another visitor. This was the wife
+of Mark Mason--a tall, bony woman, with rough black hair and a loud
+voice. That voice and Mark did not get on very well together. She put
+her hands back upon her hips, and used it now, standing before Charlotte
+in a threatening attitude.
+
+"What do you do, keeping our Carry out at night?"
+
+Charlotte looked up in surprise. She was thinking of something else, or
+her answer might have been more cautious, for she was one of those who
+never willingly make mischief.
+
+"I do not keep Caroline out. She is here of an evening now and then--not
+often."
+
+Mrs. Mason laughed--a low derisive laugh of mockery. "I knew it was a
+falsehood when she told it me! There she goes out, night after night,
+night after night; so I set Mark on to her, for I couldn't keep her in,
+neither find out where she went to. Mark was in a passion--something had
+put him out, and Carry was frightened, for he had hold of her arm
+savage-like. 'I am at Charlotte East's of a night, Mark,' she said. 'I
+shall take no harm there.'"
+
+Charlotte did not lift her eyes from her work. Mrs. Mason stood
+defiantly.
+
+"Now, then! Where is it she gets to?"
+
+"Why do you apply to me?" returned Charlotte. "I am not Caroline Mason's
+keeper."
+
+"If you bain't her keeper, you be her adviser," retorted Mrs. Mason.
+"And that's worse."
+
+"When I advise Caroline at all, I advise her for her good."
+
+"My eyes are opened now, if they was blind before," continued Mrs.
+Mason, apostrophizing in no gentle terms the offending Caroline. "Who
+gave Carry that there shawl?--who gave, her that there fine gown?--who
+gave her that gold brooch, with a stone in it 'twixt red and yaller, and
+a naked Cupid in white aflying on it? 'A nice brooch you've got there,
+miss,' says I to her. 'Yes,' says she, 'they call 'em cameons.' 'And
+where did you get it, pray?' says I. 'And that's my business,' answers
+she. Next there was a neck-scarf, green and lavender, with yaller fringe
+at its ends, as deep as my forefinger. 'You're running up a tidy score
+at Bankes's, my lady,' says I. 'I shan't come to you to pay for it,'
+says she. 'No,' thinks I to myself, 'but you be living in our house, and
+you may bring Mark into trouble over it,' for he's a soft-hearted gander
+at times. So down I goes to Bankes's place last night. 'Just turn to the
+debt-book, young man,' says I to the gentleman behind the counter--it
+were the one with the dark hair--'and tell me how much is owed by
+Caroline Mason.' 'Come to settle it?' asks he. 'Maybe, and maybe not,'
+says I. 'I wants my question answered, whether or no.' Are you
+listening, Charlotte East?"
+
+Charlotte lifted her eyes from her work. "Yes."
+
+"He lays hold of a big book," continues Mrs. Mason, who was talking her
+face crimson, "and draws his finger down its pages. 'Caroline
+Mason--Caroline Mason,' says he. 'I don't think we have anything against
+her. No: it's crossed off. There was a trifle against her, but she paid
+it last week.' Well, I stood staring at the man, thinking he was
+deceiving me, saying she had _paid_. 'When did she pay for that shawl
+she had in the winter, and how much did it cost?' asks I. 'Shawl?' says
+he. 'Caroline Mason hasn't had no shawl of us.' 'Nor a gown at Easter--a
+fancy sort of thing, with stripes?' I goes on: 'nor a cameon brooch last
+week? nor a scarf with yaller fringe?' 'Nothing o' the sort,' says he,
+decisive. 'Caroline Mason hasn't bought any of those things from us. She
+had some bonnet ribbon, and that she paid for.' Now, what was I to
+think?" concluded Mrs. Mason.
+
+Charlotte did not know.
+
+"I comes home a-pondering, and at the corner of the lane I catches sight
+of a certain gentleman loitering about in the shade. The truth flashed
+into my mind. 'He's after our Caroline,' says I to myself; 'and it's him
+that has given her the things, and we shall just have her a world's
+spectacle!' I accused Eliza Tyrrett of being the confidant. 'It isn't
+me,' says she; 'it's Charlotte East.' So I bottled up my temper till
+now, and now I've come to learn the rights on't."
+
+"I cannot tell you the rights," replied Charlotte. "I do not know them.
+I have striven to give Caroline some good advice lately, and that is all
+I have had to do with it. Mrs. Mason, you know that I should never
+advise Caroline, or any one else, but for her good."
+
+Mrs. Mason would have acknowledged this in a cooler moment. "Why did
+that Tyrrett girl laugh at me, then? And why did Carry say she spent her
+evenings here?" cried she. "The gentleman I see was young Anthony Dare:
+and Carry had better bury herself alive than be drawn aside by his
+nonsense."
+
+"Much better," acquiesced Charlotte. "Where is Caroline?"
+
+"Under lock and key," said Mrs. Mason.
+
+"Under lock and key!" echoed Charlotte.
+
+"Yes; under lock and key; and there she shall stop. She was out all this
+blessed morning with Eliza Tyrrett, and never walked herself in till
+after Mark had had his dinner and was gone. So then I began upon her. My
+temper was up, and I didn't spare her. I vowed I'd tell Mark what I had
+seen and heard, and what sort of a wolf she allowed to make her presents
+of fine clothes. With that she turned wild and flung up to her room in
+the cock-loft, and I followed and locked her in."
+
+"You have done very wrong," said Charlotte. "It is not by harshness that
+any good will be done with Caroline. You know her disposition: a child
+might lead her by kindness, but she rises up against harshness. My
+opinion is that she never would have given the least trouble at all had
+you made her a better home."
+
+This bold avowal took away Mrs. Mason's breath. "A better home!" cried
+she, when she could speak. "A better home! Fed upon French rolls and
+lobster salad and apricot tarts, and give her a lady's maid to
+hook-and-eye her gown for her! My heart! that beats all."
+
+"I don't speak of food, and that sort of thing," rejoined Charlotte. "If
+you had treated her with kind words instead of cross ones she would have
+been as good a girl as ever lived. Instead of that you have made your
+home unbearable; and so driven her out, with her dangerous good looks,
+to be told of them by the first idler who came across her: and that
+seems to have been Anthony Dare. Go home and let her out of where you
+have locked her in; do, Hetty Mason! Let her out, and speak kindly to
+her, and treat her as a sister; and you'll undo all the bad yet."
+
+"I shan't then!" was the passionate reply. "I'll see you and her hung
+first, before I speak kind to her to encourage her in her loose ways!"
+
+Mrs. Mason flung out of the house as she concluded, giving the door a
+bang which only had the effect of sending it open again. Charlotte
+sighed as she rose to close it: not only for any peril that Caroline
+Mason might be in, but for the general blindness, the distorted views of
+right and wrong, which seemed to obtain amidst the women of Honey Fair.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+THE DARES AT HOME.
+
+
+A profusion of glass and plate glittered on the dining-table of Mr.
+Dare. It was six o'clock, and they had just sat down. Mrs. Dare, in a
+light gauze dress and blonde head-dress, sat at the head of the table.
+There was a large family of them; four sons and four daughters; and all
+were present; also Miss Benyon, the governess. Anthony and Herbert sat
+on either side Mrs. Dare; Adelaide and Julia, the eldest daughters, near
+their father; the four other children, Cyril and George, Rosa and Minny,
+were between them.
+
+Mr. Dare was helping the salmon. In due course, a plate, followed by the
+sauce, was carried to Anthony.
+
+"What's this! Melted butter! Where's the lobster sauce?"
+
+"There is no lobster sauce to-day," said Mrs. Dare. "We sent late, and
+the lobsters were all gone. There was a small supply. Joseph, take the
+anchovy to Mr. Anthony."
+
+Mr. Anthony jerked the anchovy sauce off the salver, dashed some on to
+his plate, and jerked the bottle back again. Not with a very good grace:
+his palate was a dainty one. Indeed, it was a family complaint.
+
+"I wouldn't give a fig for salmon without lobster sauce," he cried. "I
+hope you won't send late again."
+
+"It was the cook's fault," said Mrs. Dare. "She did not fully understand
+my orders."
+
+"Deaf old creature!" exclaimed Anthony.
+
+"Anthony, there's cucumber," said Julia, looking down the table at her
+brother. "Ann, take the cucumber to Mr. Anthony."
+
+"You know I never eat cucumber with salmon," grumbled Anthony, in reply.
+And it was not graciously spoken, for the offer had been dictated by
+good-nature.
+
+A pause ensued. It was at length broken by Mrs. Dare.
+
+"Herbert, are you growing more reconciled to office-work?"
+
+"No; and never shall," returned Herbert. "From ten till five is an awful
+clog upon one's time; it's as bad as school."
+
+Mr. Dare looked up from his plate. "You might have been put to a
+profession that would occupy a great deal more time than that, Herbert.
+What calls have you upon your time, pray, that it is so valuable? Will
+you take some more fish?"
+
+"Well, I don't know. I think I will. It is good to-day; very good with
+the cucumber, that Anthony despises."
+
+Ann took his plate up to Mr. Dare.
+
+"Anthony," said that gentleman, as he helped the salmon, "where were you
+this afternoon? You were away from the office altogether, after two
+o'clock."
+
+"Out with Hawkesley," shortly replied Anthony.
+
+"Yes; it is all very well to say, 'Out with Hawkesley,' but the office
+suffers. I wish you young men were not quite so fond of taking your
+pleasure."
+
+"A little more fish, sir?" asked Joseph of Anthony.
+
+"Not if I know it."
+
+The second course came in. A quarter of lamb, asparagus and other
+vegetables. Herbert looked cross. He had recently taken a dislike to
+lamb, or fancied he had done so.
+
+"Of course there's something coming for me!" he said.
+
+
+"Oh, of course," said Mrs. Dare. "Cook knows you don't like lamb."
+
+Nothing, however, came in. Ann was sent to inquire the reason of the
+neglect. The cook had been unable to procure veal cutlet, and Master
+Herbert had said if she ever sent him up a mutton-chop again he should
+throw it at her head. Such was the message brought back.
+
+"What an old story-teller she must be to say she could not get veal
+cutlet!" exclaimed Herbert. "I hate mutton and lamb, and I am not going
+to eat either one or the other."
+
+"I heard the butcher say this morning that he had no veal, Master
+Herbert," interposed Ann. "This hot weather they don't kill much meat."
+
+"Why have you taken this dislike to lamb, Herbert?" asked Mr. Dare. "You
+have eaten it all the season."
+
+
+"That's just it," answered Herbert. "I have eaten so much of it that I
+am sick of it."
+
+"Never mind, Herbert," said his mother. "There's a cherry tart coming
+and a delicious lemon pudding. I don't think you can be so very hungry;
+you went twice to salmon."
+
+Herbert was not in a good humour. All the Dares had been culpably
+pampered, and of course it bore its fruits. He sat drumming with his
+silver fork upon the table, condescending to try a little asparagus, and
+a great deal of both pie and pudding. Cheese, salad, and dessert
+followed, of which Herbert partook plentifully. Still he thought he was
+terribly used in not having had different meat specially provided for
+him; and he could not recover his good humour. I tell you the Dares had
+been most culpably indulged. The house was one of luxury and profusion,
+and every little whim and fancy had been studied. It is one of the worst
+schools a child can be reared in.
+
+The three younger daughters and the governess withdrew, after taking
+each a glass of wine. Cyril and George went off likewise, to their
+lessons or to play. It was their own affair, and Mr. Dare made it no
+concern of his. Presently Mrs. Dare and Adelaide rose.
+
+"Hawkesley's coming in this evening," called out Anthony, as they were
+going through the door.
+
+Adelaide turned. "What did you say, Anthony?"
+
+"Lord Hawkesley's coming. At least he said he would look in for an hour.
+But there's no dependence to be placed on him."
+
+"We must be in the large drawing-room, mamma, this evening," said
+Adelaide, as they crossed the hall. "Miss Benyon and the children can
+take tea in the school-room."
+
+"Yes," assented Mrs. Dare. "It is bad form to have one's drawing-room
+cucumbered with children, and Lord Hawkesley understands all that. Let
+them be in the school-room."
+
+"Julia also?"
+
+Mrs. Dare shrugged her shoulders. "If you can persuade her into it. I
+don't think Julia will consent to take tea in the school-room. Why
+should she?"
+
+Adelaide vouchsafed no reply. Dutiful children they were
+not--affectionate children they were not--they had not been brought up
+to be so. Mrs. Dare was of the world, worldly: very much so: and that
+leaves very little time upon the hands for earnest duties. She had taken
+no pains to train her children: she had given them very little love.
+This conversation had taken place in the hall. Mrs. Dare went upstairs
+to the large drawing-room, a really handsome room. She rang the bell and
+gave sundry orders, the moving motive for all being the doubtful visit
+of Viscount Hawkesley--ices from the pastrycook's, a tray of
+refreshments, the best china, the best silver. Then Mrs. Dare reclined
+in her chair for her after-dinner nap--an indulgence she much favoured.
+
+Adelaide Dare entered the smaller drawing-room, an apartment more
+commonly used, and opening from the hall. Julia was reading a book just
+brought in from the library. Miss Benyon was softly playing, and the two
+little ones were quarrelling. Miss Benyon turned round from the piano
+when Adelaide entered.
+
+"You must make tea in the school-room this evening, Miss Benyon, for the
+children. Julia, you are to take yours there."
+
+Julia looked up from her book. "Who says so?"
+
+"Mamma. Lord Hawkesley's coming, and we cannot have the drawing-room
+crowded."
+
+"I am not going to keep out of the drawing-room for Lord Hawkesley,"
+returned Julia, a quiet girl in appearance and manner. "Who is Lord
+Hawkesley, that he should disarrange the economy of the house? There's
+so much ceremony and parade observed when he comes that it upsets all
+comfort. Your lordship this, and your lordship that; and papa my-lording
+him to the skies. I don't like it. He looks down upon us--I know he
+does--although he condescends to make a sort of friend of Anthony."
+
+Adelaide Dare's dark eyes flashed and her face crimsoned. She was a
+handsome girl. "Julia! I do think you are an idiot!"
+
+"Perhaps I am," composedly returned Julia, who was of a careless, easy
+temper; "but I am not going to be kept out of the drawing-room for my
+Lord Hawkesley. Let me go on with my book in peace, Adelaide: it is a
+charming one."
+
+Meanwhile Herbert Dare, seeing no prospect of more wine in store--for
+Mr. Dare, with wonderful prudence, told Herbert that two glasses of port
+were sufficient for him--left his seat, and bolted out at the
+dining-room window, which opened on to the ground. He ran into the hall
+for his hat, and then, speeding across the lawn, passed into the
+high-road. Anthony remained alone with his father; and Anthony was
+plucking up courage to speak upon a subject that was causing him some
+perplexity. He plunged into it at once.
+
+"Father, I am in a mess. I have managed to outrun the constable."
+
+Mr. Dare was at that moment holding his glass of wine between his eye
+and the light. The words quite scared him. He set his glass down and
+looked at Anthony.
+
+"How's that? How have you managed that?"
+
+"I don't know how it has come about," was Anthony's answer. "It is so,
+sir; and you must be so good as to help me out of it."
+
+"Your allowance is sufficient--amply so. Do you forget that I set you
+clear of debt at the beginning of the year? What money do you want?"
+
+Anthony Dare began pulling the fringe out of the dessert napkin, to the
+great detriment of the damask. "Two hundred pounds, sir."
+
+"Two hundred pounds!" echoed Mr. Dare, a dark expression clouding his
+handsome face. "Do you want to ruin me, Anthony? Look at my expenses!
+Look at the claims upon me! I say that your allowance is a liberal one,
+and you ought to keep within it."
+
+Anthony sat biting his lip. "I would not have applied to you, sir, if I
+could have helped it; but I am driven into a corner and _must_ find
+money. I and Hawkesley drew some bills together. He has taken up two,
+and I----"
+
+"Then you and Hawkesley were a couple of fools for your pains,"
+intemperately interrupted Mr. Dare. "There's no game so dangerous, so
+delusive, as that of drawing bills. Have I not told you so, over and
+over again? Simple debt may be put off from month to month, and from
+year to year; but bills are nasty things. When I was a young man I lived
+for years upon promises to pay, but I took care not to put my name to a
+bill."
+
+"Hawkesley----"
+
+"Hawkesley may do what you must not," interrupted Mr. Dare, drowning his
+son's voice. "He has his father's long rent-roll to turn to. Recollect,
+Anthony, this must not occur again. It is impossible that I can be
+called upon periodically for these sums. Herbert is almost a man, and
+Cyril and George are growing up. A pretty thing, if you were all to come
+upon me in this manner. I have to exert my wits as it is, I can tell
+you. I'll give you a cheque to-morrow; and I should serve you right if I
+were to put you upon half allowance until I am repaid."
+
+Mr. Dare finished his wine, rang for the table to be cleared, and left
+the room. Anthony remained standing against the side of the window, half
+in, half out, buried in a brown study, when Herbert came up, leaping
+over the grass. Herbert was nearly as tall as Anthony. He had been for
+some time articled to his father, but had only joined the office the
+previous Midsummer. He looked into the room and saw it was empty.
+
+"Where's the governor?"
+
+"Gone somewhere. Into the drawing-room, perhaps," replied Anthony.
+
+
+"What a nuisance!" ejaculated Herbert. "One can't talk to him before the
+girls. I want twenty-five shillings from him. Markham has the primest
+fishing-rod to sell, and I must have it."
+
+"Twenty-five shillings for a fishing-rod!" cried Anthony.
+
+"And cheap at the price," answered Herbert. "You don't often see so
+complete a thing as this. Markham would not part with it--it's a relic
+of his better days, he says--only his old mother wants some comfort or
+other which he can't otherwise afford. The case----"
+
+"You have half-a-dozen fishing-rods already."
+
+"Half a dozen rubbish! That's what they are, compared with this one.
+It's no business of yours, Anthony."
+
+"Not at all. But you'll oblige me, Herbert, by not bothering the
+governor for money to-night. I have been asking him for some, and it has
+put him out."
+
+"Did you get it?"
+
+Anthony nodded.
+
+"Then you'll let me have the one-pound-five, Anthony?"
+
+"I can't," returned Anthony. "I shall have a cheque to-morrow, and I
+must pay it away whole. _That_ won't clear me. But I didn't dare to tell
+of more."
+
+"If I don't get that fishing-rod to-night, Markham may sell it to some
+one else," grumbled Herbert.
+
+"Go and get it," replied Anthony. "Promise him the money for to-morrow.
+You are not obliged to give it, you know. The governor has just said
+that he lived for years upon promises to pay."
+
+"Markham wants the money down."
+
+"He'll think that as good as down if you tell him he shall have it
+to-morrow. Bring the fishing-rod away; possession's nine points of the
+law, you know."
+
+"He'll make such an awful row afterwards, if he finds he does not get
+the money."
+
+"Let him. You can row again. It's the easiest thing on earth to fence
+off little paltry debts like that. People get tired of asking for them."
+
+Away vaulted Herbert for the fishing-rod. Anthony yawned, stretched
+himself, and walked out just as twilight was fading. He was going out to
+keep an appointment.
+
+Herbert Dare went back to Markham's. The man--though, indeed, so far as
+birth went he might be called a gentleman--lived a little way beyond Mr.
+Dare's. The cottage was situated in the midst of a large garden, in
+which Markham worked late and early. He had a very, very small patrimony
+upon which he lived and kept his mother. He was bending over one of the
+beds when Herbert returned. "He would take the fishing-rod then, and
+bring the money over at nine in the morning, before going to the office.
+Mr. Dare was gone out, or he would have brought it at once," was the
+substance of the words in which Herbert concluded the negotiation.
+
+Could they have looked behind the hedge at that moment, Herbert Dare and
+Markham, they would have seen two young gentlemen suddenly duck down
+under its shelter, creep silently along, heedless of the ditch, which,
+however, was tolerably dry at that season, make a sudden bolt across the
+road, when they got opposite Mr. Dare's entrance, and whisk within its
+gates. They were Cyril and George. That they had been at some mischief
+and were trying to escape detection, was unmistakable. Under cover of
+the garden-wall, as they had previously done under cover of the hedge,
+crept they; sprang into the house by the dining-room window, tore up the
+stairs, and took refuge in the drawing-room, startlingly arousing Mrs.
+Dare from her after-dinner slumbers.
+
+In point of fact, they had reckoned upon finding the room unoccupied.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+THROWING AT THE BATS.
+
+
+Aroused thus abruptly out of sleep, cross and startled, Mrs. Dare
+attacked the two boys with angry words. "I will know what you have been
+doing," she exclaimed, rising and shaking out the flounces of her dress.
+"You have been at some mischief! Why do you come violently in, in this
+manner, looking as frightened as hares?"
+
+"Not frightened," replied Cyril. "We are only hot. We had a run for it."
+
+"A run for what?" she repeated. "When I say I will know a thing, I mean
+to know it. I ask you what you have been doing?"
+
+"It's nothing very dreadful, that you need put yourself out," replied
+George. "One of old Markham's windows has come to grief."
+
+"Then that's through throwing stones again!" exclaimed Mrs. Dare. "Now I
+am certain of it, and you need not attempt to deny it. You shall pay for
+it out of your own pocket-money if he comes here, as he did the last
+time."
+
+"Ah, but he won't come here," returned Cyril. "He didn't see us. Is tea
+not ready?"
+
+"You can go to the school-room and see. You are to take it there this
+evening."
+
+The boys tore away to the school-room. Unlike Julia, they did not care
+where they took it, provided they had it. Miss Benyon was pouring out
+the tea as they entered. They threw themselves on a sofa, and burst into
+a fit of laughter so immoderate and long that their two young sisters
+crowded round eagerly, asking to hear the joke.
+
+"It was the primest fun!" cried Cyril, when he could speak. "We have
+just smashed one of Markham's windows. The old woman was at it in a
+nightcap, and I think the stone must have touched her head. Markham and
+Herbert were holding a confab together and they never saw us!"
+
+"We were chucking at the leathering bats," put in George, jealous that
+his brother should have all the telling to himself, "and the stone----"
+
+"It is leather-winged bat, George," interrupted the governess. "I
+corrected you the other night."
+
+"What does it matter?" roughly answered George. "I wish you wouldn't put
+me out. A leathering-bat dipped down nearly right upon our heads, and we
+both heaved at him, and one of the stones went through the window,
+nearly taking, as Cyril says, old Mother Markham's head. Won't they be
+in a temper at having to pay for it! They are as poor as charity."
+
+"They'll make you pay," said Rosa.
+
+"Will they?" retorted Cyril. "No catch, no have! I'll give them leave to
+make us pay when they find us out. Do you suppose we are donkeys, you
+girls? We dipped down under the hedge, and not a soul saw us. What's for
+tea?"
+
+"Bread and butter," replied the governess.
+
+"Then those may eat it that like! I shall have jam."
+
+Cyril rang the bell as he spoke. Nancy, the maid who waited on the
+school-room, came in answer to it. "Some jam," said Cyril. "And be quick
+over it."
+
+"What sort, sir?" inquired Nancy.
+
+"Sort? oh--let's see: damson."
+
+"The damson jam was finished last week, sir. It is nearly the season to
+make more."
+
+Cyril replied by a rude and ugly word. After some cogitation, he decided
+upon black currant.
+
+"And bring me up some apricot," put in George.
+
+"And we'll have some gooseberry," called out Rosa. "If you boys have
+jam, we'll have some too."
+
+Nancy disappeared. Cyril suddenly threw himself back on the sofa, and
+burst into another ringing laugh. "I can't help it," he exclaimed. "I am
+thinking of the old woman's fright, and their dismay at having to pay
+the damage."
+
+"Do you know what I should do in your place, Cyril?" said Miss Benyon.
+"I should go back to Markham, and tell him honourably that I caused the
+accident. You know how poor they are; they cannot afford to pay for it."
+
+Cyril stared at Miss Benyon. "Where'd be the pull of that?" asked he.
+
+"The 'pull,' Cyril, would be, that you would repair a wrong done to an
+unoffending neighbour, and might go to sleep with a clear conscience."
+
+The last suggestion amused Cyril amazingly he and conscience had not a
+great deal to do with each other. He was politely telling Miss Benyon
+that those notions were good enough for old maids, when Nancy appeared
+with the several sorts of jam demanded. Cyril drew his chair to the
+table, and Nancy went down.
+
+"Ring the bell, Rosa," said Cyril, before the girl could well have
+reached the kitchen. "I can't see one sort from another; we must have
+candles."
+
+"Ring it yourself," retorted Rosa.
+
+"George, ring the bell," commanded Cyril.
+
+George obeyed. He was under Cyril in the college school, and accustomed
+to obey him.
+
+"You might have told Nancy when she was here," remarked Miss Benyon to
+Cyril. "It would have saved her a journey."
+
+"And if it would?" asked Cyril. "What were servants' legs made for, but
+to be used?"
+
+Nancy received the order for the candles, and brought them up. It was to
+be hoped her legs _were_ made to be used, for scarcely had Cyril begun
+to enjoy his black currant jam when they were heard coming up the stairs
+again.
+
+"Master Cyril, Mr. Markham wants to see you."
+
+Cyril and the rest exchanged looks. "Did you say I was at home?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Then you were an idiot for your pains! I can't come down, tell him. I
+am at tea."
+
+Down went Nancy accordingly. And back she came again. "He says he must
+see you, Master Cyril."
+
+"Be a man, Cyril, and face it," whispered Miss Benyon in his ear.
+
+Cyril jerked his head rudely away from her. "I won't go down. There!
+Nancy, you may tell Markham so."
+
+"He has sat down on the garden bench, sir, outside the window to wait,"
+explained Nancy. "He says, if you won't see him he shall ask for Mr.
+Dare."
+
+Cyril appeared to be in for it. He dashed his bread and jam on the
+table, and clattered down. "Who's wanting me?" called out he, when he
+got outside. "Oh!--is it you, Markham?"
+
+"How came you to throw a stone just now, and break my window, Cyril
+Dare?"
+
+The words threw Cyril into the greatest apparent surprise. "_I_ throw a
+stone and break your window!" repeated he. "I don't know what you mean."
+
+"Either you or your brother threw it; you were both together. It entered
+my mother's bedroom window, and went within an inch of her head. I'll
+trouble you to send a glazier round to put the pane in."
+
+"Well, of all strange accusations, this is about the strangest!" uttered
+Cyril. "We have not been near your window; we are upstairs at our tea."
+
+
+At this juncture, Mr. Dare came out. He had heard the altercation in the
+house. "What's this?" asked he. "Good evening, Markham."
+
+Markham explained. "They crouched down under the hedge when they had
+done the mischief," he continued, "thinking, no doubt, to get away
+undetected. But, as it happened, Brooks the nurseryman was in his ground
+behind the opposite hedge, and he saw the whole. He says they were
+throwing at the bats. Now I should be sorry to get them punished, Mr.
+Dare; we have been boys ourselves; but if young gentlemen will throw
+stones, they must pay for any damage they do. I have requested your son
+to send a glazier round in the morning. I am sorry he should have denied
+the fact."
+
+Mr. Dare turned to Cyril. "If you did it, why do you deny it?"
+
+Cyril hesitated for the tenth part of a second. Which would be the best
+policy? To give in, or to hold out? He chose the latter. His word was as
+good as that confounded Brooks's, and he'd brave it out! "We didn't do
+it," he angrily said; "we have not been near the place this evening.
+Brooks must have mistaken others for us in the dusk."
+
+"They did do it, Mr. Dare. There's no mistake about it. Brooks had been
+watching them, and he thinks it was the bigger one who threw that
+particular stone. If I had set a house on fire," Markham added to Cyril,
+"I'd rather confess the accident, than deny it by a lie. What sort of a
+man do you expect to make?"
+
+"A better one than you!" insolently retorted Cyril.
+
+"Wait an instant," said Mr. Dare. He proceeded to the school-room to
+inquire of George. That young gentleman had been an admiring hearer of
+the colloquy from a staircase-window. He tore back to the school-room on
+the approach of his father; hastily deciding that he must bear out Cyril
+in the denial. "Now, George," said Mr. Dare, sternly, "did you and Cyril
+do this, or did you not?"
+
+"Of course we did not, papa," was the ready reply. "We have not been
+near Markham's. Brooks must be a fool."
+
+Mr. Dare believed him. He was leaving the room when Miss Benyon
+interposed.
+
+"Sir, I should be doing wrong to allow you to be deceived. They did
+break the window."
+
+The address caused Mr. Dare to pause. "How do you know it, Miss Benyon?"
+
+Miss Benyon related what had passed. Mr. Dare cast his eyes sternly upon
+his youngest son. "It is you who are the fool, George, not Brooks. A lie
+is sure to get found out in the end; don't attempt to tell another."
+
+Mr. Dare went down. "I cannot come quite to the bottom of this
+business, Markham," said he, feeling unwilling to expose his sons more
+than they had exposed themselves. "At all events you shall have the
+window put in. A pane of glass is not much on either side."
+
+"It is a good deal to my pocket, Mr. Dare. But that's all I ask. And you
+know my character too well to fear I would make a doubtful claim. Brooks
+is open to inquiry."
+
+He departed; and Mr. Dare touched Cyril on the arm. "Come with me."
+
+He took him into the room, and there ensued an angry lecture. Cyril
+thought George had confessed, and stood silent before his father. "What
+a sneak he must have been!" thought Cyril. "Won't I serve him out!"
+
+"If you have acquired the habit of speaking falsely, you had better
+relinquish it," resumed Mr. Dare. "It will not be a recommendation in
+the eyes of Mr. Ashley."
+
+"I am not going to Ashley's," burst forth Cyril; for the mention of the
+subject was sure to anger him. "Turn manufacturer, indeed! I'd
+rather----"
+
+"You'd rather be a gentleman at large," interrupted Mr. Dare. "But," he
+sarcastically added, "gentlemen require something to live upon. Listen,
+Cyril. One of the finest openings that I know of in this city, for a
+young man, is in Ashley's manufactory. _You_ may despise Mr. Ashley as a
+manufacturer; but others respect him. He was reared a gentleman--he is
+regarded as one; he is wealthy, and his business is large and
+flourishing. Suppose you could drop into this, after him?--succeed to
+this fine business, its sole proprietor? I can tell you that you would
+occupy a better position, and be in receipt of a far larger income than
+either Anthony or Herbert will be."
+
+"But there's no such chance as that, for me," debated Cyril.
+
+"There is the chance: and that's why you are to be placed there. Henry,
+from his infirmity, is not to be brought up to business, and there is no
+other son. You will be apprenticed to Mr. Ashley, with a view to
+succeeding, as a son would, first of all to a partnership with him,
+eventually to the whole. Now, this is the prospect before you, Cyril;
+and prejudiced though you are, you must see that it is a fine one."
+
+"Well," acknowledged Cyril, "I wouldn't object to drop into a good thing
+like that. Has Mr. Ashley proposed it?"
+
+"No, he has not distinctly proposed it. But he did admit, when your
+apprenticeship was being spoken of, that he might be wanting somebody to
+succeed him. He more than hinted that whoever might be chosen to succeed
+him, or to be associated with him, must be rendered fit for the
+connection by being an estimable and a good man; one held in honour by
+his fellow citizens. No other could be linked with the name of Ashley.
+And now, sir, what do you think he, Mr. Ashley, would say to your
+behaviour to-night?"
+
+Cyril looked rather shame-faced.
+
+"You will go to Mr. Ashley's, Cyril. But I wish you to remember, to
+remember always, that the ultimate advantages will depend upon yourself
+and your conduct. Become a good man, and there's little doubt they will
+be yours; turn out indifferently, and there's not the slightest chance
+for you."
+
+"I shan't succeed to any of Ashley's money, I suppose?" complacently
+questioned Cyril, who somewhat ignored the conditions, and saw himself
+in prospective Mr. Ashley's successor.
+
+"It is impossible to say what you may succeed to," replied Mr. Dare, in
+so significant a tone as to surprise Cyril. "Henry Ashley's I should
+imagine to be a doubtful life; should anything happen to him, Mary
+Ashley will, of course, inherit all. And he will be a fortunate man who
+shall get into her good graces and marry her."
+
+It was a broad hint to a boy like Cyril. "She's such a proud thing, that
+Mary Ashley!" grumbled he.
+
+"She is a very sweet child," was the warm rejoinder of Mr. Dare. And
+Cyril went upstairs again to his jam and his interrupted tea.
+
+Meanwhile the evening went on, and the drawing-room was waiting for Lord
+Hawkesley. Mrs. Dare and Adelaide were waiting for him--waiting
+anxiously in elegant attire. Mr. Dare did not seem to care whether he
+came or not; and Julia, who was buried in an easy chair with her book,
+would have preferred, of the two, that he stayed away. Between eight and
+nine he arrived. A little man; young, fair, with light eyes and sharp
+features, a somewhat cynical expression habitually on his lips.
+Helstonleigh, in its gossip, conjectured that he must be making young
+Anthony Dare useful to him in some way or other, or he would not have
+condescended to the intimacy. For Lord Hawkesley, a proud man by nature,
+had been reared as an earl's son and heir; which meant an exclusiveness
+far greater in those days than it is in these. This was the third
+evening visit he had paid to Mrs. Dare. Had Adelaide's good looks any
+attraction for him? _She_ was beginning to think so, and to weave
+visions upon the strength of it. Entrenched as the Dares were in their
+folly and assumption, Adelaide was blind to the wide social gulf that
+lay between herself and Viscount Hawkesley.
+
+She sat down at the piano at his request and sang an Italian song. She
+had a good voice, and her singing was better than her Italian accent.
+Lord Hawkesley stood by her and looked over the music.
+
+"I like your style of singing very much," he remarked to her when the
+song was over. "You must have learnt of a good master."
+
+"_Comme ça_," carelessly rejoined Adelaide. As is the case with many
+more young ladies who possess a superficial knowledge of French, she
+thought it the perfection of good taste to display as much of it as she
+did know. "I had the best professor that Helstonleigh can give; but what
+are Helstonleigh professors compared with those of London? We cannot
+expect first-rate talent here."
+
+"Do you like London?" asked Lord Hawkesley.
+
+"I was never there," replied Adelaide, feeling the confession, when made
+to Lord Hawkesley, to be nothing but a humiliation.
+
+"Indeed! You would enjoy a London season."
+
+"Oh, so much! I know nothing of the London season, except from books. A
+contrast to your lordship, you will say," she added, with a laugh. "You
+must be almost tired of it; _désillusionné_."
+
+"What's that in English?" inquired Lord Hawkesley, whose French studies,
+as far as they had extended, had been utterly thrown away upon him.
+Labouring under the deficiency, he had to make the best of it, and did
+it with a boast. "Used up, I suppose you mean?"
+
+Adelaide coloured excessively. She wondered if he was laughing at her,
+and made a mental vow never to speak French to a lord again.
+
+"Will you think me exacting, Miss Dare, if I trespass upon you for
+another song?"
+
+Adelaide did not think him exacting in the least. She was ready to sing
+as long as he pleased.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+CHARLOTTE EAST'S PRESENT.
+
+
+Towards dusk, that same evening, Charlotte East went over to Mrs.
+Buffle's for some butter. After she was served, Mrs. Buffle--who was a
+little shrimp of a woman, with a red nose--crossed her arms upon the
+counter and bent her face towards Charlotte's. "Have you heered the
+news?" asked she. "Mary Ann Cross is going to make a match of it with
+Ben Tyrrett."
+
+"Is she?" said Charlotte. "They had better wait a few years, both of
+them, until they shall have put by something."
+
+"They're neither of them of the putting-by sort," returned Mrs. Buffle.
+"Them Crosses is the worst girls to spend in all the Fair: unless it's
+Carry Mason. She don't spare her back, she don't. The wonder is, how she
+gets it."
+
+"Young girls will dress," observed Charlotte, carelessly.
+
+Mrs. Buffle laughed. "You speak as if you were an old one."
+
+"I feel like one sometimes, Mrs. Buffle. When children are left, as I
+and Robert were, with a baby brother to bring up, and hardly any means
+to do it upon, it helps to steady them. Tom----"
+
+Eliza Tyrrett burst in at the door, with a violence that made its bell
+twang and tinkle. "Half-a-pound o' dips, long-tens, Dame Buffle, and be
+quick about it," was her order. "There's such a flare-up, in at
+Mason's."
+
+"A flare-up!" repeated Mrs. Buffle, who was always ripe and ready for a
+dish of scandal, whether it touched on domestic differences, or on young
+girls' improvidence in the shape of dress. "Is Mason and her having a
+noise?"
+
+"It's not him and her. It's about Carry. Hetty Mason locked Carry up
+this afternoon, and Mason never came home at all to tea; he went and had
+some beer instead, and a turn at skittles, and she wouldn't let Carry
+out. He came in just now, and his wife told him a whole heap about
+Carry, and Mason went up to the cock-loft, undid the door, and
+threatened to kick Carry down. They're having it out in the kitchen, all
+three."
+
+"What has Carry done?" asked Mrs. Buffle eagerly.
+
+"Perhaps Charlotte East can tell," said Eliza Tyrrett, slyly. "She has
+been thick with Carry lately. _I_ am not a-going to spoil sport."
+
+Charlotte took up her butter, and bending a severe look of caution on
+the Tyrrett girl, left the shop. Anthony Dare's reputation was not a
+brilliant one, and the bare fact of Caroline Mason's allowing herself to
+walk with him would have damaged her in the eyes of Honey Fair. As well
+keep it, if possible, from Mrs. Buffle and other gossips.
+
+As Charlotte crossed to her own door, she became conscious that some one
+was flying towards her in the dusk of the evening: a woman with a fleet
+foot and panting breath. Charlotte caught hold of her. "Caroline, where
+are you going?"
+
+"Let me alone, Charlotte East"--and Caroline's nostrils were working,
+her eyes flashing. "I have left their house for ever, and am going to
+one who will give me a better."
+
+Charlotte held her tight. "You must not go, Caroline."
+
+"I will," she defiantly answered. "I have chosen my lot this night for
+better or for worse. Will I stay to be taunted without a cause? To be
+told I am what I am not? No! If anything should happen to me, let them
+reproach themselves, for they have driven me on to it."
+
+Charlotte tried her utmost to restrain the wild girl. "Caroline," she
+urged, "this is the turning-point in your life. A step forward, and you
+may have passed it beyond recall; a step backwards, and you may be saved
+for ever. Come home with me."
+
+Caroline in her madness--it was little else--turned her ghastly face
+upon Charlotte. "You shan't stop me, Charlotte East! You go your way,
+and I'll go mine. Shall Mark and she go on at me without cause, I say,
+calling me false names?"
+
+"Come home with me, Caroline. You shall stay with me to-night; you
+shan't go back to Hetty. My bed's not large, but it will hold us."
+
+"I won't, I won't!" she uttered, struggling to be free.
+
+"Only for a minute," implored Charlotte. "Come in for a minute until you
+are calm. You are mad just now."
+
+"I am driven to it. There!"
+
+With a jerk she wrenched herself from Charlotte's grasp, passion giving
+her strength: and she flew onwards and was lost in the dark night.
+Charlotte East ran home. Her brothers were there. "Tom," said she, "put
+this butter in the cupboard for me;" and out she went again. At the end
+of Honey Fair, a road lay each way. Which should she take? Which had
+Caroline taken?
+
+She chose the one to the right--it was the most retired--and went
+groping about it for twenty minutes. As it happened, as such things
+generally do happen, Caroline had taken the other.
+
+In a sheltered part of that, which lay back, away from the glare of the
+gas lamps, Caroline had taken refuge. She had expected some one would be
+there to meet her; but she found herself mistaken. Down she sat on a
+stone, and her wild passion began to diminish.
+
+Nearly half an hour afterwards, Charlotte found her there. Caroline was
+talking to Anthony Dare, who had just come up. Charlotte grasped
+Caroline.
+
+"You must come with me, Caroline."
+
+
+"Who on earth are you, and what do you want intruding here?" demanded
+Anthony Dare, turning round with a fierce stare on Charlotte.
+
+"I am Charlotte East, sir, if it is any matter to you to know my name,
+and I am a friend of Caroline Mason's. I am here to take her out of
+harm's way."
+
+"There's nothing to harm her here," haughtily answered young Anthony.
+"Mind your own business."
+
+"I am afraid there is one thing to harm her, sir, and that's you," said
+brave Charlotte. "You can't come among us people in Honey Fair for any
+good. Folks bent on good errands don't need to wait till dark before
+they pay their visits. You had better give up prowling about this place,
+Mr. Anthony Dare. Stay with your equals, sir; with those that will be a
+match for you."
+
+"The woman must be deranged!" uttered Anthony, going into a terrible
+passion. "How dare you presume to say such things to me?"
+
+"How dare you, sir, set yourself out to work ill?" retorted Charlotte.
+"Come along, Caroline," she added to the girl, who was now crying
+bitterly. "As for you, sir, if you mean no harm, as you say, and it is
+necessary that you should condescend to visit Honey Fair, please to pay
+your visits in the broad light of day."
+
+No very pleasant word broke from Anthony Dare. He would have liked to
+exterminate Charlotte. "Caroline," foamed he, "order this woman away. If
+I could see a policeman, I'd give her in charge."
+
+"Sir, if you dare attempt to detain her, I'll appeal to the first
+passer-by. I'll tell them to look at the great and grand Mr. Anthony
+Dare, and to ask him what he wants here, night after night."
+
+Even as Charlotte spoke, footsteps were heard, and two gentlemen,
+talking together, advanced. The voice of one fell familiarly on the ear
+of Anthony Dare, familiarly on that of Charlotte East. The latter
+uttered a joyful cry.
+
+"There's Mr. Ashley! Loose her, sir, or I'll call to him."
+
+To have Mr. Ashley "called to" on the point would not be altogether
+agreeable to the feelings of young Anthony. "You fool!" he exclaimed to
+Charlotte East, "what harm do you suppose I meant, or thought of? You
+must be a very strange person yourself, to get such a thing into your
+imagination. Good night, Caroline."
+
+And turning on his heel haughtily, Anthony Dare stalked off in the
+direction of Helstonleigh. Mr. Ashley passed on, having noticed nothing,
+and Charlotte East wound her arm round the sobbing girl, subdued now,
+and led her home.
+
+Anthony went straight to Pomeranian Knoll, and threw himself on to a
+sofa in a very ill humour. Lord Hawkesley was occupied with Adelaide and
+her singing, and paid little attention to him.
+
+At the close of the evening they left together, Anthony going out with
+Lord Hawkesley, and linking arms as they proceeded towards the Star
+Hotel, Lord Hawkesley's usual quarters when in Helstonleigh.
+
+"I have got two hundred out of the governor," began Anthony in a
+confidential tone. "He will give me the cheque to-morrow."
+
+"What's two hundred, Dare?" slightingly spoke his lordship. "It's
+nothing."
+
+"It was of no use trying for more to-night. The two hundred will stop
+present worry, Hawkesley; the future must be provided for when it
+comes." And they walked on with a quicker step.
+
+Mrs. Dare had looked at her watch as they departed. It was half-past
+eleven. She said she supposed they might as well be going to bed, and
+Mr. Dare roused himself. For the last half-hour he had been half-asleep;
+quite asleep he did not choose to fall, in the young man's presence. A
+viscount to Lawyer Dare was a viscount. "Where's Herbert?" asked he,
+stretching himself. Master Herbert, Joseph answered, had had supper
+served (not being able to recover from the short allowance at dinner),
+and had gone to bed. The rest, excepting Adelaide, had gone before, free
+from want, from care, full of the good things of this life. The young
+Halliburtons, their cousins once removed, had knelt and thanked God for
+the day's good, even though that day to them had been what all their
+days were now, one of poverty and privation. Not so the Dares. As
+children, for they were not in a heathen land, they had been taught to
+say their prayers at night; but as they grew older, the custom was
+suffered to fall into disuse. The family attended church on Sundays,
+fashionably attired, and there ended their religion.
+
+To bed and to sleep went they, all the household, old and young--Joseph,
+the manservant, excepted. Sleepy Joseph stretched himself in a large
+chair to wait the return of Mr. Anthony: sleepy Joseph had so to stretch
+himself most nights. Mr. Anthony might come in in an hour's time, or Mr.
+Anthony might not come in until it was nearly time to commence the day's
+duties in the morning. It was all a chance; as poor Joseph knew to his
+cost.
+
+Nine o'clock was the breakfast hour at Mr. Dare's, and the family were
+in general pretty punctual at it. On the following morning they were all
+assembled at the meal, Anthony rather red about the eyes, when Ann, the
+housemaid, entered.
+
+"Here's a parcel for you, Mr. Anthony."
+
+She held in her arms a large untidy sort of bundle, done round with
+string. Anthony turned his wondering eyes upon it.
+
+"That! It can't be for me."
+
+"A boy brought it and said it was for you, sir," returned Ann, letting
+the cumbersome parcel fall on a chair. "I asked if there was any answer,
+and he said there was not."
+
+"It must be from your tailor, Anthony," said Mrs. Dare.
+
+Anthony's consequence was offended at the suggestion. "My tailor send me
+a parcel done up like that!" repeated he. "He had better! He would get
+no more of my custom."
+
+"What an extraordinary direction!" exclaimed Julia, who had got up, and
+drawn near, in her curiosity: "'Young Mister Antony Dare!' Just look,
+all of you."
+
+Anthony rose, and the rest followed, except Mr. Dare, who was busy with
+a county paper, and paid no attention. A happy thought darted into
+Minny's mind. "I know!" she cried, clapping her hands. "Cyril and George
+are playing Anthony a trick, like the one they played Miss Benyon."
+
+Anthony, too hastily taking up the view thus suggested, and inwardly
+vowing a not agreeable chastisement to the two, as soon as they should
+rush in to breakfast from school, took out his penknife and severed the
+string. The paper fell apart, and the contents rolled on to the floor.
+
+What on earth were they? What did they mean? A woman's gown, tawdry but
+pretty; a shawl; a neck-scarf, with gold-coloured fringe; two pairs of
+gloves, the fingers worn into holes; a bow of handsome ribbon; a cameo
+brooch, fine and false; and one or two more such articles, not new,
+stood disclosed. The party around gazed in sheer amazement.
+
+"If ever I saw such a collection as this!" exclaimed Mrs. Dare. "It is a
+woman's clothing. Why should they have been sent to you, Anthony?"
+
+Anthony's cheek wore rather a conscious colour just then. "How should I
+know?" he replied. "They must have been directed to me by mistake. Take
+the rags away, Ann"--spurning them with his foot--"and throw them into
+the dust-bin. Who knows what infected place they may have come from?"
+
+Mrs. Dare and the young ladies shrieked at the last suggestion, gathered
+their skirts about them, and retired as far as the limits of the room
+allowed. Some enemy of malicious intent must have done it, they became
+convinced. Ann--no more liking to be infected with measles or what not
+than they--seized the tongs, gingerly lifted the articles inside the
+paper, dragged the whole outside the door, and called Joseph to carry
+them to the receptacle indicated by Mr. Anthony.
+
+Charlotte East had thought she would not do her work by halves.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+THE FEAR GROWING GREATER.
+
+
+We must leap over some months. A story, you know, cannot stand still,
+any more than we can.
+
+Spring had come round. The sofa belonging to Mrs. Reece's parlour was in
+Mrs. Halliburton's, and Janey was lying on it--her blue eyes bright, her
+cheeks hectic, her fair curls falling in disorder. Through autumn,
+through winter, it had appeared that Dobbs's prognostications of evil
+for Jane were not to be borne out, for she had recovered from the
+temporary indications of illness, and had continued well; but, with the
+early spring weather, Jane failed, and failed rapidly. The cough came
+back, and great weakness grew upon her. She was always wanting to be at
+rest, and would lie about anywhere. Spreading a cloak on the floor, with
+a pillow for her head, Janey would plant herself between her mother and
+the fire, pulling the cloak up on the side near the door. One day Dobbs
+came in and saw her there.
+
+"My heart alive!" uttered Dobbs, when she had recovered her surprise;
+"what are you lying down there for?"
+
+"I am tired," replied Janey; "and there's nowhere else to lie. If I put
+three chairs together, it is not comfortable, and the pillow rolls off."
+
+"There's the sofa in our room," said Dobbs. "Why don't you lie on that?"
+
+
+"So I do, you know, Dobbs; but I want to talk to mamma sometimes."
+
+Dobbs disappeared. Presently there was a floundering and thumping heard
+in the passage, and the sofa was propelled in by Dobbs, very red with
+the exertion. "My missis is indignant to think that the child should be
+upon the floor," cried she, wrathfully. "One would suppose some folks
+were born without brains, or the sofa might have been asked for."
+
+"But, Dobbs," said Janey--and _she_ was allowed to "Dobbs" as much as
+she pleased, unreproved--"what am I to lie on in your room?"
+
+"Isn't there my easy chair, with the high foot-board in front--as good
+as a bed when you let it out?" returned Dobbs, proceeding to place Janey
+comfortably on the sofa. "And now let me say what I came in to say, when
+the sight of that child on the cold floor sent me shocked out again,"
+she added, turning to Jane. "My missis's leg is no better to-day, and
+she has made up her mind to have Parry. It's erysipelas, as sure as a
+gun. Every other spring, about, she's laid up with it in her legs, one
+or the other of 'em. Ten weeks I have known her in bed with it----"
+
+"The very best preventive to erysipelas is to take an occasional warm
+bath," interrupted Jane.
+
+The suggestion gave immense offence to Dobbs. "A warm bath!" she
+uttered, ironically. "And how, pray, should my missis take a warm bath?
+Sit down in a mashing-tub, and have a furnace of boiling water turned on
+to her? Those new-fangled notions may do for Londoners, but they are not
+known at Helstonleigh. Warm baths!" repeated Dobbs, with increased
+scorn: "hadn't you better propose a water-bed at once? I have heard that
+they are inventing _them_ also."
+
+"I have heard so, too," pleasantly replied Jane.
+
+"Well, my missis is going to have Parry up, and she intends that he
+shall see Janey and give her some physic--if physic will be of use,"
+added Dobbs, with an incredulous sniff. "My missis says it will. She
+puts faith in Parry's physic as if it was gold; it's a good thing she's
+not ill often, or she'd let herself be poisoned if quantity could poison
+her! And, Janey, you'll take the physic, like a precious lamb; and heaps
+of nice things you shall have after it, to drive the taste out. Warm
+baths!" ejaculated Dobbs, as she went out, returning to the old
+grievance. "I wonder what the world's coming to?"
+
+Mr. Parry was called in, and soon had his two regular patients there.
+Mrs. Reece was confined to her bed with erysipelas in her leg; and if
+Janey seemed better one day, she seemed worse the next. The surgeon did
+not say what was the matter with Jane. He ordered her everything good in
+the shape of food; he particularly ordered port wine. An hour after the
+latter order had been given Dobbs appeared, with a full decanter in her
+hand.
+
+"It's two glasses a day that she is to take--one at eleven and one at
+three," cried she without circumlocution.
+
+"But, indeed, I cannot think of accepting so costly a thing from Mrs.
+Reece as port wine," interrupted Jane, in consternation.
+
+"You can do as you like, ma'am," said Dobbs with equanimity. "Janey will
+accept it; she'll drink her two glasses of wine daily, if I have to come
+and drench her with it. And it won't be any cost out of my missis's
+pocket, if that's what you are thinking of," logically proceeded Dobbs.
+"Parry says it will be a good three months before she can take her wine
+again; so Janey can drink it for her. If my missis grudged her port wine
+or was cramped in pocket, I should not take my one glass a day, which I
+do regular."
+
+"I can never repay you and Mrs. Reece for your kindness and generosity
+to Jane," sighed Mrs. Halliburton.
+
+"You can do it when you are asked," was Dobbs's retort. "There's the
+wing and merrythought of a fowl coming in for her dinner, with a bit of
+sweet boiled pork. I don't give myself the ceremony of cloth-laying, now
+my missis is in bed, but just eat it in the rough; so the child had
+better have hers brought in here comfortably, till my missis is down
+again. And, Janey, you'll come upstairs to tea to us; I have taken up
+the easy chair."
+
+"Thank you very much, Dobbs," said Janey.
+
+"And don't you let them cormorants be eating her dinners or drinking her
+wine," said Dobbs, fiercely, as she was going out. "Keep a sharp
+look-out upon 'em."
+
+"They would not do it!" warmly replied Jane. "You do not know my boys
+yet, if you think they would rob their sick sister."
+
+"I know that boys' stomachs are always on the crave for anything that's
+good," retorted Dobbs. "You might skin a boy if you were forced to it,
+but you'd never drive his nature out of him; and that's to be always
+eating!"
+
+So she had even _this_ help--port wine! It seemed almost beyond belief,
+and Jane lost herself in thought.
+
+"Mamma, you don't hear me!"
+
+"Did you speak, Janey?"
+
+"I say I think Dobbs got that fowl for me. Mrs. Reece is not taking
+meat, and Dobbs would not buy a fowl for herself. She will give me all
+the best parts, and pick the bones herself. You'll see. How kind they
+are to me! What should I have done, mamma, if I had only our plain food?
+I know I could not eat it now."
+
+"God is over us, my dear child," was Jane's reply. "It is He who has
+directed this help to us: never doubt it, Jane. Whether we live or die,"
+she added pointedly, "we are in His hands, and He orders all things for
+the best."
+
+"Can to die be for the best?" asked Janey, sitting up to think over the
+question.
+
+"Why, yes, my dear girl; certainly it is, if God wills it. How often
+have I talked to you about the REST after the grave! No more tears, no
+more partings. Which is best--to be here, or to go to that rest? Oh,
+Janey! we can put up surely with illness and with crosses here, if we
+may only attain to that. This world will last only for a little while at
+best; but that other will abide for ever and for ever."
+
+A summons from Mr. Parry's boy: Miss Halliburton's medicine had arrived.
+Miss Halliburton made a grievous face over it, when her mamma poured the
+dose out. "I never _can_ take it! It smells so nasty!"
+
+Jane held the wine-glass towards her, a grave, kind smile upon her face.
+"My darling, it is one of earth's little crosses; _try_ and not rebel
+against it. Here's a bit of Patience's jam left, to take after it."
+
+Janey smiled bravely as she took the glass. "It was not so bad as I
+thought, mamma," said she, when she had swallowed it.
+
+"Of course not, Janey; nothing is that we set about with a brave heart."
+
+But, with every good thing, Janey did not improve. Her mother shrank
+from admitting the fact that was growing only too palpable; and Dobbs
+would come in and sit looking at Janey for a quarter of an hour
+together, never speaking.
+
+"Why do you look at me so, Dobbs?" asked Janey, one day, suddenly. "You
+were crying when you looked at me last night at dusk."
+
+Dobbs was rather taken to. "I had been peeling onions," said she.
+
+"Why do you shrink from looking at the truth?" an inward voice kept
+repeating in Mrs. Halliburton's heart. "Is it right, or wise, or well to
+do so?" No; she knew that it could not be.
+
+That same day, after Mr. Parry had paid his visit to Mrs. Reece, he
+looked in upon Janey. "Am I getting better?" she asked him. "I want to
+go into the green fields again, and run about."
+
+"Ah," said he, "we must wait for that, little maid."
+
+Jane went out to the door with him. When he put out his hand to say good
+morning, he saw that she was white with emotion, and could not speak
+readily. "Will she live or die, Mr. Parry?" was the whispered question
+that came at last.
+
+"Now don't distress yourself, Mrs. Halliburton. In these lingering cases
+we must be content to wait the issue, whatever it may be."
+
+"I have had so much trouble of one sort or another, that I think I have
+become inured to it," she continued, striving to speak more calmly.
+"These several days past I have been deciding to ask you the truth. If
+I am to lose her, it will be better that I should know it beforehand: it
+will be easier for me to bear. She is in danger, is she not?"
+
+"Yes," he replied; "I fear she is."
+
+"Is there any hope?"
+
+"Well, you know, Mrs. Halliburton, while there is life there is hope."
+
+His tone was kindly; but she could not well mistake that, of human hope,
+there was none. Her lips were pale--her bosom was heaving. "I
+understand," she murmured. "Tell me one other thing: how near is the
+end?"
+
+"That I really cannot tell you," he more readily replied. "These cases
+vary much in their progression. Do not be downcast, Mrs. Halliburton. We
+must every one of us go, sooner or later. Sometimes I wish I could see
+all mine gone before me, rather than leave them behind to the cares of
+this troublesome world."
+
+He shook hands and departed. Jane crept softly upstairs to her own room,
+and was shut in for ten minutes. Poor thing! _she_ could not spare time
+for the indulgence of grief, as others might! she must hasten to her
+never-ceasing work. She had her task to do; and ten minutes lost from it
+in the day must be made up at night.
+
+As she was going downstairs, with red eyes, Mrs. Reece heard her
+footstep and called to her from her bed. "Is that you, ma'am?"
+
+So Jane had to go in. "Are you better?" she inquired.
+
+"No, ma'am, I don't see much improvement," replied the old lady. "Mr.
+Parry is going to change the lotion; but it's a thing that will have its
+course. How is Janey? Does he say?"
+
+"She is much the same," said Jane. "She grows no better. I fear she
+never will."
+
+"Ay! so Dobbs says; and it strikes me Parry has told her so. Now, ma'am,
+you spare nothing that can do her good. Whatever she fancies, tell
+Dobbs, and it shall be had. I would not for the world have a dying child
+stinted while I can help it. Don't spare wine; don't spare anything."
+
+"A dying child!" The words, in spite of Jane's previous convictions;
+nay, her knowledge; caused her heart to sink with a chill. She
+proceeded, as she had done many times before, to express a tithe of her
+gratitude to Mrs. Reece for the substantial kindness shown to Janey.
+
+"Don't say anything about it, ma'am," returned the old lady in her
+simple, straightforward way. "I have neither chick nor child of my own,
+and both I and Dobbs have taken a liking for Janey. We can't think
+anything we can do too much for her. I have spoken to Parry--therefore
+don't spare his services; at any hour of the day or night send for him
+if you deem it necessary."
+
+With another attempt at heartfelt thanks, Jane went down. Full as her
+cup was to the brim, she was yet overwhelmed with the sense of kindness
+shown. From that time she set herself to the task of preparing Janey for
+the great change by gradual degrees--a little now, a little then: to
+make her long for the translation to that better land.
+
+One evening, about eight o'clock, Patience entered--partly to inquire
+after Janey, partly to ask William if he would go to bring Anna from
+Mrs. Ashley's, where she had been taking tea. Samuel Lynn was detained
+in the town on business, and Grace had been permitted to go out:
+therefore Patience had no one to send. William left his books, and went
+out with alacrity. Patience sat down by Janey's sofa.
+
+"I get so tired, Patience. I wish I had some pretty books to read! I
+have read all Anna's over and over again."
+
+"And she won't eat solids now, and she grows tired of mutton-broth, and
+sago, and egg-flip, and those things," put in Dobbs, in an injured tone,
+who was also sitting there.
+
+"I would try her with a little beef-tea, made with plenty of carrots and
+thickened with arrowroot," said Patience.
+
+"Beef-tea, made with carrots and thickened with arrowroot!" ungraciously
+responded Dobbs, who held in contempt every one's cooking except her
+own.
+
+"I can tell thee that it is one of the nicest things taken," said
+Patience. "It might be a change for the child."
+
+"How's it made?" asked Dobbs. "It might do for my missis: _she's_ tired
+of mutton broth."
+
+"Slice a pound of lean beef, and let it soak for two hours in a quart of
+cold water," replied Patience. "Then put meat and water into a saucepan,
+with a couple of large carrots scraped and sliced. Let it warm
+gradually, and then simmer for about four hours, thee putting salt to
+taste. Strain it off; and, when cold, take off the fat. As the broth is
+wanted, stir it up, and take from it as much as may be required, boiling
+the portion, for a minute, with a little arrowroot."
+
+Dobbs condescended to intimate that perhaps she might try it; though
+she'd be bound it was poor stuff.
+
+William had hastened to Mr. Ashley's. He was shown into a room to wait
+for Anna, and his attention was immediately attracted by a shelf full of
+children's story-books. He knew they were just what Janey was longing
+for. He had taken some in his hand, when Anna came in, ready for him,
+accompanied by Mrs. Ashley, Mary, and Henry. Then William became aware
+of the liberty he had taken in touching the things, and, in his
+self-consciousness, the colour, as usual, rushed to his face. It was a
+frank, ingenuous face, with its fair, open forehead, and its earnest,
+dark grey eyes; and Mrs. Ashley thought it so.
+
+"Were you looking at our books?" asked Henry, who was in a remarkably
+good humour.
+
+"I am sorry to have touched them," replied William. "I was thinking of
+something else."
+
+"I would be nearly sure thee were thinking of thy sister," cried Anna,
+who had an ever-ready tongue.
+
+"Yes, I was," replied William candidly. "I was wishing she could read
+them."
+
+"I have told her about the books," said Anna, turning from William to
+the rest. "I related to her as much as I could remember of 'Anna Ross:'
+that book which thee had in thy hand, William. She would so like to read
+them; she is always ill."
+
+"Is she very ill?" inquired Mrs. Ashley.
+
+"She is dying," replied Anna.
+
+It was the first intimation William had received of the great fear. His
+countenance changed, his heart beat wildly. "Oh, Anna! who says it?" he
+cried out, in a low, wailing tone.
+
+There was a dead silence. Anna's announcement sounded sufficiently
+startling, and Mrs. Ashley looked with sympathy at the evidently
+agitated boy.
+
+"There! that's my tongue!" cried Anna repentantly. "Patience says she
+wonders some one does not cut it out for me."
+
+Mary Ashley--a fair, gentle little girl, with large brown eyes, like
+Henry's--stepped forward, full of sympathy. "I have heard of your sister
+from Anna," she said. "She is welcome to read all my books; you can take
+some to her now, and change them as often as you like."
+
+How pleased William was! Mary selected four, and gave them to him. "Anna
+Ross," "The Blind Farmer," "Theophilus and Sophia," and "Margaret
+White." Very old, some of the books, and childish; but admirably suited
+to what people were beginning to call Jane--a dying child.
+
+"I say," cried out Henry, a little aristocratic patronage in his tone,
+as William was departing, "how do you get on with your Latin?"
+
+"I get on very well. Not quite so fast as I should with a master. I have
+to puzzle out difficulties for myself, and I am not sure but that's one
+of the best ways to get on. I go on with my Greek, too; and Euclid,
+and----"
+
+"How much time do you work?" burst forth Henry.
+
+"From six o'clock till half-past nine. A little of the time I am helping
+my brothers."
+
+"There's perseverance, Henry!" cried Mrs. Ashley; and Master Henry
+shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"Anna," began William, as they walked along, "how do you know that Janey
+is so ill?"
+
+"Now, William, thee must ask thy mother whether she is ill or not. She
+may get well--how do I know? She was ill last summer, and Hannah Dobbs
+would have it she was in a bad way then; but she recovered. Dost thee
+know what Patience says?"
+
+"What?" asked William eagerly.
+
+"Patience says I have ten ears where I ought to have two; and I think
+thee hast the same. Fare thee well," she added, as they reached her
+door. "Thank thee for coming for me."
+
+William waited at the gate until Anna was admitted, and then hastened
+home. Jane was alone, working as usual.
+
+"Mamma, is it true that Janey is dying?"
+
+Jane's heart gave a leap; and poor William, as she saw, could scarcely
+speak for agitation. "Who told you that?" she asked in low tones.
+
+"Anna Lynn. _Is_ it true?"
+
+"William, I fear it may be. Don't grieve, child! don't grieve!"
+
+William had laid his head down upon the table, the sobs breaking forth.
+His poor mother left her seat, and bent her head down beside him,
+sobbing also.
+
+"William, for my sake don't grieve!" she whispered. "God alone knows
+what is good. He would not take her unless it were for the best."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+THE END.
+
+
+April passed. May was passing; and the end of Jane Halliburton was at
+hand. There was no secret now about her state; but she was going away
+very peacefully.
+
+In this month, May, there occurred another vacancy in the choir of the
+cathedral. Little Gar--but he was growing too big now to be called
+Little Gar--proved to be the successful candidate; so that both boys
+were now in the choir.
+
+"It will be such a help to me, learning to chant, should I ever try for
+a minor canonry," boasted Gar, who never tired of telling them that he
+meant to be a clergyman.
+
+"Gar, dear, did you ever sit down and count the cost?" asked Mrs.
+Halliburton. "I fear it will not be your luck to go to college."
+
+"Labor omnia vincit," cried out Gar. "You have heard us stumbling over
+our Latin often enough, mamma, to know what that means. Frank will need
+to count the cost, too, if he is ever to make himself into a barrister;
+and he says he _will_ be one."
+
+"Oh, you two vain boys!" cried Jane, laughing.
+
+"Mamma," spoke up Janey from the sofa--and her breathing was laboured
+now--"is there harm in their wishing this?"
+
+"Not at all. They are laudable aims. Only Frank and Gar are so poor and
+friendless that I fear the hopes are too ambitious to end in anything
+but disappointment."
+
+Janey called Gar to her, and pulled his face down to a level with hers,
+whispering softly, "Strive well, Gar, and trust in God."
+
+Later, when Jane had to be out on an indispensable errand, Dobbs came in
+to sit with Janey. She brought her some jelly in a saucer.
+
+"I am nearly tired of it, Dobbs," said Janey. "I grow tired of
+everything. And I don't like to say so, because it seems so ungrateful."
+
+"It's the nature of illness to get tired of things," responded Dobbs,
+who thought it was her mission never to cease buoying Janey up with
+hope. "You'll be better when the hot weather comes in."
+
+"No, I shan't, Dobbs. I shall never get better now."
+
+A combination of feelings, indignation predominating, nearly took away
+Dobbs's breath. "Who on earth has been putting that grim notion in your
+head?" asked she.
+
+"It is true, Dobbs."
+
+"True!" ejaculated Dobbs. "Who has been saying it to you? I want to know
+that."
+
+"Mamma for one. She----"
+
+"Of all the stupids!" burst forth Dobbs, drowning what Janey was about
+to say. "To frighten the child by telling her she's going to die!"
+
+"It does not frighten me, Dobbs. I like to lie and think of it."
+
+Dobbs fell into a doubt whether Janey was in her senses. "Like to lie
+and think of being screwed down in a coffin, and put into the cold
+ground, and left there till the judgment day!" uttered she.
+
+"Oh, but, Dobbs, you must know better than that," returned Jane. "_We_
+are not put into the coffin; it is only our bodies that are put into the
+coffin; we go into the world of departed spirits."
+
+"De-par-ted what?" ejaculated Dobbs, whose notions of the future--the
+life after this life--were not very definite; and who could not have
+been more astonished had Jane begun to talk to her in Greek.
+
+"Mamma has always tried to explain these things to us," said Jane. "She
+has made them as clear to us as they can be made, and she has taught us
+not to fear death. She says a great mistake is often made by those who
+bring up children. They are taught to run away from death as something
+gloomy and frightful, instead of being shown its bright side."
+
+"Well, I never heard the like!" exclaimed Dobbs, lost in wonder. "How
+can there be a bright side to death?--in a horrid coffin, with brass
+nails and tin-tacks that screw you down?"
+
+Tears filled Janey's eyes. "Oh, Dobbs, you must learn better than that,
+or how will you ever be reconciled to death? Don't you know that when
+we die, we--our spirit, that is, for it is our spirit that lives and
+thinks--leave our body behind us? There's no more consciousness in our
+body, and it is put into the grave till the last day. It is like the
+shell that the silkworm casts away when it comes into the moth: the life
+is in the moth: not in the cast-off shell. You cannot think what trouble
+mamma has taken with us always to explain these things; and she has
+talked to me so much lately."
+
+"And where does the spirit go--by which, I suppose, you mean the soul?"
+asked Dobbs.
+
+Janey shook her head, to express her ignorance at the best. "It is all a
+mystery," she said; "but mamma has taught us to believe that there's a
+place for the departed, and that we shall be there. It is not to be
+supposed that the soul, a thing of life, could be boxed up in a coffin,
+Dobbs. When Jesus Christ said to the thief on the cross, 'To-day shalt
+thou be with me in paradise,' he meant that world. It is a place of
+light and rest."
+
+"And the good and bad are there together?"
+
+Again Janey shook her head. "Don't you remember, in the parable of the
+rich man and the beggar, there was a great gulf between them, and
+Abraham said that it could not be passed? I dare say it will be very
+peaceful and happy there: quite different from this world, where there's
+so much trouble and sickness. Why should I be afraid of death, Dobbs?"
+
+Dobbs sat looking at her, and was some minutes before she spoke. "Not
+afraid to die!" she slowly said. "Well, I should be."
+
+Janey's eyes were wet. "Nobody need be afraid to die when they have
+learnt to trust in God. Don't you know," she answered with something
+like enthusiasm, "that many people, when dying, have seen Jesus waiting
+for them? What does it matter, then, where our bodies are put? We are
+going to be with Jesus. Indeed, Dobbs, there's nothing sad in dying, if
+you only can look at it in the right way. It is those who look at it in
+the wrong way that are afraid to die."
+
+"The child's as learned as a minister!" was Dobbs's inward comment.
+"Ours told us last Sunday evening at Chapel that we were all on the high
+road to perdition. I'd rather listen to her creed than to his: it sounds
+more encouraging. Their ma hasn't brought 'em up amiss; and that's the
+truth!"
+
+The soliloquy was interrupted by the return of Mrs. Halliburton. Almost
+immediately afterwards some visitors came in--Mary Ashley and Anna Lynn.
+It was the first time Mary had been there, and she had come to bring
+Janey some more books. She was one of those graceful children whom it is
+pleasant to look at. A contrast in attire she presented to the little
+Quakeress, with her silk dress, her straw hat, trimmed with a wreath of
+flowers and white ribbons, her dark curls falling beneath it. She was
+much younger than her brother Henry; but there was a great resemblance
+between them--in the refined features, the bright complexion, and the
+soft dark eyes. Somehow, through a remark made by Dobbs, the
+conversation turned upon Jane's inability to recover; and Mary Ashley
+heard with extreme wonder that death was not dreaded. "Her ma has taught
+her different," was Dobbs's comment.
+
+"Mamma takes great pains with us," observed Mary; "but I should not like
+to die. How is it?" she added, turning to Mrs. Halliburton. "Jane is not
+much older than I, and yet she does not dread it!"
+
+"My dear," was the reply, "I think it is simply this. Those whom God is
+intending to take from the world, He often, in His mercy and wisdom,
+weans from the love of it. You are healthy and strong, and the world is
+pleasant to you. Jane has been so long weak and ill that she no longer
+finds enjoyment in it; and this naturally causes her to look beyond this
+world to the rest and peace of the next. All things are well ordered."
+
+Mary Ashley began to think they must be. Chattering Anna, vain Anna, sat
+gazing at Mary's pretty hat, her drooping curls; none, except Anna
+herself, knew with what envious longing. Anna, at any rate, was not
+tired of the world.
+
+The end grew nearer and nearer. There came a day when Jane did not get
+up; there came a second, and a third. On the fourth morning, Janey, who
+had passed a comfortable night, compared with some nights which had
+preceded it, was sitting up in bed when her brothers came in from
+school. They hurried over their breakfast and ran up to her, carrying
+the remains of it in their hands.
+
+The first few minutes after breakfast had always been devoted by Jane to
+reading to her children; in spite of her necessity for close working
+they were so devoted still. "I will read here this morning," she
+observed, as the boys stood around the bed.
+
+"Mamma," interrupted Janey, "read about the holy city, in the Book of
+Revelation."
+
+Mrs. Halliburton turned to the twenty-first chapter, and had read to the
+twenty-third verse--"And the city had no need of the sun, neither of the
+moon, to shine in it: for the glory of God did lighten it, and the Lamb
+is the light thereof"--when Jane suddenly started forward in bed, her
+eyes fixed on some opposite point. Mrs. Halliburton paused, and
+endeavoured to put her gently back again.
+
+"Oh, mamma, don't keep me!" she said in a strangely thrilling tone;
+"don't keep me! I see the light! I see papa!"
+
+There was a strange light, not as of earth, in her own face, an
+ineffable smile on her lip, that told more of heaven. Her arms dropped;
+and she sank back on the pillow. Jane Halliburton had gone to her
+Heavenly Father; it may be also to her earthly one. Gar screamed.
+
+Dobbs arrived in the midst of the commotion. And when Dobbs saw what had
+happened, she fell into a storm of anger, of passionate sobs, half ready
+to knock down Mrs. Halliburton with words, and the poor boys with blows.
+Why was she not called to see the last of her? The only young thing she
+had cared for in all the world, and yet she could not be allowed to wish
+her farewell! She'd never love another again as long as her days lasted!
+In vain they strove to explain to her that it was sudden, unexpected,
+momentary: Dobbs would not listen.
+
+Mrs. Halliburton stole away from Dobbs's storm--anywhere. Her heart was
+brimful. Although she had known that this must be the ending, now that
+it had come she was as one unprepared. In her grief and sorrow, she was
+tempted for a moment--but only for a moment--to question the goodness
+and wisdom of God.
+
+Some one called to her from the foot of the stairs, and she went down.
+She had to go down; she could not shut herself up, as those can who have
+servants to be their deputies. Anna Lynn stood there, dressed for
+school.
+
+"Friend Jane Halliburton, Patience has sent me to ask after Janey this
+morning. Is she better?"
+
+"No, Anna. She is dead."
+
+Jane spoke with unnatural calmness. The child, scared at the words,
+backed away out at the garden door, and then flew to Patience with the
+news. It brought Patience in. Jane was nearly prostrate then.
+
+"Nay, but thee art grieving sadly! Thee must not take on so."
+
+"Oh, Patience! why should it be?" she wailed aloud in her despair and
+bereavement. "Anna left in health and joyousness; my child taken! Surely
+God is dealing hardly with me."
+
+"Thee must not say that," returned Patience gravely. "But thee art not
+thyself just now. What truth was it that I heard thee impress upon thy
+child not a week ago? That God's ways are not as our ways."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+A WEDDING IN HONEY FAIR.
+
+
+But that such contrasts are all too common in life, you might think it
+scarcely seemly to go direct from a house of death to a house of
+marriage. This same morning which witnessed the death of Jane
+Halliburton, witnessed also the wedding of Mary Ann Cross and Ben
+Tyrrett. Upon which there was wonderful rejoicing at the Crosses'
+house.
+
+Of course, whether a wedding was a good one or a bad one (speaking from
+a pecuniary point of view), it was equally the custom to feast over it
+in Honey Fair. Benjamin Tyrrett was only what is called a jobber in the
+glove trade, earning fifteen or sixteen shillings a week; but Mary Ann
+Cross made up her mind to have him--in defiance of parental and other
+admonitions that she ought to look over Ben's head. They had gone to
+work Honey Fair fashion, preparing nothing. Every shilling that Mary Ann
+Cross could spare went in finery--had long gone in finery. In vain
+Charlotte East impressed upon her the necessity of saving: of waiting.
+Mary Ann would do neither one nor the other.
+
+"All that you can spare from back debts, and from present actual wants,
+you should put by," Charlotte had urged. "You don't know how many more
+calls there are for money after marriage than before it."
+
+"There'll be two of us to earn it then," logically replied Mary Ann.
+
+"And two of you to live," said Charlotte. "To marry upon nothing is to
+rush into trouble."
+
+"How you do go on, Charlotte East! He'll earn his wages, and I shall
+earn mine. Where'll be the trouble? I shan't want to spend so much upon
+my back when I am married."
+
+"To marry as you are going to do, must bring trouble," persisted
+Charlotte. "He will manage to get together a few bits of cheap
+furniture, just what you can't do without, to put into one room; and
+there you will be set up, neither of you having one sixpence laid by to
+fall back upon; and perhaps the furniture unpaid, hanging like a log
+upon you. What shall you do when children come, Mary Ann?"
+
+Mary Ann Cross giggled. "If ever I heard the like of you, Charlotte! If
+children do come, they must come, that's all. We can't send 'em back
+again."
+
+"No, you can't," said Charlotte. "They generally arrive in pretty good
+troops: and sometimes there's little to welcome them on. Half the
+quarrels between man and wife, in our class of life, spring from nothing
+but large families and small means. Their tempers get soured with each
+other, and never get pleased again."
+
+"Folks must take their chance, Charlotte."
+
+"There's no _must_ in it. You are nineteen, Ben Tyrrett's twenty-three;
+suppose you made up your minds to wait two or three years. You would be
+quite young enough then: and meanwhile, if both of you laid by, you
+would have something in hand to meet extra expenses, or sickness if it
+came."
+
+"Opinions differs," shortly returned Mary Ann. "If folks tell true, you
+were putting by ever so long for your marriage, and it all ended in
+smoke. I'd rather make sure of a husband when I can get him."
+
+An expression of pain crossed the face of Charlotte East. "Whether I
+marry or not," she answered calmly, "I shall be none the worse for
+having laid money by instead of squandering it. If the best man that
+ever was born came to me, I would not marry him if we had made no better
+provision for a rainy day than you and Tyrrett have. What can come of
+such unions, Mary Ann?"
+
+"It's the way most of us girls do marry," returned Mary Ann.
+
+"And what comes of it, I ask? _Blows_ sometimes, Mary Ann; the workhouse
+sometimes; trouble always."
+
+"Is it true that you put by, Charlotte?"
+
+"Yes. I put by what I can."
+
+"But how in wonder do you manage it? You dress as well as we do. I'm
+sure our backs take all our money; father pretty nigh keeps the house."
+
+"I dress better than you in one sense, Mary Ann. I don't have on a silk
+gown one day and a petticoat in rags the next. No one ever sees me
+otherwise than neat and clean, and my clothes keep good a long while.
+It's the finery that runs away with your money. I am not ashamed to make
+a bonnet last two years; you'd have two in a season. Another thing, Mary
+Ann: I do not waste my time--I sit to my work; and I dare say I earn
+double what you do."
+
+"Let us hear what you earned last week, if it isn't impertinent," was
+Mary Ann's answer.
+
+"Ten and ninepence."
+
+"Look at that!" cried the girl, lifting her hands. "I brought out but
+five and twopence, and I left no money for silk, and am in debt two
+quarterns. 'Melia was worse. Hers came to four and eleven. That surly
+old foreman says to me when he was paying, 'What d'ye leave for silk,
+Mary Ann Cross? There's two quarterns down.' 'I know there is, sir,'
+says I, 'but I don't leave nothing to-day.' He gave a grunt at that, the
+old file did."
+
+"And I suppose you spent your five shillings in some useless thing?"
+
+"I had to pay up at Bankes's, and the rest went in a new peach
+bonnet-ribbon."
+
+"Peach! You should have bought white, if you must be married."
+
+"Thank you, Charlotte! What next? Do you suppose I'm going to be married
+in that shabby old straw, that I've worn all the spring? Not if I know
+it."
+
+"Where's your money to come from for a new one? There will be other
+things wanted, more essential than a bonnet."
+
+"I'll have a new one if I go in trust for it," returned Mary Ann.
+"Tyrrett buys the ring. And it is of no use for you to preach,
+Charlotte; if you preach your tongue out, it'll do no good."
+
+Charlotte might, indeed, have preached a very long sermon before she
+could effect any change in the system of improvidence obtaining in Honey
+Fair. Neither Benjamin Tyrrett nor Mary Ann Cross was gifted with
+forethought, and they took no pains to acquire it.
+
+The marriage was carried out, and this was the happy day. Mrs. Cross
+gave an entertainment in honour of the event, at which the bride and
+bridegroom assisted--as the French say--with as many others as the
+kitchen would hold. Tea for the ladies, pipes and ale for the gentlemen,
+supper for all, with spirits-and-water handed round.
+
+How Mrs. Cross had contrived to go on so long without an _exposé_, she
+scarcely knew herself. The wonder was, that she had gone on at all. It
+took the energies of her life to patch up her embarrassments, and hide
+her difficulties from her husband. The evil day, however, was only
+delayed. It could not be averted.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+AN EXPLOSION FOR MRS. CROSS.
+
+
+The evil day, hinted at in the last chapter, was not long in coming. It
+might not have fallen quite so soon but for a misfortune which overtook
+Jacob Cross. The manufacturer for whom he worked died suddenly, and the
+business was immediately given up--the made gloves being bought by up a
+London house, and the stock in trade, leather machines, etc., sold by
+auction. He had been a first-class manufacturer, doing nearly as large a
+business as Mr. Ashley; and not only Jacob Cross, but many more men in
+Honey Fair were thrown out of work--one of whom was Andrew Brumm;
+another, Timothy Carter. This happened only a few months after Mary Ann
+Cross's marriage.
+
+It struck terror to the heart of Mrs. Cross. Though she had paid some of
+her debts, she had incurred others: indeed, the very fact of her having
+to pay had caused her to incur fresh ones. Her position was ominous. She
+and Amelia had worked for this same manufacturer, now dead, and of
+course they were at a standstill. Mary Ann Tyrrett had likewise worked
+for him; but she had left the paternal home; and with her we have
+nothing just now to do. The position of others was ominous, as well as
+that of Mrs. Cross. It was the autumn season, and trade was flat. Winter
+orders had gone in, and there was no necessity to hurry those for the
+spring; so that the hands thrown out of work, both men and women, stood
+every chance of remaining out.
+
+A gloom overspread Honey Fair. In many a household the articles least
+needed went, week after week, to the pawnbrokers, without being redeemed
+on the Saturday night, as in more prosperous times. Upon the proceeds
+the families had to exist. It was bad enough for those who were free
+from debt; but for those already labouring under it--above all,
+labouring under secret debt--it was something not to be told. Mrs.
+Cross had nightmares regularly every night. Visions would come over her
+now and again of running away, if she had only known where to run to.
+The men would stand or sit at their doors all day, with pipes in their
+mouths: money was sure to be found for tobacco, by hook or by crook.
+There they would lounge in gloomy silence, varied by an occasional wordy
+war with their wives, who wished them anywhere else; or they and their
+pipes would saunter up and down the road, forming into groups to condole
+with each other and to abuse the glove trade.
+
+One Monday afternoon there was a small assemblage in the kitchen of
+Jacob Cross--himself, Andrew Brumm, and Timothy Carter. Brumm and Carter
+were, in one sense, more fortunate than Cross; inasmuch as that their
+respective wives worked each for another house, not the one which had
+closed; therefore they retained their employment. The fact, however,
+appeared to afford little consolation to the two men, for they were
+keeping up a chorus of grumbling, when Joe Fisher staggered in--if you
+have not forgotten him.
+
+Fisher had hitherto managed, to the intense surprise of every one, to
+keep out of the workhouse. He would be taken on for a job of work now
+and then; but manufacturers were chary of employing Joe Fisher. For one
+thing, he gave way to drink. A disreputable-looking object had he
+become: a tattered coat and waistcoat, pantaloons in rags, and not the
+ghost of a shirt. People wondered how he found money for drink.
+
+"Who'll give us house-room?" was his salutation, as he pushed himself
+in, his eyes haggard, his legs unsteady, his face thin from incipient
+famine. "Will nobody give us a corner to lie in?"
+
+The men took their pipes from their mouths. "Turned out at last, Joe?"
+
+"Turned out," replied Joe. "And my missis close upon her down-lying."
+
+Mrs. Cross, who was at the back of the kitchen, washing out her potato
+saucepan, of which frugal edible, seasoned with salt, the family dinner
+had consisted, put in her word.
+
+"You couldn't expect nothing else, Joe Fisher. There you have been, in
+them folks' furnished room, paying nothing, and paying nothing, and you
+drinking everlasting. They have threatened you long enough. Last week,
+you know, they took a vow you should go this."
+
+"Where's the wife and little 'uns?" asked meek Timothy Carter.
+
+"You can look at 'em," responded Fisher. "They're not a hundred miles
+off. They bain't out of view."
+
+He gave a flourish of his hand towards the road, and the men and Mrs.
+Cross crowded to the door to reconnoitre. In the middle of the lane,
+crouched down in its mud, for the weather had been bad, and it was very
+wet under foot, was untidy Sukey Fisher--a woman all skin and bone now,
+her face hopeless and desperate. She wore no cap, and her matted hair
+fell on to her gown--such a gown! all tatters and dirt. Several young
+children huddled around her.
+
+"Untidy creature!" muttered Mrs. Cross to herself. "She is as fond of a
+drop as her lazy, quarrelsome husband; and this is what they have
+brought it to between 'em! Them poor little objects of young 'uns 'ud be
+as well dead as alive."
+
+"Look at 'em!" began Fisher. "And they call this a free country! They
+call it a country as is a pattern to others and a refuge for the needy.
+Why don't Government, that opened our ports to them foreign French and
+keeps 'em open, come down and take a look at my wife squatting
+there?--turned out of our room without a place to put our heads into!"
+
+"If you hadn't put quite as much inside your head, Joe Fisher, and been
+doing of it for years, you might have had more for the outside on't
+now," again spoke Mrs. Cross in her sharp tones. The woman was not
+naturally sharp, as were some in Honey Fair; but the miserable fear she
+lived in, added to their present privations, told upon her temper.
+
+"Hold your magging," said Joe Fisher. "I never like to quarrel with
+petticuts, one's own belongings excepted. All as I say, Mother Cross,
+is, don't _you_ mag."
+
+Mrs. Cross made no reply to this, and Fisher resumed.
+
+"This comes of letting the Government and the masters have their own
+way! If we had that there strike among us, that I've so often told ye
+on, things would be different. Let a man sit down a minute, Cross."
+
+Cross civilly pushed a chair towards him, concentrating his attention
+afterwards upon Mrs. Fisher. A crowd had collected round her; and Mrs.
+Buffle, with a feeling of humanity that few had given that lady credit
+for possessing, sent out an old woollen shawl to the shivering woman,
+and a basin of hasty pudding. The mother could not feed the whining
+children fast enough with the one iron spoon.
+
+A young man ran up to Cross's door. It was Adam Thorneycroft. He did not
+live in Honey Fair, but often found his way to it, although Charlotte
+had rejected him. "Is Joe Fisher here?" asked he. "Fisher, why don't you
+go to the workhouse and tell them the state your wife is in? She can't
+stop there."
+
+"Her state is no concern of your'n, Master Thorneycroft," was the sullen
+answer.
+
+Thorneycroft turned on his heel, a scornful gesture escaping him at
+Fisher's half-stupid condition. "I must be off to my work," he
+observed; "but can't one of you, who are gentlemen at large, just go to
+the workhouse and acquaint them with the woman's helplessness, and that
+of her children around her?"
+
+Timothy Carter responded to it. "I'll go," said he; "I haven't nothing
+to do with myself this afternoon."
+
+Timothy and Adam walked away together, Tim treading with gingerly feet
+past his own door, lest his wife should recognise his step, bolt out,
+and stop him. Charlotte East was standing at her door, and Adam halted.
+Timothy walked on: he did not feel himself perfectly safe yet.
+
+"What a life that poor woman's is!" exclaimed Charlotte.
+
+"Ay," assented Adam; "and all through Fisher's not sticking to his
+work."
+
+Charlotte moved her face gravely towards him. "Say through his drinking,
+Adam."
+
+"Do you speak that as a warning, Charlotte?" he continued. "I think you
+mean well by me, but you go just the wrong way to show it. If you wanted
+me to keep steady, you should have come and helped me in it. Good-bye. I
+am late."
+
+"Gentlemen at large, young Thorney called us!" cried Jacob Cross to his
+friend Brumm, as Fisher went off and they sat down again. "He's not far
+out. What's to be the end on't?"
+
+"Why, the work'us," responded Mrs. Cross, who rarely let an opportunity
+slip of putting in her own opinion. "The work'us for us as well as for
+the Fishers, unless things take a turn. When great, big, able-bodied men
+is throwed out o' work, and yet has to eat and drink, and other folks at
+home has to eat and drink, and nothing to stay their stomachs upon, the
+work'us can't be far off."
+
+"Never for me!" said Andrew Brumm. "I'll work to keep me and mine out on
+it, if it is at breaking stones upon the road. I know one thing--if ever
+I do get into certain work again, I'll make my missis be a bit
+providenter than she was before."
+
+"Bell Brumm ain't one of the provident sort," dissented Mrs. Cross. "How
+do you manage to get along at all, Drew, these bad times? You don't seem
+to get into trouble."
+
+"Well, we manage somehow," replied Andrew. "But we have to pinch. My
+missis sticks at her work, now I be out on't. She hardly looks off it;
+and I does the house, and sees to the children. Nine shilling, all but
+her silk, she earned last week. And finding that we _can_ exist on that
+after a fashion, has set me thinking that when my good wages was added
+to it we ought to have put by for a rainy day," he continued, after a
+pause. "Just let me get the chance again!"
+
+"It's surprising the miracles wages works when folks ain't earning
+none!" put in Mrs. Cross in a tone of irony, who did not altogether like
+the turn the conversation was taking. "When you get into work again,
+Drew Brumm, your wife won't be more able to save than the rest of us."
+
+"But she shall," returned Andrew. "And she sees for herself now that it
+might be done."
+
+"I was a-making a calkelation yesterday how long we might hold out on
+our household things," observed Jacob Cross--a silent man, in general.
+"If none of us can get work, they'll have to go, piecemeal. One can't
+clam; one must live upon something."
+
+"I'm resolved upon one point--that I won't have no underhand debt
+again," resumed Brumm. "Last spring I found out the flaring trade my
+missis was carrying on with them Bankes's--and the way I come to know of
+it was funny: but never mind that. 'Bell,' says I to her, 'I'd rather
+sell off all I've got and go tramping the country, than I'd live with a
+sword over my head'--which debt is. And I went down to Bankes's and said
+to 'em, 'If you let my wife get into debt again, I won't pay it, as I
+now give you notice, and I'll have you up before the justices for a
+pest.' I thought I'd make it strong, you see, Cross. And I paid off
+their bill, so much a week, and got shut of 'em. Them Bankes's does more
+mischief in Honey Fair than everything else put together."
+
+"Why, what do Bankes's do?" asked Jacob, in happy ignorance.
+
+"Do!" returned Brumm. "Don't you know----"
+
+But at that critical moment, Mrs. Cross, in bustling behind Andrew
+Brumm's chair, which was on the tilt, contrived to get her foot
+entangled in it. Brumm, his chair, and his pipe, all came down together.
+
+"Mercy on us!" uttered Jacob Cross, coming to the rescue. "How did you
+manage that, Brumm?"
+
+Before Brumm could answer, or had well gathered himself up, there was
+another visitor--Mr. Abbott, the landlord of at least a third of Honey
+Fair. He had come on his usual Monday's errand. Jacob Cross put down his
+pipe and touched his hat, which, in the manners of Honey Fair, was worn
+indoors. It was not often that the landlord and the men came into
+contact with each other.
+
+"Are you ready for me, Mrs. Cross?"
+
+"We are not ready to-day, sir," interposed Jacob. "You must please to
+give us a little grace these hard times, sir. The moment I be in work
+again, I'll think of you, before I think of ourselves."
+
+"I have given all the grace I can give," replied Mr. Abbott, a hard,
+surly man. "You must either pay, or turn out: I don't care which."
+
+"I'll pay you as soon as I am in work, sir; you may count upon it. As to
+turning out, sir, where could I turn to? You'd not let me take out my
+furniture, and we can't sit down in the street, as Fisher's wife is
+doing."
+
+Mr. Abbott turned to the door. When he came back, a man was with him. "I
+must trouble you to give this man house-room for a few days. As you
+won't go out, he must stop in, to see that your goods stop in."
+
+Cross's spirit rose within him. "It's a hard way to treat a man, sir! I
+have lived under you for years, and you have had your rent regular."
+
+"Regular!" exclaimed the landlord. "I have had more trouble to get it
+from your wife, since Bankes's came to Helstonleigh, than from anybody
+else in Honey Fair."
+
+Cross did not understand this. He was too much absorbed by the point in
+question to ask an explanation. "There's only three weeks owing to you,
+sir, and----"
+
+"Three weeks!" interrupted Mr. Abbott; "there are nine weeks owing to
+me. Nine weeks to-day."
+
+Jacob Cross stood confounded. "Who says there's nine weeks?" asked he.
+
+"I say so. Your wife can say so. Ask her."
+
+But Mrs. Cross, with a scared face and white lips, whisked through the
+door and hurried down Honey Fair. The explosion had come.
+
+Mr. Abbott, wasting no more words, departed, leaving the unwelcome
+visitor behind him. Andrew Brumm came in again from outside, where he
+had stood, out of delicacy, feeling thankful that _his_ rent was all
+right. It was pinching work; but Andrew was beginning to learn that debt
+pinches the mind, more than hunger pinches the body.
+
+"Comrade," whispered he, grasping Cross's hand, "it's all along of them
+Bankes's. The women buy their fal-lals and their finery, and the weekly
+payments to 'em must be kept up, whether or no, for fear Bankes's should
+let out on't to us, and ask us for the money. Of course the rent and
+other things gets behind. Half the women round us are knee-deep in
+Bankes's books."
+
+"Why couldn't you have told me this before?" demanded Cross, in his
+astonishment.
+
+"It's not my province to interfere with other men's wives," was Brumm's
+sensible answer.
+
+"Where's she got to?" cried Jacob, looking round for his wife. "I'll
+come to the bottom of this. Nine weeks' rent owing; and her salving me
+up that it was only three!"
+
+Jacob might well say, "Where's she got to?" Mrs. Cross had glided down
+Honey Fair into the first friendly door that happened to be open. That
+was Mrs. Carter's. "For mercy's sake, let's stop here a minute,
+Elizabeth Carter!" exclaimed she. "We have got the bums in!"
+
+Mrs. Carter was rubbing up some brass candlesticks. Work ran short with
+her that week, and therefore she spent it in cleaning, which was her
+notion of taking holiday; scrubbing and scouring from morning till
+night. She turned round and stared at Mrs. Cross, who, with white face
+and gasping breath, had sunk down upon a chair.
+
+"What on earth's the matter?"
+
+"Abbott has brought it out to my husband that I owes nine weeks' rent,
+and he's telling him about Bankes's, and now he has gone and put a bum
+into the house!"
+
+"More soft you, to have had to do with Bankes's!" was the sympathy
+offered by Mrs. Carter. "You couldn't expect nothing less."
+
+"That old skinflint, Abbott----"
+
+Mrs. Cross stopped short. She opened the staircase door about an inch,
+and humbly twisted herself through the aperture. Who should be standing
+there to hear her, having followed her in, but Mr. Abbott himself.
+
+He had no need to say, "Ready, Mrs. Carter?" Mrs. Carter always was
+ready. She paid him weekly, and asked no favour. The payment made, he
+departed again, and Mrs. Cross emerged from her retreat.
+
+"_You_ can pay him!" she exclaimed, with some envy. "And Timothy's out
+o' work, too; and you be slack. How do you manage it?"
+
+"I'm not a fool," was the logical response of Mrs. Carter. "If I spent
+my earnings when they are coming in regular, or let Tim keep his to his
+own cheek, where should we be in a time like this? I have my
+understanding about me."
+
+Mrs. Carter did not praise her understanding without cause. Whatever
+social virtues she may have lacked, she was rich in thrift, in
+forethought. Had Timothy remained out of work for a twelvemonth, they
+would not have been put to shifts.
+
+"I'm afraid to go back!" cried Mrs. Cross.
+
+"So should I be, if I got myself into your mess."
+
+The offered sympathy not being consolatory to her present frame of mind,
+Mrs. Cross departed. Home, at present, she dared not go. She went about
+Honey Fair, seeking the gossiping pity which Elizabeth Carter had
+declined to give, but which she was yearning for. Thus she spent an hour
+or two.
+
+Meanwhile the news had been spreading through Honey Fair, "Crosses had
+the bums in;" and Mary Ann, hearing it, flew home to know whether it was
+correct. She--partly through fear, partly in the security from paternal
+correction, imparted to her by the feeling that she was Mary Ann
+Tyrrett, and no longer Mary Ann Cross--yielded to her father's
+questions, and made full confession. Debts here, debts there, debts
+everywhere. Cross was overwhelmed; and when his wife at length came in,
+he quietly knocked her down.
+
+The broker advanced to the rescue. "If you dare to come between man and
+wife," raved Cross, lifting his arm menacingly, "I'll serve you the
+same." He was a quiet-tempered man, but this business had terribly
+exasperated him. "You'll come to die in the work'us," he uttered to his
+wife. "And serve you right! It's your doings that have broke up our
+home."
+
+"No," retorted she passionately, as she lifted herself from the floor;
+"it's your squanderings in the publics o' nights, that have helped to
+break up our home."
+
+It was a little of both.
+
+The quarrel was interrupted by a commotion outside, and Mrs. Cross
+darted out to look--glad, perhaps, to escape from her husband's anger.
+An official from the workhouse had come down with an order for the
+admission of Susan Fisher instanter. Timothy Carter, in his meek and
+humane spirit, had so enlarged upon the state of affairs in general,
+touching Mrs. Fisher, that the workhouse bestirred itself. An officer
+was despatched to marshal them into it at once. The uproar was caused by
+her resistance: she was still sitting in the road.
+
+"I won't go into the work'us," she screamed; "I won't go there to be
+parted from my children and my husband. If I'm to die, I'll die out
+here."
+
+"Just get up and march, and don't let's have no row," said the officer.
+"Else I'll fetch a wheel-barrer, and wheel ye to it."
+
+She resisted, shrieking and flinging her arms and her wild hair about
+her, as only a foolish woman would do; the children, alarmed, clung to
+her and cried, and all Honey Fair came out to look. Mr. Joe Fisher also
+staggered up, in a state not to be described. He had been invited by
+some friend, more sympathizing than judicious, to solace his troubles
+with strong waters; and down he fell in the mud, helpless.
+
+"Well, here's a pretty kettle of fish!" cried the perplexed workhouse
+man. "A nice pair, they are! How I am to get 'em both there, is beyond
+me! She can walk, if she's forced to it; but he can't! They spend their
+money in sotting, and when they have no more to spend they come to us to
+keep 'em! I must get an open cart."
+
+The cart was procured somewhere and brought to the scene, a policeman in
+attendance; and the children were lifted into it one by one. Next the
+man was thrown in, like a clod; and then came the woman's turn. With
+much struggling and kicking, with shrieks that might have been heard a
+mile off, she was at length hoisted into it. But she tumbled out again:
+raving that "no work'us shouldn't hold her." The official raved in turn;
+and Honey Fair hugged itself. It had not had the gratification of so
+exciting a scene for many a day; to say nothing of the satisfaction it
+derived from hearing the workhouse set at defiance.
+
+The official and the policeman at length conquered. She was secured, and
+the cart started at a snail's pace with its load--Mrs. Fisher setting up
+a prolonged and dismal lamentation not unlike an Irish howl: and Honey
+Fair, in its curiosity, following the cart as its train.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+A STRAY SHILLING.
+
+
+"Whose shilling is this on my desk?" inquired Mr. Ashley of Samuel Lynn,
+one morning towards the close of the summer.
+
+"I cannot tell thee," was the reply of the Quaker. "I know nothing of
+it."
+
+"It is none of mine, to my knowledge," remarked Mr. Ashley.
+
+"What shilling is that on the master's desk?" repeated Samuel Lynn to
+William when he returned into his own room, where William was.
+
+"I put a shilling on the desk this morning," replied William. "I found
+it in the waste-paper basket."
+
+"Thee go in, then, and tell the master."
+
+William did so. "The shilling rolled out of the waste-paper basket,
+sir," said he, entering the counting-house and approaching Mr. Ashley.
+
+Mr. Ashley was remarkably exact in his accounts. He had missed no
+shilling, and he did not think it was his. "What should bring a shilling
+in the waste-paper basket?" he asked. "It may have rolled out of your
+own pocket."
+
+William could have smiled at the remark. A shilling out of _his_ pocket!
+"Oh, no, sir, it did not."
+
+Mr. Ashley sat looking earnestly at William--as the latter fancied. In
+reality he was buried deep in his own thoughts. But William felt
+uncomfortable under the survey, and his face flushed to a glow. Why
+should he feel uncomfortable? What should cause the flush?
+
+This. Since Janey's death, some months ago now, their circumstances had
+been more straitened than ever; of course, there had been expenses
+attending it, and Mrs. Halliburton was paying them off weekly. Bread and
+potatoes, and a little milk, would often be their food. On the previous
+night Jane had a sick headache. Some tea would have been acceptable, but
+she had neither tea nor money in the house; and she was firm in her
+resolution not to purchase on trust. On this morning early, when William
+rose, he found his mother down before him, at her work as usual. Her
+head felt better, she said; it might get quite well if she had only some
+tea; but she had not, and--there was an end of it. William went out,
+ardently wishing (in the vague profitless manner that he might have
+wished for Aladdin's lamp) that he had only a shilling to procure some
+for her. When, half an hour after, this shilling rolled out of the
+waste-paper basket, as he was shaking it in Mr. Ashley's counting-house,
+a strong temptation--not to take it, but to wish that he might take it,
+that it was not wrong to take it--rushed over him. He put it down on
+the desk and turned from it--turned from the temptation, for the
+shilling seemed to scorch his fingers. The remembrance of this wish--it
+sounded to him like a dishonest one--had brought the vivid colour to his
+face, under what he thought was Mr. Ashley's scrutiny. That gentleman
+observed it.
+
+"What are you turning red for?"
+
+This crowned all. William's face changed to scarlet.
+
+Mr. Ashley was surprised. He came to the conclusion that some mystery
+must be connected with the shilling--something wrong. He determined to
+fathom it. "Why do you look confused?" he resumed.
+
+"It was only at my own thoughts, sir."
+
+"What are they? Let me hear them."
+
+William hesitated. "I would rather not tell them, sir."
+
+"But I would rather you did." Mr. Ashley spoke quietly, as usual; but
+there lay command in the quietest tone of Mr. Ashley's.
+
+Implicit obedience had been enjoined upon the Halliburtons from their
+earliest childhood. In that manufactory Mr. Ashley was William's
+_master_, and he believed he had no resource but to comply with his
+desire. William was of a remarkably ingenuous nature; and if he had to
+impart a thing, he did not do it by halves, although it might tell
+against himself.
+
+"When I found that shilling this morning, sir, the thought came over me
+to wish it was mine--to wish that I might take it without doing ill. The
+thought did not come over me _to take it_," he added, raising his
+truthful eyes to Mr. Ashley's, "only to wish that it was not wrong to do
+so. When you looked at me so earnestly, sir, I fancied you could see
+what my thoughts had been. And they were not honourable thoughts."
+
+"Did you ever take money that was not yours?" asked Mr. Ashley, after a
+pause.
+
+William looked surprised. "No, sir, never."
+
+Mr. Ashley paused again. "I have known children help themselves to
+halfpence and pence, and think it little crime."
+
+The boy shook his head. "We have been taught better than that, sir. And,
+besides the crime, money taken in that way would bring us no good, only
+trouble. It could not prosper."
+
+"Tell me why you think that."
+
+"My mother has always taught us that a bad action can never prosper in
+the end."
+
+"I suppose you coveted the shilling for marbles; or for sweetmeats?"
+
+"Oh no, sir. It was not for myself that I wished it."
+
+"Then for whom? For what?"
+
+This caused William's face to flush again. Mr. Ashley questioned till he
+drew from him the particulars--how that he had wished to buy some tea,
+and why he had wished it.
+
+"I have heard," remarked Mr. Ashley, after listening, "that you have
+many privations to put up with."
+
+"It is true, sir. But we don't so much care for them if we only _can_
+put up with them. My mother says she knows better days will be in store
+for us, if we only bear on patiently. I am sure we boys ought to do so,
+if she can. It is worse for her than for us."
+
+There ensued another searching question from Mr. Ashley. "Have you ever,
+when alone in the egg-house, amidst its thousands of eggs, been tempted
+to pocket a few to carry home?"
+
+For one moment William suffered a flash of resentment to cross his
+countenance. The next his eyes filled with tears. He felt deeply hurt.
+
+"No, sir, I have not. I hope you do not fear that I am capable of it?"
+
+"No, I do not," said Mr. Ashley. "Your father was a clergyman, I think I
+have heard?"
+
+"He was intended for a clergyman, sir, but he did not get to the
+University. His father was a clergyman--a rector in Devonshire, and my
+mother's father was a clergyman in London. My uncle Francis is also a
+clergyman, but only a curate. We are gentlepeople, though we are poor.
+We would not take eggs or anything else."
+
+Mr. Ashley suppressed a smile. "I conclude that you and your brothers
+live in hope some time of regaining your position in life?"
+
+"Yes, sir. I think it is that hope that makes us put up with hard things
+so well."
+
+"What do you think of being?"
+
+William's countenance fell. "There is not so much chance of my getting
+on, sir, as there is for my brothers. Frank and Gar are hopeful enough;
+but I don't look forward to anything good for me. My mother says if I
+only help her I shall be doing my duty."
+
+"Your sister died in a decline," remarked Mr. Ashley. "These home
+privations must have told upon her."
+
+William's face brightened. "She had everything she wanted, sir;
+everything, even to port wine. Mrs. Reece and Dobbs took a liking to her
+when they first came, and they never let her want for anything. Mamma
+says that Jane's wants having been supplied in so extraordinary a
+manner, ought to teach us how certainly God is looking over us and
+taking care of us--that all things, when they come to be absolutely
+needed, will no doubt be supplied to us, as they were to her."
+
+"What a perfect trust in God that boy seems to have!" mused Mr. Ashley,
+when he dismissed William. "Mrs. Halliburton must be a mother in a
+thousand. And he will make a man in a thousand, unless I am mistaken.
+Truthful, open, candid--_I_ don't know a boy like him!"
+
+About five minutes before the great bell was rung at one o'clock,
+William was called into the counting-house. "I have been casting up my
+cash and find I am a shilling short," observed Mr. Ashley, "therefore
+the shilling that you found is no doubt the missing one. I shall give it
+to you," he continued: "a reward for telling me the straightforward
+truth when I questioned you."
+
+William took the shilling--as he supposed. "Here are two!" he exclaimed,
+in his surprise.
+
+"You cannot buy much tea with one; and that is what you were thinking
+of. Would you like to be apprenticed to me?" Mr. Ashley resumed,
+drowning the boy's thanks.
+
+The question took William by storm: he was at a loss what to answer. He
+would have been equally at a loss had he been accorded a whole week to
+deliberate upon it. He looked foolish, and said he could not tell.
+
+"Would you like the business?" pursued Mr. Ashley.
+
+"I like the business very well, sir, now I'm used to it. But I could not
+hope ever to get on to be a master."
+
+"There's no knowing what you may get on to be, if you are steady and
+persevering. Masters don't begin at the top of the tree; they begin at
+the bottom and work up to it. At least, that is the case with a great
+many. In becoming an apprentice you would occupy a better position in
+the manufactory than you do now."
+
+"Joe Stubbs is an apprentice, is he not, sir?"
+
+"I will explain it to you, if you do not understand," said Mr. Ashley.
+"Joe Stubbs is apprenticed to one branch of the business, the cutting;
+John Braithwait is an apprentice to the staining, and so on. These lads
+expect to remain workmen all their lives, working at their own peculiar
+branch. You would not be apprenticed to any one branch, but to the
+whole, with a view to becoming hereafter a manager or a master; in the
+same manner that I might apprentice my son, were he intended for the
+business."
+
+William thought he should like this. Suddenly his countenance fell.
+
+"What now?" asked Mr. Ashley.
+
+"I have heard, sir, that the apprentices do not earn wages at first.
+I--I am afraid we could not well do at home without mine."
+
+"You need not concern yourself with what you hear, or with what others
+earn or don't earn. I should give you eight shillings a-week, instead of
+four, and you would retain your evenings for study, as you do now. I do
+not see any different or better opening for you," continued Mr. Ashley;
+"but should any arise hereafter, through your mother's relatives, or
+from any other channel, I would not stand in the way of your
+advancement, but would consent to cancel your indentures. Do you
+understand what I have been saying?"
+
+"Yes, sir, I do. Thank you very much."
+
+"You can speak to Mrs. Halliburton about it, and hear what her wishes
+may be," concluded Mr. Ashley.
+
+The result was, that William was apprenticed to Mr. Ashley. "I can tell
+thee, thee hast found favour with the master," remarked Samuel Lynn to
+William. "He has made thee his apprentice, and has admitted thee, I
+hear, to the companionship of his son. They are proofs that he judges
+well of thee. Pay thee attention to deserve it."
+
+It was quite true that William was admitted to the occasional
+companionship of Henry Ashley. Henry had taken a fancy to him, and would
+get him there to help him stumble through his Latin.
+
+The next to be apprenticed to Mr. Ashley, and almost at the same time,
+was Cyril Dare. But when he found that he was to be the
+fellow-apprentice of William Halliburton, the two on a level in every
+respect, wages excepted--and of wages Master Cyril was at first to earn
+none--he was most indignant, and complained explosively to his father.
+"Can't you speak to Mr. Ashley, sir?"
+
+"Where would be the use?" asked Mr. Dare. "There's not a man in
+Helstonleigh would brook interference in his affairs less than Thomas
+Ashley. If one of the two apprentices must leave, because they are too
+much for each other's company, it would be you, Cyril, rely upon it."
+
+Cyril growled; but, as Mr. Dare said, there was no help for it. And he
+and William had to get on together in the best way they could. Cyril had
+thought that he should be the only gentleman-apprentice at Mr. Ashley's.
+There was a marked distinction observed in a manufactory between the
+common apprentices, who did the rough work, and what were called the
+gentleman-apprentices. It did not please Cyril that William should have
+been made one of the latter.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+THE SCHOOLBOYS' NOTES.
+
+
+As the time went on, Jane's brain grew very busy. Its care was the
+education of her boys--a perplexing theme. So far as the classics went,
+they were progressing. Frank and Gar certainly were not pushed on as
+they might have been, for Helstonleigh collegiate school was not at that
+time renowned for its pushing qualities; but the boys had a spur in
+themselves. Jane never ceased to urge them to attention, to strive after
+progress; not by the harsh reproaches some children have to hear, but
+by loving encouragement and gentle persuasion. She would call up
+pleasant pictures of the future, when they should have surmounted the
+difficulties of toil, and be reaping their reward. It had ever been her
+custom to treat her children as friends; as friends and companions, more
+than as children. I am not sure that it is not a good plan in all cases,
+but it undoubtedly is so where children are naturally well disposed and
+intelligent. Even when they were little, she would converse and reason
+with them, so far as their understandings would permit. The primary
+thing she inculcated was the habit of unquestioning obedience. This
+secured in their earliest childhood, she could afford to reason with
+them as they grew older; to appeal to their own sense of intelligence;
+to show them how to form and exercise a right judgment. Had the children
+been wilful, deceitful, or opposed to her, her plan must have been
+different; compulsion must have taken the place of reasoning. When they
+did anything wrong--all children will, or they are not children--she
+would take the offender to her alone. There would be no scolding; but in
+a grave, calm, loving voice she would say, "Was this right? Did you
+forget that you were doing wrong and would grieve me? Did you forget
+that you were offending God?" And so she would talk; and teach them to
+do right in all things, for the sake of right, for the sake of doing
+their duty to Heaven and to man. These lessons from a mother loved as
+Jane was, could not fail to take root and bear seed. The young
+Halliburtons were in fair training to make not only good, but admirable
+men.
+
+Jane inculcated another valuable lesson. In all perplexity, trouble, or
+untoward misfortune, she taught them to _look it full in the face_; not
+to fly from it, as is the too-common custom, but to meet it and do the
+best with it. She knew that in trouble, as in terror, looking it in the
+face takes away half its sting: and so she was teaching them to look,
+not only by precept, but by example. With such minds, such training to
+work upon, there was little need to _urge_ them to apply closely to
+their studies; they saw its necessity themselves, and acted upon it. "It
+is your only chance, my darlings, of getting on in life," she would say.
+"You wish to be good and great men; and I think perhaps you may be, if
+you persevere. It is a tempting thing, I know, to leave wearying tasks
+for play or idleness; but do not yield to it. Look to the future. When
+you feel tired, out of sorts, as if Latin were the greatest grievance
+upon earth, say to yourselves, 'It is my duty to keep on, and my duty I
+must do. If I turn idle now, my past application will be lost; but, if I
+persevere, I may go bravely on to the end.' Be brave, darlings, for my
+sake."
+
+And the boys were so. Thus it would happen that when the rest of the
+school were talking, or idling, or being caned, the Halliburtons were at
+work. The head master could not fail to observe their steady
+application; and he more than once held them up as an example to the
+school.
+
+So far so good. But though the classics are essential parts of a good
+education, they do not include all its requisites. And nothing else was
+taught in the college school. There certainly was a writing master, and
+something like an initiation into the first rules of arithmetic was
+attempted; but not a boy in the charity school, hard by, that could not
+have shamed the college boys in adding up a column of figures or in
+writing a page. As to their English----You should have seen them attempt
+to write a letter. In short, the college school ignored everything
+except Latin and Greek.
+
+This state of affairs gave Jane great concern. "Unless I can organize
+some plan, my boys will grow up dunces," she said to herself. And a plan
+she did organize. None could remedy this so well as herself; she, so
+thoroughly educated in all essential branches. It would take two hours
+from her work, but for the sake of her boys she would sacrifice that.
+Every night, therefore, except Saturday, as soon as they had prepared
+their lessons for school--and in doing that they were helped by
+William--she left her work and became their instructor. History,
+geography, astronomy, composition, and so on. You can fill up the list.
+
+And she had her reward. The boys advanced rapidly. As the months and
+quarters went on, it was only so much the more instruction gained by
+them.
+
+I think you must be indulged with a glance at one of these college
+school notes. But, first of all, suppose we read one written by Frank.
+
+     "DEAR GLENN,--Thanks for wishing me to join your fishing
+     expedition the day after to-morrow, but I can't come. My mother
+     says, as I had a holiday from college one day last week, it
+     will not do to ask for it again. You told me to send word this
+     evening whether or not, so I drop you this note. I should like
+     to go, and shall be thinking of you all day. Mind you let me
+     have a look at the fish you bring home. Yours,
+
+     "FRANK HALLIBURTON."
+
+The note was addressed "Glenn senior," and Gar was ordered to deliver it
+at Glenn senior's house. Glenn senior, who was a king's scholar, not a
+chorister, made a wry face over it when delivered, and sat down on the
+spur of the moment to answer it:
+
+     "DEER HALIBURTON,--Its all stuf about not asking for leve again
+     what do the musty old prebens care who gets leve therell be
+     enuff to sing without you tell your mother I cant excuse you
+     from our party theirs 8 of us going and a stunning baxket of
+     progg as good go out for a day's fishing has stop at home on a
+     holiday for the benefit of that preshous colledge bring me word
+     you'll come to-morrow at skool for we want to arrange our plans
+     yours old fellow
+
+     "P GLENN."
+
+Master P. Glenn was concluding his note when his father passed through
+the room and glanced over the boy's shoulder. He (Mr. Glenn) was a
+surgeon; one of the chief surgeons attached to the Helstonleigh
+infirmary, and in excellent practice. "At your exercise, Philip?"
+
+"No, papa. I am writing a note to one of our fellows. I want him to be
+of our fishing party on Wednesday."
+
+"Wednesday! Have you a holiday on Wednesday?"
+
+"Yes. Don't you know it will be a saint's day?"
+
+"Not I," said Mr. Glenn. "Saints' days don't concern me as they do you
+college boys. That's a pretty specimen of English!" he added, running
+his amused eyes over Philip's note.
+
+"Are there any mistakes in it?" returned Philip. "But it's no matter,
+papa. We don't profess to write English in the college school."
+
+"It is well you don't profess it," remarked Mr. Glenn. "But how is it
+your friend Halliburton can turn out good English?" He had taken up
+Frank's letter.
+
+"Oh! they are such chaps for learning, the two Halliburtons. They stick
+at it like a horse-leech--never getting the cane for turned lessons.
+They have school at home in the evenings for English, and history, and
+such stuff that they don't get at college."
+
+"Have they a tutor?"
+
+"They are not rich enough for a tutor. Mrs. Halliburton's the tutor.
+What do you think Gar Halliburton did the other day? Keating was having
+a row with the fourth desk, and he gave them some extra verses to do. Up
+goes Gar Halliburton, before he had been a minute at his seat. 'If you
+please, sir,' says he to Keating, 'I had better have another piece.'
+'Why so?' asks Keating. 'Because,' says Gar, 'I did these same verses
+with my brother at home a week ago.' He meant his eldest brother; not
+Frank. But, now, was not that honourable, papa?"
+
+"Yes, it was," answered Mr. Glenn.
+
+"That's just the Halliburtons all over. They are ultra-honourable."
+
+"I should like to see your friend Frank, and inquire how he manages to
+pick up his English."
+
+"Let me bring him to tea to-morrow night!" cried Philip eagerly.
+
+"You may, if you like."
+
+"Hurrah!" shouted Philip. "And you'll persuade him not to mind his
+mother, but to come to our fishing party?"
+
+"Philip!"
+
+"Well, papa, I don't mean that, exactly. But I do not see the use of
+boys listening to their mothers just in everything."
+
+Philip Glenn seized his note, and added a postscript:--"My father sais
+you are to come to tea to-morrow we shall be so joly." And it was
+despatched to Frank by a servant in livery.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+A LESSON FOR PHILIP GLENN.
+
+
+Frank was as eager to accept the invitation as Philip had been to offer
+it. When the afternoon arrived, and school was over, Frank tore home,
+donned his best clothes, and then tore back again to Mr. Glenn's house.
+Philip received him in the small room, where he and his brother prepared
+their lessons.
+
+"How is it that you and my boys write English so differently?" inquired
+Mr. Glenn, when he had made Frank's acquaintance.
+
+Frank broke into a broad smile, suggested by the remembrance of Philip's
+English. "We study it at home, sir."
+
+"But some one teaches you?"
+
+"Mamma. She was afraid that we should grow up ignorant of everything
+except Latin and Greek; so she thought she would remedy the evil."
+
+"And she takes you in an evening?"
+
+"Yes, sir; every evening except Saturday, when she is sure to be busy.
+She comes to the table as soon as our lessons for school are prepared,
+and we commence English. The easier portions of our Latin and Greek we
+do in the day, I and Gar: we crib the time from play-hours; and my
+brother William helps us at night with the more difficult parts."
+
+"Where is your brother at school?" asked Mr. Glenn.
+
+"He is not at school, sir. He is at Mr. Ashley's, with Cyril Dare.
+William has not been to school since papa died. But he was well up in
+everything, for papa had taken great pains with him, and he has gone on
+by himself since."
+
+"Can he do much good by himself?"
+
+"Good!" echoed Frank, speaking bluntly in his eagerness; "I don't think
+you could find so good a scholar for his age. There's not one could come
+near him in the college school. At first he found it hard work. He had
+no one to explain difficult points for him, and was obliged to puzzle
+them out with his own brains. And it's that that has got him on."
+
+Mr. Glenn nodded. "Where a good foundation has been laid, a hard-working
+boy may get on better without a master than with one, provided----"
+
+"That is just what William says," interrupted Frank, his dark eyes
+sparkling with animation. "He would have given anything at one time to
+be at the college school with us; but he does not care about it now."
+
+"Provided his heart is in his work, I was about to add," said Mr. Glenn,
+smiling at Frank's eagerness.
+
+"Oh, of course, sir. And that's what William's is. He has such capital
+books, too--all the best that are published. They were papa's. I hardly
+know how I and Gar should get on, without William's help."
+
+"Does he help you?"
+
+"He has helped us ever since papa died; before we went to college, and
+since. We do algebra and Euclid with him."
+
+"In--deed!" exclaimed Mr. Glenn, looking hard at Frank. "When do you
+contrive to do all this?"
+
+"In the evening. Tea is over by half-past five, and we three--William,
+I, and Gar--turn at once to our lessons. In about two hours mamma joins
+us, and we work with her about two hours more. Of course we have
+different nights for different studies, Latin every night, Greek nearly
+every night, Euclid twice a week, algebra twice a week, and so on. And
+the lessons we do with mamma are portioned out; some one night, some
+another."
+
+"You must be very persevering boys," cried Mr. Glenn. "Do you never
+catch yourselves looking off to play; to talk and laugh?"
+
+"No, sir, never. We have got into the habit of sticking to our lessons;
+mamma brought us into it. And then, we are anxious to get on: half the
+battle lies in that."
+
+"I think it does. Philip, my boy, here's a lesson for you, and for all
+other lazy scapegraces."
+
+Philip shrugged his shoulders, with a laugh. "Papa, I don't see any good
+in working so hard."
+
+"Your friend Frank does."
+
+"We are obliged to work, sir," said Frank, candidly. "We have no money,
+and it is only by education that we can hope to get on. Mamma thinks it
+may turn out all for the best. She says that boys who expect money very
+often rely upon it and not upon themselves. She would rather turn us out
+into the world with our talents cultivated and a will to use them, than
+with a fortune apiece. There's not a parable in the Bible mamma is
+fonder of reading to us than that of the ten talents."
+
+"No fortune!" repeated Mr. Glenn in a dreamy tone.
+
+"Not a penny; mamma has to work to keep us," returned Frank, making the
+avowal as freely as though he had proclaimed that his mother was
+lady-in-waiting to the Queen, and he one of her pages. Jane had
+contrived to convince them that in poverty itself there lay no shame or
+stigma; but a great deal in paltry attempts to conceal it.
+
+"Frank," said Mr. Glenn, "I was thinking that you must possess a fortune
+in your mother."
+
+"And so we do!" said Frank. "When Philip's note came to me last night,
+and we were--were----"
+
+"Laughing over it!" suggested Mr. Glenn, helping out Frank's hesitation,
+and laughing himself.
+
+"Yes, that's it; only I did not like to say it," acknowledged Frank.
+"But I dare say you know, sir, how most of the college boys write. Mamma
+said then, how glad we ought to be that she can make time to teach us
+better, and that we have the resolution to persevere."
+
+
+"I wish your mother would admit my sons to her class," said Mr. Glenn,
+half-seriously, half-jokingly. "I would give her any recompense."
+
+"Shall I ask her?" cried Frank.
+
+"Perhaps she would feel hurt?"
+
+"Oh no, she wouldn't," answered Frank impulsively. "I will ask her."
+
+"I should not like such a strict mother," avowed Philip Glenn.
+
+"Strict!" echoed Frank. "Mamma's not strict."
+
+"She must be. She says you shan't come fishing with us to-morrow."
+
+"No, she did not. She said she wished me not to go, and thought I had
+better not, and then she left it to me."
+
+Philip Glenn stared. "You told me at school this morning that it was
+decided you were not to come. And now you say Mrs. Halliburton left it
+to you."
+
+"So she did," answered Frank. "She generally leaves these things to us.
+She shows us what we ought to do, and why it is right that we should do
+it, and then she leaves it to what she calls our own good sense. It is
+like putting us upon our honour."
+
+"And you do as you know she wishes you would do?" interposed Mr. Glenn.
+
+"Yes, sir, always."
+
+"Suppose you were to take your own will for once against hers?" cried
+Philip in a cross tone. "What then?"
+
+"Then I dare say she would decide herself the next time, and tell us we
+were not to be trusted. But there's no fear. We know her wishes are sure
+to be right; and we would not vex her for the world. The last time the
+dean was here there was a fuss about the choristers getting holiday so
+often; and he forbade its being done."
+
+"But the dean's away," impatiently interrupted Philip Glenn. "Old Ripton
+is in residence, and he would give it you for the asking. He knows
+nothing about the dean's order."
+
+"That's the very reason," returned Frank. "Mamma put it to me whether it
+would be an honourable thing to do. She said, if Dr. Ripton had known of
+the dean's order, then I might have asked him, and he could do as he
+pleased. She makes us wish to do what is right--not only what appears
+so."
+
+"And you'll punish yourself by going without the holiday, for some
+rubbishing notion of 'doing right'! It's just nonsense, Frank."
+
+"Of course we have to punish ourselves sometimes," acknowledged Frank.
+"I shall be wishing all day long to-morrow that I was with you. But when
+evening comes, and the day's over, then I shall be glad to have done
+right. Mamma says if we do not learn to act rightly and self-reliantly
+as boys we shall not do so as men."
+
+Mr. Glenn laid his hand on Frank's shoulder. "Inculcate your creed upon
+my sons, if you can," said he, speaking seriously. "Has your mother
+taught it to you long?"
+
+"She has always been teaching it to us; ever since we were little,"
+rejoined Frank. "If we had to begin now, I don't know that we should
+make much of it."
+
+Mr. Glenn fell into a reverie. As Mr. Ashley had once judged by some
+words dropped by William, so Mr. Glenn was judging now--that Mrs.
+Halliburton must be a mother in a thousand. Frank turned to Philip.
+
+"Have you done your lessons?"
+
+"Done my lessons! No. Have you?"
+
+Frank laughed. "Yes, or I should not have come. I have not played a
+minute to-day--but cribbed the time. Scanning, and exercise, and Greek;
+I have done them all."
+
+"It seems to me that you and your brothers make friends of your lessons,
+whilst most boys make enemies," observed Mr. Glenn.
+
+"Yes, that's true," said Frank.
+
+"Philip," said Mr. Glenn to his son that evening after Frank had
+departed, "I give you _carte blanche_ to bring that boy here as much as
+you like. If you are wise, you will make a lasting friend of him."
+
+"I like the Halliburtons," replied Philip. "The college school doesn't,
+though."
+
+"And pray, why?"
+
+"Well, I think Dare senior first set the school against them--that's
+Cyril, you know, papa. He was always going on at them. They were snobs
+for sticking to their lessons, he said, which gentlemen never did; and
+they were snobs because they had no money to spend, which gentlemen
+always had; and they were snobs for this, and snobs for the other; and
+he got his desk, which ruled the school, to cut them. They had to put up
+with a good deal then, but they are bigger now, and can fight their way;
+and, since Dare senior left, the school has begun to like them. If they
+are poor, they can't help it," concluded Philip, as if he would
+apologize for the fact.
+
+"Poor!" retorted Mr. Glenn. "I can tell you, Master Philip, and the
+college school too, that they are rich in things that you want. Unless I
+am deceived, the Halliburtons will grow up to be men of no common
+order."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+MAKING PROGRESS.
+
+
+Trifles, as we all know, lead to great events. When Frank Halliburton
+had gone home, in his usual flying, eager manner, plunging headlong into
+the subject of Mr. Glenn's request, and Jane consented to grant it, she
+little thought that it would lead to a considerable increase to her
+income, enabling them to procure several comforts, and rendering better
+private instruction than her own easy for her sons.
+
+Not that she yielded to the request at once. She took time for
+consideration. But Frank was urgent; and she was one of those ever ready
+to do a good turn for others. The Glenns, as Frank said, did write
+English wretchedly; and if she could help to improve them without losing
+time or money, neither of which she could afford, why not do so? And she
+consented.
+
+It certainly did occur to Mrs. Halliburton to wonder that Mr. Glenn had
+not provided private instruction for his sons, to remedy the
+deficiencies existing in the college school system. Mr. Glenn suddenly
+awoke to the same wonder himself. The fact was, that he, like many other
+gentlemen in Helstonleigh who had sons in the college school, had been
+content to let things take their chance: possibly he assumed that
+spelling and composition would come to his sons by intuition, as they
+grew older. The contrast Frank Halliburton presented to Philip aroused
+him from his neglect.
+
+Jane consented to allow the two young Glenns to share the time and
+instruction she gave to her own boys. Mr. Glenn received the favour
+gladly; but, at first, there was great battling with the young gentlemen
+themselves. They could not be made to complete their lessons for school,
+so as to be at Mrs. Halliburton's by the hour appointed. At length it
+was accomplished, and they took to going regularly.
+
+Before three months had elapsed, great improvement had become visible in
+their spelling. They were also acquiring an insight into English
+grammar; had learnt that America was not situated in the Mediterranean,
+or watered by the Nile; and that English history did not solely consist
+of two incidents--the beheading of King Charles, and the Gunpowder Plot.
+Improvement was also visible in their manners and in the bent of their
+minds. From being boisterous, self-willed, and careless, they became
+more considerate, more tractable; and Mr. Glenn actually once heard
+Philip decline to embark in some tempting scrape, because it would "not
+be right."
+
+For it was impossible for Jane to have lads near her, and not gently try
+to counteract their faults and failings, as she would have done by her
+own sons; whilst the remarkable consideration and deference paid by the
+young Halliburtons to their mother, their warm affection for her, and
+the pleasant peace, the refinement of tone and manner distinguishing
+their home, told upon Philip and Charles Glenn with good influence. At
+the end of three months, Mr. Glenn wrote a note of warm thanks to Mrs.
+Halliburton, expressing a hope that she would still allow his sons the
+privilege of joining her own, and, in a delicate manner, begging grace
+for his act, enclosed four guineas; which was payment at the rate of
+sixteen guineas a year for the two.
+
+Jane had not expected it. Nothing had been hinted to her about payment,
+and she did not expect to receive any: she did not understand that the
+boys had joined on those terms. It was very welcome. In writing back to
+Mr. Glenn, she stated that she had not expected to receive remuneration;
+but she spoke of her straitened circumstances and thanked him for the
+help it would be.
+
+"That comes from a gentlewoman," was his remark to his wife, when he
+read the note. "I should like to know her."
+
+"I hinted as much to Frank one day, but he said his mother was too much
+occupied to receive visits or to pay them," was Mrs. Glenn's reply.
+
+As it happened, however, Mr. Glenn did pay her a visit. A friend of his,
+whose boys were in the college school, struck with the improvement in
+the Glenns, and hearing of its source, wondered whether his boys might
+not be received on the same terms, and Mr. Glenn undertook to propose
+it. The result of all this was, that in six months from the time of that
+afternoon when Frank first took tea at Mr. Glenn's, Jane had ten evening
+pupils, college boys. There she stopped. Others applied, but her table
+would not hold more, nor could she do justice to a greater number. The
+ten would bring her in eighty guineas a year; she devoted to them two
+hours, five evenings in the week.
+
+Now she could command somewhat better food, and more liberal instruction
+for her own boys, William included, in those higher branches of
+knowledge which they could not, or had not, commenced for themselves. A
+learned professor, David Byrne, whose lodgings were in the London Road,
+was applied to, and he agreed to receive the young Halliburtons at a
+very moderate charge, three evenings in the week.
+
+"Mamma," cried William, one day, with his thoughtful smile, soon after
+this agreement was entered upon, "we seem to be getting on amazingly. We
+can learn something else now, if you have no objection."
+
+"What is that?" asked Jane.
+
+"French. As I and Samuel Lynn were walking home to-day, we met Monsieur
+Colin. He said he was about to organize a French class, twelve in
+number, and would be glad if we would make three of the number. What do
+you say?"
+
+"It is a great temptation," answered Jane. "I have long wished you could
+learn French. Would it be very expensive?"
+
+"Very cheap to us. He said he considered you a sister professor----"
+
+"The idea!" burst forth Frank, hotly. "Mamma a professor!"
+
+"Indeed, I don't know that I can aspire to anything so formidable," said
+Jane, with a laugh. "A schoolmistress would be a better word."
+
+Frank was indignant. "You are not a schoolmistress, mamma. I----"
+
+"Frank," interrupted Jane, her tone changing to seriousness.
+
+"What, mamma?"
+
+"I am _thankful_ to be one."
+
+The tears rose to Frank's eyes. "You are a _lady_, mamma. I shall never
+think you anything else. There!"
+
+Jane smiled. "Well, I hope I am, Frank; although I help to make gloves
+and teach boys English."
+
+"How well Mr. Lynn speaks French!" exclaimed William.
+
+"Does he speak it?"
+
+"As a native. I cannot tell what his accent may be, but he speaks it as
+readily as Monsieur Colin. Shall we learn, mamma? It will be the
+greatest advantage to us, Monsieur Colin conversing with us in French."
+
+"But what about the time, William?"
+
+"Oh, if you will manage the money, we will manage the time," returned
+William, laughing. "Only trust to us, mother. We will make it, and
+neglect nothing."
+
+"Then, William, you may tell Monsieur Colin that you shall learn."
+
+"Fair and easy!" broke out Frank; a saying of his when pleased. "Mamma,
+I think, what with one thing and another turning up, we boys shall be
+getting quite first-class education."
+
+"Although mamma feared we never should accomplish it," returned William.
+"As did I."
+
+"Fear!" cried Frank. "I didn't. I knew that 'where there's a will
+there's a way.' _Degeneres animos timor arguit_," added he, finishing
+off with one of his favourite Latin quotations; but forgetting, in his
+flourish, that he was paying a poor compliment to his mother and his
+brother.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+WILLIAM HALLIBURTON'S GHOST.
+
+
+This chapter may be said to commence the second part of this history,
+for some years have elapsed since the events last recorded.
+
+Do you doubt that the self-denying patience displayed by Jane
+Halliburton, her persevering struggles, her never-fainting industry,
+joined to her all-perfect trust in the goodness and guidance of the Most
+High God, could fail to bring their reward? It is not possible. But do
+not fancy that it came suddenly in the shape of a coach-and-six. Rewards
+worth having are not acquired so easily. Have you met with the following
+lines? They are somewhat applicable.
+
+    "How rarely, friend, a good, great man inherits
+    Honour and wealth, with all his worth and pains!
+    It seems a fable from the land of spirits
+    When any man obtains that which he merits,
+    Or any merits that which he obtains.
+    For shame, my friend! renounce this idle strain:
+    What would'st thou have the good, great man obtain--
+    Wealth? title? dignity? a golden chain?
+    Or heaps of corpses which his sword hath slain?
+    Goodness and greatness are not means, but ends.
+    Hath he not always treasures, always friends,
+    The good, great man? Three treasures--
+    Love; and life; and calm thoughts, equable as infants' breath.
+    And three fast friends, more sure than day or night,
+    Himself; his Maker; and the angel, Death."
+
+Jane's reward was in progress: it had not fully come. At present it was
+little more than that of an approving conscience for having fought her
+way through difficulties in the patient continuance of well-doing, and
+in the fulfilment, in a remarkable manner, of the subject she had had
+most at heart--that of giving her sons an education that would fit them
+to fulfil any part they might be called upon to play in the destinies of
+life--in watching them grow up full of promise to make good and great
+men.
+
+In circumstances, Jane was tolerably at ease now. Time had wrought its
+changes. Mrs. Reece had gone--not into other lodgings, but to join Janey
+Halliburton on the long journey. And Dobbs--Dobbs!--was servant to Mrs.
+Halliburton! Dobbs had experienced misfortune. Dobbs had put by a good
+round sum in a bank, for Dobbs had been provident all her life; and the
+bank broke and swallowed up Dobbs's savings; and nearly all Dobbs's
+surly independence went with it. Misfortunes do not come alone; and Mrs.
+Reece died almost immediately after Dobbs's treacherous bank went. The
+old lady's will had been good to leave Dobbs something, but she had not
+the power to do so: the income she had enjoyed went at her death to her
+late husband's relatives. She had made Dobbs handsome presents from time
+to time, and these Dobbs had placed with the rest of her money. It had
+all gone.
+
+Poor Dobbs, good for nothing in the first shock of the loss, paid Mrs.
+Halliburton for a bedroom weekly, and sat down to fret. Next, she tried
+to earn a living at making gloves--an employment Dobbs had followed in
+her early days. But, what with not being so young as she was, neither
+eyes nor fingers, Dobbs found she could make nothing of the work. She
+went about the house doing odd tasks for Mrs. Halliburton, until that
+lady ventured on a proposal (with as much deference as though she had
+been making it to an Indian Begum), that Dobbs should remain with her as
+her servant. An experienced, thoroughly good servant she required now;
+and that she knew Dobbs to be. Dobbs acquiesced; and forthwith went
+upstairs, moved her things into the dark closet, and obstinately adopted
+it as her own bedroom.
+
+The death of Mrs. Reece had enabled Jane to put into practice a plan she
+had long thought of--that of receiving boarders into her house, after
+the manner of the dames at Eton. Some of the foundation boys in the
+college school lived at a distance, and it was a great matter with the
+parents to place them in families where they would find a good home. The
+wife of the head master, Mrs. Keating, took in half-a-dozen; Jane
+thought she might do the same. She had been asked to do so; but had not
+room while Mrs. Reece was with her. She still held her class in the
+evening. As one set of boys finished with her, others were only too glad
+to take their places: there was no teaching like Mrs. Halliburton's.
+Upon making it known that she could receive boarders, applications
+poured in; and six, all she had accommodation for, came. They, of
+course, attended the college school during the day. Thus she could
+afford to relinquish working at the gloves; and did so, to Samuel Lynn's
+chagrin: a steady, regular worker, as Jane had been, was valuable to the
+manufactory. Altogether, what with her evening class, and the sum paid
+by the boarders, her income was between two and three hundred a year,
+not including what was earned by William.
+
+William had made progress at Mr. Ashley's, and now earned thirty
+shillings a week. Frank and Gar had not left the college school. Frank's
+time was out, and more than out: but when a scholar advanced in the
+manner that Frank Halliburton had done, Mr. Keating was not in a hurry
+to intimate to him that his time had expired. So Frank remained on,
+studying hard, one of the most finished scholars Helstonleigh Collegiate
+School had ever turned out.
+
+There sat one great desire in Frank's heart; it had almost grown into a
+passion; it coloured his dreams by night and his thoughts by day--that
+of matriculating at one of the two Universities. The random and somewhat
+dim idea of Frank's early days--studying for the Bar--had become the
+fixed purpose of his life. That he was especially gifted with the
+tastes and qualifications necessary to make a good pleader, there could
+be no doubt about; therefore, Frank had probably not mistaken his
+vocation. Persevering in study, keen in perceptive intellect, equable in
+temper, fluent and persuasive in speech, a true type was he of an embryo
+barrister. He did not quite see his way yet to getting to college.
+Neither did Gar; and Gar had set _his_ mind upon the Church.
+
+One cold January evening, bright, clear, and frosty, Samuel Lynn stopped
+away from the manufactory. He had received a letter by the evening post
+saying that a friend, on his way from Birmingham to Bristol, would halt
+for a few hours at his house and go on by the Bristol mail, which passed
+through the city at eleven o'clock. The friend arrived punctually, was
+regaled with tea and other good things in the state parlour, and he and
+Samuel Lynn settled themselves to enjoy a pleasant evening together,
+Patience and Anna forming part of the company. Anna's luxuriant curls
+and her wondrous beauty--for, in growing up, that beauty had not belied
+the promise of her childhood--were shaded under the demure Quaker's cap.
+Something else had not belied the promise of her childhood, and that was
+her vanity.
+
+Apparently, she did not find the evening or the visitor to her taste. He
+was old, as were her father and Patience: every one above thirty Anna
+was apt to class as "old." She fidgeted, was restless, and, just as the
+clock struck seven--as if the sound rendered any further inaction
+unbearable--she rose and was quietly stealing from the room.
+
+"Where are thee going, Anna?" asked her father.
+
+Anna coloured, as if taken by surprise. "Friend Jane Halliburton
+promised to lend me a book, father: I should like to fetch it."
+
+"Sit thee still, child; thee dost not want to read to-night when friend
+Stanley is with us. Show him thy drawings. Meanwhile, I will get the
+chessmen. Thee'd like a game?" turning to his visitor.
+
+"Ay, I should," was the ready answer. "Remember, friend Lynn, I beat
+thee last time."
+
+"Maybe my skill will redeem itself to-night," nodded the Quaker, as he
+rose for the chessboard. "It shall try its best."
+
+"Would thee like a candle?" asked Patience, who was busy sewing.
+
+"Not at all. My chamber is light as day, with the moon so near the
+full."
+
+Mr. Lynn went up to his room. The chessboard and men were kept on a
+table near the window. As he took them from it he glanced out at the
+pleasant scene. His window, at the back, faced the charming landscape,
+and the Malvern Hills in the horizon shone out almost as distinctly as
+by day. Not, however, on the landscape were Samuel Lynn's eyes fixed;
+they had caught something nearer, which drew his attention.
+
+Pacing the field-path which ran behind his low garden hedge was a male
+figure in a cloak. To see a man, whether with a cloak or without it,
+abroad on a moonlight night, would not have been extraordinary; but
+Samuel Lynn's notice was drawn by this one's movements. Beyond the
+immediate space occupied by the house, the field-path was hidden: on one
+side, by the high hedge intervening between his garden and Mrs.
+Halliburton's; on the other, by a wall. The figure--whoever it might
+be--would come to one of these corners, stealthily peep at Samuel Lynn's
+house and windows, and then continue his way past it, until he reached
+the other corner, where he would halt and peep again, partially hiding
+himself behind the hedge. That he was waiting for something or some one
+was apparent, for he stamped his feet occasionally in an impatient
+manner.
+
+"What can it be that he does there?" cried the Quaker, half aloud: "this
+is the second time I have seen him. He cannot be taking a sketch of my
+house by moonlight! Were it any other than thee, William Halliburton, I
+should say it wore a clandestine look."
+
+He returned to the parlour, and took his revenge on his friend by
+checkmating him three times in succession. At nine o'clock supper came
+in, and at ten Mr. Stanley, accompanied by Samuel Lynn, left, to walk
+leisurely into Helstonleigh and await the Bristol mail. As they turned
+out of the house they saw William Halliburton going in at his own door.
+
+"It is a cold night," William remarked to Mr. Lynn.
+
+"Very. Good night to thee."
+
+You cannot see what he is like by this light, especially in that
+disguising cloak, and the cap with its protecting ears. But you can see
+him the following morning, as he stands in Mr. Ashley's counting-house.
+
+A well-grown, upright, noble form, a head taller than Samuel Lynn, by
+whose side he is standing, with a peculiarly attractive face. Not for
+its beauty--the face cannot boast of very much--but for its broad brow
+of intellect, its firm, sweet mouth, and its truthful dark-grey eyes.
+None could mistake William Halliburton for anything but a gentleman,
+although they had seen him, as now, with a white apron tied round his
+waist. William was making up gloves: a term, as you may remember, which
+means sorting them according to their qualities--work that was sometimes
+done in Mr. Ashley's room, on account of its steady light, for it bore a
+north aspect. A table, or counter, was fixed down one side, under its
+windows. Mr. Lynn stood by his side, looking on.
+
+"Thee can do it tolerably well, William," he observed, after some
+minutes' close inspection.
+
+William smiled. The Quaker never bestowed decided praise, and never
+thought any one could be trusted in the making-up department, himself
+and James Meeking excepted. William had been exercised in the making-up
+for the past eighteen months, and he thought he ought to do it pretty
+well by this time. Mr. Lynn was turning away, when his keen sight fell
+on several dozens at a little distance. He took up one of the top pairs
+with a hasty movement, knitted his brow, and then took up others.
+
+"Thee has not exercised thy judgment or thy caution here, friend
+William."
+
+"I did not make up those," replied William.
+
+"Who did, then?"
+
+"Cyril Dare."
+
+"I have told Cyril Dare he is not to attempt the making-up," returned
+
+Samuel Lynn, in severe tones. "When did he do these?"
+
+"Yesterday afternoon."
+
+"There, again! He knows the gloves are not made up in a winter's
+afternoon. I myself would not do it by so obscure a light. Thee go over
+these thyself when thee has finished the stack before thee."
+
+Samuel Lynn was not one who spared work. He mixed the offending dozens
+together indiscriminately, and pushed them towards William. Then he
+turned to his own place, and went on with his work: he was also making
+up. Presently he spoke again.
+
+"What does thee do at the back of my house of a night? Thee must find
+the walk cold."
+
+William turned his head with a movement of surprise. "I don't do
+anything at the back of your house. What do you mean?"
+
+"Not walk about there, watching it, as thee did last night?"
+
+"Certainly not! I do not understand you."
+
+Samuel Lynn's brows knit heavily. "William, I deemed thee truthful. Why
+deny what is a palpable fact?"
+
+William Halliburton put down the pair of gloves he had in his hand, and
+turned to the Quaker. "In saying that I do not walk at the back of your
+house at night, or at the back of any house, I state the truth."
+
+"Last night at seven o'clock, I _saw_ thee parading there in thy cloak.
+I saw thee, I say, William. The night was unusually light."
+
+"Last night, from tea-time until half-past nine, I never stirred out of
+my mother's parlour," rejoined William. "I was at my books as usual. At
+half-past nine I ran up to say a word to Henry Ashley. You saw me
+returning."
+
+"But I saw thee at the back with my own eyes," persisted the Quaker. "I
+saw thy cloak. Thee had on that blue cap of thine: it was tied down over
+thy ears; and the collar of the cloak was turned up, to protect thee, as
+I surmised, from the cold."
+
+
+"It must have been my ghost," responded William. "_Should_ I be likely
+to pace up and down a cold field, for pastime, on a January night?"
+
+"Will thee oblige me by putting on thy cloak?" was all the answer
+returned by Samuel Lynn.
+
+"What--now?"
+
+"Please."
+
+William, laughing, went out of the room, and came back in his cloak. It
+was an old-fashioned cloak--a remarkable cloak--a dark plaid, its collar
+lined with red. Formerly worn by gentlemen, they had now become nearly
+obsolete; but William had picked this up for much less than half its
+value. He did not care much for fashion, and it was warm and comfortable
+in winter weather.
+
+"Perhaps you wish me to put on my cap?" said William, in a serio-comic
+tone.
+
+"Yes; and turn down the ears."
+
+He obeyed, very much amused. "Anything more?" asked he.
+
+"Walk thyself about an instant."
+
+His lips smiling, his eyes dancing, William marched from one side of the
+room to the other. While this was in process Cyril Dare bustled in, and
+stood in amazement, staring at William. The Quaker paid no attention to
+his arrival, except that he took out his watch and glanced at it. He
+continued to address William.
+
+"And thee can assure me to my face, that thee was not pacing the field
+last night in the moonlight, dressed as now?"
+
+"I can, and do," replied William.
+
+"Then, William, it is one of two things. My eyes or thy word must be
+false."
+
+"Did you see my face?" asked William.
+
+"Not much of that. With the ears down and the collar up, thy face was
+pretty effectually concealed. There's not another cloak like thine in
+all Helstonleigh."
+
+"You are right there," laughed William; "there's not one half so
+handsome. Admire the contrast of the purple and green plaid and the
+scarlet collar."
+
+"No, not another like it," emphatically repeated the Quaker. "I tell
+thee, William Halliburton, in the teeth of thy denial, that I saw thee,
+or a figure precisely similar to thee, parading the field-path last
+night, and stealthily watching my windows."
+
+"It's a clear case of ghost," returned William, with an amused look at
+Cyril Dare. "How much longer am I to make a walking Guy of myself, for
+your pleasure and Cyril's astonishment?"
+
+"Thee can take it off," replied the Quaker, his curt tone betraying
+dissatisfaction. Until that moment he had believed William Halliburton
+to be the very quintessence of truth. His belief was now shaken.
+
+In the small passage between Mr. Ashley's room and Samuel Lynn's,
+William hung up the cloak and cap. The Quaker turned to Cyril Dare, who
+was taking off his great-coat, stern displeasure in his tone.
+
+"Dost thee know the time?"
+
+"Just gone half-past nine," replied Cyril.
+
+Mr. Lynn held out his watch to Cyril. It wanted seventeen minutes to
+ten. "Nine o'clock is thy hour. I am tired of telling thee to be more
+punctual. And thee did not come before breakfast."
+
+"I overslept myself," said Cyril.
+
+"As thee dost pretty often, it seems. If thee can do no better than thee
+did yesterday, as well oversleep thyself for good. Look at these
+gloves."
+
+"Well!" cried Cyril, who was a good-looking young man, in stature not
+far short of William. At least he would have been good-looking, but for
+his eyes; there was a look in them, almost amounting to a squint; and
+they did not gaze openly and honestly into another's eyes. His face was
+thin, and his features were well-formed. "Well!" cried he.
+
+"It is well," repeated the Quaker; "well that I looked at them, for they
+must be done again. Firsts are mixed with seconds, thirds with firsts; I
+do not know that I ever saw gloves so ill made up. What have I told
+thee?"
+
+"Lots of things," responded Cyril, who liked to set the manager at
+defiance, as far as he dared.
+
+"I have desired thee never to attempt to make up the gloves. I now
+forbid thee again; and thee will do well not to forget it. Begin and
+band these gloves that William Halliburton is making ready."
+
+Cyril jerked open the drawer where the paper bands were kept, took some
+out of it, and carried them to the counter, where William stood. Mr.
+Lynn interposed with another order.
+
+"Thee will please put thy apron on."
+
+Now, having to wear this apron was the very bugbear of Cyril Dare's
+life. "There's no need of an apron to paper gloves," he responded.
+
+"Thee will put on thy apron, friend," calmly repeated Samuel Lynn.
+
+"I hate the apron," fumed Cyril, jerking open another drawer, and
+jerking out his apron; for he might not openly disobey the authority of
+Samuel Lynn. "I should think I am the first gentleman that ever was made
+to wear one."
+
+"If thee are practically engaged in a glove manufactory, thee must wear
+an apron, gentleman or no gentleman," equably returned the Quaker. "As
+we all do."
+
+"All don't!" retorted Cyril. "The master does not."
+
+"Thee are not in the master's position yet, Cyril Dare. And I would
+advise thee to exercise thy discretion more and thy tongue less."
+
+The discussion was interrupted by the entrance of Mr. Ashley, and the
+room dropped into silence. There might be no presuming in the presence
+of the master. He sat down to his desk, and opened his morning letters.
+Presently a young man put his head in and addressed Samuel Lynn.
+
+"Noaks, the stainer, has come in, sir. He says the skins given out to
+him yesterday would be better for coloured than blacks."
+
+"Desire James Meeking to attend to him," said Mr. Lynn.
+
+"James Meeking isn't here, sir. He's up in the cutters' room, or
+somewhere."
+
+Samuel Lynn, upon this, went out himself. Cyril Dare followed him. Cyril
+was rather fond of taking short trips about the manufactory, as
+interludes to his work. Soon after, the master lifted his head.
+
+"Step here, William."
+
+William put down the gloves he was examining and approached the desk.
+"What sort of a French scholar are you?" inquired Mr. Ashley.
+
+"A very good one, sir," he replied, after a pause given to surprise. "I
+know it thoroughly. I can read and write it as readily as I can
+English."
+
+"But I mean as to speaking. Could you make yourself understood, for
+instance, if you were suddenly dropped down into a French town, where
+the natives spoke nothing but their own language?"
+
+William smiled. "I don't think I should have much difficulty over it. I
+have been so much with Monsieur Colin that I talk as fast as he does. He
+stops me occasionally to grumble at what he calls _l'accent anglais_."
+
+"I am not sure that I shall not send you on a mission to France,"
+resumed Mr. Ashley. "You can be better spared than Samuel Lynn; and it
+must be one of you. Will you undertake it?"
+
+"I will undertake anything that you wish me to do, sir, that I could
+accomplish," replied William, lifting his clear earnest eyes to those of
+his master.
+
+"You are an exceedingly good judge of skins: even Samuel Lynn admits
+that. I want some intelligent, trustworthy person to go over to France,
+look about the markets there, and pick up what will suit us. The demand
+for skins is great at the present time, and the markets must be watched
+to select suitable bales before other bidders step in and pounce upon
+them. By these means we may secure some good bargains and good skins: we
+have succeeded lately in doing neither."
+
+"At Annonay, I presume you mean, sir."
+
+"Annonay and its neighbourhood; that's the chief market for dressed
+skins. The undressed pelts are to be met with best, as you are aware, in
+the neighbourhood of Lyons. You would have to look after both. I have
+talked the matter over with Mr. Lynn, and he thinks you may be trusted
+both as to ability and conduct."
+
+"I will do my best if I am sent," replied William.
+
+"Your stay might extend over two or three months. We can do with a great
+deal; both of pelts and dressed skins. The dressers at Annonay----Cyril,
+what are you doing there?"
+
+Cyril could scarcely have told. He had come into the counting-house
+unnoticed, and his ears had picked up somewhat of the conversation. In
+his anger and annoyance, Cyril had remained, his face turned towards the
+speakers, listening for more.
+
+For it had oozed out at Pomeranian Knoll, through a word dropped by
+Henry Ashley, that Mr. Ashley had it in contemplation to despatch some
+one from the manufactory on this mission to France, and that the some
+one would not be Samuel Lynn. Cyril received the information with
+avidity, never doubting that _he_ would be the one fixed upon. To give
+him his due, he was really a good judge of skins--not better than
+William; but somehow Cyril had never given a thought to William in the
+matter. Greatly had he anticipated the journey to the land of pleasure,
+where he would be under no one's control but his own. In that moment,
+when he heard Mr. Ashley speaking to William upon the subject, not to
+him, Cyril felt at war with every one and everything; with the master,
+with William, and especially with the business, which he hated as much
+as he had ever done.
+
+But Mr. Ashley was not one to do things in a hurry, and he had only
+broached the subject.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+"NOTHING RISK, NOTHING WIN."
+
+
+It was Saturday night, the Saturday after the above conversation, and
+Mr. Lynn was making ready to pay the men. James Meeking was payer in a
+general way; but James Meeking was also packer; that is, he packed, with
+assistance, the goods destined for London. A parcel was being sent off
+this evening, so that it fell to Mr. Lynn's lot to pay the workmen. He
+stood before the desk in the serving-room, counting out the money in
+readiness. There was a quantity of silver in a bag, and a great many
+brown paper packets of halfpence; each packet containing five
+shillings. But they all had to be counted, for sometimes a packet would
+run a penny or twopence short.
+
+The door at the foot of the stairs was heard to open, and a man's step
+came up. It proved to be a workman from a neighbouring manufactory.
+
+"If you please, Mr. Lynn, could you oblige our people with twelve or
+fourteen pounds' worth of change?" he asked. "We couldn't get in enough
+to-day, try as we would. The halfpence seem as scarce as the silver."
+
+Now it happened that the Ashley manufactory was that evening abundantly
+supplied. Samuel Lynn went into the counting-house to the master, who
+was seated at the desk. "The Dunns have sent in to know if we can oblige
+them with twelve or fourteen pounds' worth of change," said he. "We have
+plenty to-night; but to send away so much may run us very short. Dost
+thee happen to have any gold that thee can spare?"
+
+Mr. Ashley looked at his own cash drawer. "Here are six, seven
+sovereigns."
+
+"That will be sufficient," replied Samuel Lynn, taking them from his
+hand, and going back to the applicant in the serving-room. "How much has
+thee need of?" asked he.
+
+"Fourteen pounds, please, sir. I have the cheque here, made out for it.
+Silver or copper, it doesn't matter which; or a little gold. I have
+brought a basket along with me."
+
+Mr. Lynn gave the money, and took the cheque. The man departed, and the
+Quaker carried the cheque to Mr. Ashley.
+
+Mr. Ashley put the cheque into one of the pigeon-holes of his desk. He
+had the account in duplicate before him, of the goods going off, and was
+casting it up. William and Cyril were both in the counting-house, but
+not engaged with Mr. Ashley. William was marking small figures on
+certain banded gloves; Cyril was looking on, an employment that suited
+Cyril amazingly. His want of occupation caught the Quaker's eye.
+
+"If thee has nothing to do, thee can come and help me count the papers
+of coppers."
+
+Cyril dared not say "No," before Mr. Ashley. He might have hesitated to
+say it to Samuel Lynn; nevertheless, it was a work he especially
+disliked. It is _not_ pleasant to soil the fingers counting innumerable
+five-shilling brown-paper packets of copper money; to part them into
+stacks of twelve pence, or twenty-four halfpence. In point of fact, it
+was James Meeking's work; but there were times when Samuel Lynn,
+William, and Cyril had each to take his turn at it. Perhaps the two
+former liked it no better than did Cyril Dare.
+
+Cyril ungraciously followed to the serving-room. In a few minutes James
+Meeking looked in at the counting-house. "Is the master ready?"
+
+Mr. Ashley rose and went into the next room, carrying one of the
+duplicate lists. The men were waiting to pack--James Meeking and the
+other packer, a young man named Dance. The several papers of boxes were
+ready on a side counter; and Mr. Ashley stood with the list in his hand,
+ready to verify them. Had Samuel Lynn not been occupied with serving, he
+would have done this.
+
+"Three dozen best men's outsizes, coloured," called out James Meeking,
+reading the marks on the first parcel he took up.
+
+"Right," responded Mr. Ashley.
+
+James Meeking laid it upon the packing-table--clear, except for an
+enormous sheet of brown paper as thick as card-board--turned to the side
+counter and took up another of the parcels.
+
+"Three dozen best men's outsizes, coloured," repeated he.
+
+"Right," replied Mr. Ashley.
+
+And so on, till all the parcels were told through and were found to
+tally with the invoice. Then began the packing. It made a large parcel,
+about four feet square. Mr. Ashley remained, looking on.
+
+"You will not have enough string there," he observed, as the men were
+placing the string round it in squares.
+
+"I told you we shouldn't, Meeking," said George Dance.
+
+"There's no more downstairs," was Meeking's answer, "I thought it might
+be enough."
+
+Neither of the men could leave the parcel. They were mounted on steps on
+either side of it. Mr. Ashley called to William. "Light the lantern, and
+go upstairs to the string-closet. Bring down a ball."
+
+Candles were not allowed to be carried about the premises. William came
+forth, lighted the lantern, and went upstairs. At the same moment, Cyril
+Dare, who had finished his disagreeable copper counting, strolled into
+the counting-house. Finding it empty, he thought he could not do better
+than take a survey of Mr. Ashley's desk, the lid of which was propped
+open. He had no particular motive in doing this, except that that
+receptacle might present some food or other to gratify his curiosity,
+which the glove-laden counters could not be supposed to do. Amidst other
+things his eyes fell on the Messrs. Dunns' cheque, which lay in one of
+the pigeon-holes.
+
+"It would set me up for a fortnight, that fourteen pounds!" ejaculated
+he. "No one would find it out, either. Ashley would suspect any one in
+the manufactory before he'd suspect _me_!"
+
+He stood for a moment in indecision, his hand stretched out. Should it
+be drawn back, and the temptation resisted; or, should he yield to it?
+"Here goes!" cried Cyril. "Nothing risk, nothing win!"
+
+He transferred the cheque to his own pocket, and stole out of the
+counting-house into the small narrow passage which intervened between it
+and Mr. Lynn's room, where the parcel was being made up. Passing
+stealthily through the room, at the back of the huge parcel, which hid
+him from the eyes of the men and of Mr. Ashley, he emerged in safety
+into the serving-room, took up his position close to Samuel Lynn, and
+began assiduously to count over some shilling stacks which he had
+already verified. Samuel Lynn, his face turned to the crowd of men who
+were on the other side the counter receiving their wages, had not
+noticed the absence of Cyril Dare. Upon this probable fact Cyril had
+reckoned.
+
+"Any more to count?" asked Cyril.
+
+Samuel Lynn turned his head round. "Not if thee has finished all the
+packets." Had he seen what had just taken place, he might have entrusted
+packets of coppers to Mr. Cyril less confidently.
+
+Cyril jumped upon the edge of the desk, and remained perched there.
+William Halliburton came back with the twine, which he handed to George
+Dance. Blowing out the lantern, he returned to the counting-house.
+
+The parcel was completed, and James Meeking directed it in his plain,
+clerk-like hand--"Messrs. James Morrison, Dillon, and Co., Fore Street,
+London." It was then conveyed to a truck in waiting, to be wheeled to
+the parcels office. Mr. Ashley returned to his desk and sat down.
+Presently Cyril Dare came in.
+
+"Halliburton, don't you want to be paid to-night? Every one's paid but
+you. Mr. Lynn's waiting to close the desk."
+
+"Here is a letter for the post, William," called out Mr. Ashley.
+
+"I am coming back, sir. I have not set the counter straight yet."
+
+He received his money--thirty shillings a week now. He then put things
+straight in the counting-house, to do which was as much Cyril's work as
+his, and took a letter from the hands of Mr. Ashley. It contained one of
+the duplicate lists, and was addressed as the parcel had been. William
+generally had charge of the outward-bound letters now; he did not forget
+them as he had done in his first unlucky essay. He threw on the elegant
+cloak of which you have heard, took his hat, and went through the town,
+as far as the post-office, Cyril Dare walking with him. There they
+parted; Cyril continuing his way homewards, William retracing his steps.
+
+All had left the manufactory except Mr. Ashley and Samuel Lynn. James
+Meeking had gone down. On a late night, as the present, when all had
+done except the master and Samuel Lynn, the latter would sometimes say
+to the foreman, "Thee can go on to thy supper; I will lock up, and bring
+thee the keys." Mr. Ashley was setting his desk straight--putting sundry
+papers in their places; tearing up others. He unlocked his cash drawer,
+and put his hand into the pigeon-hole for the cheque. It was not there.
+Neither there nor anywhere, that he could see.
+
+"Why, where's that cheque?" he exclaimed.
+
+It caused Samuel Lynn to turn. "Cheque?" he repeated.
+
+"Dunns' cheque, that you brought me an hour ago."
+
+"I saw thee put it in the second pigeon-hole," said the Quaker,
+advancing to the desk, and standing by Mr. Ashley.
+
+"I know I did. But it is gone."
+
+"Thee must have moved it. Perhaps it is in thy private drawer?"
+
+Mr. Ashley shook his head: he was deep in consideration. "I have not
+touched it since I placed it there," he presently said. "Unless--surely
+I cannot have torn it up by mistake?"
+
+He and Samuel Lynn both stooped over the waste-paper basket. They could
+detect nothing of the sort amidst its contents. Mr. Ashley was
+nonplussed. "This is a curious thing, Samuel," said he. "No one was in
+the room during my absence except William Halliburton."
+
+"He would not meddle with thy desk," observed the Quaker.
+
+"No: nor suffer any one else to meddle with it. I should like to see
+William. He may possibly throw some light upon the subject. The cheque
+could not vanish into thin air."
+
+Samuel Lynn went down to James Meeking's, whom he disturbed at supper.
+He bade him watch at the entrance-gate for the return of William from
+the post-office, and request him to walk into the manufactory. William
+was not very long in making his appearance. He received the
+message--that the master and Mr. Lynn wanted him--and in he went with
+alacrity, having jumped to the conclusion that some conference was about
+to be held touching the French journey.
+
+Considerably surprised was he to learn what the matter really was. He
+quite laughed at the idea of the cheque's being gone, and believed that
+Mr. Ashley must have torn it up. Very minutely went he over the contents
+of the paper-basket. Its relics were not there.
+
+"It's like magic!" exclaimed William. "No one entered the
+counting-house; not even Mr. Lynn or Cyril Dare."
+
+"Cyril Dare was with me," said the Quaker. "Verily it seems to savour of
+the marvellous."
+
+It certainly did; and no conclusion could be come to. Neither could
+anything be done that night.
+
+It was late when William reached home--a quarter past ten. Frank was
+sitting over the fire, waiting for him. Gar had gone to bed tired; Mrs.
+Halliburton with headache; Dobbs, because there was nothing more to do.
+
+"How late you are!" was Frank's salutation; "just because I want to have
+a talk with you."
+
+"Upon the old theme," said William, with a smile. "Oxford or Cambridge?"
+
+"I say, William, if you are going to throw cold water upon it----But it
+won't put a damper upon me," broke off Frank, gaily.
+
+"I would rather throw hot water on it than cold, Frank."
+
+"Look here, William. I am growing up to be a man, and I can't bear the
+idea of living longer upon my mother. At my age I ought to be helping
+her. I am no nearer the University than I was years ago; and if I cannot
+get there, all my labour and my learning will be thrown away."
+
+"Not thrown away," said William.
+
+"Thrown away as far as my views are concerned. I must go to the Bar, or
+go to nothing--_aut Cæsar, aut nullus_. To the University I _will_ go;
+and I see nothing for it but to do so as a servitor. I shan't care a fig
+for the ridicule of those who get there by a golden road. There's Lacon
+going to Christchurch at Easter, a gentleman commoner; Parr goes to
+Cambridge, to old Trinity."
+
+"They are the sons of rich men."
+
+"I am not envying them. We have not faced the difficulties of our
+position so long, and made the best of them, for me to begin envying
+others now. Wall's nephew goes up at Easter----"
+
+"Oh, does he?" interrupted William. "I thought he could not manage it."
+
+"Nor can he manage it in that sense. His father has too large a family
+to help him, and there's no chance of the exhibition. It is promised,
+Keating has announced. The exhibitions in Helstonleigh College don't go
+by right."
+
+"Right or merit, do you mean, Frank?"
+
+"I suppose I mean merit; but the one implies the other. They go by
+neither."
+
+"Or you think that Frank Halliburton would have had it?"
+
+"At any rate, he has not got it. Neither has Wall. Therefore, we have
+made up our minds, he and I, to go to Oxford as servitors."
+
+"All right! Success to you both!"
+
+Frank fell into a reverie. The friend of whom he spoke, Wall, was nephew
+of the under-master of the college school. "Of course I never expected
+to get to college in any other way," continued Frank, taking up the
+tongs and balancing them on his fingers. "If an exhibition did at odd
+moments cross my hopes, I would not dwell upon it. There are fellows in
+the school richer and greater than I. However, the exhibition is _gone_,
+and there's an end of it. The question now is--if I do go as a servitor,
+can my mother find the little additional expense necessary to keep me
+there?"
+
+"Yes, I am sure she can: and will," replied William.
+
+"There'll be the expenses of travelling, and sundry other little
+things," went on Frank. "Wall says it will cost each of us about fifteen
+pounds a year. We have dinner and supper free. Of course, I should
+never think of tea, and for breakfast I would take milk and plain bread.
+There'd be living at home between terms--unless I found something to
+do--and my clothes."
+
+"It can be managed. Frank, you'll drop those tongs."
+
+"What we shall have to do as servitors neither I nor Wall can precisely
+tell," continued Frank, paying no attention to the warning. "Wall says,
+brushing clothes, and setting tables for meals, and waiting on the other
+students at dinner, will be amongst the refreshing exercises. However it
+may be, my mind is made up _to do_. If they put me to black shoes, I
+shall only sing over it, and sit down to my studies with a better will
+when the shoes have come to an end."
+
+William smiled. "Blacking shoes will be no new employment to you,
+Frank."
+
+"No. And if ever I catch myself coveting the ease and dignity of the
+lordly hats, I shall just cast my thoughts back again to our early
+privations; to what my mother struggled through for us; and that will
+bring me down again. We owe all to her; and I hope she will owe
+something to us in the shape of comforts before she dies," warmly added
+Frank, the tears rising to his eyes.
+
+"It is what I have hoped for years," replied William, in a low tone. "It
+is coming, Frank."
+
+"Well, I think I do now see one step before me. You remember papa's
+dream, William?"
+
+William simply bowed his head.
+
+"Lately I have not even seen that step. Between ourselves, I was losing
+some of my hopefulness; and you know that is what I never lost, whatever
+the rest of you may have done."
+
+"We none of us lost hope, Frank. It was hope that enabled us to bear on.
+You were over-sanguine."
+
+"It comes to the same thing. The step I see before me now is to go to
+Oxford as a servitor. To St. John's if I can, for I should like to be
+with Wall. He is a good, plodding fellow, though I don't know that he is
+over-burthened with brains."
+
+"Not with the quick brains of Frank Halliburton."
+
+Frank laughed. "You know Perry, the minor canon? He also went to St.
+John's as a servitor. I shall get him to tell me----"
+
+Frank stopped. The tongs had gone down with a clatter.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+MRS. DARE'S GOVERNESS.
+
+
+"There's such a row at our place!" suddenly announced Cyril Dare, at the
+Pomeranian Knoll dinner-table, one Monday evening.
+
+"What about?" asked Mr. Dare.
+
+"Some money's missing. At least, a cheque; which amounts to the same
+thing."
+
+"Not quite the same," dissented Mr. Dare. "Unless it has been cashed."
+
+"I mean the same as regards noise," continued Cyril. "There's as much
+fuss being made over it as if it had been fourteen pounds' weight of
+solid gold. It was a cheque of Dunns'; and the master put it into his
+desk, or says he did so. When he came to look for it, it was gone."
+
+"Who took it?" inquired Mr. Dare.
+
+"Who's to know? That's what we want to find out."
+
+"What was the amount?"
+
+"Fourteen pounds, I say. A paltry sum. Ashley makes a boast, and says
+it's not the amount that bothers him, but the feeling that we must have
+some one false near us."
+
+"Don't speak so slightingly of money," rebuked Mr. Dare. "Fourteen
+pounds are not so easily picked up that it should be pleasant to lose
+them."
+
+"I'm sure I don't want to speak slightingly of money," returned Cyril,
+rebelliously. "You keep me too short, sir, for me not to know the full
+value of it. But fourteen pounds cannot be much of a loss to Mr.
+Ashley."
+
+"If I keep you short, you have forced me to it by your
+extravagances--you and the rest of you," responded Mr. Dare, in short,
+emphatic tones.
+
+An unpleasant pause ensued. When the father of a family intimates that
+his income is diminishing, it is not a welcome announcement. The young
+Dares had been obliged to hear it often lately. Adelaide broke the
+silence.
+
+"How was the cheque taken?"
+
+"It was a cheque brought by Dunns' people on Saturday night, in exchange
+for money, and the master placed it in his open desk in the
+counting-house," explained Cyril. "He went into Lynn's room to watch the
+packing, and was away an hour. When he returned, the cheque was gone."
+
+"Who was in the counting-house?"
+
+"Not a soul except Halliburton. He was there all the time."
+
+"And no one else went in?" cried Mr. Dare.
+
+"No one," replied Cyril, sending up his plate for more meat.
+
+"Why, then, it would look as if Halliburton took it?" exclaimed Mr.
+Dare.
+
+Cyril raised his eyebrows. "No one would venture to suggest as much in
+the hearing of the manufactory. It appears to be impressed with the
+opinion that Halliburton, like kings, can do no wrong."
+
+"Mr. Ashley is so?"
+
+"Mr. Ashley, and downwards."
+
+"But, Cyril, if the facts are as you state, Halliburton must have been
+the one to take it," objected Mr. Dare. "Possibly the cheque may have
+been only mislaid?"
+
+"The counting-house underwent a thorough search this morning, and every
+corner of the master's desk was turned out, but nothing came of it.
+Halliburton appears to be in a world of surprise as to where it can have
+gone; but he does not seem to glance at the fact that suspicion may
+attach to him."
+
+"Of course Mr. Ashley intends to investigate it officially?" said Mr.
+Dare.
+
+"He does not say," replied Cyril. "He had the two packers before him
+this morning separately, inquiring if they saw any one pass through the
+room to the counting-house on Saturday night. He also questioned me. We
+had none of us seen anything of the sort."
+
+"Where were you at the time, Cyril?" eagerly questioned Mr. Dare.
+
+Knowing what we know, it may seem a pointed question. It was not,
+however, so spoken. Mr. Dare would probably have suspected the whole
+manufactory before casting suspicion upon his son. The thought that
+really crossed his mind was, that if his son _had_ happened to be in the
+way and had seen the thief, whoever he might be, steal into the
+counting-house, so that through him he might be discovered, it would
+have been a feather in Cyril's cap in the sight of Mr. Ashley. And to
+find favour with Mr. Ashley Mr. Dare considered ought to be the ruling
+aim of Cyril's life.
+
+"I was away from it all, as it happened," said Cyril, in reply to the
+question. "Old Lynn nailed me on Saturday to help to pay the men. While
+the cheque was disappearing, I was at the delightful employment of
+counting coppers."
+
+"Did one of the packers get in?"
+
+"Impossible. They were under Mr. Ashley's eye the whole time."
+
+"Look here, Cyril," interrupted Mrs. Dare, the first word she had
+spoken: "is it sure that that yea-and-nay Simon of a Quaker has not
+helped himself to it?"
+
+Cyril burst into a laugh. "He is not a Simon in the manufactory, I can
+tell you, ma'am. He is too much of a martinet."
+
+"Will Mr. Ashley be at the manufactory this evening, Cyril?" questioned
+Mr. Dare.
+
+"You may as well ask me whether the moon will shine," was the response
+of Cyril. "Mr. Ashley comes sometimes in an evening; but we never know
+whether he will or not, beforehand."
+
+"Because he may be glad of legal assistance," remarked Mr. Dare, who
+rarely failed to turn an eye to business.
+
+You may remember the party that formerly sat round Mr. Dare's
+dinner-table on that day, some years ago, when Herbert was pleased to
+fancy that he fared badly, not appreciating the excellences of lamb. Two
+of that party were now absent from it--Julia Dare and Miss Benyon. Julia
+had married, and had left England with her husband; and Miss Benyon had
+been discarded for a more fashionable governess.
+
+This fashionable governess now sat at the table. She was called
+Mademoiselle Varsini. You must not mistake her for a French woman; she
+was an Italian. She had been a great deal in France, and spoke the
+language as a native--indeed, it was more easy to her now than her
+childhood's tongue; and French was the language she was required to
+converse in with her pupils, Rosa and Minny Dare. English also she spoke
+fluently, but with a foreign accent.
+
+She was peculiar looking. Her complexion was of pale olive, and her eyes
+were light blue. It is not often that light blue eyes are seen in
+conjunction with so dark a skin. Strange eyes they were--eyes that
+glistened as if they were made of glass; they had at times a hard,
+glazed appearance. Her black hair was drawn from her face and twisted
+into innumerable rolls at the back of her head. It was smooth and
+beautiful, as if a silken rope had been coiled there. Her lips were thin
+and compressed in a remarkable degree, which may have been supposed to
+indicate firmness of character. Tall, and full across the bust for her
+years, her figure would have been called a fine one. She wore a
+closely-fitting dress of some soft, dark material, with small
+embroidered cuffs and collar.
+
+What were her years? She said twenty-five: but she might be taken for
+either older or younger. It is difficult to guess with certainty the age
+of an Italian woman. As a rule they look much older than English women;
+and, when they do begin to show age, they show it rapidly. Mr. Dare had
+never approved of the engagement of this foreign governess. Mrs. Dare
+had picked her up from an advertisement, and had persisted in engaging
+her, in spite of the written references being in French and that she
+could only read one word in ten of them. Mr. Dare's scruples were solely
+pecuniary. The salary was to be fifty pounds a year; exactly double the
+amount paid to Miss Benyon; and he had great expenses on him now. "What
+did the girls want with a fashionable foreign governess?" he asked. But
+he made no impression upon Mrs. Dare. The lady was engaged, and arrived
+in Helstonleigh: and Mr. Dare had declared, from that hour to this, that
+he could not make her out. He professed to be a great reader of the
+human face, and of human character.
+
+"Has there been any attempt made to cash the cheque?" resumed Mr. Dare
+to Cyril.
+
+"Ashley said nothing about that," replied Cyril. "It was lost after
+banking hours on Saturday night; therefore he would be sure to stop it
+at the bank before Monday morning. It is Ashley's loss; Dunns, of
+course, have nothing to do with it."
+
+"It would be no difficult matter to change it in the town," remarked
+Anthony Dare. "Anyone would cash a cheque of Dunns': it is as good as a
+banknote."
+
+Cyril lifted his shoulders. "The fellow had better not be caught at it,
+though."
+
+"What would be the punishment in Angleterre for such a crime?" spoke up
+the governess.
+
+"Transportation for a longer or a shorter period," replied Mr. Dare.
+
+"What you would phrase _aux galères_ mademoiselle," struck in Herbert.
+
+"Ah, ça!" responded mademoiselle.
+
+As they called her "mademoiselle" we must do the same. There had been a
+discussion as to what she was to be called when she first came. _Miss_
+Varsini was not grand enough. Signora Varsini was not deemed familiar
+enough for daily use. Therefore "mademoiselle" was decided upon. It
+appeared to be all one to mademoiselle herself. She had been accustomed,
+she said, to be called mademoiselle in France.
+
+Mr. Dare hurried over his dinner and his wine, and rose. He was going to
+find out Mr. Ashley. He was in hopes some professional business might
+arise to him in the investigation of the loss spoken of by Cyril. He was
+not a particularly covetous man, and had never been considered grasping,
+especially in business; but circumstances were rendering him so now. His
+general expenses were enormous--his sons contrived that their own
+expenses should be enormous; and Mr. Dare sometimes did not know which
+way to turn to meet them. Anthony drained him--it was Mr. Dare's own
+expression; Herbert drained him; Cyril wanted to drain him; George was
+working on for it. Small odds and ends arising in a lawyer's practice,
+that years ago Mr. Dare would scarcely have cared to trouble himself to
+undertake, were eagerly sought for by him now. He must work to live. It
+was not that his practice was a bad one; it was an excellent practice;
+but, do as Mr. Dare would, his expenses outran it.
+
+He bent his steps to the manufactory. Had Mr. Ashley not been there, Mr.
+Dare would have gone on to his house. But Mr. Ashley was there. They
+were shut into the private room, and Mr. Ashley gave the particulars of
+the loss, more in detail than Cyril had given them.
+
+"There is only one opinion to be formed," observed Mr. Dare. "Young
+Halliburton was the thief. The cheque could not go of itself; and no one
+else appears to have been near it."
+
+In urging the case against William, Mr. Dare was influenced by no covert
+motive. He drew his inferences from the circumstances related to him,
+and spoke in accordance with them. The resentment he had once felt
+against the Halliburtons for coming to Helstonleigh (though the
+resentment was on Mrs. Dare's part rather than on his) had long since
+died away. They did not cross his path or he theirs; they did not
+presume upon the relationship; had not, so far as Mr. Dare knew, made it
+known abroad; therefore they were quite welcome to be in Helstonleigh
+for Mr. Dare. To do Mr. Dare justice, he was rather kindly disposed
+towards his fellow-creatures, unless self-interest carried him the other
+way. Cyril often amused himself at home by abusing William Halliburton:
+they were tolerable friends and companions when together, but Cyril
+could not overcome his feeling of dislike; a feeling to which jealousy
+was now added, for William found more favour with Mr. Ashley than he
+did. Cyril gave vent to his anger in explosions at home, and William was
+not spared in them: but Mr. Dare had learnt what his son's prejudices
+were worth.
+
+"It must have been Halliburton," repeated Mr. Dare.
+
+"No," replied Mr. Ashley. "There are four persons, of all those who were
+in my manufactory on Saturday night, for whom I will answer as
+confidently as I would for myself. James Meeking and George Dance are
+two. I believe them both to be honest as the day; and if additional
+confirmation that it was not they were necessary, neither of them
+stirred from beneath my own eye during the possible time of the loss.
+The other two are Samuel Lynn and William Halliburton. Samuel Lynn is
+above suspicion; and I have watched William grow up from boyhood--always
+upright, truthful and honourable; but more truthful, more honourable,
+year by year, as the years have passed."
+
+"I dare say he is," acquiesced Mr. Dare. "Indeed, I like his look
+myself. There's something unusually frank about it. Of course you will
+have it officially investigated? I came down to offer you my services in
+the matter."
+
+"You are very good," was the reply of Mr. Ashley. "Before entering
+farther into the affair, I must be fully convinced that the cheque's
+disappearance was not caused by myself. I----"
+
+"By yourself?" interrupted Mr. Dare, in surprise.
+
+"I do not _think_ it was, mind; but there is a chance of it. I remember
+tearing up a paper or two after I received the cheque, and putting the
+pieces, as I believe, into the waste-paper basket. But I won't answer
+for it that I did not put them into the fire instead, as I passed it on
+my way to Mr. Lynn's room to call over the parcels bill."
+
+"But you would not tear up the cheque?" cried Mr. Dare.
+
+"Certainly not, intentionally. If I did it through carelessness, all I
+can say is, I have been _very_ careless. No; I shall not stir in this
+matter for a day or two."
+
+"But why wait?" asked Mr. Dare.
+
+"If the cheque was stolen, it was probably changed somewhere in the town
+that same night; and this will soon be known. I shall wait."
+
+
+Mr. Dare could not bring Mr. Ashley to a more business-like frame of
+mind. He left the manufactory, and went straight to the police-station,
+there to hold an interview with Mr. Sergeant Delves, a popular officer,
+with whom Mr. Dare had had dealings before. He stated the case to him,
+and desired Mr. Delves to ferret out what he could.
+
+"Privately, you know, Delves," said he, winking at the sergeant, whom he
+held by the shoulder. "There's no doubt, in my opinion, that the cheque
+was changed that same night--probably at a public-house. Go to work _sub
+rosâ_--you understand; and any information you may obtain bring quietly
+to me. Don't take it to Mr. Ashley."
+
+"I understand," replied Sergeant Delves, a portly man with a padded
+breast and a red face, who, in his official costume, always looked as if
+he were choking. "I'll see to it."
+
+And he did so; and very effectively.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+TAKING AN ITALIAN LESSON.
+
+
+But the evening is not yet over at Pomeranian Knoll.
+
+The dinner-table had broken up. Anthony Dare left the house soon after
+his father. Mrs. Dare turned to the fire for her after-dinner nap: the
+young ladies, Adelaide excepted, proceeded to the drawing-room. Adelaide
+Dare was thinner than formerly; and there was a worn, restless look upon
+her face, that told of care or of disappointment. She remained in her
+seat at the dessert-table, and, fencing herself round with a newspaper,
+lest Mrs. Dare's eyes should open, took a letter from her pocket and
+spread it on the table.
+
+Viscount Hawkesley had never come forward to make her the Viscountess;
+but he had not given up his visits to Pomeranian Knoll, and Adelaide had
+never ceased hoping. It was one of his letters that she was poring over
+now. Two or three years ago she might have married well. A clergyman had
+desired to make her his wife. Adelaide declined. She had possibly her
+own private reasons for believing in the good faith of Lord Hawkesley.
+Adelaide Dare was not the first who has thrown away the substance to
+grasp the shadow.
+
+Mademoiselle Varsini, on leaving the dinner-table, had gone up to the
+school-room. There she stirred the fire into a blaze, sat down in a
+chair, and bent her head in what seemed to be an attitude of listening.
+
+She did not listen in vain. Soon, stealthy footsteps were heard
+ascending the stairs, and a streak of vermilion flashed into her olive
+cheek, and she pressed her hand upon her bosom, as if to still its
+beating. "_Que je suis bête!_" she murmured. French was far more
+familiar to her than her native tongue.
+
+The footsteps proved to be those of Herbert Dare. A tall, handsome man
+now, better-looking than Anthony. He, Herbert, would have been very
+handsome indeed, but that his features were spoiled by the free
+expression they had worn in his youth--free as that which characterised
+the face of Mr. Dare. He was coming in to pay a visit to the governess.
+He paid her a good many visits: possibly thought it polite to do so.
+Some gentlemen are polite, and some are the contrary; some take every
+opportunity of improving their minds; some don't care whether they
+improve them or not. Herbert Dare we should place amidst the former: a
+thirst for foreign languages must, undoubtedly, be reckoned one of the
+desires for improvement. Minny Dare had one evening broken in upon a
+visit her brother was paying to mademoiselle, and she (very
+impertinently, it must be owned) inquired what he was doing there.
+"Taking an Italian lesson," Herbert answered, and he did not want Minny
+to bother him over it. Minny made a wry face at the books spread out
+between Herbert and mademoiselle, seated opposite each other at either
+end of the table, and withdrew with all speed lest the governess should
+press her to share in it. Minny did not like Italian lessons as much as
+Herbert appeared to do.
+
+He came in with quiet footsteps, and the first thing he did was to--lock
+the door. The action may have been intended as a quiet reproof to Miss
+Minny: if so, it is a pity she was not there to profit by it.
+
+"Have they asked for me in the salon?" began the governess.
+
+"Not they," replied Herbert. "They are too much occupied with their own
+concerns."
+
+"Herbert, why were you not here on Saturday night?" she asked.
+
+"On Saturday night? Oh--I remember. I had to go out to keep an
+engagement."
+
+"You might have spoken to me first, then," she answered resentfully.
+"Just one little word. I did come up here, and I waited--I waited! After
+the tea I came up, and I waited again. Ah! quelle patience!"
+
+"Waited to give me my Italian lesson?"
+
+Herbert Dare spoke in a voice of laughing raillery. The Italian girl did
+not seem inclined to laugh. She stood on one side the fire, and its
+blaze--it was the only light in the room--flickered on her compressed
+lips. More compressed than ever were they to-night.
+
+"Now, what's the use of turning cross, Bianca?" continued Herbert, still
+laughing. "You are as exacting as if I paid you a guinea a lesson, and
+went upon a system of 'no lesson, no pay.' If----"
+
+"Bah!" interrupted mademoiselle angrily: and it certainly was not
+respectful of Herbert, as pupil, to call her by her Christian name--if
+it was that which angered her. "I am getting nearly tired of it all."
+
+"Tired of me! You might have a worse pupil----"
+
+
+"Will you be quiet, then!" cried she, stamping her foot. "I am not
+inclined for folly to-night. You shall not say again you are coming
+here, if you don't come, mind, as you did on Saturday night."
+
+"Well, I had an engagement, and I went straight off from the
+dinner-table to keep it," answered Herbert, becoming serious. "Upon my
+word of honour it was not my fault, Bianca; it was a business
+engagement. I had not time to come here before I went."
+
+"Then you might have come when you returned," she said.
+
+"Scarcely," replied he. "I was not home till two in the morning."
+
+Bianca Varsini lifted her strange eyes to his. "Why tell me that?" she
+asked, her voice changing to one of mournful complaint. "I know you went
+out from dinner--I watched you out; and I saw you when you went out
+again. It was past ten. I saw you with my own eyes."
+
+"You must have good eyes, Bianca. I went out from the dinner-table----"
+
+"Not then--not then; I speak not of then," she vehemently interrupted.
+"You might have come here before you went out the second time."
+
+"I declare I don't know what you mean," he said, staring at her. "I did
+not come in until two in the morning. It was past two."
+
+"But I saw you," she persisted. "It was moonlight, and I saw you cross
+the lawn from the dining-room window, and go out. I was at this window,
+and I watched you go in the direction of the gate. It was long past
+ten."
+
+"Bianca, you were dreaming! I was not near the house."
+
+Again she stamped her foot. "_Why_ you deceive me? Would I say I saw you
+if I did not?"
+
+Herbert had once seen Bianca Varsini in a passion. He did not care to
+see her in one again. When he said that he had not come near the house,
+from the time of his leaving it on rising from dinner, until two in the
+morning, he had spoken the strict truth. What the Italian girl was
+driving at, he could not imagine: but he deemed it as well to drop the
+subject.
+
+"You are a folle, Bianca, as you often call yourself," said he
+jestingly, taking her hands. "You go into a temper for nothing. I'd get
+rid of that haste, if I were you."
+
+"It was my mother's temper," she answered, drawing her hands away and
+letting them fall by her side. "Do you know what she once did! She spit
+in the face of the Archevêque of Paris!"
+
+"She was a lady!" cried Herbert ironically. "How was that?"
+
+"He offended her. He was passing her in procession at the _Fête Dieu_,
+and he said something reproachful to her, and it put her in a temper,
+and she spit at him! She could do worse than that if she liked! She
+could have died for those who were kind to her; but let them offend
+her--je les en fais mes compliments!"
+
+"I say, mademoiselle, who was your mother?"
+
+"Never you mind! She was on the stage; not what you English call good.
+But she was good to me; and she wished me to be what she was not. When I
+was twelve she put me into a convent. La maudite place!"
+
+Herbert laughed. He knew enough of French to understand the expression.
+
+"It was maudite to me. I must not dance; I must not sing; I must not
+have my liberty to do the simplest thing on earth. I must be up in the
+morning to prayers; and then at my lessons all day; and then at prayers
+again. I did pray. I did pray to the Virgin to take me from it. I nearly
+prayed my heart out--and she never heard me! I had been there a
+year--figure to yourself, a year!--when my mother came to see me. She
+had been back in Italy. 'Take me away,' I said to her, 'before I die!'
+'No, Bianca mia,' she answered, 'I leave you here that you may not die;
+that your life may be happier than mine is, for mine is the vraie
+misère.' I not tell you in Italian, as she spoke, for you not understand
+it," rapidly interrupted mademoiselle. "My mother, she continued to me:
+'When you are instructed, you shall become a gouvernante in a family of
+the noblesse; you shall consort with the princes without shame; and
+perhaps you will make a good parti in marriage. Though you have no
+fortune, you will be accomplished; you will have the manière and the
+tournure; you will be belle.' Do you think me belle?" she abruptly broke
+off again.
+
+"Enchanting!" answered Herbert. "Have I not told you so five hundred
+times?"
+
+She stole a glance at the little old-fashioned oval glass which hung
+over the mantel-piece, and then went on.
+
+"My mother would not take me out. Though I lay on the flagstones of the
+visitors' parlour, though I wept for it, she would not take me out. 'It
+is for your good, Bianca mia,' she said. And I remained there seven
+years. Seven years! Do you figure it?"
+
+"But I suppose you grew reconciled?"
+
+"We grow reconciled to the worst in time," she answered, dreamily gazing
+into the fire with her strange eyes. "I pressed down my despair into
+myself at first, and I looked out for the opportunity to run away. We
+were as closely kept as the nuns in their cells, in their barred rooms,
+in their grated chapel; but, sooner than not have had my will and get
+away, I would have set the place on fire!"
+
+"I say, mademoiselle, don't you talk treason!" cried Herbert, laughing.
+
+"Do you think I would not?" she answered, turning to him, a gleaming
+look in her eyes. "But I had to wait for the opportunity to escape; and,
+while I waited, news came that my mother had died. She caught cold one
+night when she was in her evening robe, and it settled in her throat,
+and formed a dépôt, and she died. And so it was all over with my escape!
+My mother gone, I had nowhere to fly to. And I stopped in that enfer
+seven years."
+
+"You are complimentary to convents, Bianca. Maudite in one breath, enfer
+in another!"
+
+"They are all that, and worse!" intemperately responded the Italian
+girl. "They are--mais n'importe; c'est fini pour moi. I had to beat down
+my heart then, and stop in one. Ah! I know not how I did it. I look back
+and wonder. Seven years!"
+
+"But who paid for you all that time?"
+
+"My mother was not poor. She had enough for that. She made the
+arrangements with a priest when she was dying, and paid the money to
+him. The convent educated me, and dressed me, and made me hard. Their
+cold rules beat down my rebellious heart; beat it down to hardness. I
+should not have been so hard but for that convent!"
+
+"Oh, you are hard, then?" was the remark of Herbert Dare.
+
+"I can be!" nodded Mademoiselle Varsini. "Better not cross _me_!"
+
+"And how did you get out of the convent?"
+
+"When I was nineteen, they sent me out into a situation, to teach music
+and my own language, and French and English. They taught well in the
+convent: I could speak English then as readily as I speak it now: and
+they gave me a box of clothes and four five-franc pieces, saying that
+was the last of my mother's effects. What cared I? Had they turned me
+out penniless, I should have jumped to go. I served in that first
+situation two years. It was easy, and it was good pay."
+
+"French people?"
+
+"But certainly: Parisians. It was not more than one mile from the
+convent. There was but one little pupil."
+
+"Why did you leave?"
+
+"I was put into a passion one day, and madame said after that she was
+frightened to keep me. Ah! I have had adventures, I can tell you. In the
+next place I did not stay three months; the ennui came to me, and I left
+it for another that I found; and the other one I liked--I had my
+liberty. I should have stayed in that, but one came and turned me out of
+it."
+
+"A fresh governess?"
+
+"No; a man. A hideous. He was madame's brother, and he was wrinkled and
+yellow, and his long skinny fingers were like claws. He wanted me to
+marry him; he said he was rich. Sell myself to that monster?
+No!--continue a governess, rather. One evening madame and my two pupils
+had gone to the Odéon, and he came to the little étude where I sat. He
+locked the door, and said he would not unlock it till I gave him a
+promise to be his wife. I stormed, and I stormed: he tried to take my
+hand, the imbécile! He laughed at me, and said I was caged----"
+
+"Why did you not ring the bell?" interrupted Herbert.
+
+"Bon! Do we have bells in every room in the old Parisian houses? I would
+have pulled open the window, but he stood against the fastening,
+laughing still; so I dashed my hand through a pane, and the glass
+clattered down to the court below, and the servants came out to look up.
+'I cannot undo the étude door,' I called to them; 'come and break it
+open!' So that hideous undid it then, and the servants got some water
+and bathed my hand. 'But why need the signora have put her hand through
+the glass? Why not have opened the window?' said one. 'What is that to
+you?' I said. 'You will not have to pay for it. Bind my hand up.' They
+wrapped it in a handkerchief, and I put on my bonnet and cloak, and went
+out. Madeleine--she was the cook, and a good old soul--saw me. 'But
+where is the signorina going so late as this?' she asked. 'Where should
+I be going, but to the pharmacien's?' I answered; and I went my way."
+
+"We say chemist's in England," observed Herbert. "Did he find your hand
+much damaged?"
+
+"I did not go there. Think you I made attention to my hand? I went to
+the--what you call it?--cutler's shops, through the Rue Montmartre, and
+I bought a two-edged stiletto. It was that long"--pointing from her
+wrist to the end of her finger--"besides the handle. I showed it to that
+hideous the next day. 'You come to the room where I sit again,' I said
+to him, 'and you will see.' He told madame his sister, and she said I
+must leave."
+
+Herbert Dare looked at her--at her pale face, which had gone white in
+the telling, her glistening, stony eyes, her drawn lips. "You would not
+have dared to use the stiletto, though!" he cried, in some wonder.
+
+"I not dare! You do not know me. When I am roused, there's not a thing I
+would not dare to do. I am not ruffled at trifles: things that excite
+others do not trouble me. 'Bah! What matter trifles?' I say. My mother
+always told me to let the evil spirit lie torpid within me, or I should
+not die in my bed."
+
+"I say," cried Herbert, half mockingly, "what religion do you call
+yourself?"
+
+She took the question literally. "I am a Catholic or Protestant as is
+agreeable to my places," was the very candid answer. "I am not a
+dévote--a saint. Where's the use of it?"
+
+"That is why you generally have those violent headaches on Sunday," said
+Herbert Dare, laughing. "You ought----"
+
+There was an interruption. Rosa Dare's footsteps were heard on the
+stairs, and they halted at the door.
+
+"Mademoiselle!" she called out.
+
+Mademoiselle did not answer. Herbert Dare flung his handkerchief over
+the handle of the door in a manner that hid the key-hole. Rosa Dare
+tried the door, found it fastened, and went off grumbling.
+
+"It's my belief mademoiselle locks herself in there to get a nap after
+dinner, as mamma does in the dining-room!"
+
+She was heard to enter the drawing-room and slam the door. Herbert
+softly opened that of the school-room, and went down after his sister.
+
+"I say, Herbert," cried Rosa, when he entered, "have you seen anything
+of mademoiselle?"
+
+"I!" responded Herbert. "Do you think I keep mademoiselle in my pocket?"
+
+
+"She goes and locks herself up in the school-room after dinner, and I
+can't think what she does there, or what she can be at," retorted Rosa.
+
+"At her devotions, perhaps," suggested Herbert.
+
+The words did not please Mrs. Dare, who had then joined the circle.
+"Herbert, I will not have Mademoiselle Varsini ridiculed," she said
+quite sternly. "She is a most efficient instructress for Rosa and Minny,
+and we must be careful not to give her offence, or she might leave."
+
+"I'm sure I have heard of foreign women telling their beads till
+cock-crowing," persisted Herbert.
+
+"Those are Roman Catholics. A Protestant, as is Mademoiselle
+Varsini----"
+
+Mrs. Dare's angry words were cut short by the appearance of Mademoiselle
+Varsini herself. She, the governess, turned to Rosa. "What did you want
+just now when you came to the school-room door?"
+
+"I wanted you here to show me that filet stitch," answered Rosa, slight
+impertinence peeping out in her tone. "And I don't see why you should
+not answer when I knock, mademoiselle."
+
+"It may not always suit me to answer," was the calm reply of the
+governess. "My time is my own after dinner; and Madame Dare will agree
+with me that a governess should hold full control over her school-room."
+
+"You are perfectly right, mademoiselle," acquiesced Mrs. Dare.
+
+Mademoiselle went to the piano and dashed off a symphony. She was a
+brilliant player. Herbert, looking at his watch, and finding it later
+than he thought, hurried from the house.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+
+A VISION IN HONEY FAIR.
+
+
+The surmise that the missing cheque had been changed into good money on
+the Saturday night, proved to be correct. White, the butcher at the
+corner of the shambles, had given change for it, and locked up the
+cheque in the cash-box. Had he paid it into the bank on Monday, he would
+have found what it was worth. But he did not do so. Mr. White was a fat
+man with a good-humoured countenance and black hair. Sergeant Delves
+proceeded to his house some time on the Tuesday.
+
+"I hear you cashed a cheque of the Messrs. Dunn on Saturday night,"
+began he. "Who brought it to you?"
+
+"Ah, what about that cheque?" returned the butcher. "One of your men has
+been in here, asking a lot of questions."
+
+"A good deal about it," said the sergeant. "It was stolen from Mr.
+Ashley."
+
+"Stolen from Mr. Ashley!" echoed the butcher, staring at Sergeant
+Delves.
+
+"Stolen out of his desk. And you stand a nice chance, White, of losing
+the money. You should be more cautious. Who was it brought it here?"
+
+"A gentleman. A respectable man, at any rate. Who says it's stolen?"
+
+"I do," replied the sergeant, sitting himself down on the
+meat-block--rather a damp seat from its just having been washed with hot
+water. Delves liked to make himself familiar with his old friends in
+Helstonleigh in a patronising manner; it was only lately he had been
+promoted to sergeant. "Now! let's have the particulars, White."
+
+"I had just shut up my shop, all but the door, when in come a gentleman
+in a cloak and cap. 'Could you oblige the Messrs. Dunn with change for a
+cheque, Mr. White?' says he, handing a cheque to me. 'Yes, sir,' said I,
+'I can; very happy to oblige 'em. Would you like it in gold?' Well, he
+said he would like it in gold, and I gave it to him. 'Thank ye,' said
+he; 'I'd have got it nearer if I could, for I'm troubled to death with
+tooth-ache; but people are shut up:' and I noticed that he had kept his
+white handkerchief up to his mouth and nose. He went out with the gold,
+and I put up the cheque. And that's all I know about it, Delves."
+
+"Don't you know who it was?"
+
+"No, I don't. He had a cap on, with the ears coming down his cheeks;
+and, what with that, and the peak over his eyes, and the white
+handkerchief held up to his nose, I didn't so much as get a sight of his
+face. The shop was pretty near dark, too, for the gas was out. There was
+only a candle at the pay window."
+
+"If a man came in disguised like that, asking to have a cheque changed
+into gold, it might have occurred to some tradesmen there'd be something
+wrong about it," cried the sergeant.
+
+"I didn't know he was disguised," objected the butcher. "I saw it was a
+good cheque of the Messrs. Dunn, and I never gave a thought to anything
+else. I've had their cheques before to-day. Mr. William Dunn has dealt
+here this twenty year. But now that it's put into my head, I begin to
+think he _was_ disguised," continued the butcher. "His voice was odd,
+thick and low, and he spoke as if he had plums in his mouth."
+
+"Should you know him again?"
+
+"Ay. That is if he came in dressed as he was then. I'd know the cloak
+out of a hundred. It was one of them old-fashioned plaid rockelows."
+
+"Roquelaures," corrected the sergeant.
+
+"Something of that. The collar was lined with red, with a little edge of
+fur on it. There's a few such shaped cloaks in the town now, made of
+blue serge or cloth."
+
+"What time was it?" asked the sergeant.
+
+"Just eleven. I was shutting up."
+
+Sergeant Delves took possession of the cheque and proceeded to the
+office of Mr. Dare. A long conference ensued, and then they went out
+together towards Mr. Ashley's manufactory. On the road they happened to
+meet Cyril, and Mr. Dare drew him aside.
+
+"Do you happen to know any one who wears an old-fashioned plaid cloak?"
+he asked.
+
+"Halliburton wears one," replied Cyril: "the greatest object of a thing
+you ever saw. I say," continued Cyril, "what's old Delves doing with
+you?"
+
+"Not much," carelessly said Mr. Dare. "He has been looking after a
+little private business for me."
+
+"Oh, is that all?" and Cyril, feeling reassured, tore off on the errand
+he was bound for. For reasons best known to himself, it would not have
+pleased him that Sergeant Delves should be pressed into the affair of
+the cheque. At least, Cyril would have preferred that the matter should
+be allowed to rest.
+
+He executed his commission, one that he had been charged with by Samuel
+Lynn, turned back, passed the manufactory, and took his way to Honey
+Fair on a little matter of his own. It was only the purchase of a
+dog--not to make a mystery of it. A dog that had taken Cyril's fancy,
+and for which he and the owner had not yet been able to come to terms.
+So he was going up again to try his powers of persuasion.
+
+As he walked rapidly through Honey Fair, he saw a little bit of by-play
+on the opposite side. A young woman in a tattered gown, and a dirty
+bonnet drawn over her face, was walking along as rapidly as he. Her bent
+head, her humble attitude, her shrinking air, her haste to get out of
+sight of others, all betrayed that she, from some cause or other, was
+not in good odour with the world around. That she felt herself under a
+cloud, was only too apparent: it was a cloud of humiliation, for which
+she had only herself to thank. The women who met her hurried past with a
+toss of the head and then stood to peep after her as she disappeared in
+the distance.
+
+_She_ hurried--hurried past them--glad, it seemed, to be away from their
+stern looks and condemning eyes. Had you seen her, you would never have
+recognised her. In the dim eye, darker than of yore, the white cheek,
+the wasted form, no likeness remained of the once-blooming Caroline
+Mason.
+
+Just as she passed opposite to Cyril, Eliza Tyrrett came out of a house
+and met her; and Eliza, picking up her skirts, lest they should become
+contaminated, swept past with a sidelong glance of reproach and a
+scornful gesture. Caroline's head only bent the lower as she glided away
+from her old companion.
+
+It had been just as well that Charlotte East had not sent back that
+bundle, years ago, to surprise Anthony Dare. It was years now since
+Charlotte herself had come to the same conclusion.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+THE DUPLICATE CLOAKS.
+
+
+Leaning back against the corner of the mantel-piece by the side of the
+blazing fire in his private room, calmly surveying those ranged before
+him, and listening to their tale with an impassive face, was Thomas
+Ashley. Sergeant Delves and Mr. Dare were giving him the account of the
+changing of the cheque, obtained from White the butcher. Samuel Lynn
+stood near the master's desk, his brow knit in perplexity, his
+countenance keen and anxious. The description of the cloak, tallying so
+exactly with the one worn by William Halliburton, led Mr. Dare to the
+conclusion, nay, to the positive conviction that the butcher's visitor
+could have been no other than William. The sergeant held the same view;
+but the sergeant adopted it with difficulty.
+
+"It's an odd thing for _him_ to turn thief," said he, reflectively. "I'd
+have trusted that young fellow, sir, with untold gold," he added, to Mr.
+Ashley. "Here's another proof how we may be deceived."
+
+"I told you," said Mr. Dare, turning to Mr. Ashley, "that it could be no
+other than Halliburton."
+
+"Thee will permit me to say, friend Dare, that I do not agree with thy
+deductions," interposed the Quaker, before Mr. Ashley could answer.
+
+"Why, what would you have?" returned Mr. Dare. "Nothing can be plainer.
+Ask Sergeant Delves if he thinks further proof can be needed."
+
+"Many a man has been hanged upon less," was the oracular answer of
+Sergeant Delves.
+
+"What part of my deductions do you object to?" inquired Mr. Dare of the
+Quaker.
+
+"Thee art assuming--if I understand thee correctly--that there is no
+other cloak in the city so similar to William's as to be mistaken for
+it."
+
+"Just so."
+
+"Then, friend, I tell thee that there is."
+
+Mr. Dare opened his eyes. "Who wears it?" he asked.
+
+"That is another question," said Samuel Lynn. "I should be glad to find
+out myself, for curiosity's sake."
+
+Then Mr. Lynn told the story of his having observed a man, whom he had
+taken for William, walking at the back of his house, apparently waiting
+for something. "I saw him on two evenings," he observed, "at some
+considerable interval of time. The figure bore a perfect resemblance to
+William Halliburton; the height, the cloak, the cap--all appeared to be
+his. I taxed him with it. He denied it _in toto_, said he had not been
+walking there at all, and I believed he was attempting, for the first
+time since I have known him, to deceive me. I----"
+
+"Are you sure he was not?" put in Mr. Dare.
+
+"Thee should allow me to finish, friend. Last night I was home somewhat
+earlier than usual--thee can recollect why," the Quaker added, looking
+at Mr. Ashley. "I was up in my room, and I saw the same figure pacing
+about in precisely the same manner. William's denial had staggered me,
+otherwise I could have been ready to affirm that it was himself and no
+other. The moon was not up; but it was a very light night, and I marked
+every point in the cloak--it was as like William's as two peas are like
+each other. What he could want, pacing at the back of my house and of
+his, puzzled me much. I----"
+
+
+"What time was this, Mr. Lynn?" interrupted the sergeant.
+
+"Past eight o'clock. Later than the hour at which I had seen him on the
+two previous occasions. 'It is William Halliburton, of a surety,' I said
+to myself; and I thought I would pounce upon him, and so convict him of
+the falsehood he had told. I left my house by the front door, went down
+the road, past the houses, and entered the gate admitting into the
+field. I walked up quietly, keeping under the hedge as much as possible,
+and approached William--as I deemed him to be. He was then standing
+still, and gazing at the upper windows of my house. In spite of my
+caution, he heard me, and turned round. Whether he knew me or not, I
+cannot say; but he clipped the cloak around him with a hasty movement,
+and made off right across the field. I would not be balked if I could
+help it. I opened friend Jane Halliburton's back gate, and proceeded
+through the garden and house to the parlour, which I entered without
+ceremony. There sat William at his books."
+
+"Then it was not he, after all!" cried Mr. Dare, interested in the tale.
+
+
+"Of a surety it was not he. I tell thee, friend, he was seated quietly
+at his studies. 'Hast thee lent thy cloak to a friend to-night?' I asked
+him. He looked surprised, and said he had not. But, to be convinced, I
+requested to see his cloak, and he took me outside the door, and there
+was the cloak hanging up in the passage, his cap beside it. That is why
+I did not approve of thy deductions, friend Anthony Dare, in assuming
+that the cloak, which the man had on who changed the cheque, must be
+William Halliburton's," concluded Mr. Lynn.
+
+"You say the man looked like William when you were close to him?"
+inquired Mr. Ashley, who thought the whole affair very curious, and now
+broke silence for the first time.
+
+"Very much like him," answered Samuel Lynn. "But the resemblance may
+have been only in the cloak and cap. The face was not discernible; by
+accident or design, it was concealed. I think there need not be better
+negative proof that it was not William who changed the cheque."
+
+Mr. Ashley smiled. "Without this evidence of Mr. Lynn's I could have
+told you it was waste of time to cast suspicion on William Halliburton
+to me," said he, addressing the sergeant and Mr. Dare. "Were you to come
+here and accuse myself, it would make just as much impression upon me.
+Wait an instant, gentlemen."
+
+He went to the door, opened it, and called William. The latter came in,
+erect, courteous, noble--never suspecting the sergeant's business there
+could have anything to do with him.
+
+"William," began his master, "who is it that wears a similar cloak to
+yours, in the town?"
+
+"I am unable to say, sir," was William's ready reply. "Until last
+night," and he turned to Samuel Lynn with a smile, "I should have said
+there was not another like it. I suppose now there must be one."
+
+"If there is one, there may be more," remarked Mr. Ashley. "The fact is,
+William, the cheque has been traced. It was changed at White's, the
+butcher; and the person changing it wore a cloak, it seems, very much
+like yours."
+
+"Indeed!" cried William, with animation. "Well, sir, of course there may
+be many such cloaks in the town. All I can say is, I have not seen
+them."
+
+"There can't be many," spoke up the sergeant, "if it be the
+old-fashioned sort of thing described to me."
+
+William looked the sergeant full in the face with his open countenance,
+his honest eyes. No guilt there. "Would you like to see my cloak?" he
+asked. "It may be a guide, if you think the one worn resembled it."
+
+The sergeant nodded. "I was going to ask you to bring it in, if it was
+here."
+
+William brought it in. "It is one of the bygones," said he laughing. "I
+have some thoughts of forwarding it to the British Museum, as a specimen
+of antiquity. Stay! I will put it on, that you may see its beauties the
+better."
+
+He threw the cloak over his shoulders, and exhibited himself off, as he
+had done once before in that counting-house for the benefit of Samuel
+Lynn. "I think the British Museum will get it," he continued, in the
+same joking spirit. "Not until winter's over, though. It is a good
+friend on a cold night."
+
+Sergeant Delves' eyes were riveted on the cloak. "Where have I seen that
+cloak?" he mused, in a dreamy tone. "Lately, too!"
+
+"You may have seen me in it," said William.
+
+The sergeant shook his head. He lifted one hand to his temples, and
+proceeded to rub them gently, as if the process would assist his memory,
+never once relaxing his gaze.
+
+"Did White say the changer of the cheque was a tall man?" asked Mr.
+Ashley.
+
+"Yes," said Mr. Dare. "Whether he meant as tall as William Halliburton,
+I cannot say. There are not--why, I should think there are not a hundred
+men in the town who come up to that height," he added, looking at
+William.
+
+"Yourself one of them," said William, turning to him with a smile.
+
+Mr. Dare shook his head, a regret for his past youth crossing his heart.
+"Ay, once. I am beginning to grow downward now."
+
+Mr. Ashley was buried in reflection. There was a curious sound of
+mystery about the tale altogether, to his ears. That there were many
+thieves in Helstonleigh, he did not doubt--people who would appropriate
+a cheque, or anything else that came in their way; but why the same
+person--if it was the same--should pace the cold field at night,
+watching Samuel Lynn's house, was inexplicable. "It may not be the
+same," he observed aloud. "Shall you watch for the man again?" he asked
+of Mr. Lynn.
+
+"I shall not give myself much trouble over it now," was the reply.
+"While I was concerned to ascertain William's truthfulness----"
+
+"I scarcely think you need have doubted it, Mr. Lynn," interrupted
+William.
+
+"True. I have never doubted thee yet. But it appeared to be thy word
+against the sight of my own eyes. The master will understand----"
+
+A most extraordinary interruption came from Sergeant Delves. He threw up
+his head with a start, and gave vent to a shrill, prolonged whistle. "It
+looks dark!" cried he.
+
+"What didst thee say, friend Delves?"
+
+"I beg pardon, gentlemen," answered the sergeant. "I was not speaking to
+any of you; I was following up the bent of mine own thoughts. It
+suddenly flashed into my mind who it is that I have seen in one of these
+cloaks."
+
+"And who is it?" asked Mr. Dare.
+
+"You must excuse me, sir, if I keep that to myself," was the answer.
+
+"As tall a man as William Halliburton?"
+
+The sergeant ran his eyes up and down William's figure. "A shade taller,
+I should say, if anything."
+
+"And it struck me that the man who made off across the field was a shade
+taller," observed Samuel Lynn.
+
+"Well, I can't make sense of it," resumed Mr. Dare, breaking a pause.
+"Let us allow, if you like, that there are fifty such cloaks in the
+town. Unless one, wearing such, had access to Mr. Ashley's
+counting-house, to this very room that we are now in, how does the fact
+of there being others remove the suspicion from William Halliburton?"
+
+Mr. Dare had not intended wilfully to cause him pain. He had forgotten
+for the moment that William was a stranger to the doubt raised touching
+himself. Amidst the deep silence that ensued, William looked from one to
+the other.
+
+"Who suspects me?" he asked, surprise the only emotion in his tone.
+
+Sergeant Delves tapped him significantly on the shoulder. "Never you
+trouble yourself, young sir. If what has come into my mind be right, it
+isn't _you_ who are guilty."
+
+When he and Mr. Dare went out, Mr. Ashley followed them to the outer
+gate. As they stood there talking, Frank Halliburton passed. "Look
+here," thought the sergeant to himself, "there's not much doubt as to
+the black sheep--I see that: but it's as well, to be on the sure side.
+Young man," cried he aloud to Frank, in the authoritative, patronizing
+manner which Sergeant Delves was fond of assuming when he could, "what
+time did your brother William get home last Saturday night? I suppose
+you know, if you were at home yourself."
+
+Frank looked at him rather haughtily. "_I_ know," he replied. "I have
+yet to learn why you need know."
+
+"Tell him, Frank," said Mr. Ashley, with a smile.
+
+"It was a little after ten," said Frank.
+
+"Did he go out again?" asked the sergeant.
+
+"Out again at that time!" cried Frank. "No: he did not go out again. We
+sat talking together ever so long, and then went up to bed."
+
+"Ah!" rejoined the sergeant. It was all he answered. And he wished Mr.
+Ashley good day, and departed with Mr. Dare.
+
+"I am going to Oxford at Easter, Mr. Ashley," cried Frank with
+animation.
+
+"I am pleased to hear it."
+
+"But only as a servitor. I don't mind," he added, throwing back his head
+with pardonable pride. "Let me once get a start, and I hope to rise
+above some who go there as gentlemen-commoners. I intend to make this my
+circuit," he went on, half jokingly, half seriously.
+
+"You are ambitious, Frank. I heartily wish you success. There's nothing
+like keeping a good heart."
+
+"Oh yes, success is not doubtful. I'll do battle with all the
+obstructions in my course. Good afternoon, sir."
+
+William, curious and anxious, could make nothing of his books that night
+at home. At length he threw up, put on the notable cloak, and went down
+to the manufactory. He found Mr. Ashley there; and the counting-house
+soon received an addition to its company in the person of Sergeant
+Delves. He had come in search of William. Not being aware that William
+was allowed the privilege of spending his evenings at home, he had
+supposed the manufactory was the place to find him in.
+
+
+"I want you down at White's," said the sergeant. "Put on your cloak,
+will you be so good, Mr. Halliburton, and come with me?"
+
+"Do you suspect me?" was William's answer.
+
+"No, I don't," returned the sergeant. "I told you before, to-day, that I
+did not. The fact is"--dropping his voice to a mysterious whisper--"I
+want to do a little bit of private inquiry on my own account. I have a
+clue to the party: and I should like to work it out."
+
+"If you have a sufficient clue, the party had better be arrested at
+once," observed Mr. Ashley.
+
+"Ah, but it's not sufficient for that," nodded the sergeant. "No, Mr.
+Ashley, sir; my strong advice to you is, keep quiet a bit."
+
+They started for the butcher's, William wearing his cloak and cap, and
+Mr. Ashley accompanying them. Mr. Ashley possessed his own curiosity
+upon various points; perhaps his own doubts.
+
+"It is strange who this man can be who walks at the back of your house,"
+observed Mr. Ashley to William, as they went along. "What can be his
+motive for walking there, dressed like you?"
+
+"It is curious, sir."
+
+"I should suppose it can only arise from a desire that he should be
+taken for you," continued Mr. Ashley. "But to what end? Why should he
+walk there at all?"
+
+"Why, indeed!" responded William.
+
+"What coloured gloves are you wearing?" abruptly interrupted Sergeant
+Delves.
+
+William took his hands from beneath his cloak, and held them out. They
+were of the darkest possible colour, next to black; the shade called in
+the glove trade "corbeau." "These are all I have in use at present," he
+said. "They are nearly new."
+
+"Have you worn any light gloves lately? Tan or fawn?"
+
+"I scarcely ever wear tan gloves. I have not put on a pair for months."
+
+They arrived at the butcher's and entered. White was standing at his
+block, chopping a bone in two. He lifted his head, and touched his hair
+to Mr. Ashley.
+
+"Is this the gentleman who had the money of you for the cheque?" began
+Sergeant Delves, without circumlocution.
+
+Mr. White put down his chopper, and took a survey of William. "It's like
+the cloak and cap that the other wore," said he.
+
+Sergeants take up words quickly. "That the 'other' wore? Then you do not
+think it was this one?"
+
+"No, I don't," decided the butcher. "The one who brought the cheque was
+a shorter man."
+
+"Shorter!" repeated Mr. Ashley, remembering it had been said in his
+counting-house that the man who appeared to be personating William was
+thought to have the advantage the other way. "You mean taller, White."
+
+"No, sir, I mean shorter. I am sure he was shorter. Not much, though."
+
+There was a pause. "You observed that his gloves were tan, I think,"
+said the sergeant.
+
+"Something of that sort. Clean light gloves they were, such as gentlemen
+wear."
+
+
+"Finally, then, White, you decide that this was not the gentleman?"
+
+"Not he," said the butcher. "It's not the same voice."
+
+"The voice goes for nothing," said Sergeant Delves. "The other one had
+plums in his mouth."
+
+"Well," said the butcher, "I think I should have known Mr. Halliburton,
+in spite of any disguise, had he come in."
+
+"Don't make too sure, White," said the sergeant, with one of his wise
+nods. "He who came might have turned out to be just as familiar to you
+as Mr. Halliburton, if he had let you see his face. The fact is, White,
+there's some one going about with a cloak like this, and we want to find
+out who it is. Mr. Halliburton would give a pound out of his pocket, I'm
+sure, to know."
+
+"I'd give two," said Mr. Ashley, with a smile.
+
+"Sir," asked the butcher of Mr. Ashley, "what about the money? Shall I
+lose it?"
+
+"Now, White, just wait a bit," put in the sergeant. "If it was a
+gentleman that changed it, perhaps we shall get it out of _him_. Any
+way, you keep quiet."
+
+They left the shop--standing a moment together before parting. The
+sergeant's road lay one way; Mr. Ashley's and William's another. "This
+only makes the matter more obscure," observed Mr. Ashley, alluding to
+what had passed.
+
+"Not at all. It makes it all the more clear," was the cool reply of the
+sergeant.
+
+"White says the man was shorter than Mr. Halliburton."
+
+"It's just what I expected him to say," nodded the sergeant. "If I am on
+the right scent--and I'd lay a thousand pound on it!--the man who
+changed the cheque _is_ shorter. I just wanted White's evidence on the
+point," he added, looking at William; "and that is why I asked you to
+come down, dressed in your cloak. Good night, gentlemen."
+
+He turned up the Shambles. And Mr. Ashley and William walked away side
+by side.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+IN THE STARLIGHT.
+
+
+The conversation at Mr. Dare's dinner-table again turned upon the loss
+of the cheque, and the proceedings thereon. It was natural that it
+should turn upon it. Mr. Dare's mind was full of it; and he gave
+utterance to various conjectures and speculations, as they occurred to
+him.
+
+"In spite of what they say, I cannot help thinking that it must have
+been William Halliburton," he remarked with emphasis. "He alone was in
+the counting-house when the cheque disappeared; and the person changing
+it at White's, is proved to have borne the strongest possible
+resemblance to him; at all events, to his dress. The face was hidden--as
+of course it would be. People who attempt to pass off stolen cheques,
+take pretty good care that their features are not seen.
+
+"But who hesitates to bring it home to Halliburton?" inquired Mrs. Dare.
+
+"They all do--as it seems to me. Ashley won't hear a word: laughs at the
+idea of Halliburton's being capable of it, and says we may as well
+accuse himself. That's nothing: as Cyril says, Mr. Ashley appears to be
+imbued with the idea that Halliburton can do no wrong: but now Delves
+has veered round. He shifts the blame entirely off Halliburton."
+
+"Upon whom does he shift it?" asked Anthony Dare.
+
+"He won't say," replied Mr. Dare. "He has grown mysterious over it since
+the afternoon; nodding and winking, and giving no explanation. He says
+he knows who it is who possesses the second cloak."
+
+"The second cloak!" The words were a puzzle to most at table, and Mr.
+Dare had to explain that another cloak, similar to that worn by William
+Halliburton, was supposed to be in existence.
+
+Cyril looked up, with wonder marked on his face. "Does Delves say there
+are two such cloaks?" asked he.
+
+"That there are two such cloaks appears to be an indisputable fact,"
+replied Mr. Dare. "The one cloak was parading behind the Halliburtons'
+house last night. Samuel Lynn went up to it----"
+
+"The cloak parading tout seul--alone?" interrupted Signora Varsini, with
+a perplexed air.
+
+A laugh went round the table. "Accompanied by the wearer, mademoiselle,"
+said Mr. Dare, continuing the account of Samuel Lynn's adventure. "Thus
+the fact of there being two cloaks is established," he proceeded.
+"Still, that tells nothing; unless the owner of the other has access to
+Mr. Ashley's counting-house. I pointed this fact out to them. But
+Delves--which is most unaccountable--differed from me; and when we
+parted he expressed an opinion, with that confident nod of his, that it
+was not Halliburton's cloak which had been in the mischief at the
+butcher's, but the other."
+
+"What a thundering falsehood!" burst forth Herbert Dare.
+
+"_Sir!_" cried Mr. Dare, while all around the table stared at Herbert's
+excited manner.
+
+Herbert had the grace to feel ashamed of his abrupt and intemperate
+rudeness. "I beg your pardon, sir; I spoke in my surprise. I mean that
+Delves must be telling a falsehood, if he seeks to throw the guilt off
+Halliburton. The very fact of the fellow's wearing a strange cloak such
+as that, when he went to get rid of the cheque, must be proof positive
+of Halliburton's guilt."
+
+"So I think," acquiesced Mr. Dare.
+
+"What sort of a cloak is this that you laugh at, and call scarce?"
+inquired the governess.
+
+"The greatest scarecrow of a thing you can conceive, mademoiselle,"
+responded Mr. Dare. "I had the pleasure of seeing it to-day on
+Halliburton. It is a dark green-and-blue Scotch plaid, made very full,
+with a turned up collar lined with red, and a bit of fur edging it."
+
+"Plaid? Plaid?" repeated mademoiselle. "Why it must be----"
+
+"What?" asked Mr. Dare, for she had stopped.
+
+"It must be very ugly," concluded she. But somehow Mr. Dare gathered an
+impression that it was not what she had been about to say.
+
+"What is it that Delves says about the cloaks?" eagerly questioned
+Cyril. "I cannot make it out."
+
+"Delves says he knows who it is that owns the other; and that it was the
+other which went to change the cheque at White's."
+
+"What mysterious words, papa!" cried Adelaide. "The cloak went to change
+the cheque!"
+
+"They were Delves' own words," replied Mr. Dare. "He did seem remarkably
+mysterious over it."
+
+"Is he going to hunt up the other cloak?" resumed Cyril.
+
+"I conclude so. He was pondering over it for some time before he could
+remember who it was that he had seen wear a similar cloak. When the
+recollection came to him, he started up with surprise. Sharp men, these
+police-officers!" added Mr. Dare. "They forget nothing."
+
+"And they ferret out everything," said Herbert with some testiness.
+"Instead of wasting time over vain speculations touching cloaks, why
+does not he secure Halliburton? It is impossible that the other
+cloak--if there is another--could have had anything to do with the
+affair."
+
+"I dropped a note to Delves after he left me, recommending him to follow
+up the suspicion on Halliburton, whether Mr. Ashley is agreeable or
+not," said Mr. Dare. "I have rarely in my life met with a stronger case
+of presumptive evidence."
+
+So, many, besides Mr. Dare, would have felt inclined to say. Herbert,
+like his father, was firm in the belief that William Halliburton must
+have taken the money; that it must have been he who paid the visit to
+the butcher. What Cyril thought may be best inferred from his actions. A
+sudden fear had come over him that Sergeant Delves was really going to
+search out the other cloak. A most inconvenient procedure for Cyril,
+lest, in the process, the sergeant should search out _him_. He laid down
+his knife and fork. He had had quite enough dinner for one day.
+
+"Are you not hungry, Cyril?" asked his mother.
+
+"I had a tremendous lunch," answered Cyril. "I can't eat more now."
+
+He sat at the table until they had finished, feeling that he was being
+choked with dread. But that a guilty conscience deprives us of free
+action, he would have left the table and gone about some work he was now
+eager to do.
+
+He rose when the rest did, looked about for a pair of large scissors,
+and glided with them up the staircase, his eyes and ears on the alert,
+lest there should be any watching him. No human being in that house had
+the slightest knowledge of what Cyril was about to do, or that he was
+going to do anything; but to Cyril's guilty conscience it seemed that
+all must be on the look-out.
+
+A candle and scissors in hand he stole up to Herbert's room and locked
+himself in. Inside a closet within the room hung a dark blue camlet
+cloak, and Cyril took it from the hook. It had a plaid lining: a lining
+of the precise pattern and colours that the material of William
+Halliburton's cloak was composed of. The cloak was of the same full,
+old-fashioned make; its collar was lined with red, tipped with fur: in
+short, the one cloak worn on the right side and the other worn on the
+wrong side, could not have been told apart. This cloak belonged to
+Herbert Dare; occasionally, though not often, he went out at dusk,
+wearing it wrong side outermost. It was he, no doubt, whom Sergeant
+Delves had seen wearing one. He was a little taller than William
+Halliburton, towering above six feet. What his motive had been in
+causing a cloak to be lined so that, turned, it should resemble William
+Halliburton's, or whether the similarity in the lining had been
+accidental, was only known to Herbert himself.
+
+With trembling fingers, and sharp scissors that were not particular
+where they cut, Cyril began his task of taking out this plaid lining.
+That he had worn it to the butcher's, and that he feared it might tell
+tales of him, were facts only too apparent. Better put it out of the way
+for ever! Unpicking, cutting, snipping, Cyril tore away at the lining,
+and at length got it out, the cloak suffering considerable damage in the
+shape of cuts and rents, and loose threads. Hanging the cloak up again,
+he twisted the lining together.
+
+He was thus engaged when the handle of the door was briskly turned, as
+if some one essayed to enter who had not expected to find it fastened.
+Cyril dashed the lining under the bed, and made a spring to the window.
+To leap out? surely not: for the fall would have killed him. But he had
+nearly lost all presence of mind in his perplexity and fear.
+
+Another turn at the handle, and the steps went on their way. Cyril
+thought he recognized them for the housemaid's, Betsy. He supposed she
+was going her evening round of the chambers. Gathering the lining under
+his arm, he halted to think. His hands shook, and his face was white.
+
+What should he do with this tell-tale thing? He could not eat it; he
+dared not burn it. There was no room, of those which had fires, where he
+might make sure of being alone: and the smell would alarm the house.
+What _was_ he to do with it?
+
+Dig a hole and bury it, came a prompting voice within him; and Cyril
+waited for no better suggestion, but crept with it down the stairs, and
+out to the garden.
+
+Seizing a spade, he dug a hole rapidly in an unfrequented place; and
+when it was large enough thrust the stuff in. Then he covered it over
+again, to leave the spot apparently as he found it.
+
+"I wish those stars would give a stronger light," grumbled Cyril,
+looking up at the dark blue canopy. "I must come again in the morning, I
+suppose, and see that it's all safe. It wouldn't do to bring a lantern."
+
+Now it happened that Mr. Herbert Dare was bound on a private errand that
+evening. His intention was to go abroad in his cloak while he executed
+it. Just about the time that Cyril was putting the finishing touch to
+the hole, Herbert went up to his room to get the cloak.
+
+To get the cloak, indeed! When Herbert opened the closet-door, nothing
+except the mutilated object just described met his eye. A torn, cut
+thing, the threads hanging from it loosely. Nothing could exceed
+Herbert's consternation as he stared at it. He thought he must be in a
+dream. _Was_ it his cloak? Just before dinner, when he came up to wash
+his hands, he had seen his cloak hanging there, perfect. He shook it, he
+pulled it, he peered at it. His cloak it certainly was; but who had
+destroyed it? A suspicion flashed into his mind that it might be the
+governess. He made but a few steps to the school-room, carrying the
+cloak with him.
+
+The governess was sitting there, listlessly enough. Perhaps she was
+waiting for him. "I say, mademoiselle," he began, "what on earth have
+you been doing to my cloak?"
+
+"To your cloak!" responded she. "What should I have been doing to it?"
+
+"Look here," he said, spreading it out before her. "Who or what has done
+this? It was all right when I went down to dinner."
+
+She stared at it in astonishment great as Herbert's, and threw off a
+volley of surprise in her foreign tongue. But she was a shrewd woman.
+Ay, never was there a shrewder than Bianca Varsini. Mr. Sergeant Delves
+was not a bad hand at ferreting out conclusions; but she would have
+beaten the sergeant hollow.
+
+"Tenez," cried she, putting up her forefinger in thought, as she gazed
+at the cloak. "Cyril did this."
+
+"Cyril!"
+
+She nodded her head. "You stood it out to me that you did not come in on
+Saturday evening and go out again between ten and eleven----"
+
+"I did not," interrupted Herbert. "I told you truth, but you would not
+believe me."
+
+"But this cloak went out. And it was turned the plaid side outwards, and
+your cap was on, tied down at the ears. Naturally I thought it was you.
+It must have been Cyril! Do you comprehend?"
+
+"No, I don't," said Herbert. "How mysteriously you are speaking!"
+
+"It must have been Cyril who robbed Mr. Ashley."
+
+"Mademoiselle!" interrupted Herbert indignantly.
+
+"Ecoutez, mon ami. He was blanched as white as a mouchoir, while your
+father spoke of it at dinner--did you see that he could not eat? 'You
+look guilty, Monsieur Cyril,' I said to myself, not really thinking him
+to be so. But be persuaded it was no other. He must have taken the
+paper-money--or what you call it--and come home here for your cloak and
+cap to wear, while he changed it for gold, thinking it would fall on
+that other one who wears the cloak; that William Hall----I cannot say
+the name; c'est trop dur pour les lèvres. It is Cyril, and no other. He
+has turned afraid now, and has torn the lining out."
+
+Herbert could make no rejoinder at first, partly in dismay, partly in
+astonishment. "It cannot have been Cyril!" he reiterated.
+
+"I say it is Cyril," persisted the young lady. "I saw him creep up the
+stairs after dinner, with a candle and your mother's great scissors in
+his hand. He did not see me. I was in the dark, looking out of my room.
+Depend he was going to do it then."
+
+"Then, of all blind idiots, Cyril's the worst!--if he did take the
+cheque," uttered Herbert. "Should it become known, he is done for; and
+that for life. And my father helping to fan the flame!"
+
+The governess shrugged her shoulders. "I not like Cyril," she said. "I
+have never liked him since I came."
+
+"But you will not tell against him!" cried Herbert, in fear.
+
+"No, no, no. Tell against your brother! Why should I? It is no concern
+of mine. Unless people meddle with me, I not meddle with them. Cyril is
+safe, for me."
+
+"What on earth am I to do for my cloak to-night?" debated Herbert. "I
+was going--going where I want it."
+
+"Why you want it so to-night?" asked mademoiselle sharply.
+
+"Because it's cold," responded Herbert. "The cloak was warmer than my
+overcoat is."
+
+"Last night you go out, to-night you go out, to-morrow you go out. It is
+always so now!"
+
+"I have a lot of perplexing business upon me," answered Herbert. "I have
+no time to see about it in the day."
+
+Some little time longer he remained talking with her, partially
+disputing. The Italian, from some cause or other, went into ill-humour
+and said some provoking things. Herbert, it must be confessed, received
+them with good temper, and she grew more affable. When he left her, she
+offered to pick the loose threads out of the cloak, and hem up the
+bottom.
+
+"You'll lock the door while you do it?" he urged.
+
+"I will take it to my chamber," she said. "No one will molest me there."
+
+Herbert left it with her and went out. Cyril went out. Anthony had
+already gone out. Mr. Dare remained at home. He and his wife were
+conversing over the dining-room fire, in the course of the evening, when
+Joseph came in.
+
+"You are wanted, please, sir," he said to his master.
+
+"Who wants me?" asked Mr. Dare.
+
+"It's Policeman Delves, sir."
+
+"Oh, show him in here," said Mr. Dare. "I hope something will be done in
+this," he added to his wife. "It may turn out a good slice of luck for
+me."
+
+Sergeant Delves came in. In point of fact, he had just returned from
+that interview with the butcher, where he had been accompanied by Mr.
+Ashley and William.
+
+"Well, Delves, did you get my note?" asked Mr. Dare.
+
+"Yes, sir, I did," said the sergeant, taking the seat offered him. "It's
+what I have come up about."
+
+"Do you intend to act upon my advice?"
+
+"Why--no, I think not," replied the sergeant. "Not, at any rate, until I
+have had a talk with you."
+
+"What will you take?"
+
+"Well, sir, the night's cold. I don't mind a drop of brandy-and-water."
+
+It was brought, and Mr. Dare joined his visitor in partaking of it. He
+agreed with him that the night was cold. But nothing could Mr. Dare make
+of him. As often as he turned the conversation on the subject in hand,
+so often did the sergeant turn it off again. Mrs. Dare grew tired of
+listening to nothing; and she departed, leaving them together.
+
+Then the manner of Sergeant Delves changed. He drew his chair forward;
+and bent towards Mr. Dare.
+
+"You have been urging me to go against young Halliburton," he began. "It
+won't do. Halliburton no more fingered that cheque, or had anything to
+do with it, than you or I had. Mr. Dare, don't you stir in this matter
+any further."
+
+"My present intention is to stir it to the bottom," returned Mr. Dare.
+
+"Look here," said the sergeant in an undertone; "I am not obliged to
+take notice of offences that don't come legally in my way. Many a thing
+has been done in this town--ay, and is being done now--that I am obliged
+to wink at; it don't lay right in my duty to take notice of it, so I
+keep my eyes shut. Now that's just it in this case. So long as the
+parties concerned, Mr. Ashley, or White, don't put it into my hands
+officially, I am not obliged to take so-and-so into custody, or to act
+upon my own suspicions. And I won't do it upon suspicions of my own: I
+promise it. If I am forced, that's another matter."
+
+"Are you alluding to Halliburton?"
+
+"No. You are on the wrong scent, I say."
+
+"And you think you are on the right one?"
+
+"I could put my finger out this night and lay it on the fox. But I tell
+you, sir, I don't want to, unless I am compelled. Don't _you_ compel me,
+Mr. Dare, of all people in the world."
+
+Mr. Dare leaned back in his chair, his thumbs in his waistcoat armholes.
+No suspicion of the truth had crossed him, and he could not understand
+either the sergeant or his manner. The latter rose to depart.
+
+"The other cloak, similar to young Halliburton's, belongs to your son
+Herbert," he whispered, as he passed Mr. Dare. "It was his brother,
+Cyril, who wore it on Saturday night, and who changed the cheque:
+therefore we may give a guess as to who took the cheque out of Mr.
+Ashley's desk. Now you be still over it, sir, for his sake, as I shall
+be. If I can, I'll call at your office to-morrow, Mr. Dare, and talk
+further. White must have the money refunded to him, or _he_ won't be
+still."
+
+Anthony Dare fell into a confusion of horror and consternation, leaving
+the sergeant to bow himself out. Mrs. Dare heard the departure, and
+returned to the room.
+
+"Well," cried she briskly, "is he going to accuse Halliburton?"
+
+Mr. Dare did not answer. He looked up in a beseeching, helpless sort of
+manner, as one who is stunned by a blow.
+
+"What is the matter?" she questioned, gazing at him closely. "Are you
+ill?"
+
+He rose up shaking, as if ague were upon him. "No--no."
+
+"Perhaps you are cold," said Mrs. Dare. "I asked you what Delves was
+going to do. Will he accuse Halliburton?"
+
+"Be still!" sharply cried Mr. Dare in a tone of pain. "The matter is to
+be hushed up. It was not Halliburton."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI.
+
+A PRESENT OF TEA-LEAVES.
+
+
+How went on Honey Fair? Better and worse, better and worse, according to
+custom; the worse prevailing over the better.
+
+Of all its inhabitants, none had advanced so well as Robert East.
+Honestly to confess it, that is not saying much; since the greater
+portion, instead of advancing in the world's social scale, had
+retrograded. Robert had left the manufactory he had worked for and was
+now second foreman at Mr. Ashley's. He was also becoming through
+perseverance an excellent scholar in a plain way. He had had one friend
+to help him; and that was William Halliburton.
+
+The Easts had removed to a better house; one of those which had a garden
+in front of it. No garden was more fragrant than theirs; and it was kept
+in order by Robert and Thomas East. The house was larger than they
+required, and part of it was occupied by Stephen Crouch and his
+daughter. It was known that the Easts were putting by money: and Honey
+Fair wondered: for none lived more comfortably, more respectably. Honey
+Fair--taking it as a whole--lived neither comfortably nor respectably.
+The Fishers had never come out of the workhouse, and Joe was dead. The
+Crosses, turned from their home, their furniture sold, had found
+lodgings; two rooms. Improvident as ever, were they. They did not
+attempt to rise even to their former condition; but grovelled on, living
+from hand to mouth. The Masons, man and wife, passed their time
+agreeably in quarrels. At least, that it was agreeable may be assumed,
+for the quarrels never ceased. Now and then they were diversified by a
+fight. The children were growing up without training; and Caroline--ah!
+I don't know that it will do much good to ask after her. Caroline, years
+ago, had taken a false step; and, try as she would, she could not
+regain her footing. She lived in a garret alone. She had so lived a long
+while; and she worked her fingers to the bone to keep body and soul
+together, and went about with her head down. Honey Fair looked askance
+at her, and gathered up its petticoats when they saw her coming, as you
+saw Eliza Tyrrett gather up hers, lest they should come into contact
+with those contaminations. The Carters thrived; the Brumms, also, were
+better off than they used to be; and the Buffles did so excellently that
+a joke went about that they would be retiring on their fortune: but the
+greater portion of Honey Fair was full of trouble and improvidence.
+
+William Halliburton frequently found himself in Honey Fair. It was the
+most direct road from his house to that of Monsieur Colin, the French
+master. William, sociably inclined by nature, had sometimes dropped in
+at one or other of the houses. He would find Robert East labouring at
+his books much more than he need have laboured had some little
+assistance been given him in his progress. William good-naturedly
+undertook to supply it. It became quite a common thing for him to go
+round and pass an hour with the Easts and Stephen Crouch.
+
+The unpleasant social features of Honey Fair thus obtruded themselves on
+William Halliburton's notice; it was impossible that any one passing
+much through Honey Fair should not be struck with them. Could nothing be
+done to rescue the people from this degraded condition?--and a degraded
+one it was, compared with what it might have been. Young and
+inexperienced as he was, it was a question that sometimes arose to
+William's mind. Dirty homes, scolding mothers, ragged and pining
+children, rough and swearing husbands! Waste, discomfort, evil. The
+women laid the blame on the men: reproached them with wasting their
+evenings and their money at the public-house. The men retorted upon the
+women, and said they had not a home "fit for a pig to come into."
+Meanwhile the money, whether earned by husband or wife, _went_. It went
+somehow, bringing apparently nothing to show for it, and the least
+possible return of good. Thus they struggled and squabbled on, their
+lives little better than one continued scene of scramble, discomfort,
+and toil. At a year's end they were not in the least bettered, not in
+the least raised, socially, morally, or physically, from their condition
+at the year's commencement. Nothing had been achieved; except that they
+were one year nearer to the great barrier which separates time from
+eternity.
+
+Ask them what they were toiling and struggling for. They did not know.
+What was their end, their aim? They had none. If they could only rub on,
+and keep body and soul together (as poor Caroline Mason was trying to do
+in her garret), it appeared to be all they cared for. They did not
+endeavour to lift up their hopes or their aspirations above that; they
+were willing so to go on until death should come. What a life! what an
+end!
+
+A feeling would now and then come over William that he might in some way
+help them to attempt better things. To do so was a duty which seemed to
+be lying across his path, that he might take it up and make it his. How
+to set about it, he knew no more than the Man in the Moon. Now and then
+disheartening moments would come upon him. To attempt to sweep away the
+evils of Honey Fair appeared a far more formidable task than to cleanse
+the Augean Stables could ever have appeared to Hercules. He knew that
+any endeavour, whether on his part or on that of others, who might be
+far more experienced and capable than he, would be utterly fruitless
+unless the incentive to exertion, to strive to do better, should be
+first born within themselves. Ah, my friends! the aid of others may be
+looked upon as a great thing; but without self-struggle and self-help
+little good will be effected.
+
+One evening in passing the house partially occupied by the Crosses the
+door was flung violently open, a girl of fifteen flew shrieking out and
+a saucer of wet tea-leaves came flying after her. The tea-leaves
+alighted on the girl's neck, just escaping William's arm. It was the
+youngest girl of the family, Patty. The tea-leaves had come from Mrs.
+Cross. Her face was red with passion, her voice loud; the girl, on her
+part, was insulting and abusive. Mrs. Cross had her hands stretched out,
+to scratch, or tear, or pull hair, and a personal skirmish would
+inevitably have ensued but for the chance of William's being there. He
+received the hands upon his arm and contrived to detain them.
+
+"What's the matter, Mrs. Cross?"
+
+"Matter!" raved Mrs. Cross. "She's a idle, impedent wicked huzzy--that's
+what's the matter. She knows I've my gloving to get in for Saturday, and
+not a stroke'll she help. There's the dishes lying dirty from dinner,
+the tea-cups lying from tea, and touch 'em she won't. She expects me to
+do it, and me with my gloving to find 'em in food! I took hold of her
+arm to make her do it, and she turned and struck at me, the
+good-for-nothing faggot! I hope none on it didn't go on you, sir," added
+Mrs. Cross, somewhat modifying her voice, and pausing to recover breath.
+
+"Better that it had gone on my coat than on Patty's neck," replied he,
+in a good-natured, half-joking tone; though, indeed, the girl, with her
+evil look at her mother, her insolent air, stood there scarcely worth
+his defence. "If my mother asked me to wash tea-things or do anything
+else, Patty, I should do it, and think it a pleasure to help her," he
+added, to the girl.
+
+Patty pushed her tangled hair behind her ears, and turned a defiant look
+upon her mother. Hidden as she had thought it from William, he saw it.
+
+"You just wait," nodded Mrs. Cross, in answer as defiant. "I'll make
+your back smart by-and-by."
+
+Which of the two was the more in fault? It was hard to say. The girl had
+never been brought up to know her duty, or to do it. The mother from her
+earliest childhood had given abuse and blows; no kindly, persuasive
+words; no training. Little wonder, now Patty was growing up, that she
+turned again. It was the usual sort of maternal government throughout
+Honey Fair. In these, and similar cases, where could interference or
+counsel avail, unless the spirit of the mothers and daughters could be
+changed?
+
+William walked on, after the little episode of the tea-leaves. He could
+not help contrasting these homes with his home; their life with his
+life. He was given to reflection beyond his years, and he wished these
+people could be aroused to improvement both of mind and body. They were
+living for no end; toiling only to satisfy the wants of the day--nay, to
+arrest the wants, rather than to satisfy them. How many of them were so
+much as thinking of another world? Their toil and turmoil in this was
+too great to enable them to cast a thought to the next.
+
+"I wonder," mused William, as he stepped towards M. Colin's, "whether
+some of the better-conducted of the men might not be induced to come
+round to East's in an evening? It might be a beginning, at any rate.
+Once wean the men from the public-houses, and there's no knowing what
+reform might be effected. I would willingly give up an hour or two of my
+evenings to them!"
+
+His visit to M. Colin over, he retraced his steps to Honey Fair and
+turned into Robert East's. It was past eight o'clock then. Robert and
+Stephen Crouch were home from work, and were getting out their books.
+Charlotte sat by, at work as usual, and Tom East was drawing Charlotte's
+head towards him, to whisper something to her.
+
+"Robert," said William, speaking impulsively, the moment he entered, "I
+wonder whether you could induce a few of your neighbours to come here of
+an evening?"
+
+"What for, sir?" asked Robert turning round from the book-shelves where
+he stood, searching for some volume.
+
+"It might be so much better for them. It might end in being so. I wish,"
+he added with sudden warmth, "we could get all Honey Fair here!"
+
+"All Honey Fair!" echoed Stephen Crouch in astonishment.
+
+"I mean what I say, Crouch."
+
+"Why, sir, the room wouldn't hold a quarter or a tenth part, or a
+hundredth part of them."
+
+William laughed. "No, that it would not, practically. There is so much
+discomfort around us, and--and ill-doing--I must call it so, for want of
+a better name--that I sometimes wish we could mend it a little."
+
+"Who mend it, sir?"
+
+"Any one who would try. You two might help towards it. If you could
+seduce a few round here, and get them to be interested in your own
+evening occupation--books and rational conversation--and so wean them
+from the public-houses, it would be a great thing."
+
+"There'd never be any good done with the men, take them as a whole, sir.
+They are an ignorant, easy-going lot, and don't care to be better."
+
+"That's just it, Crouch. They don't care to be better. But they might be
+taught to care. It would be a very great thing if Honey Fair could be
+brought to spend its evenings as you spend yours. If the men gave up
+spending their money, and reeling home after it; and the women kept tidy
+hearths and civil tongues. As Charlotte does," he added looking round at
+her.
+
+"There's no denying that, sir."
+
+"I think something might be done. By degrees, you understand; not in a
+hurry. Were you to take the men by storm--to say, 'We want you to lead
+changed lives, and are going to show you how to do it,' your movement
+would fail, and you would get laughed at into the bargain. Say to the
+men, 'You shan't go to the public-house, because you waste your time,
+your money, and your temper,' and, rely upon it, it would have as much
+effect as if you spoke to the wind. But get them to come here as a sort
+of change, and you may secure them for good if you make the evenings
+pleasant to them. In short, give them some employment or attraction that
+will outweigh the attractions of the public-house."
+
+"It would certainly be a good thing," said Stephen Crouch, musingly.
+"They might be for trying to raise themselves then."
+
+"Ay," spoke William, with enthusiasm. "Once let them find the day-spring
+within themselves, the wish to do right, to be raised above what they
+are now, and the rest will be easy. When once that day-spring can be
+found, a man is made. God never sent a man here, but he implanted that
+within him. The difficulty is, to awaken it."
+
+"And it is not always done, sir," said Charlotte, lifting her face from
+her work with a kindling eye, a heightened colour. _She_ had found it.
+
+"Charlotte, I fear it is rarely done, instead of not always. It lies
+pretty dormant, to judge by appearances, in Honey Fair."
+
+William was right. It is an epoch in a man's life, that finding what he
+had not inaptly called the day-spring. Self-esteem, self-reliance, the
+courage of long-continued patience, the striving to make the best of the
+mind's good gifts--all are born of it. He who possesses it may soar to a
+bright and, happy lot, bearing in mind--may he always bear it!--the rest
+and reward promised hereafter.
+
+"At any rate, it would be giving them a chance, as it seems to me,"
+observed William. "I think I know one who would come. Andrew Brumm."
+
+"Ah, _he_ would, and be glad to come," replied Robert East. "He is
+different from many of them. I know another who would, sir; and that's
+Adam Thornycroft."
+
+Charlotte bent her head over her work.
+
+"Since that cousin of his died of _delirium tremens_, Thornycroft has
+said good-bye to the public-houses. He spends his evenings at home with
+his mother: but I know he would like to spend them here. Tim Carter
+would come, sir."
+
+"If Mrs. Tim will let him," put in Tom East saucily. And a laugh went
+round.
+
+"Ever so few to begin with, will set the example to others," remarked
+William. "There's no knowing what it may grow to. Small beginnings make
+great endings. I have talked with my mother about Honey Fair. She has
+always said: 'Before Honey Fair's conduct can be improved, its minds
+must be improved.'"
+
+"There will be the women yet, sir," spoke Charlotte. "If they are to
+remain as they are, it will be of little use the men doing anything for
+themselves."
+
+"Charlotte, once begun, I say there's no knowing where the work may
+end," he gravely answered.
+
+The rain, which had been threatening all the evening, was coming down
+pretty smartly as William walked through Honey Fair on his return.
+Standing against a shutter near his own door was Jacob Cross. "Good
+night, Jacob," said William.
+
+"Goodnight, sir," answered Jacob sullenly.
+
+"Are you standing in the rain that it may make you grow, as the children
+say?" asked William in his ever-pleasant tone.
+
+"I'm standing here 'cause I've nowhere else to stand," said the man, his
+voice full of resentment. "I'm turned out of our room, and I have no
+money for the Horned Ram."
+
+"A good thing you have not," thought William. "What has turned you out
+of your room?" he asked.
+
+"I'm turned out, sir, by the row there is in it. Our Mary Ann's come
+home."
+
+"Mary Ann?" repeated William, not quite understanding.
+
+"Our Mary Ann, what took and married Ben Tyrrett. A fine market she have
+brought her pigs to!"
+
+"What has she done?" questioned William.
+
+"She's done enough," wrathfully answered Cross. "We told her when she
+married Tyrrett that he was nothing but a jobber at fifteen shillings
+a-week--and it's all he was, sir, as you know. 'Wait,' I says to her;
+'somebody better than him'll turn up.' Her mother says 'Wait.' Others
+says 'Wait.' No, not she; the girls are all marrying mad. Well, she took
+her own way; she would take it; and they got married, and set up upon
+nothing. Neither of 'em had saved a two-penny-piece; and Ben fond of the
+public; and our Mary Ann fond of laziness and finery; and not knowing
+how to keep house any more than her young sister Patty did."
+
+William remembered the little interlude of that evening in which Miss
+Patty had played her part. Jacob continued.
+
+"It was all fine and sunshiny with 'em for a few days or a few weeks,
+till the novelty wears off, and then they finds things going cranky. The
+money, _that_ begins to run short; and Mary Ann, she finds that Ben
+likes his glass; and Ben, he finds that she's just a doll, with no
+gumption or management inside her. They quarrels--naterally, and they
+comes to us to settle it. 'You was both red-hot for the bargain,' says
+I, 'and you must just make the best of it and of one another.' And so
+they went back: and it has gone on till this, quarrelling continual. And
+now he's took to beat her, and home she came to-night, not half an hour
+ago, with her three children and a black eye, vowing she'll stop at home
+and won't go back to him again. And she and her mother's having words
+over it, and the babies a-squalling--enough noise to raise the ceiling
+off, and I come out of it. I wish I was dead, I do!"
+
+Jacob's account of the noise was scarcely exaggerated. It penetrated to
+where they stood, two or three houses off. William had moved closer,
+that the umbrella might give Cross part of its shelter. "Not a very
+sensible wish, that of yours, is it, Cross?" remarked he.
+
+"I have wished it long, sir, sensible or not sensible. I slaves away my
+days and have nothing but a pigsty to step into at home, and angry words
+in it. A nice place for a tired man! I can't afford the public more than
+three or four nights a-week; not that, always. They're getting corky at
+the beer-shops, nowadays, and won't give trust. Wednesday this is;
+Thursday, to-morrow; Friday, next night: three nights, and me without a
+shelter to put my head in!"
+
+"I should like to take you to one to-morrow night," said William. "Will
+you go with me?"
+
+"Where to?" ungraciously asked Cross.
+
+"To Robert East's. You know how he and Crouch spend their evenings.
+There's always something going on there interesting and pleasant."
+
+"Crouch and East don't want me."
+
+"Yes, they do. They will be only too glad if you, and a few more
+intelligent men, will join them. Try it, Cross. There's a warm room to
+sit in, at all events, and nothing to pay."
+
+"Ah, it's all very fine for them Easts! We haven't their luck. Look at
+me! Down in the world."
+
+William put his hand on the man's shoulder. "Why should you be down in
+the world?"
+
+"Why should I?" repeated Cross, in surprise. "Because I am," he
+logically answered.
+
+"That is not the reason. The reason is because you do not try to rise in
+the world."
+
+"It's no use trying."
+
+"Have you ever tried?"
+
+"Why, no! How can I try?"
+
+"You wished just now that you were dead. Would it not be better to wish
+to live?"
+
+"Not such a life as mine."
+
+"But to wish to live would seem to imply that it must be a better life.
+And why need your life be so miserable? You gain fair wages; your wife
+earns money. Altogether I suppose you must have twenty-six or
+twenty-eight shillings a week----"
+
+"But there's no thrift with it," exclaimed Cross. "It melts away
+somehow. Before the middle of the week comes, it's all gone."
+
+"You spend some at the Horned Ram, you know," said William, not in a
+reproving tone.
+
+
+"She squanders away in rubbish more than that," was Jacob's answer,
+pointing towards his house, and not giving at all a complimentary stress
+upon the "she."
+
+"And with nothing to show for it in return, either of you. Try another
+plan, Jacob."
+
+"I'd not be backward--if I could see one to try," said he, after a
+pause.
+
+"Be here at half-past eight to-morrow evening, and I will go in with you
+to East's. If you cannot see any better way, you can spend a pleasant
+evening. But now, Jacob, let me say a word to you, and do you note it.
+If you find the evening pass agreeably, go the next evening, and the
+next; go always. You can't tell all that may arise from it in time. I
+know of one thing that will."
+
+"What's that, sir?"
+
+"Why, that instead of wishing yourself dead, you will grow to think life
+too short, for the good you find in it."
+
+He went on his way. Jacob Cross, deprived of the umbrella, stood in the
+rain as before and looked after him, indulging his reflections.
+
+"He is a young man, and things wear their bright side to him. But he has
+a cordial way with him, and don't look at folks as if they was dirt."
+
+And that had been the origin of the _soirées_ held at Robert East's. By
+degrees ten or a dozen men took to going there, and--what was more--to
+like to go, and to find an interest in it. It was a great improvement
+upon the Horned Ram.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII.
+
+HENRY ASHLEY'S OBJECT IN LIFE.
+
+
+On one of the warm, bright days that we sometimes have in the month of
+February, all the brighter from their contrast to the passing winter,
+William Halliburton was walking home to tea from the manufactory, and
+overtook Henry Ashley limping along.
+
+Henry was below the middle height, and slight in form, with the same
+beautiful face that had marked his boyhood, delicately refined in
+feature, brilliant in colour; the same upright lines of pain knit in the
+smooth white brow.
+
+"Just the man I wanted," said he, linking his arm within William's. "You
+are a good help up a hill, and I am hot and tired."
+
+"Wrapped up in that coat, with its fur lining, I should think you are! I
+have doffed my elegant cloak, you see, to-day."
+
+"Is it off to the British Museum?"
+
+William laughed. "I have not had time to pack it up."
+
+"I am glad I met you. You must come home to tea with me. Well? Why are
+you hesitating? You have no engagement?"
+
+"Nothing more than usual. My studies----"
+
+"You are study mad!" interrupted Henry Ashley. "What do you want to be?
+A Socrates? An Admirable Crichton?"
+
+"Nothing so formidable. I want to be useful."
+
+"And you make yourself accomplished, as a preliminary step to it. Mary
+took up the fencing-sticks for you yesterday. Herbert Dare was at our
+house--some freak is taking him to be a pretty constant visitor just
+now--and the talk turned upon Frank. You know," broke off Henry in his
+quaint way, "I never use long words when short ones will do: you learned
+ones would say 'conversation.' Mr. Keating had said to my father that
+Frank Halliburton was a brilliant scholar, and I retailed it to Herbert.
+I knew it would put him up, and there's nothing I like half so much as
+to _rile_ the Dares. Herbert sneered. 'And he owes it partly to
+William,' I went on, 'for if Frank's a brilliant scholar, William's a
+brilliant_er_!' 'William Halliburton a brilliant scholar!' stormed
+scornful Herbert. 'Has he learnt to be one at the manufactory? So long
+as he knows how gloves are made, that's enough for him. What does _he_
+want with the requirements of gentlemen?' Up looked Miss Mary; her
+colour rising, her eyes flashing. She was at her drawing: at which, by
+the way, she makes no progress; nothing to be compared with Anna Lynn.
+'William Halliburton has forgotten more than you ever learnt, Herbert
+Dare,' cried she; 'and there's more of the true gentleman in his little
+finger than there is in your whole body.' 'There's for you, Herbert
+Dare,' whistled I; 'but it's true, lad, like it or not as you may!'
+Herbert _was_ riled."
+
+Henry turned his head as he concluded, and looked up at William. A gleam
+like a sunbeam had flashed into William's eyes; a colour to his cheeks.
+
+"Well?" cried Henry sharply, for William did not speak. "Have you
+nothing to say?"
+
+"It was generous of Miss Ashley."
+
+"I don't mean that. Oh dear!" sighed Henry, who appeared to be in one of
+his fitful moods; "who is to know whether things will turn out crooked
+or straight in this world of ours? What objection have you to coming
+home with me for the evening? That's what I mean."
+
+"None. I can give up my books for a night, bookworm as you think me. But
+they will expect me at East's."
+
+"Happy the man that expecteth nothing!" responded Henry. "Disappoint
+them."
+
+"As for disappointing them, I shouldn't so much mind, but I can't abide
+to disappoint myself," returned William, quoting from Goldsmith's good
+old play, of which both he and Henry were fond.
+
+"You don't mean to say it would be a disappointment to _you_, not giving
+the lesson, or whatever it is, to those working chaps!" uttered Henry
+Ashley.
+
+"Not as you would count disappointment. When I do not get round for an
+hour, it seems as a night lost. I know the men like to see me; and I am
+always fearing that we are not sure of them."
+
+"You speak as though your whole soul were in the business," returned
+Henry Ashley.
+
+"I think my heart is in it."
+
+Henry looked at him wistfully, and his tone grew serious. "William, I
+would give all I am worth, present, and to come, to change places with
+you."
+
+"To change places with me!" echoed William, in surprise.
+
+"Yes: for you have an object in life. You may have many. To be useful in
+your generation is one of them."
+
+"And so may you have objects in life."
+
+"With this encumbrance!" He stamped his lame leg, and a look of keen
+vexation settled itself in his face. "You can go forth into the world
+with your strong limbs, your unbroken health; you can work, or you can
+play; you can be active, or you can be still, at will. But what am I? A
+poor, weak creature; infirm of temper, tortured by pain, condemned half
+my days to the monotony of a sick-room. Compare my lot with yours!"
+
+"There are those who would choose your lot in preference to mine, were
+the option given them," returned William. "I must work. It is a duty
+laid upon me. You can play."
+
+"Thank you! How?"
+
+"I am not speaking literally. Every good and pleasing thing that money
+can purchase is at your command. You have only to enjoy them, so far as
+you may. One, suffering as you do, bears not upon him the responsibility
+to _use_ his time, that a healthy man does. Lots, in this world, Henry,
+are, as I believe, pretty equally balanced. Many would envy you your
+life of calm repose."
+
+"It is not calm," was the abrupt rejoinder. "It is disturbed by pain,
+and aggravated by temper; and--and--tormented by uncertainty."
+
+"At any rate, you can subdue the one."
+
+"Which, pray?"
+
+"The temper. Henry"--dropping his voice--"a victory over your own temper
+may be one of the few obligations laid upon you."
+
+"I wish I could live for an object," grumbled Henry.
+
+"Come round with me to East's, sometimes."
+
+"I--daresay!" retorted Henry, when he could recover from his amazement.
+"Thank you again, Mr. Halliburton."
+
+William laughed. But he soon resumed his seriousness. "I can understand
+that for you, the favoured son of Mr. Ashley, reared in refinement and
+exclusiveness----"
+
+"Enshrined in pride--the failing that Helstonleigh is pleased to call my
+besetting sin; sheltered under care and coddling so great that the very
+winds of heaven are not suffered to visit my face too roughly!" was the
+impetuous interruption of Henry Ashley. "Come! bring it all out. Don't,
+from motives of delicacy, keep in any of my faults, virtues, or
+advantages!"
+
+"I can understand, I say, why you are unwilling to break through the
+reserve of your home habits," William calmly continued. "But, if you did
+so, you might no longer have to complain of the want of an object in
+life."
+
+At this moment they came in view of William's house. Mrs. Halliburton
+happened to be at one of the windows. William nodded his greeting, and
+Henry raised his hat. Presently Henry began again.
+
+"Pray, do you join the town in its gratuitous opinion that Henry Ashley,
+of all in it, is the proudest amid the proud?"
+
+"I do not find you proud," said William.
+
+"You! As far as you and I are concerned, I think the boot might be on
+the other leg. You might set up for being proud over me."
+
+William could not help laughing. "Putting joking aside, my opinion is,
+Henry, that your shyness and sensitiveness are in fault; not your pride.
+It is your reserved manner alone which has caused Helstonleigh to take
+up the impression that you are unduly proud."
+
+"Right, old fellow!" returned Henry in emphatic tones. "If you knew how
+far I and pride stand apart--but let it pass."
+
+Arrived at the entrance to Mr. Ashley's, William threw open the gate for
+Henry, retreating himself. "I must go home first, Henry. I won't be a
+quarter of an hour."
+
+Henry looked cross. "Why on earth, then, did you not go in as we passed?
+What was the use of your coming up here to go back again?"
+
+"I thought my arm was helping you."
+
+"So it was. But--there! don't be an hour."
+
+As William walked rapidly back, he met Mrs. Ashley's carriage. She and
+Mary were in it. Mrs. Ashley nodded as he raised his hat, and Mary
+glanced at him with a smile and a heightened colour. She had grown up to
+excessive beauty.
+
+A few moments, and William met beauty of another style--Anna Lynn. Her
+cheeks were the flushed, dimpled cheeks of her childhood; the same
+sky-blue eyes gleaming from between their long dark lashes; the same
+profusion of silky, brown hair; the same gentle, sweetly modest manners.
+William stopped to shake hands with her.
+
+"Out alone, Anna?"
+
+"I am on my way to take tea with Mary Ashley."
+
+"Are you? We shall meet there, then."
+
+"That will be pleasant. Fare thee well for the present, William."
+
+She continued her way. William ran in home, and to his chamber. Dressing
+himself hastily, he went to the room where his mother sat, and stood
+before her.
+
+"Does my coat fit me, mother?"
+
+"Why, where are you going?" she asked.
+
+"To Mrs. Ashley's. I have put on my new coat. Does it do? It seems all
+right"--throwing up his arms.
+
+"Yes, it fits you exactly. I think you are growing a dandy. Go along. I
+must not look at you too long."
+
+"Why not?" he asked in surprise.
+
+"In case I grow proud of my eldest son. And I would rather be proud of
+his goodness than of his looks."
+
+William laughingly gave his mother a farewell kiss. "Tell Gar I am sorry
+he will not have me at his elbow this evening, to find fault with his
+Greek. Good-bye, mother dear."
+
+In truth, there was something remarkably noble in William Halliburton's
+appearance. As he entered Mrs. Ashley's drawing-room, the fact seemed to
+strike upon Henry with unusual force, who greeted him from his distant
+sofa.
+
+"So that's what you went back for!--to turn yourself into a buck!" he
+called out as William approached him. "As if you were not well enough
+before! Did you dress for me, pray?"
+
+"For you!" laughed William. "That's good!"
+
+"In saying 'me,' I include the family," returned Henry quaintly.
+"There's no one else to dress for."
+
+"Yes, there is. There's Anna Lynn."
+
+Now, in good truth, William had no covert meaning in giving this answer.
+The words rose to his lips, and he spoke them lightly. Perhaps he could
+have given a very different one, had he been compelled to speak out the
+inmost feeling of his heart. Strange, however, was the effect on Henry
+Ashley. He grasped William's arm with emotion, and pulled his face down
+to him as he lay.
+
+"What do you say? What do you mean?"
+
+"I mean nothing in particular. Anna _is_ here."
+
+"You shall not evade me," gasped Henry. "I must have it out, now or
+later. WHAT is it that you mean?"
+
+William stood, almost confounded. Henry was evidently in painful
+excitement; every vestige of colour had forsaken his sensitive
+countenance, and his white hands shook as they held William.
+
+"What do _you_ mean?" William whispered. "I said nothing to agitate you
+thus, that I am aware of. Are we at cross-purposes?"
+
+A spot, bright as carmine, began to flush into the invalid's pale
+cheeks, and he moved his face so that the light did not fall upon it.
+
+"I'll have it out, I say. What is Anna Lynn to you?"
+
+"Nothing," answered William, a smile parting his lips.
+
+"What is she to you?" reiterated Henry, his tone painfully earnest.
+
+William edged himself on to the sofa, so as to cover Henry from the gaze
+of any eyes that might be directed to him from the other parts of the
+room. "I like Anna very much," he said in a clear, low tone; "almost as
+I might like a sister; but I have no love for her, in the sense you
+would imply--if I am not mistaking your meaning. And I never shall
+have."
+
+Henry looked at him wistfully. "On your honour?"
+
+"Henry! was there need to ask it? On my honour, if you will."
+
+"No, no; there was no need: you are always truthful. Bear with me,
+William! bear with my infirmities."
+
+"My sister Anna Lynn might be, and welcome. My wife never."
+
+Henry did not answer. His face was growing damp with physical pain.
+
+"You have one of your fits of suffering coming on!" breathed William.
+"Shall I get you anything?"
+
+"Hush! only sit there, to hide me from them: and be still."
+
+William did as he was requested, sitting so as to screen him from Mrs.
+Ashley and the rest. He held his hands, and the paroxysm, sharp while it
+lasted, passed away. Henry's very lips had grown white with pain.
+
+"You see what a poor wretch I am!"
+
+"I see that you suffer," was William's compassionate answer.
+
+"From henceforth there is a fresh bond of union between us, for you
+possess my secret. It is what no one else in the world does. William,
+_that's_ my object in life."
+
+William did not reply. Perplexity was crowding on his mind, shading his
+countenance.
+
+"Well!" cried Henry, beginning to recover his equanimity, and with it
+his sharp retorts. "Why are you looking so blue?"
+
+"Will it be smooth sailing for you, Henry, with Mr. Ashley?"
+
+"Yes, I think it will," was the hasty rejoinder: its very haste, its
+fractious tone, proving that Henry was by no means so sure of it as he
+would imply. "I am not as others are: therefore he will let minor
+considerations yield to my happiness."
+
+William looked uncommonly grave. "Mr. Ashley is not all," he said,
+arousing from a reverie. "There may be difficulties elsewhere. She must
+not marry out of their own society. Samuel Lynn is one of its strictest
+members."
+
+"Rubbish! Samuel Lynn is my father's servant, and I am my father's son.
+If Samuel should take a strait-laced fit, and hold out, why, I'll turn
+broadbrim."
+
+"Samuel Lynn is my father's servant!" In that very fact, William saw
+cause to fear that it might not be such plain sailing with Mr. Ashley as
+Henry wished to anticipate. He could not help looking the doubts he
+felt. Henry observed it.
+
+"What's the matter now?" he peevishly asked. "I do think you were born
+to be the plague of my life! My belief is, you want her for yourself."
+
+"I am only anxious for you, Henry. I wish you could have assured
+yourself that it would go well, before--before allowing your feelings to
+be irrevocably bound up in it. A blow, for you, might be hard to bear."
+
+"How could I help my feelings?" retorted Henry. "I did not fix them
+purposely on Anna Lynn. Before I knew anything about it, they had fixed
+themselves. Almost before I knew that I cared for her, she was more to
+me than the sun in the heavens. There has been no help for it at all, I
+tell you. So don't preach."
+
+"Have you spoken to her?"
+
+Henry shook his head. "The time has not come for it. I must make it
+right with the master before I can stir a step: and I fear it is not
+quite ripe for that. Mind _you_ don't talk."
+
+William smiled. "I will mind."
+
+"You'd better. If that Quaker society got a hint of it, there's no
+knowing what a hullabaloo they might make. They might be for reading
+Anna a public lecture at Meeting: or get Samuel Lynn to vow he'd not
+give his consent."
+
+"I should argue in this way, were I you, Henry. With my love so firmly
+fixed on Anna Lynn----I beg your pardon, Miss Ashley."
+
+William started up. Mary Ashley was standing close to the sofa. Had she
+caught the sense of the last words?
+
+"Mamma spoke twice, but you were too busily engaged to hear," said Mary.
+"Henry, James is waiting to wheel your sofa to the tea-table."
+
+Henry rose. Passing his arm through William's, he approached the group.
+The servant pushed the sofa after them. Standing together were Mary
+Ashley and Anna Lynn. They presented a great contrast to each other.
+Mary wore an evening dress of shimmering silk, its low body trimmed with
+rich white lace; white lace hung from its drooping sleeves: and she had
+on ornaments of gold. Anna was in grey merino, high in the neck, close
+at the wrists; not a bit of lace about her, not an ornament; nothing but
+a plain white linen collar. "Catch me letting her wear those
+Methodistical things when she shall be mine!" thought Henry. "I'll make
+a bonfire of the lot."
+
+But the Quaker cap? Ah! it was not there. Anna had continued her habit
+at home of throwing it off, as formerly. Patience reprimanded in vain.
+She was not seconded by Samuel Lynn. "We are by ourselves, Patience; it
+does not much matter," he would say; "the child says she is cooler
+without it." But had Samuel Lynn known that Anna was in the habit of
+discarding it on every possible occasion when she was from home, he had
+been as severe as Patience. At Mr. Ashley's, especially, she would sit,
+as now, without it, her lovely face made more lovely by its falling
+curls. Anna did wrong, and she knew it; but she was a wilful girl, and a
+vain one. That pretty, timid, retiring manner concealed much self-will,
+much vanity; though in some things she was as easily swayed as a child.
+
+She disobeyed Patience in another matter. Patience would say to her,
+"Should Mary Ashley be opening her instrument of music, thee will mind
+not to listen to her songs: thee can go into another room."
+
+"Oh, yes, Patience," she would answer; "I will mind."
+
+But, instead of not listening, Miss Anna would place herself near the
+piano, and drink in the songs as if her whole heart were in the music.
+Music had a great effect upon her; and there she would sit entranced, as
+though she were in some earthly Elysium. She said nothing of this at
+home; but the deceit was wrong.
+
+They were sitting down to tea, when Herbert Dare came in. The hours for
+meals were early at Mr. Ashley's: the medical men considered it best for
+Henry. Herbert could be a gentleman when he chose; good-looking also;
+quite an addition to a drawing-room. He took his seat between Mary and
+Anna.
+
+"I say, how is it you are not dining at home this evening?" asked Henry,
+who somehow did not regard the Dares with any great favour.
+
+"I dined in the middle of the day," was Herbert's reply.
+
+"The condescension! I thought only plebeians did that. James, is there a
+piece of chalk in the house? I must chalk that up."
+
+"Henry! Henry!" reproved Mrs. Ashley.
+
+"Oh, let him talk, Mrs. Ashley," said Herbert, with supreme good humour.
+"There's nothing he likes so well as a wordy war."
+
+"Nothing in the world," acquiesced Henry. "Especially with Herbert
+Dare."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+ATTERLY'S FIELD.
+
+
+Laughing, talking, playing at proverbs, earning and paying forfeits, it
+was a merry group in Mrs. Ashley's drawing-room. That lady herself was
+not joining in the merriment. She sat apart at a small table, some work
+in her hand, speaking a word now and then, and smiling to herself in
+echo to some unusual burst of laughter. It was so surprising that only
+five voices could make so much noise. They were sitting in a circle;
+Mary Ashley between William Halliburton and Herbert Dare, Anna Lynn
+between Herbert Dare and Henry Ashley, Henry and William side by side.
+
+Time, in these happy moments, passes rapidly. In due course, the hands
+of the French clock on the mantel-piece pointed to half-past eight, and
+its silver tones rang out the chimes. They were at the end of the game,
+and just settling themselves to commence another. The half-hour aroused
+William, and he glanced towards the clock.
+
+"Half-past eight! who would have thought it? I had no idea it was so
+late. I must leave you just for half an hour," he added, rising.
+
+"Leave for what?" cried Henry Ashley.
+
+"To go as far as East's. I will not remain there."
+
+Henry broke into a "wordy war," as Herbert Dare had called it earlier in
+the evening. William smiled, and overruled him in his quiet way.
+
+"They have my promise to go round this evening," he said. "I gave it
+them unconditionally, and must just go round to tell them I cannot
+come--if that's not a contradiction. Don't look so cross, Henry."
+
+"Of course, you don't mean to come back," resentfully spoke Henry. "When
+you get there, you'll stop there."
+
+"No; I have told you I will not. But if I let them expect me all the
+evening, they will be looking and waiting, and do no good."
+
+He went out as he spoke, and left the house. As he reached the gate Mr.
+Ashley was coming in. Mr. Ashley had been in the manufactory; he did not
+often go there after tea. "Going already, William?" Mr. Ashley exclaimed
+in accents of surprise.
+
+"Not for long, sir. I must just look in at East's."
+
+"Is that scheme likely to prosper? Can you keep the men?"
+
+"Yes, indeed, I think so. My hopes are strong."
+
+"Well, there's nothing like hope," answered Mr. Ashley, with a laugh.
+"But I shall wonder if you do keep them. William," he added, after a
+slight pause, his tone changing to a business one, "I have a few words
+to say to you. I was about to speak to you in the counting-house this
+afternoon, but something put it aside. I have changed my plans with
+respect to this Lyons journey. Instead of despatching you, as I had
+thought of doing, I believe I shall send Samuel Lynn."
+
+Mr. Ashley paused. William did not immediately reply.
+
+"Samuel Lynn's experience is greater than yours. It is a new thing, and
+he will see, better than you could do, what can and what cannot be
+done."
+
+"Very well, sir," at length answered William.
+
+"You speak as though you were disappointed," remarked Mr. Ashley.
+
+William was disappointed. But his motive for the feeling lay far deeper
+than Mr. Ashley supposed. "I should like to have gone, sir, very much.
+But--of course, my liking, or not liking, has nothing to do with it.
+Perhaps it is as well that I should not go," he resumed, more in
+soliloquy, as if he were trying to reconcile himself to the
+disappointment by argument, than in observation to Mr. Ashley. "I do not
+see how the men would have done without me at East's."
+
+"Ay, that's a grave consideration," replied Mr. Ashley jokingly, as he
+turned to walk to his own door.
+
+William stood still, nailed as it were to the spot, looking after his
+master. A most unwelcome thought had flashed over him; and in the
+impulse of the moment he followed Mr. Ashley, to speak it out. Even in
+the night's obscurity, his emotion was perceptible.
+
+"Mr. Ashley, the suspicion cast on me, at the time that cheque was lost,
+has not been the reason--the reason for your declining to intrust me
+with this commission?"
+
+Mr. Ashley looked at him in surprise. But that William's agitation was
+all too real, he would have laughed at him.
+
+"William, I think you are turning silly. No suspicion was cast on you."
+
+"You have never stirred in the matter, sir; you have never spoken to me
+to tell me you were satisfied that I was not in any way guilty," was
+William's impulsive answer.
+
+"Spoken to you! where was the need? Why, William, my whole life, my
+daily intercourse with you, is only so much proof that _you_ have my
+full confidence. Should I admit you to my home, to the companionship of
+my children, if I had no more faith in you than that?"
+
+"True," said William, beginning to recover himself. "It was a thought
+that flashed over me, sir, when you said I was not to be sent on this
+journey. I should not like you to doubt me; I could not live under it."
+
+"William, you reproached me with not having stirred in----"
+
+"I beg your pardon, sir. I never thought of such a thing as reproach. I
+would not presume to do it."
+
+"I have not stirred in the matter," resumed Mr. Ashley. "A very
+disagreeable suspicion arises in my mind at times, as to how the cheque
+went; and I do not choose to stir in it. Have you no suspicion on the
+point?"
+
+The question took William by surprise. He stammered in his answer; an
+unusual thing for him to do. "N--o."
+
+"I ask if you have a suspicion?" quietly repeated Mr. Ashley, meaningly,
+as if he took William's answer for nothing, or had not heard it.
+
+Then William spoke out readily. "A suspicion has crossed my mind, sir.
+But it is one I should not like to breathe to you."
+
+"That's enough. I see. White voluntarily took the loss of the money on
+himself. He came to me to say so; therefore, I infer that it has in some
+private way been refunded to him. Mr. Dare veered round, and advised me
+not to investigate the affair, as I was no loser by it; Delves hinted
+the same thing. Altogether, I can see through the thing pretty clearly,
+and I am content to let it rest. Are you satisfied? If not----"
+
+Mr. Ashley broke off abruptly. William waited.
+
+"So, don't turn foolish again. You and I now understand each other.
+William!" he emphatically added, "I am growing to like you almost as I
+like my own children. I am proud of you; and I shall be prouder yet. God
+bless you, my boy!"
+
+It was so very rare that the calm, dignified Thomas Ashley was betrayed
+into anything like demonstrativeness, that William could only stand and
+look. And while he looked, the door closed on his master.
+
+He went way with all speed, calling at his home. Were the truth to be
+told, perhaps William was quite as anxious to be back again at Mr.
+Ashley's as Henry was that he should be there. Scarcely stopping for a
+word of greeting, he opened a drawer, took from it a small case of
+fossils, and then searched for something else; something which
+apparently he could not find.
+
+"Have any of you seen my microscope?" he asked, turning to the group at
+the table bending over their books.
+
+Jane looked round. "My dear, I lent it to Patience to-day. I suppose she
+forgot to return it. Gar, will you go and ask her for it?"
+
+"Don't disturb yourself, Gar," said William. "I am going out, and will
+ask Patience myself."
+
+Patience was alone in her parlour. She returned him the microscope,
+saying that the reason she had not sent it in was, that she had not had
+time to use it. "Thee art in evening dress!" she remarked to William.
+
+"I am at Mrs. Ashley's. I have only come out for a few minutes. Thank
+you. Good night, Patience."
+
+"Wait thee a moment, William. Is Anna ready to come home?"
+
+"No, that she is not. Why?"
+
+"I want to send for her. Samuel Lynn is spending the evening in the
+town, so I must send Grace. And I don't care to send her late. She will
+only get talking to John Pembridge, if she goes out after he is home
+from work."
+
+William smiled. "It is natural that she should, I suppose. When are they
+going to be married?"
+
+"Shortly," answered Patience, in a tone not quite so equable as usual.
+Patience saw no good in people getting married in general; and she was
+vexed at the prospect of losing Grace in particular. "She leaves us in a
+fortnight from this," she continued, alluding to Grace, "and all her
+thoughts seem to be bent now upon meeting John Pembridge. Could thee
+bring Anna home for me?"
+
+"With pleasure," replied William.
+
+"That is well, then. Grace does not deserve to go out to-night, for she
+wilfully crossed me to-day. Good evening, William."
+
+Fossil-case in hand, and the microscope in his pocket, William made the
+best of his way to Honey Fair. Robert East, Stephen Crouch, Brumm,
+Thornycroft, Carter, Cross, and some half-dozen others, were crowded
+round Robert's table. William handed them the fossils and the
+microscope; told the men to amuse themselves with them for that night,
+and he would explain more about them on the morrow. He was ever anxious
+that the men should have some object of amusement as a rallying point on
+these evenings; anything to keep their interest awakened.
+
+Before the half-hour had expired, he was back at Mr. Ashley's. Proverbs
+had been given up, and Mary was at the piano. Mr. Ashley had been
+accompanying her on the flute, on which instrument he was a brilliant
+player, and when William entered she was singing a duet with Herbert
+Dare. Anna--disobedient Anna--was seated, listening with all her ears
+and heart to the music, her up-turned countenance quite wonderful to
+look upon in its rapt delight.
+
+"I think you could sing," spoke Henry Ashley to her, in an undertone,
+after watching her while the song lasted.
+
+
+Anna shook her head. "I may not try," she said, raising her blue eyes to
+him for one moment, and then dropping them.
+
+"The time may come when you may," returned Henry, in a deeper whisper.
+
+She did not answer, she did not lift her eyes; but the faintest possible
+smile parted her rosy lips--a smile which seemed to express a
+consciousness that perhaps that time might come. And Henry, shy and
+sensitive, stood apart and gazed upon her, his heart beating.
+
+"Young lady," said William, advancing, "do you know that a special
+honour has been assigned me to-night? One that concerns you."
+
+Anna raised her eyes now. She felt as much at ease with William as she
+did with her father or Patience. "What dost thee say, William? An
+honour?"
+
+"That of seeing you safely home. I----"
+
+"What's that for?" interrupted Anna. "Where's my father?"
+
+"He is not at home this evening. And Patience did not care to send out
+Grace. I'll take care of you."
+
+William could not but observe the sudden flush, the glow of pleasure, or
+what looked like pleasure, that overspread Anna's countenance at the
+information. "What's that for?" he thought, echoing her recent words.
+But Mary began to sing again, and his attention was diverted.
+
+Ten o'clock was the signal for departure. As they were going
+out--William, Anna, and Herbert Dare, who took the opportunity to leave
+with them--Henry Ashley limped after them, and drew William aside in the
+hall.
+
+"Honour bright, mind, my friend!"
+
+William did not understand. "Honour bright, always," said he. "But what
+do you mean?"
+
+"You'll not get making love to her on your way home!"
+
+William could not help laughing. He turned his amused face full on
+Henry. "Be at rest. I would not care to make love to her, had I full
+leave and license from the Quaker society, granted me in public
+meeting."
+
+"Do you think I did not see her brightened countenance when you told her
+she was to go home with you?" retorted Henry.
+
+"I saw it too. I conclude she was pleased that her father was not coming
+for her, little undutiful thing! However it may have been, rely upon it
+that brightening was not for me."
+
+Pressing his hand warmly, with a pressure that no false friend ever
+gave, William hastened away. It was time. Herbert Dare and Anna had not
+waited for him, but were ever so far ahead.
+
+"Very polite of you!" cried William, when he caught them up. "Anna, had
+you gone pitching into that part of the path they are mending, I should
+have been responsible, you know. You might have waited for me."
+
+He spoke good-humouredly, making a joke of it. Herbert Dare did not
+appear to receive it as one. He retorted haughtily.
+
+"Do you suppose I am not capable of taking care of Miss Lynn? As much so
+as you, at any rate."
+
+"Possibly," coolly returned William, not losing his good-humoured tone.
+Herbert Dare had given Anna his arm. William walked near her on the
+other side. Thus they reached Mr. Lynn's.
+
+"Good night," said Herbert, shaking hands with her. "Good night to you,
+Halliburton."
+
+"Good night," replied William.
+
+Herbert Dare set off running. William knocked at the door and waited
+until it was opened. Then he also shook hands with Anna, and saw her in.
+
+Frank and Gar were putting up their books for the night when William
+entered. The boarders had gone to bed. Jane, a very unusual thing for
+her, was sitting by the fire, doing nothing.
+
+"Am I not idle, William?" she said.
+
+William bent to kiss her. "There's no need for you to be anything but
+idle now, mother."
+
+"No need! William, you know better. There's great need that none should
+be idle: none in the world. But I have a bad headache to-night."
+
+"William," called out Gar, "they brought this round for you from East's.
+Young Tom came with it."
+
+It was the case of fossils and the microscope. William observed that
+they need not have sent them, as he should want them there the next
+evening. "Patience said she had not had time to use the microscope," he
+continued. "I think I will take it in to her. I suppose she has been
+buying linen, and wants to see if the threads are even."
+
+"The Lynns will have gone to bed by this time," said Jane.
+
+"Not to-night. I have only just seen Anna home from Mrs. Ashley's; and
+Mr. Lynn has gone out to supper."
+
+He turned to leave the room with the microscope, but Gar was looking at
+the fossils and asked the loan of it. A few minutes, and William finally
+went out.
+
+Patience came to the door, in answer to his knock. She thanked him for
+the microscope and stood a minute or two chatting. Patience was fond of
+a gossip; there was no denying it.
+
+"Will thee not walk in?"
+
+"Not now," he said, turning away. "Good night, Patience."
+
+"Good night to thee. Thee send in Anna, please. She is having a pretty
+long talk with thy mother."
+
+William was at a loss. "I saw Anna in from Mr. Ashley's."
+
+"She did but ask whether her father was home, and then ran through the
+house," replied Patience. "She had a message for thy mother, she said,
+from Margaret Ashley."
+
+"Mrs. Ashley does not send messages to my mother," returned William, in
+some wonder. "They have no acquaintance with each other--beyond a bow,
+in passing."
+
+"She must have sent her one to-night--why else should the child go in to
+deliver it?" persisted Patience. "Not but that Anna is always running
+into thy house at nights. I fear she must trouble thy mother at her
+class."
+
+"She never stays long enough for that," replied William. "When she does
+come in--and it is not often--she just opens the door; 'How dost thee,
+friend Jane Halliburton?' and out again."
+
+"Then thee can know nothing about it, William. I tell thee she never
+stays less than an hour, and she is always there. I say to her that one
+of these evenings thy mother may likely be hinting to her that her room
+will be more acceptable than her company. Thee send her home now,
+please."
+
+William turned away. Curious thoughts were passing through his mind.
+That Anna did not go in, in the frequent manner Patience intimated; that
+she rarely stayed above a minute or two, he knew. He knew--at least, he
+felt perfectly sure--that Anna was not at his house now; had not been
+there. And yet Patience said "Send her home."
+
+"Has Anna been here?" he asked when he went in.
+
+"Anna? No."
+
+Not just that moment, to draw observation, but presently, William left
+the room, and went into the garden at the back. A very unpleasant
+suspicion had arisen in his mind. It might not have occurred to him, but
+for certain glances which he had observed pass that evening between
+Herbert Dare and Anna--glances of confidence--as if they had a private
+mutual understanding on some point or other. He had not understood them
+then: he very much feared he was about to understand them now.
+
+Opening the gate leading to the field at the back, commonly called
+Atterly's Field, he looked cautiously around. For a moment or two he
+could see nothing. The hedge was thick on either side, and no living
+being appeared to be beneath its shade. But he saw farther when his eyes
+became accustomed to the obscurity.
+
+Pacing slowly together, were Herbert Dare and Anna. Now moving on, a few
+steps; now pausing to converse more at ease. William drew a deep breath.
+He saw quite enough to be sure this was not the first time they had so
+paced together: and thought after thought crowded on his mind; one idea,
+one remembrance chasing another.
+
+Was this the explanation of the plaid cloak, which had paraded
+stealthily on that very field-path during the past winter? There could
+not be a doubt of it. And was it in this manner that Anna's flying
+absences from home were spent--absences which she, in her unpardonable
+deceit, had accounted for to Patience by saying that she was with Mrs.
+Halliburton? Alas for Anna! Alas for all who deviate by an untruth from
+the path of rectitude! If the misguided child--she was little better
+than a child--could only have seen the future that was before her! It
+may have been very pleasant, very romantic to steal a march on Patience,
+and pace out there in the cold, chattering to Herbert Dare; listening to
+his protestations that he cared for no one in the world but herself;
+never had cared, never should care: but it was laying up for Anna a day
+of reckoning, the like of which had rarely fallen on a young head.
+William seemed to take it all in at a glance; and, rising tumultuously
+over other unpleasant thoughts, came the remembrance of Henry Ashley's
+misplaced and ill-starred love.
+
+With another deep breath, that was more like a groan than anything
+else--for Herbert Dare never brought good to any one in his life, and
+William knew it--William set off towards them. Whether they heard
+footsteps, or whether they thought the time for parting had come,
+certain it was that Herbert was gone before William could reach them,
+and Anna was speeding towards her home with a fleet step. William placed
+himself in her way, and she started aside with a scream that went
+echoing through the field. Then they had not heard him.
+
+"William, is it thee? Thee hast frightened me nearly out of my senses."
+
+"Anna," he gravely said, "Patience is waiting for you."
+
+Anna Lynn's imagination led her to all sorts of fantastic fears. "Oh,
+William, thee hast not been in to Patience!" she exclaimed, in sudden
+trembling. "Thee hast not been to our house to seek me!"
+
+They had reached his gate now. He halted, and took her hand in his, his
+manner impressive, his voice firm. "Anna, I must speak to you as I would
+to my own sister; as I might to Janey, had she lived, and been drawn
+into this terrible imprudence. Though, indeed, I should not then speak,
+but act. What tales are they that Herbert Dare is deceiving you with?"
+
+"Hast thee been in to Patience? Hast thee been in to Patience?"
+reiterated Anna.
+
+"Patience knows nothing of this. She thinks you are at our house. I ask
+you, Anna, what foolish tales Herbert Dare is deceiving you with?"
+
+Anna--relieved on the score of her fright--shook her head petulantly.
+"He is not deceiving me with any. He would not deceive."
+
+"Anna, hear me. His very nature, as I believe, is deceit. I fear he has
+little truth, little honour within him. Is Herbert professing to--to
+love you?"
+
+"I will not answer thee aught. I will not hear thee speak against
+Herbert Dare."
+
+"Anna," he continued in a lower tone, "you ought to be _afraid_ of
+Herbert Dare. He is not a good man."
+
+How wilful she was! "It is of no use thy talking," she reiterated,
+putting her fingers to her ears. "Herbert Dare _is_ good. I will not
+hear thee speak against him."
+
+"Then, Anna, as you meet it in this way, I must inform your father or
+Patience of what I have seen. If you will not keep yourself out of
+harm's way, they must do it for you."
+
+It terrified her to the last degree. Anna could have died rather than
+suffer her escapade to reach the ears of home. "How can thee talk of
+harm, William? What harm is likely to come to me? I did no more harm
+talking to Herbert Dare here, than I did, talking to him in Margaret
+Ashley's drawing-room."
+
+"My dear child, you do not understand things," he answered. "The very
+fact of your stealing from your home to walk about in this manner,
+however innocent it may be in itself, would do you incalculable harm in
+the eyes of the world. And I am quite sure that in no shape or form can
+Herbert Dare bring you good, or contribute to your good. Tell me one
+thing, Anna: Have you learnt to care much for him?"
+
+"I don't care for him at all," responded Anna.
+
+"No! Then why walk about with him?"
+
+"Because it's fun to cheat Patience."
+
+"Oh, Anna, this is very wrong, very foolish. Do you mean what you
+say--that you do not care for him?"
+
+"Of course I mean it," she answered. "I think he is very kind and
+pleasant, and he gave me a pretty locket. But that's all. William, thee
+wilt not tell upon me?" she continued, clinging to his arm, her tone
+changing to one of entreaty, as the terror, which she had been
+endeavouring to conceal with light words, returned upon her. "William!
+thee art kind and obliging--thee wilt not tell upon me! I will promise
+thee never to meet Herbert Dare again, if thee wilt not."
+
+"It would be for your own sake, Anna, that I should speak. How do I
+know that you would keep your word?"
+
+"I give thee my promise that I will! I will not meet Herbert Dare in
+this way again. I tell thee I do not care to meet him. Canst thee not
+believe me?"
+
+He did believe her, implicitly. Her eyes were streaming; her pretty
+hands clung about him. He did like Anna very much, and he would not draw
+vexation upon her, if it could be avoided with expediency.
+
+"I will rely upon you then, Anna. Believe me, you could not choose a
+worse friend in all Helstonleigh, than Herbert Dare. I have your word?"
+
+"Yes. And I have thine."
+
+He placed her arm within his own, and led her to the back door of her
+house. Patience was standing at it. "I have brought you the little
+truant," he said.
+
+"It is well thee hast," replied Patience. "I had just opened the door to
+come after her. Anna, thee art worse than a wild thing. Running off in
+this manner!"
+
+
+It had not been in William's way to see much of Anna's inner qualities.
+He had not detected her deceit; he did not know that she could be
+untruthful when it suited her to be so. He had firm faith in her word,
+never questioning that it might be depended upon. Nevertheless, when he
+came afterwards to reflect upon the matter, he thought it might be his
+duty to give Patience a little word of caution. And this he could do
+without compromising Anna.
+
+He contrived to see Patience alone the very next day. She began talking
+of their previous evening at the Ashleys'.
+
+"Yes," observed William, "it was a pleasant evening. It would have been
+all the pleasanter, though, but for one who was there--Herbert Dare."
+
+"I do not admire the Dares," said Patience frigidly.
+
+"Nor I. But I observed one thing, Patience--that he admires Anna. Were
+Anna my sister, I should not like her to be too much admired by Herbert
+Dare. So take care of her."
+
+Patience looked steadily at him. William continued, his tone
+confidential.
+
+"You know what Herbert Dare is said to be, Patience--fonder of leading
+people to ill than to good. Anna is giddy--as you yourself tell her
+twenty times a day. I would keep her carefully under my own eyes. I
+would not even allow her to run into our house at night, as she is fond
+of doing," he added with marked emphasis. "She is as safe there as she
+is here; but it is giving her a taste of liberty that she may not be the
+better for in the end. When she comes in, send Grace with her, or bring
+her yourself: I will see her home again. Tell her she is a grown-up
+young lady now, and it is not proper that she should go out unattended,"
+he concluded, laughing.
+
+"William, I do not quite understand thee. Hast thee cause to say this?"
+
+"All I say, Patience, is--keep her out of the way of possible harm, of
+undesirable friendships. Were Anna to be drawn into a liking for Herbert
+Dare, I am sure it would not be agreeable to Mr. Lynn. He would never
+consider the Dares a desirable family for her to marry into----"
+
+"Marry into the family of the Dares!" interrupted Patience hotly. "Art
+thee losing thy senses, William?"
+
+"These likings sometimes lead to marriage," quietly continued William.
+"Therefore, I say, keep her away from all chance of forming them.
+Believe me, my advice is good."
+
+"I think I understand," concluded Patience. "I thank thee kindly,
+William."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV.
+
+ANNA'S EXCUSE.
+
+
+A very unpleasant part of the story has now to be touched upon.
+Unpleasant things occur in real life, and if true pictures have to be
+given of the world as it exists, as it goes on its round, day by day,
+allusion to them cannot be wholly avoided.
+
+Certain words of William Halliburton to Patience had run in this
+fashion: "Were Anna to be drawn into a liking for Herbert Dare, I am
+sure it would not be agreeable to Mr. Lynn. He would never consider the
+Dares a desirable family for her to marry into." In thus speaking,
+William had striven to put the case in a polite sort of form to the ears
+of Patience. As to any probability of marriage between one of the Dares
+and Anna Lynn, he would scarcely have believed it within the range of
+possibility. The Dares, one and all, would have considered Anna far
+beneath them in position, whilst the difference of religion would on
+Anna's side be an almost insurmountable objection. The worst that
+William had contemplated was the "liking" he had hinted at. He cared for
+Anna's welfare as he would have cared for a sister's, and he believed it
+would not contribute to her happiness that she should become attached to
+Herbert Dare. But for compromising Anna--and he had given his word not
+to do it--he would have spoken out openly and said there was a danger of
+this liking coming to pass, if she met him as he feared she had been in
+the habit of doing. Certainly he would not have alluded to the remote
+possibility of marriage, the mention of which had so scared Patience.
+
+What had William thought, what had Patience said, could they have known
+that this liking was already implanted in Anna's heart beyond recall?
+Alas! that it should have been so! Quiet, childish, timid as Anna
+outwardly appeared, the strongest affection had been aroused in her
+heart for Herbert Dare--was filling its every crevice. These apparently
+shy, sensitive natures are sometimes only the more passionate and
+wayward within. One evening a few months previously, Anna was walking
+in Atterly's Field, behind their house. Anna had been in the habit of
+walking there--nay, of playing there--since she was a child, and she
+would as soon have associated harm with their garden as with that field.
+Farmer Atterly kept his sheep in it, and Anna had run about with the
+lambs as long as she could remember. Herbert Dare came up
+accidentally--the path through it, leading along at the back of the
+houses, was public, though not much frequented--and he spoke to Anna.
+Anna knew him to say "Good day" when she passed him in the street; and
+she now and then saw him at Mrs. Ashley's. Herbert stayed talking with
+her a few minutes, and then went on his way.
+
+Somehow, from that time, he and Anna encountered each other there pretty
+frequently; and that was how the liking had grown. If a qualm of
+conscience crossed Miss Anna at times that it was not quite the thing
+for a young lady to do, thus to meet a gentleman in secret, she
+conveniently put the qualm away. That harm should arise from it in any
+way never so much as crossed her mind for a moment; and to do Herbert
+Dare justice, real harm was probably as far from his mind as from hers.
+
+He grew to like her, almost as she liked him. Herbert Dare did not, in
+the sight of Helstonleigh, stand out as a model of all the cardinal
+virtues; but he was not all bad. Anna believed him all good--all honour,
+truth, excellence; and her heart had flashed out a rebuke to William
+when he hinted that Herbert was not exactly a paragon. She only knew
+that the very sound of his footstep made her heart leap with happiness;
+she only knew that to her he appeared everything that was bright and
+fascinating. Her great dread was, lest their intimacy should become
+known and separation ensue. That separation would be inevitable, were
+her father or Patience to become cognizant of it, Anna rightly believed.
+
+Cunning little sophist that she was! She would fain persuade herself
+that an innocent meeting out of doors was justifiable, where a meeting
+indoors was out of the question. They had no acquaintance with the
+Dares; consequently Herbert could plead no excuse for calling in upon
+them--none at least that would be likely to carry weight with Patience.
+And so the young lady reconciled her conscience in the best way she
+could, stole out as often as she was able to meet him, and left
+discovery to take care of itself.
+
+Discovery came in the shape of William Halliburton. It was bad enough;
+but far less alarming to Anna than it might have been. Had her father
+dropped upon her, she would have run away and fallen into the nearest
+pond, in her terror and consternation.
+
+Though guilty of certain trifling inaccuracies--such as protesting that
+she "did not care" for Herbert Dare--Anna, in that interview with
+William, fully meant to keep the promise she made, not to meet him
+again. Promises, however, given under the influence of terror or other
+sudden emotion, are not always kept. It would probably prove so with
+Anna's. One thing was indisputable--that where a mind could so far
+forget its moral rectitude as to practise deceit in one particular, as
+Anna was doing, it would not be very scrupulous to keep its better
+promises.
+
+Anna's thoughts for many a morning latterly, when she arose, had been
+"This evening I shall see him," and the prospect seemed to quicken her
+fingers, as it quickened her heart. But on the morning after the
+discovery, her first thought was, "I must never see him again as I have
+done. How shall I warn him not to come?" That he would be in the field
+again that evening, unless warned, she knew: if William Halliburton saw
+him there a quarrel might ensue between them; at any rate, an unpleasant
+scene. Anna came down, feeling cross and petulant, and inclined to wish
+William had been at the bottom of the sea before he had found them out
+the previous evening.
+
+"Where there's a will, there's a way," it is said. Anna Lynn contrived
+that day to exemplify it. Her will was set upon seeing Herbert Dare, and
+she did see him: it can scarcely be said by accident. Anna contrived to
+be sent into the town by Patience on an errand, and she managed to
+linger so long in the neighbourhood of Mr. Dare's office, gazing in at
+the shops in West Street (if Patience had only seen her!), that Herbert
+Dare passed.
+
+"Anna!"
+
+"Herbert, I have been waiting in the hope of seeing thee," she
+whispered, her manner timid as a fawn, her pretty cheeks blushing. "Thee
+must not come again in the evening, for I cannot meet thee."
+
+"Why so?" asked Herbert.
+
+"William Halliburton saw me with thee last night, and he says it is not
+right. I had to give him my promise not to meet thee again, or he would
+have told my father."
+
+Herbert cast a word to William; not a complimentary one. "What business
+is it of his?" he asked.
+
+"I dare not stay talking to thee, Herbert. Patience will likely be
+sending Grace after me, finding me so long away. But I was obliged to
+tell thee this, lest thee should be coming again. Fare thee well!"
+
+Passing swiftly from him, Anna went on her way. Herbert did not choose
+to follow her in the open street. She went along, poor child, with her
+head down and her eyelashes glistening. It was little else than bitter
+sorrow thus to part with Herbert Dare.
+
+Patience was standing at the door, looking out for her when she came in
+sight of home. Patience had given little heed to what William
+Halliburton had said the previous night, or she might not have sent Anna
+into Helstonleigh alone. In point of fact, Patience had thought William
+a little fanciful. But when, instead of being home at four o'clock, as
+she ought to have been, the clock struck five, and she had not made her
+appearance, Patience began to think she did let her have too much
+liberty.
+
+"Now, where hast thee been?" was Patience's salutation, delivered in icy
+tones.
+
+"I met so many people, Patience. They stayed to talk with me."
+
+Brushing past Patience, deaf to her subsequent reproofs, Anna flew up to
+her own room. When she came down, her father had entered, and Patience
+was pouring out the tea.
+
+"Wilt thee tell thy father where thee hast been?"
+
+The command was delivered in Patience's driest tone. Anna, inwardly
+tormented, outwardly vexed, burst into tears. The Quaker looked up in
+surprise.
+
+Patience explained. Anna had left home at three o'clock to execute a
+little commission: she might well have been home in three-quarters of an
+hour and she had only made her appearance now.
+
+"What kept thee, child?" asked her father.
+
+"I only looked in at a shop or two," pleaded Anna, through her tears.
+"There were the prettiest new engravings in at Thomas Woakam's! If
+Patience had wanted me to run both ways, she should have said so."
+
+Notwithstanding the little spice of impertinence peeping out in the last
+sentence, Samuel Lynn saw no reason to correct Anna. That she could ever
+be wrong, he scarcely admitted to his own heart. "Dry thy tears, child,
+and take thy tea," said he. "Patience wanted thee, maybe, for some
+household matter; it can wait another opportunity. Patience," he added,
+as if to drown the sound of his words and their remembrance, "are my
+shirts in order?"
+
+"Thy shirts in order?" repeated Patience. "Why dost thee ask that?"
+
+"I should not have asked it without reason," returned he. "Wilt thee
+please give me an answer?"
+
+"The old shirts are as much in order as things, beginning to wear, can
+be," replied Patience. "Thy new shirts I cannot say much about. They
+will not be finished this side Midsummer, unless Anna sits to them a
+little closer than she is doing now."
+
+"Thy shirts will be ready quite in time, father; before the old ones are
+gone beyond wearing," spoke up Anna.
+
+"I don't know that," said Mr. Lynn. "Had they been ready, child, I might
+have wanted them now. I am going a journey."
+
+"Is it the French journey thee hast talked of once or twice lately?"
+interposed Patience.
+
+"Yes," said Samuel Lynn. "The master was speaking to me about it this
+afternoon. We were interrupted, and I did not altogether gather when he
+wishes me to start; but I fancy it will be immediately----"
+
+"Oh, father! couldst thee not take me?"
+
+The interruption came from Anna. Her blue eyes were glistening, her
+cheeks were crimson; a journey to the interior of France wore charms for
+her as great as it did for Cyril Dare. All the way home from West Street
+she had been thinking how she should spend her miserable home days,
+debarred of the evening snatches of Mr. Herbert's charming society.
+Going to France would be something.
+
+"I wish I could take thee, child! But thee art aware thee might as well
+ask me to take the Malvern Hills."
+
+In her inward conviction, Anna believed she might. Before she could
+oppose any answering but most useless argument, Samuel Lynn's attention
+was directed to the road. Parting opposite to his house, as if they had
+just walked together from the manufactory, were Mr. Ashley and William
+Halliburton. The master walked on. William, catching Samuel Lynn's eye,
+came across and entered.
+
+Mr. Ashley had been telling William some news. Though no vacillating man
+in a general way, it appeared that he had again reconsidered his
+determination with regard to despatching William to France. He had come
+to the resolve to send him, as well as Samuel Lynn. William could not
+help surmising that his betrayed emotion the previous night, his fears
+touching Mr. Ashley's reason for not sending him, may have had something
+to do with that gentleman's change of mind.
+
+"Will you be troubled with me?" asked he of Mr. Lynn, when he had
+imparted this to him.
+
+"If such be the master's fiat, I cannot help being troubled with thee,"
+was the answer of Samuel Lynn; but the tone of his voice spoke of
+anything rather than dissatisfaction. "Why is he sending thee as well as
+myself?"
+
+"He told me he thought it might be best that you should show me the
+markets, and introduce me to the skin merchants, as I should probably
+have to make the journey alone in future," replied William. "I had no
+idea, until the master mentioned it now, that you had ever made the
+journey yourself, Mr. Lynn; you never told me."
+
+"There was nothing, that I am aware of, to call for the information,"
+observed the Quaker, in his usual dry manner. "I went there two or three
+times on my own account when I was in business for myself. Did the
+master tell thee when he should expect us to start?"
+
+"Not precisely. The beginning of the week, I think."
+
+"I have been asking my father if he cannot take me," put in Anna, in
+plaintive tones, looking at William.
+
+"And I have answered her, that she may as well ask me to take the
+Malvern Hills," was the rejoinder of Samuel Lynn. "I could as likely
+take the one as the other."
+
+Likely or unlikely, Samuel Lynn would have taken her beyond all
+doubt--taken her with a greedy, sheltering grasp--had he foreseen the
+result of leaving her at home, the grievous trouble that was to fall
+upon her head.
+
+"Thee wilt drink a dish of tea with us this evening, William?"
+
+It was Patience who spoke. William hesitated, but he saw they would be
+pleased at his doing so, and he sat down. The conversation turned upon
+France--upon Samuel Lynn's experiences, and William's anticipations.
+Anna lapsed into silence and abstraction.
+
+In the bustle of moving, when Samuel Lynn was departing for the
+manufactory, William, before going home to his books, contrived to
+obtain a word alone with Anna.
+
+"Have you thought of our compact?"
+
+"Yes," she said, freely meeting his eyes in honest truth. "I saw him
+this afternoon in the street; I went on purpose to try and meet him. He
+will not come again."
+
+"That is well. Mind and take care of yourself, Anna," he added, with a
+smile. "I shall be away, and not able to give an eye to you, as I freely
+confess it had been my resolve to do."
+
+Anna shook her head. "He does not come again," she repeated. "Thee may
+go away believing me, William."
+
+And William did go away believing her--went away to France putting faith
+in her; thinking that the undesirable intimacy was at an end for ever.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV.
+
+PATIENCE COME TO GRIEF.
+
+
+In the early part of March, Samuel Lynn and William departed on their
+journey to France. And the first thought that occurred to Patience
+afterwards was one that is apt to occur to many thrifty housekeepers on
+the absence of the master--that of instituting a thorough cleansing of
+the house, from garret to cellar; or, as Anna mischievously expressed
+it, "turning the house inside out." She knew Patience did not like her
+wild phrases, and therefore she used them.
+
+Patience was parting with Grace--the servant who had been with them so
+many years. Grace had resolved to get married. In vain Patience assured
+her that marriage, generally speaking, was found to be nothing better
+than a bed of thorns. Grace would not listen. Others had risked the
+thorns before her, and she thought she must try her chance with the
+rest. Patience had no resource but to fall in with the decision, and to
+look out for another servant. It appeared that she could not readily
+find one; at least, one whom she would venture to engage. She was
+unusually particular; and while she waited and looked out, she engaged
+Hester Dell, a humble member of her own persuasion, to come in
+temporarily. Hester lived with her aged mother, not far off, chiefly
+supporting herself by doing fine needlework at her own, or at the
+Friends' houses. She readily consented to take up her abode with
+Patience for a month or so, to help with the housework, and looked upon
+it as a sort of holiday.
+
+"It's of no use to begin the house until Grace shall be gone," observed
+Patience to Anna. "She'd likely be scrubbing the paper on the walls,
+instead of the paint, for her head is turned just now."
+
+"What fun, if she should!" ejaculated Anna.
+
+"Fun for thee, perhaps, who art ignorant of cost and labour," rebuked
+Patience. "I shall wait until Grace has departed. The day that she goes,
+Hester comes in; and I shall have the house begun the day following."
+
+"Couldn't thee have it begun the same day?" saucily asked Anna.
+
+"Will thee attend to thy stitching?" returned Patience sharply. "Thy
+father's wristbands will not be done the better for thy nonsense."
+
+"Shall I be turned out of my bedroom?" resumed Anna.
+
+"For a night, perchance. Thee canst go into thy father's. But the top of
+the house will be done first."
+
+"Is the roof to be scrubbed?" went on Anna. "I don't know how Hester
+will hold on while she does it."
+
+"Thee art in one of thy wilful humours this morning," responded
+Patience. "Art thee going to set me at defiance now thy father's back is
+turned?"
+
+"Who said anything about setting thee at defiance?" asked Anna. "I
+_should_ like to see Hester scrubbing the roof!"
+
+"Thee hadst better behave thyself, Anna," was the retort of Patience.
+And Anna, in her lighthearted wilfulness, burst into a merry laugh.
+
+Grace departed, and Hester came in: a quiet little body, of forty
+years, with dark hair and defective teeth. Patience, as good as her
+word, was up betimes the following morning, and had the house up
+betimes, to institute the ceremony. Their house contained the same
+accommodation as Mrs. Halliburton's, with this addition--that the garret
+in the Quaker's had been partitioned off into two chambers. Patience
+slept in one; Grace had occupied the other. The three bedrooms on the
+floor beneath were used, one by Mr. Lynn, one by Anna; the other was
+kept as a spare room, for any chance visitor; the "best room" it was
+usually called. The house belonged to Mr. Lynn. Formerly, both houses
+had belonged to him; but at the time of his loss he had sold the other
+to Mr. Ashley.
+
+The ablutions were in full play. Hester, with a pail, mop,
+scrubbing-brush, and other essentials, was ensconced in the top
+chambers; Anna, ostensibly at her wristband stitching (but the work did
+not get on very fast), was singing to herself in an undertone in one of
+the parlours, the door safely shut; while Patience was exercising a
+general superintendence, giving an eye everywhere. Suddenly there echoed
+a loud noise, as of a fall, and a scream resounded throughout the house.
+It appeared to come from what they usually called the bedroom floor.
+Anna flew up the stairs, and Hester Dell flew down the upper ones. At
+the foot of the garret stairs, her head against the door of Anna's
+chamber, lay Patience and a heavy bed-pole. In attempting to carry the
+pole down from her room, she had somehow overbalanced herself, and
+fallen heavily.
+
+"Is the house coming down?" Anna was beginning to say. But she stopped
+in consternation when she saw Patience. Hester attempted to pick her up.
+
+"Thee cannot raise me, Hester. Anna, child, thee must not attempt to
+touch me. I fear my leg is br----"
+
+Her voice died away, her eyes closed, and a hue, as of death, overspread
+her countenance. Anna, more terrified than she had ever been in her
+life, flew round to Mrs. Halliburton's.
+
+Dobbs, from her kitchen, saw her coming--saw the young face streaming
+with tears, heard the short cries of alarm--and Dobbs stepped out.
+
+"Why, what on earth's the matter now?" asked she.
+
+Anna seized Dobbs, and clung to her; partly that to do so seemed some
+protection in her great terror. "Oh, Dobbs, come in to Patience!" she
+cried. "I think she's dying."
+
+The voice reached the ears of Jane. She came forth from the parlour.
+Dobbs was then running in to Samuel Lynn's, and Jane ran also,
+understanding nothing.
+
+Patience was reviving when they entered. All her cry was, that they must
+not move her. One of her legs was in some manner doubled under her, and
+doubled over the pole. Jane felt a conviction that it was broken.
+
+"Who can run fastest?" she asked. "We must have Mr. Parry here."
+
+Hester waited for no further instruction. She caught up her
+fawn-coloured Quaker shawl and grey bonnet, and was off, putting them on
+as she ran. Anna, sobbing wildly, turned and hid her face on Jane, as
+one who wants to be comforted. Then, her mood changing, she threw
+herself down beside Patience, the tears from her own eyes falling on
+Patience's face.
+
+"Patience, dear Patience, canst thee forgive me? I have been wilful and
+naughty, but I never meant to cross thee really. I did it only to tease
+thee; but I loved thee all the while."
+
+Patience, suffering as she was, drew down the repentant face to kiss it
+fervently. "I know it, dear child; I know thee. Don't thee distress
+thyself for me."
+
+Mr. Parry came, and Patience was carried into the spare room. Her leg
+was broken, and badly broken; the surgeon called it a compound fracture.
+
+So there was an end to the grand cleansing scheme for a long time to
+come! Patience lay in sickness and pain, and Hester had to make her her
+first care. Anna's spirits revived in a day or two. Mr. Parry said a
+cure would be effected in time; that the worst of the business was the
+long confinement for Patience; and Anna forgot her dutiful fit of
+repentance. Patience _would_ be well again, would be about as before;
+and, as to the present confinement, Anna rather grew to look upon it as
+the interposition of some good fairy, who must have taken her own
+liberty under its special protection.
+
+Whether Anna would have succeeded in eluding the vigilance of Patience
+_up_ cannot be told; she certainly did that of Patience _down_. Anna had
+told Herbert Dare that he was not to pay a visit to Atterly's field
+again, or expect her to pay one; but Herbert Dare was about the last
+person to obey such advice. Had William Halliburton remained to be--as
+Herbert termed it--a treacherous spy, there's no doubt that Herbert
+would have striven to set his vigilance at defiance: with William's
+absence, the field, both literally and figuratively, was open to him. In
+the absence of Samuel Lynn, it was doubly open. Herbert Dare knew
+perfectly well that if the Quaker once gained the slightest inkling of
+his secret acquaintance with Anna, it would effectually be put a stop
+to. To wear a cloak resembling William Halliburton's, on his visits to
+the field, had been the result of a bright idea. It had suddenly
+occurred to Mr. Herbert that if the Quaker's lynx eyes did by mischance
+catch sight of the cloak, promenading some fine night at the back of his
+residence, they would accord it no particular notice, concluding the
+wearer to be William Halliburton taking a moonlight stroll at the back
+of _his_ residence. Nevertheless, Herbert had timed his visits so as to
+make pretty sure that Samuel Lynn was out of view, safely ensconced in
+Mr. Ashley's manufactory; and he had generally succeeded. Not quite
+always, as the reader knows.
+
+Anna was of a most persuadable nature. In defiance of her promise to
+William, she suffered Herbert Dare to persuade her again into the old
+system of meeting him. Guileless as a child, never giving thought to
+wrong or to harm--beyond the wrong and harm of thus clandestinely
+stealing out, and that wrong she conveniently ignored--she saw nothing
+very grave in doing it. Herbert could not come indoors; Patience would
+be sure not to welcome him; and therefore, she logically argued to her
+own mind, she must go out to him.
+
+She had learnt to like Herbert Dare a great deal too well not to wish to
+meet him, to talk with him. Herbert, on his part, had learnt to like
+her. An hour passed in whispering to Anna, in mischievously untying her
+sober cap, and letting the curls fall, in laying his own hand fondly on
+the young head, and telling her he cared for her beyond every earthly
+thing. It had grown to be one of his most favourite recreations; and
+Herbert was not one to deny himself any recreation that he took a fancy
+to. He intended no harm to the pretty child. It is possible that, had
+any one seriously pointed out to him the harm that might arise to Anna,
+in the estimation of Helstonleigh, should these stolen meetings be found
+out, Herbert might for once have done violence to his inclinations, and
+not have persisted in them. Unfortunately--very unfortunately, as it was
+to turn out--there was no one to give this word of caution. Patience was
+ill, William was away: and no one else knew anything about it. In point
+of fact, Patience could not be said to know anything, for William's
+warning had not made the impression upon her that it ought to have done.
+Patience's confiding nature was in fault. For Anna deliberately to meet
+Herbert Dare or any other "Herbert" in secret, she would have deemed a
+simple impossibility. In the judgment of Patience, it had been nothing
+less than irredeemable sin.
+
+What did Herbert Dare promise himself, in thus leading Anna into this
+imprudence? Herbert promised himself nothing--beyond the passing
+gratification of the hour. Herbert had never been one to give any care
+to the future, for himself or for any one else; and he was not likely to
+begin to do it at present. As to seeking Anna for his wife, such a
+thought had never crossed his mind. In the first place, at the rate the
+Dares--Herbert and his brothers--were going on, a wife for any of them
+seemed amongst the impossibilities. Unless, indeed, she made the bargain
+beforehand to live upon air; there was no chance of their having
+anything else to live upon. But, had Herbert been in a position,
+pecuniarily considered, to marry ten wives, Anna Lynn would not have
+been one of them. Agreeable as it might be to him to linger with Anna,
+he considered her far beneath himself; and pride, with Herbert, was
+always in the ascendant. Herbert had been introduced to Anna Lynn at
+Mrs. Ashley's, and that threw a sort of prestige around her. She was
+also enshrined in the respectable Quaker body of the town. But for these
+facts, for being who she was, Herbert might have been less scrupulous in
+his behaviour towards her. He would not--it may be as well to say he
+dared not--be otherwise than considerate towards Anna Lynn; but, on the
+other hand, he would not have considered her worthy to become his wife.
+On the part of Samuel Lynn, he would far rather have seen his child in
+her coffin, than the wife of Herbert Dare. The young Dares did not bear
+a good name in Helstonleigh.
+
+In this most uncertain and unsatisfactory state of things, what on
+earth--as Dobbs had said to Anna--did Herbert want with her at all? Far,
+far better that he had allowed Anna to fall in with the sensible advice
+of William Halliburton--"Do not meet him again." It was a sad pity; and
+it is very probable that Herbert Dare regretted it afterwards, in the
+grievous misery it entailed. Misery to both; and without positive ill
+conduct on the part of either.
+
+But that time has not yet come, and we are only at the stage of Samuel
+Lynn's absence and Patience's broken leg. Anna had taken to stealing out
+again; and her wits were at work to concoct a plausible excuse for her
+absences to Hester Dell, that no tales might be carried to Patience.
+
+"Hester, Patience is a fidget. Thee must see that. She would like me to
+keep at my work all day, all day, evening too, and never have a breath
+of fresh air! She'd like me to shut myself up in this parlour, as she
+has now to be shut up in her room; never to be in the garden in the
+lovely twilight; never to run and look at the pretty lambs in the field;
+never to go next door, and say 'How dost thee?' to Jane Halliburton!
+It's a shame, Hester!"
+
+"Well, I think it would be, if it were true," responded Hester, a simple
+woman in mind and language, who loved Anna almost as well as did
+Patience. "But dost thee not think thee art mistaken, child? Patience
+seems anxious that thee should go out. She says I am to take thee."
+
+"I dare say!" responded Anna; "and leave her all alone! How would she
+come downstairs with her broken leg, if any one knocked at the door?
+She's a dreadful fidget, Hester. She'd like to watch me as a cat watches
+a mouse. Look at last night! It's all on account of these shirts. She
+thinks I shan't get them done. I shall."
+
+"Why, dear, I think thee wilt," returned Hester, casting her eyes on the
+work. "Thee art getting on with them."
+
+"I am getting on nicely. I have done all the stitching, and nearly the
+plain part of the bodies; I shall soon be at the gathers. What did she
+say to thee last night?"
+
+"She said, 'Go to the parlour, Hester, and See whether Anna does not
+want a light.' And I came and could not find thee. And then she said
+thee wast always running into the next door, troubling them, and she
+would not have it done. Thee came in just at the time, and she scolded
+thee."
+
+"Yes, she did," resentfully spoke Anna. "I tell thee, Hester, she's the
+worst fidget breathing. I give thee my word, Hester, that I had not been
+inside the Halliburtons' door. I had been in this garden and in the
+field. I had been close at work all day----"
+
+"Not quite all day, dear," interrupted Hester, willing to smooth matters
+to the child as far as she was able. "Thee hadst thy friend Mary Ashley
+here to call in the morning, and thee hadst Sarah Dixon in the
+afternoon."
+
+"Well, I had been at work a good part of the day," corrected Anna, "and
+I wanted some fresh air after it. Where's the crime?"
+
+"Crime, dear! It's only natural. If I had not my errands to go upon, and
+so take the air that way, I should like myself to run to the field, when
+my work was done."
+
+"So would any one else, except Patience," retorted Anna. "Hester, look
+thee. When she asks after me again, thee hast no need to tell her,
+should I have run out. It only fidgets her, and she is not well enough
+to be fidgeted. Thee tell her I am at my sewing. But I _can't_ be sewing
+for ever, Hester; I must have a few minutes' holiday from it now and
+then. Patience might have cause to grumble if I ran away and left it in
+the day."
+
+"Well, dear, I think it is only reasonable," slowly answered Hester,
+considering the matter over. "I'll not tell her thee art in the garden
+again; for she must be kept tranquil, friend Parry says."
+
+"She was just as bad when I was a little girl, Hester," concluded Anna.
+"She wouldn't let me run in the garden alone then, for fear I should eat
+the gooseberries. But it is not the gooseberry season now."
+
+"All quite true and reasonable," thought Hester Dell.
+
+And so the young lady contrived to enjoy a fair share of evening
+liberty. Not but that she would have done with more, had she known how
+to get it. And as the weeks went on, and the cold weather of early
+spring merged into summer days, more genial nights, she and Herbert Dare
+grew bold in their immunity from discovery, and scarcely an evening
+passed but they might have been seen, had any one been on the watch, in
+Farmer Atterly's field. Anna had reached the point of taking his arm
+now; and there they would pace under cover of the hedge, Herbert
+talking, and Anna dreaming that she was in Eden.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI.
+
+THE GOVERNESS'S EXPEDITION.
+
+
+Herbert Dare sat enjoying the beauty of the April evening in the garden
+of Pomeranian Knoll. He was hoisted on the back of a garden bench, and
+balanced himself astride it, the tip of one toe resting on the seat, the
+other foot dangling. The month was drawing to its close, and the beams
+of the setting sun streamed athwart Herbert's face. It might be supposed
+that he had seated himself there to bask in the soft, still air and
+lovely sunset. In point of fact, he hardly knew whether the sun was
+rising or setting--whether the evening was fair or foul--so buried was
+he in deep thought and perplexing care.
+
+The particular care which was troubling Herbert Dare, was one which has,
+at some time or other, troubled the peace of a great many of us. It was
+pecuniary embarrassment. Herbert had been in it for a long time; had, in
+fact, been sinking into it deeper and deeper. He had managed to ward it
+off hitherto in some way or other; but the time to do that much longer
+was going by. He was not given to forethought, it has been previously
+mentioned; but he could not conceal from himself that unpleasantness
+would ensue, and that speedily, unless something could be done. What was
+that something to be? He did not know; he could not imagine. His father
+protested that he had not the means to help him; and Herbert believed
+that Mr. Dare spoke the truth. Not that Mr. Dare knew of the extent of
+the embarrassment. Had he done so, it would have come to the same thing,
+so far as his help went. His sons, as he said, had drained him to the
+utmost.
+
+Anthony passed the end of the walk. Whether he saw Herbert or not,
+certain it was, that he turned away from his direction. Herbert lifted
+his eyes, an angry light in them. He lifted his voice also, angry too.
+
+"Here, you! Don't go skulking off because you see me sitting here. I
+want you."
+
+Anthony was taken to. It is more than probable that he _was_ skulking
+off, and that he _had_ seen Herbert, for he did not particularly care
+then to come into contact with his brother. Anthony was in embarrassment
+on his own score; was ill at ease from more reasons than one; and when
+the mind is troubled, sharp words do not tend to soothe it. Little else
+than sharp words had been exchanged latterly between Anthony and Herbert
+Dare.
+
+It was no temporary ill-feeling, vexed to-day, pleased to-morrow,
+which had grown up between them; the ill-will had existed a long time.
+Herbert believed that his brother had injured him, had wilfully
+played him false, and his heart bitterly resented it. That Anthony was
+in fault at the beginning was undoubted. He had drawn Herbert
+unsuspiciously--unsuspiciously on Herbert's part, you understand--into
+some mess with regard to bills. Anthony was fond of "bills;" Herbert,
+more wise in that respect, had never meddled with them: his opinion
+coincided with his father's: they were edged tools, which cut both ways.
+"Eschew bills if you want to die upon your own bed," was a saying of Mr.
+Dare's, frequently uttered for the benefit of his sons. Good advice, no
+doubt. Mr. Dare, as a lawyer, ought to know. Herbert had held by the
+advice; Anthony never had; and the time came when Anthony took care that
+his brother should not.
+
+In a period of deep embarrassment for Anthony, he had persuaded Herbert
+to sign two bills for him, their aggregate amount being large; assuring
+him, in the most earnest and apparently truthful manner, that the money
+to meet them, when due, was already provided. Herbert, in his good
+nature, fell into the snare. It turned out not only that the bills were
+not met at all, but Anthony had so contrived it that Herbert should be
+responsible, not he himself. Herbert regarded it as a shameful piece of
+treachery, and never ceased to reproach his brother. Anthony, who was of
+a sullen, morose temper, resented the reproach; and they did not lead
+together the happiest of lives. The bills were not settled yet; indeed,
+they formed part of Herbert's most pressing embarrassments. This was one
+cause of the ill-feeling between them, and there were others, of a
+different nature. Anthony and Herbert Dare had never been cordial with
+each other, even in childhood.
+
+Anthony, called by Herbert, advanced. "Who wants to skulk away?" asked
+he. "Are you judging me by yourself?"
+
+"I hope not," returned Herbert, in tones of the most withering contempt
+and scorn. "Listen to me. I've told you five hundred times that I'll
+have some settlement, and if you don't come to it amicably, I'll force
+you to it. Do you hear, you? I'll _force_ you to it."
+
+"Try it," retorted Anthony, with a mocking laugh; and he coolly walked
+away.
+
+Walked away, leaving Herbert in a towering rage. He felt inclined to
+follow him; to knock him down. Had Anthony only met the affair in a
+proper spirit, it had been different. Had he said, "Herbert, I am
+uncommonly vexed--I'll see what can be done," or words to that effect,
+half the sting in his brother's mind would have been removed; but, to
+taunt Herbert with having to pay--as he sometimes did--was almost
+unbearable. Had Herbert been of Anthony's temper, he would have proved
+that it was quite unbearable.
+
+But Herbert's temper was roused now. It was the toss of a die whether he
+followed Anthony and struck him down, or whether he did not. The die was
+cast by the appearance of Signora Varsini; and Anthony, for that
+evening, escaped.
+
+It was not very gallant of Herbert to remain where he was, in the
+presence of the governess, astride upon the garden bench. Herbert was
+feeling angry in no ordinary degree, and this may have been his excuse.
+She came up, apparently in anger also. Her brow was frowning, her
+compressed mouth drawn in until its lips were hidden.
+
+There is good advice in the old song or saying: "It is well to be off
+with the old love, before you are on with the new." As good advice as
+that of Mr. Dare's, relative to the bills. Herbert might have sung it in
+character. He should have made things square with the Signora Varsini,
+before entering too extensively on his friendship with Anna Lynn.
+
+Not that the governess could be supposed to occupy any position in the
+mind or heart of Herbert Dare, except _as_ governess; governess to his
+sisters. Herbert would probably have said so, had you asked him. What
+_she_ might have said, is a different matter. She looks angry enough to
+say anything just now. The fact appeared to be--so far as any one not
+personally interested in the matter could be supposed to gather it--that
+Herbert had latterly given offence to the governess, by not going to the
+school-room for what he called his Italian lessons. Of course he could
+not be in two places at once; and if his leisure hour after dinner was
+spent in Atterly's field, it was impossible that he could be in the
+school-room, learning Italian with the governess. But she resented it as
+a slight. She was of an exacting nature; probably of a jealous nature;
+and she regarded it as a personal slight, and resented it bitterly. She
+had been rather abrupt in speech and manner to Herbert, in consequence;
+and that, _he_ resented. But, being naturally of an easy temper, Herbert
+was no friend to unnecessary disputes. He tried what he could towards
+soothing the young lady; and, finding he effected no good in that way,
+he adopted the other alternative--he shunned her. The governess
+perceived this, and worked herself up into a state of semi-fury.
+
+She came down upon him in full sail. The moment Herbert saw her, he
+remembered having given her a half-promise the previous day to pay her a
+visit that evening. "Now for it," thought he to himself.
+
+"Why you keep me waiting like this?" began she, when she was close to
+him.
+
+"Have I kept you waiting?" civilly returned Herbert. "I am very sorry.
+The fact is, mademoiselle, I have a good deal of worry upon me, and I'm
+fit for nobody's company but my own to-night. You might not have thanked
+me for my visit, had I come."
+
+"That is my own look-out," replied the governess. "When a gentleman
+makes a promise to me, I expect him to keep it. I go up to the
+school-room, and I wait, I wait, I wait! Ah, my poor patience, how I
+wait! I have that copy of Tasso, that you said you would like to see.
+Will you come?"
+
+Herbert thought he was in for it. He glanced at the setting sun--at
+least, at the spot where the sun had gone down, for it had sunk below
+the horizon, leaving only crimson streaks in the grey sky to tell of
+what had been. Twilight was rapidly coming on, when he would depart to
+pay his usual evening visit: there was no time, he decided, for Tasso
+and the governess.
+
+"I'll come another evening," said he. "I have an engagement, and I must
+go out to keep it."
+
+A stony hardness settled on mademoiselle's face. "What engagement?" she
+imperatively demanded.
+
+It might be thought that Herbert would have been justified in civilly
+declining to satisfy her curiosity. What was it to her? Apparently he
+thought otherwise. Possibly he was afraid of an outbreak.
+
+"What engagement! Oh--I am going to play a pool at billiards with Lord
+Hawkesley. He is in Helstonleigh again."
+
+"And that is what you go for, every evening--to play billiards with Lord
+Hawkesley?" she resumed, her eyes glistening ominously.
+
+"Of course it is, mademoiselle. With Hawkesley or other fellows."
+
+"A lie!" curtly responded mademoiselle.
+
+"I say," cried Herbert, laughing good-humouredly: "do you call that
+orthodox language?"
+
+"It nothing to you what I call it," she cried, clipping her words in her
+vehemence, as she would do when excited. "It not with Milord Hawkesley,
+not to billiards that you go! I know it is not."
+
+
+"Then I tell you that I often play billiards," cried Herbert. "On my
+honour I do."
+
+"May-be, may-be," answered she, very rapidly. "But it not to billiards
+that you go every evening. Every evening!--every evening! Not an evening
+now, but you go out, you go out! I bought Tasso--do you know that I
+_bought_ Tasso?--that I have bought it with my money, that you may have
+the pleasure of hearing me read it, as you said--as you call it? Should
+I spend the money, had I thought you would not come when I had it--would
+not care to hear it read?"
+
+Had she been in a more amiable mood, Herbert would have told her that
+she was a simpleton for spending her money; he would have told her that
+Tasso, read in the original, would have been to him unintelligible as
+Sanscrit. He had a faint remembrance of saying to mademoiselle that he
+should like to read Tasso, in answer to a remark that Tasso was her
+favourite of the Italian poets: but he had only made the observation
+carelessly, without seriously meaning anything. And she had been so
+foolish as to go and buy it!
+
+"Will you come this evening and hear it begun?" she continued, breaking
+the pause, and speaking rather more graciously.
+
+"Upon my word of honour, Bianca, I can't to-night," he answered, feeling
+himself, between the two--the engagement made, and the engagement sought
+to be made--somewhat embarrassed. "I will come another evening; you may
+depend upon me."
+
+"You say to me yesterday that you would come this evening; that I might
+depend upon you. Much you care!"
+
+"But I could not help myself. An engagement arose, and I was obliged to
+fall in with it. I was, indeed. I'll hear Tasso another evening."
+
+"You will not break your paltry engagement at billiards to keep your
+word to a lady! C'est bien!"
+
+"It--it is not altogether that," replied Herbert, getting out of the
+reproach in the best way he could. "I have some business as well."
+
+She fastened her glistening eyes upon him. There was an expression in
+them which Herbert neither understood nor liked. "C'est très bien!" she
+slowly repeated. "I know where you are going, and for what!"
+
+A smile--at her assumed knowledge, and what it was worth--flitted over
+Herbert Dare's face. "You are very wise," said he.
+
+"Take care of yourself, mon ami! C'est tout ce que je vous dis."
+
+"Now, mademoiselle, what is the matter, that you should look and speak
+in that manner?" he asked, still in the same good-humoured tone, as if
+he would fain pass the affair away in a joke. "I'm sure I have enough
+bother upon me, without your adding to it."
+
+"What is your bother?"
+
+"Never mind: it would give you no pleasure to know it. It is caused by
+Anthony--and be hanged to him!"
+
+"Anthony is worth ten of you!" fiercely responded mademoiselle.
+
+"Every one to his own liking," carelessly remarked Herbert. "It's well
+for me that all the world does not think as you do, mademoiselle."
+
+Mademoiselle looked as though she would like to beat him. "So!" she
+foamed, drawing back her bloodless lips; "now that your turn is served,
+Bianca Varsini may just be sent to the enfer! Garde-toi, mon camarade!"
+
+"Garde your voice," replied Herbert. "The cows yonder will think it's a
+tempest. I wish my turn _was_ served, in more ways than one. What
+particular turn do you mean? If it's buying Tasso, I'll purchase it from
+you at double price."
+
+He could not help giving her a little chaff. It was what he would have
+called it: chaff. Exacting people fretted his generally easy temper,
+and he was beginning to fear that she would detain him until it was too
+late to see Anna.
+
+But, on the latter score, he was set at rest. With a few words, spoken
+in Italian, she nodded her head angrily at him, and turned away. Fierce
+words, in spite of their low tone, Herbert was sure they were, but he
+could not catch one of them. Had he caught them all, it would have come
+to the same, so far as his understanding went. Excellent as Signora
+Varsini's method of teaching Italian may have been, her lessons had not
+as yet been very efficient for Herbert Dare.
+
+She crossed her hands before her, and went down the walk, taking the
+path to the house. Proceeding straight up to the school-room, she met
+Cyril on the stairs. He had apparently been dressing himself for the
+evening, and was going out to spend it. The governess caught him
+abruptly, pulled him inside the school-room, and closed the door.
+
+"I say, mademoiselle, what's that for?" asked Cyril, believing, by the
+fierce look of the young lady, that she was about to take some summary
+vengeance upon him.
+
+"Cyril! you tell me. Where is it that Herbert goes to of an evening?
+Every evening--every evening?"
+
+Cyril stared excessively. "What does it concern you to know where he
+goes, mademoiselle?" returned he.
+
+"I want to know for my own reasons, and that's enough for you, Monsieur
+Cyril. Where does he go?"
+
+"He goes out," responded Cyril.
+
+The governess stamped her foot petulantly. "I could tell you that he
+goes out. I ask you where it is that he goes?"
+
+"How should I know?" was Cyril's answer. "It's not my business."
+
+"_Don't_ you know?" demanded mademoiselle.
+
+"No, that I don't," heartily spoke Cyril. "Do you suppose I watch him,
+mademoiselle? He'd pretty soon pitch into me, if he caught me at that
+game. I dare say he goes to billiards."
+
+The suggestion excited the ire of the governess. "He has been telling
+you to say so!" she said, menace in every tone of her voice, every
+gesture of her lifted hand.
+
+Cyril opened his eyes to their utmost width. He could not understand why
+the governess should be asking him this, or why Herbert's movements
+should concern her. "I know nothing at all about it," he answered; and,
+so far, he spoke the truth. "I don't know that Herbert goes anywhere in
+particular of an evening. If he does, he would not tell me."
+
+She laid her hand heavily on his shoulder; she brought her
+face--terrible in its livid earnestness--almost into contact with his.
+"Ecoutez, mon ami," she whispered to the amazed Cyril. "If you are going
+to play this game with me, I will play one with you. Who wore the cloak
+to that boucherie, and got the money?--who ripped out the écossais side
+afterwards, leaving it all mangled and open? Think you, I don't know?
+Ah, ha! Monsieur Cyril, you cannot play the farce with me!"
+
+Cyril's face turned ghastly, drops of sweat broke out over his forehead.
+"Hush!" he cried, looking round in the instinct of terror, lest
+listeners should be at hand.
+
+"Yes; you say, 'Hush!'" she resumed. "I will hush if you don't make me
+speak. I have hushed ever since. You tell me what I want to know, and
+I'll hush always."
+
+"Mademoiselle Varsini!" he cried, his manner too painfully earnest for
+her to doubt now that he spoke the truth: "I declare that I know nothing
+of Herbert's movements. I don't know where he goes or what he does. When
+I told you I supposed he went to billiards, I said what I thought might
+be the case. He may go to fifty places of an evening, for all I can
+tell. Tell me what it is you want found out, and I will try and do it."
+
+Cyril was not one to play the spy on his brother; in fact, as he had
+just classically observed to the young lady, Herbert would have "pitched
+into" him, had he found him attempting it. And serve him right! But
+Cyril saw that he was in her power; and that made all the difference. He
+would now have tracked Herbert to the ends of the earth at her bidding.
+
+But she did not bid him. Quite the contrary. She took her hand from
+Cyril's shoulder, opened the door, and said she did not want him any
+longer. "It is no matter," cried she; "I wanted to learn something about
+Monsieur Herbert, for a reason; but if you do not know it, let it pass.
+It is no matter."
+
+Cyril departed; first of all lifting his cowardly face. It looked a
+coward's then. "You'll keep counsel, mademoiselle?"
+
+"Yes. When people don't offend me, I don't offend them."
+
+She stood at the door after he had gone down, half in, half out of the
+room, apparently in deep thought. Presently footsteps were heard coming
+up, and she retreated and closed the door.
+
+They were those of Herbert. He went on to his room, remained there a few
+minutes, and then came out again. Mademoiselle had the door ajar as he
+descended. Her quick eye detected that he had been giving a few
+finishing touches to his toilette--brushing his hair, pulling down his
+wristbands, and various other little odds and ends of dandyism.
+
+"And you do that to play billiards!" nodded she, inwardly, as she looked
+after him. "I'll see, monsieur."
+
+Upstairs with a soft step, went she, to her own chamber. She reached
+from her box a long and loose dark-green cloak, similar to those worn by
+the women of France and Flanders, and a black silk quilted bonnet. It
+was her travelling attire, and she put it on now. Then she locked her
+chamber door behind her, and slipped down into the dining-room, with as
+soft a step as she had gone up.
+
+Passing out at the open window, she kept tolerably under cover of the
+trees, and gained the road. It was quite dusk then, but she recognized
+Herbert before her, walking with a quick step. She put on a quick step
+also, keeping a safe distance between herself and him. He went through
+the town, to the London road, and turned into Atterly's field. The
+governess turned into it after him.
+
+There she stopped under the hedge, to reconnoitre. A few minutes, and
+she could distinguish that he was joined by some young girl, whom he met
+with every token of respect and confidence. A strange cry went forth on
+the evening air.
+
+Herbert Dare was startled. "What noise was that?" he exclaimed.
+
+Anna had heard nothing. "It must have been one of the lambs in the
+field, Herbert."
+
+"It was more like a human voice in pain," observed Herbert. But they
+heard no more.
+
+They began their usual walk--a few paces backward and forward, beneath
+the most sheltered part of the hedge, Anna taking his arm. Mademoiselle
+could see, as well as the darkness allowed her; but she could not hear.
+Her face, peeping out of the shadowy bonnet, was not unlike the face of
+a tiger.
+
+She crawled away. She had noticed as she turned into the field an iron
+gate that led into the garden, which the hedge skirted. She crept round
+to it, found it locked, and mounted it. It had spikes on the top, but
+the signora would not have cared just then had she found herself
+impaled. She got safe over it, and then considered how to reach the spot
+where they stood without their hearing her.
+
+Would she be baffled? _She_ be baffled! No. She stooped down, unlaced
+her boots, and stole softly on in her stockings. And there she was!
+almost as close to them as they were to each other.
+
+Where had the signora heard those gentle, timid tones before? A lovely
+girl, looking little more than a child, in her modest Quaker dress, rose
+to her mind's eye. She had seen her with Miss Ashley. She--the
+signora--knelt down upon the earth, the better to catch what was said.
+
+"Listeners never hear any good of themselves." It is a proverb too often
+exemplified, as the signora could have told that night. Herbert Dare was
+accounting for his late appearance, which he laid to the charge of the
+governess. He gave a description of the interview she had volunteered
+him in the garden at home--more ludicrous, perhaps, than true, but
+certainly not complimentary to the signora. Anna laughed; and the lady
+on the other side gathered that this was not the first time she had
+formed a topic of merriment between them. You should have seen her face.
+_Pour plaisir_, as she herself might have said.
+
+She stayed out the interview. When it was over, and Herbert Dare had
+departed, she put on her boots and mounted the gate again; but she was
+not so agile this time, and a spike entered her wrist. Binding her
+handkerchief round it, to arrest the blood, she returned to Pomeranian
+Knoll.
+
+Five hundred questions were showered upon her when she entered the
+drawing-room, looking calm and impassible as ever. Not a tress of her
+elaborate braids of hair was out of place; not a fold awry in her dress.
+Much wonder had been excited by her failing to appear at tea; Minny had
+drummed a waltz on her chamber door, but mademoiselle would not open it,
+and would not speak.
+
+"I cannot speak when I am lying down with those _vilaine_ headaches,"
+remarked mademoiselle.
+
+"Have you a headache, mademoiselle?" asked Mrs. Dare. "Will you have a
+cup of tea brought up?"
+
+Mademoiselle declined the tea. She was not thirsty.
+
+"What have you done to your wrist, mademoiselle?" called out Herbert,
+who was stretched on a sofa, at the far end of the room.
+
+"My wrist? Oh, I scratched it."
+
+"How did you manage that?"
+
+"Ah, bah! it's nothing," responded mademoiselle.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII.
+
+THE QUARREL.
+
+
+It is grievous, when ill-feeling arises between brothers, that that
+ill-feeling should be cherished instead of being subdued. But such was
+the case with Anthony and Herbert Dare. By the time the sunny month of
+May came in, matters had grown to such a height between them, that Mr.
+Dare found himself compelled to interfere. It was beginning to make
+things in the house uncomfortable. They would meet at meals, and not
+only abstain from speaking to each other, but take every possible
+opportunity of showing mutual and marked discourtesy. No positive
+outbreak between them had as yet taken place in the presence of the
+family: but it was only smouldering, and might be daily looked for.
+
+Mr. Dare, so far as the original cause went, blamed his eldest son.
+Undoubtedly Anthony had been solely in fault. It was a dishonourable,
+ungenerous, unmanly act, to draw his brother into trouble, and to do it
+plausibly and deceitfully. At the _present_ stage of the affair, Mr.
+Dare saw occasion to blame Herbert more than Anthony. "It is you who
+keep up the ball, Herbert," he said to him. "If you would suffer the
+matter to die away, Anthony would do so." "Of course he would," Herbert
+replied. "He has served his turn, and would be glad that it should end
+there."
+
+It was in vain that Mr. Dare talked to them. A dozen times did he
+recommend them to "shake hands and make it up." Neither appeared
+inclined to take the advice. Anthony was sullen. He would have been
+content to let the affair drop quietly into oblivion: perhaps, as
+Herbert said, had been glad that it should so drop; but, make the
+slightest move towards it, he would not. Herbert openly said that _he'd_
+not shake hands. If Anthony wanted ever to shake hands with him again,
+let him pay up.
+
+_There_ lay the grievance; "paying up." The bills, not paid, were a
+terrible thorn in the side of Herbert Dare. He was responsible, and he
+knew not one hour from another but he might be arrested on them. To
+soothe matters between his sons, Mr. Dare would willingly have taken the
+charge of payment upon himself, but he had positively not the money to
+do it with. In point of fact, Mr. Dare was growing seriously embarrassed
+on his own score. He had had a great deal of trouble with his sons, with
+Anthony in particular, and he had grown sick and tired of helping them
+out of pecuniary difficulties. Still, he would have relieved Herbert of
+this one nightmare, had it been in his power. Herbert had been deluded
+into it, without any advantage to himself; therefore Mr. Dare had the
+will, could he have managed it, to help him out. He told Herbert that he
+would see what he could do after a while. The promise did not relieve
+Herbert of present fears; neither did it restore peace between the
+malcontents. Had Herbert been relieved of that particular embarrassment,
+others would have remained to him; but that fact did not in the least
+lessen his soreness, as to the point in question.
+
+It was an intensely hot day; far hotter than is usual at the season; and
+the afternoon sun streamed full on the windows of Pomeranian Knoll,
+suggesting thoughts of July, instead of May. A gay party--at any rate, a
+party dressed in gay attire--were crossing the hall to enter a carriage
+that waited at the door. Mr. Dare, Mrs. Dare, and Adelaide. Mrs. Dare
+had always been given to gay attire, and her daughters had inherited her
+taste. They were going to dine at a friend's house, a few miles'
+distance from Helstonleigh. The invitation was for seven o'clock. It was
+now striking six, the dinner-hour at Mr. Dare's.
+
+Minny, looking half melted, had perched herself upon the end of the
+balustrades to watch the departure.
+
+"You'll fall, child," said Mr. Dare.
+
+Minny laughed, and said there was no danger of her falling. She wondered
+what her father would think if he saw her sometimes at her gymnastics on
+the balustrades, taking a sweeping slide from the top to the bottom. She
+generally contrived that he should not see her; or mademoiselle either.
+Mademoiselle had caught sight of the performance once, and had given her
+a whole French fable to learn by way of punishment.
+
+"Are we to have strawberries for dinner, mamma?" asked Minny.
+
+"You will have what I have thought proper to order," replied Mrs. Dare
+rather sharply. She was feeling hot and cross. Something had put her out
+while dressing.
+
+"I think you might wait for strawberries until they are ripe in our own
+garden; not buy them regardless of cost," interposed Mr. Dare, speaking
+for the general benefit, but not to any one in particular.
+
+Minny dropped the subject. "Your dress is turned up, Adelaide," said
+she.
+
+Adelaide looked languidly behind her, and a maid, who had followed them
+down, advanced and put right the refractory dress: a handsome dress of
+pink silk, glistening with its own richness. At that moment Anthony
+entered the hall. He had just come home to dinner, and looked in a very
+bad humour.
+
+"How late you'll be!" he cried.
+
+"Not at all. We shall drive there in an hour."
+
+They swept out at the door, Mrs. Dare and Adelaide. Mr. Dare was about
+to follow them when a sudden thought appeared to strike him, and he
+turned back and addressed Anthony.
+
+"You young men take care that you don't get quarrelling with each other.
+Do you hear, Anthony?"
+
+"I hear," ungraciously replied Anthony, not turning to speak, but
+continuing his way up to his dressing-room. He probably regarded the
+injunction with contempt, for it was too much in Anthony Dare's nature
+so to regard all advice, of whatever kind. Nevertheless it had been well
+that he had given heed to it. It had been well that that last word to
+his father had been one of affection!
+
+Dinner was served. Anthony, in the absence of Mr. and Mrs. Dare, took
+the head. Rosa, with a show of great parade and ceremony, assumed the
+seat opposite to him and said she should be mistress. Minny responded
+that Rosa was not going to be mistress over her, and the governess
+desired Miss Rosa not to talk so loudly. Rather derogatory checks,
+these, to the dignity of a "mistress."
+
+Herbert was not at table. Irregular as the young Dares were in many of
+their habits, they were generally home to dinner. Minny wondered aloud
+where Herbert was. Anthony replied that he was "skulking."
+
+"Skulking!" echoed Minny.
+
+"Yes, skulking," angrily repeated Anthony. "He left the office at three
+o'clock, and has never been near it since. And the governor left at
+four!" he added, in a tone that seemed to say he considered that also a
+grievance.
+
+"Where did Herbert go to?" asked Rosa.
+
+"I don't know," responded Anthony. "I only know that I had a double
+share of work to do."
+
+Anthony Dare was no friend to work. And having had to do a little more
+than he would have done had Herbert remained at his post, had
+considerably aggravated his temper.
+
+"Why should Monsieur Herbert go away and leave you his work to do?"
+inquired the governess, lifting her eyes from her plate to Anthony.
+
+"I shall take care to ask him why," returned Anthony.
+
+"It is not fair that he should," continued mademoiselle. "I would not
+have done it for him, Monsieur Anthony."
+
+"Neither should I, had I not been obliged," said Anthony, not in the
+least relaxing from his ill-humour, either in looks or tone. "It was
+work that had to be done before post-time, and one of our clerks is away
+on business to-day."
+
+Dinner proceeded to its close. Joseph hesitated, unwilling to remove the
+cloth. "Is it to be left for Mr. Herbert?" he asked.
+
+"No!" imperiously answered Anthony. "If he cannot come in for dinner,
+dinner shall not be kept for him."
+
+"Cook is keeping the things by the fire, sir."
+
+
+"Then tell her to save herself the trouble."
+
+So the cloth was removed, and dessert put on. To Minny's inexpressible
+disappointment it turned out that there were no strawberries. This put
+_her_ into an ill-humour, and she left the table and the room, declaring
+she would not touch anything else. Mademoiselle Varsini called her back,
+and ordered her to her seat; she would not permit so great a breach of
+discipline. Cyril and George, who were not under mademoiselle's control,
+gulped down a glass of wine, and hastened out to keep an engagement. It
+was a very innocent one; a cricket match had been organized for the
+evening, by some of the old college boys; and Cyril and George were
+amongst the players. It has never been mentioned that Mr. Ashley, in his
+strict sense of justice, had allowed Cyril the privilege of spending his
+evenings at home five nights in the week, as he did to William
+Halliburton.
+
+The rest remained at table. Minny, per force; Rosa, to take an unlimited
+quantity of oranges; Mademoiselle Varsini, because it was the custom to
+remain. But mademoiselle soon rose and withdrew with her pupils; Anthony
+was not showing himself a particularly sociable companion. He had not
+touched any dessert; but seemed to be drinking a good deal of wine.
+
+As they were going out of the room, Herbert bustled in. "Now then, take
+care!" cried he, for Minny, paying little attention to her movements,
+had gone full tilt at him.
+
+"Oh! Herbert, can't you see?" cried she, dolefully rubbing her head.
+"What made you so late? Dinner's gone away."
+
+"It can be brought in again," replied Herbert carelessly. "Comme il est
+chaud! n'est-ce pas, mademoiselle?"
+
+This last was addressed to the governess. Rosa screamed with laughter at
+his bad French, and mademoiselle smiled. "You get on in French as you do
+in Italian, Monsieur Herbert," cried she. "And that is what you
+call--backward."
+
+Herbert laughed good-humouredly. He did not know what particular mistake
+he had made; truth to say, he did not care. They withdrew, and he rang
+the bell for his dinner.
+
+"Mind, Herbert," cried Minny, putting in her head again at the door,
+"papa said you were not to quarrel."
+
+Better, perhaps, that she had not said it! Who can tell?
+
+The brothers remained alone. Anthony sullen, and, as yet, silent. He
+appeared to have emptied the port wine decanter, and to be beginning
+upon the sherry! Herbert strolled past him; supreme indifference in his
+manner--some might have said contempt--and stood just outside the
+window, whistling.
+
+You have not forgotten that this dining-room window opened to the
+ground. The apartment was long and somewhat narrow, the window large and
+high, and opening in the centre, after the manner of a French one. The
+door was at one end of the room; the window at the other.
+
+Anthony was in too quarrelsome a mood to remain silent long. He began
+the skirmish by demanding what Herbert meant by absenting himself from
+the office for the afternoon, and where he had been to. His resentful
+tones, his authoritative words, were not calculated to win a very civil
+answer.
+
+They did not win one from Herbert. _His_ tones were resentful, too; his
+words were coolly aggravating. Anthony was not his master; when he was,
+he might, perhaps, answer him. Such was their purport.
+
+A hot interchange of words ensued. Nothing more. Anthony remained at the
+table; Herbert, half in, half out of the window, leaned against its
+frame. When Joseph returned to put things in readiness for Herbert's
+dinner, they had subsided into quietness. It was only a lull in the
+storm.
+
+Joseph placed the dessert nearer Anthony's end of the table, and laid
+the cloth across the other end. Herbert came into the room. "What a time
+you are with dinner, Joseph!" cried he. "One would think it was being
+cooked over again."
+
+"Cook's warming it, sir."
+
+"Warming it!" echoed Herbert. "Why couldn't she keep it warm? She might
+be sure I should be home to dinner."
+
+"She was keeping it warm, sir; but Mr. Anthony ordered it to be put
+away."
+
+Now, the man had really no intention of making mischief when he said
+this: that it might cause ill-feeling between the brothers never crossed
+his mind. He was only anxious that he and the cook should stand free
+from blame; for the young Dares, when displeased with the servants, were
+not in the habit of sparing them. Herbert turned to Anthony.
+
+"What business have you to interfere with my dinner? Or with anything
+else that concerns me?"
+
+"I choose to make it my business," insolently retorted Anthony.
+
+At this juncture Joseph left the room. He had laid the cloth, and had
+nothing more to stay for. Better perhaps that he had remained! Surely
+they would not have proceeded to extremities, the brothers, before their
+servant! In a short time, sounds, as if both were in a terrible state of
+fury, resounded through the house from the dining-room. The sounds did
+not reach the kitchen, which was partially detached from the house; but
+the young ladies heard them, and came running out of the drawing-room.
+
+The governess was in the school-room. The noise penetrated even there.
+She also came forth, and saw her two pupils extended over the
+balustrades, listening. At any other time mademoiselle would have
+reproved them: now she crept down and leaned over in company.
+
+"What can be the matter?" whispered she.
+
+"Papa told them not to quarrel!" was all the answer, uttered by Minny.
+
+It was a terrible quarrel--there was little doubt of that; no child's
+play. Passionate bursts of fury rose incessantly, now from one, now from
+the other, now from both. Hot recrimination; words that were not suited
+to unaccustomed ears--or to any ears, for the matter of that--rose high
+and loud. The governess turned pale, and Minny burst into tears.
+
+"Some one ought to go into the room," said Rosa. "Minny, you go! Tell
+them to be quiet."
+
+"I am afraid," replied Minny.
+
+"So am I."
+
+A fearful sound: an explosion louder than all the rest. A noise as if
+some heavy weight had been thrown down. Had it come to blows? Minny
+shrieked, and at the same moment Joseph was seen coming along with a
+tray, Herbert's dinner upon it.
+
+His presence seemed to bring with it a sense of courage, and Rosa and
+Minny flew down followed by the governess. Herbert had been knocked down
+by Anthony. He was gathering himself up when Joseph opened the door.
+Gathering himself up in a tempest of passion, his white face a livid
+fury, as he caught hold of a knife from the table and rushed upon
+Anthony.
+
+But Joseph was too quick for him. The man dashed his tray on the table,
+seized Herbert, and turned the uplifted knife downwards. "For Heaven's
+sake, sir, recollect yourself!" said he.
+
+Recollect himself then? No. Persons, who put themselves into that mad
+state of passion, cannot "recollect" themselves. Joseph kept his hold,
+and the dining-room resounded with shrieks and sobs. They proceeded from
+Rosa and Minny. They pulled their brothers by the coats, they implored,
+they entreated. The women servants came flying from the kitchen, and the
+Italian governess asked the two gentlemen in French whether they were
+not ashamed of themselves.
+
+Perhaps they were. At any rate the quarrel was, for the time, ended.
+Herbert flung the knife upon the table and turned his white face upon
+his brother.
+
+"Take care of yourself, though!" cried he, in marked tones: "I swear you
+shall have it yet."
+
+They pulled Anthony out of the room, Rosa and Minny; or it is difficult
+to say what rejoinder he might have made, or how violently the quarrel
+might have been renewed. It was certain that he had taken more wine than
+was good for him; and that, generally speaking, did not improve the
+temper of Anthony Dare. Mademoiselle Varsini walked by his side, talking
+volubly in French. Whether she was sympathizing or scolding, Anthony did
+not know. Not particularly bright at understanding French at the best of
+times, even when spoken slowly, he could not, in his present excitement,
+catch the meaning of a single word. Entering the drawing-room, he threw
+himself upon the sofa, intending to smooth down his ruffled plumage by
+taking a nap.
+
+Herbert meanwhile had remained in the dining-room, smoothing down _his_
+ruffled plumage. Joseph and the cook were bending over the _débris_ on
+the carpet. When Joseph dashed down his tray on the table, a dish of
+potatoes had bounded off; both dish and potatoes thereby coming to
+grief. Herbert sat down and made an excellent dinner. He was not of a
+sullen temper; and, unlike Anthony, the affair once over he was soon
+himself again. Should they come into contact again directly, there was
+no saying how it would end or what might ensue. His dinner over, he went
+by-and-by to the drawing-room. Joseph had just entered, and was arousing
+Anthony from the sleep he had dropped into. "One of the waiters from the
+Star-and-Garter has come, sir. He says Lord Hawkesley has sent him to
+say that the gentlemen are waiting for you."
+
+"I can't go, tell him," responded Anthony, speaking as he looked,
+thoroughly out of sorts. "I am not going out to-night. Here! Joseph!"
+for the man was turning away with the message.
+
+"Sir?"
+
+"Take these, and bring me my slippers."
+
+"These" were his boots, which he, not very politely, kicked off in the
+ladies' presence, and sent flying after Joseph. The man stooped to pick
+them up and was carrying them away.
+
+"Here!--what a hurry you are in!" began Anthony again. "Take lights up
+to my chamber, and the brandy, and some cold water. I shall make myself
+comfortable there for the night. This room's unbearable, with its
+present company."
+
+The last was a shaft levelled at Herbert. He did not retort, for a
+wonder. In fact, Anthony afforded little time for it. Before the words
+had well left his lips, he had left the room. Herbert began to whistle;
+its very tone insolent.
+
+It appeared almost certain that the unpleasantness was not yet over; and
+Rosa audibly wished her papa was at home. Joseph carried to Anthony's
+room what he required, and then brought the tea to the drawing-room.
+Herbert said he should take tea with them. It was rather unusual for him
+to do so; it was very unusual for Anthony not to go out. Their sisters
+felt sure that they were only staying in to renew hostilities; and again
+Rosa almost passionately wished for the presence of her father.
+
+It was dusk by the time tea was over. Herbert rose to leave the room.
+"Where are you going?" cried mademoiselle sharply after him.
+
+"That's my business," he replied, not in too conciliatory a tone.
+Perhaps he thought the question proceeded from one of his sisters, for
+he was outside the door when it reached him.
+
+"He is going into Anthony's room!" cried Rosa, turning pale, as they
+heard him run upstairs. "Oh, mademoiselle! what can be done? I think
+I'll call Joseph."
+
+"Hush!" cried mademoiselle. "Wait you here. I will go and see."
+
+She stole out of the room and up the stairs, intending to reconnoitre.
+But she had no time to do so. Herbert was coming down again, and she
+could only slip inside the school-room door, and peep out. He had
+evidently been upstairs for his cloak, for he was putting it on as he
+descended.
+
+"The cloak on a hot night like this!" said mademoiselle mentally. "He
+must want to disguise himself!"
+
+She stopped to listen. Joseph had come up the stairs, bringing something
+to Anthony, and Herbert arrested him, speaking in low tones.
+
+"Don't make any mistake to-night about the dining-room window, Joseph. I
+can't think how you could have been so stupid last night!"
+
+"Sir, I assure you I left it undone, as usual," replied Joseph. "It must
+have been master who fastened it."
+
+"Well, take care that it does not occur again," said Herbert. "I expect
+to be in between ten and eleven; but I may be later, and I don't want to
+ring you up again."
+
+Herbert went swiftly downstairs and out, choosing to depart by the way,
+as it appeared, that he intended to enter--the dining-room window.
+Joseph proceeded to Anthony's chamber: and the governess returned to her
+frightened pupils in the drawing-room.
+
+"A la bonne heure!" she said to them. "Monsieur Herbert has gone out,
+and I heard him say to Joseph that he had gone for the evening."
+
+"Then it's all safe!" cried Minny. And she began dancing round the room.
+"Mademoiselle, how pale you look!"
+
+Mademoiselle had sat down in her place before the tea-tray, and was
+leaning her cheek upon her hand. She was certainly looking unusually
+pale. "Enough to make me!" she said, in answer to Minny. "If there were
+to be this disturbance often in the house, I would not stop in it for
+double my _appointements_. It has given me one of those _vilaine_
+headaches, and I think I shall go to bed. You will not be afraid to stay
+up alone, mesdemoiselles?"
+
+"There is nothing to be afraid of now," promptly answered Rosa, who had
+far rather be without her governess's company than with it. "Don't sit
+up for us, mademoiselle."
+
+"Then I will go at once," said mademoiselle. And she wished them good
+night, and retired to her chamber.
+
+
+
+
+PART THE THIRD.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+ANNA LYNN'S DILEMMA.
+
+
+It was a lovely evening. One of those warm, still evenings that May
+sometimes brings us, when gnats hum in the air, and the trees are at
+rest. The day had been intensely hot: the evening was little less so,
+and Anna Lynn leaned over the gate of their garden, striving to catch
+what of freshness there might be in the coming night. The garish day was
+fading into moonlight; the distant Malvern hills grew fainter and
+fainter on the view; the little lambs in the field--growing into great
+lambs now, some of them--had long lain down to rest; and the Thursday
+evening bells came chiming pleasantly on the ear from Helstonleigh.
+
+"How late he is to-night!" murmured Anna. "If he does not come soon, I
+shall not be able to stay out."
+
+Even as the words passed her lips, a faint movement might be
+distinguished in the obscurity of the night, telling of the advent of
+Herbert Dare. Anna looked round to see that the windows were clear from
+prying eyes, and went forth to meet him.
+
+He had halted at the usual place, under cover of the hedge. The hedge of
+sweetbriar, skirting that side garden into which Signora Varsini had
+made good her _entrée_, in the gratification of her curiosity. A shaded
+walk and a quiet one: very little fear there, of overlookers.
+
+"Herbert, thee art late!" cried Anna.
+
+"A good thing I was able to come at all," responded Herbert, taking
+Anna's arm within his own. "I thought at one time I must have remained
+at home, to chastise my brother Anthony."
+
+"Chastise thy brother Anthony!" repeated Anna in astonishment.
+
+Herbert, for the first time, told her of the unpleasantness that existed
+between his brother and himself. He did not mention the precise cause;
+but simply said Anthony had behaved ill to him, and drawn down upon him
+trouble and vexation. Anna was all sympathy. Had Herbert told her the
+offence had lain on his side, not on Anthony's, her entire sympathy had
+still been his. She deemed Herbert everything that was good and great
+and worthy. Anthony--what little she knew of him--she did not like.
+
+"Herbert, maybe he will be striking thee in secret, when thee art
+unprepared."
+
+"Let him!" carelessly replied Herbert. "I can strike again. I am
+stronger than he is. I know one thing: either he or I must leave my
+father's house and take lodgings; we can't remain in it together."
+
+"It would be he to leave, would it not, Herbert? Thy father would not be
+so unjust as to turn thee out for thy brother's fault."
+
+"I don't know about that," said Herbert. "I expect it is I who would
+have to go. Anthony is the eldest, and my mother's favourite."
+
+Anna lifted her hand, in her innocent surprise. Anthony the favourite by
+the side of Herbert? She could not understand how so great an anomaly
+could exist.
+
+Interested in the topic, the time slipped on. During a moment of
+silence, when they had halted in their walk, they heard what was called
+the ten o'clock bell strike out from Helstonleigh: a bell that boomed
+out over the city every night for ten minutes before ten o'clock. The
+sound startled Anna. She had indeed overstayed her time.
+
+"One moment, Anna!" cried Herbert, as she was preparing to fly off.
+"There can't be any such hurry. Hester will not be going to bed yet, on
+a hot night like this. I wanted you to return me that book, if you have
+done with it. It is not mine, and I have been asked for it."
+
+Truth to say, Anna would be glad to return it. The book was Moore's
+"Lalla Rookh," and Anna had been upon thorns all the time she had been
+reading it, lest by some unlucky mishap it might reach the eyes of
+Patience. _She_ thought it everything that was beautiful; she had read
+pages of it over and over again; they wore for her a strange
+enchantment; but she had a shrewd suspicion that neither book nor
+reading would be approved by Patience.
+
+"I'll bring it out to thee at once, Herbert, if I can," she hastily
+said. "If not, I will give it thee to-morrow evening."
+
+"Not so fast, young lady," said Herbert, laughing, and detaining her.
+"You may not come back again. I'll wish you good night now."
+
+"Nay, please thee let me go! What will Hester say to me?"
+
+Scarcely giving a moment to the adieu, Anna sped with swift feet to the
+garden gate. But the moment she was within the barrier, and had turned
+the key, she began--little dissembler that she was!--to step on slowly,
+in a careless, _nonchalant_ manner, looking up at the sky, turning her
+head to the trees, in no more hurry apparently than if bedtime were
+three hours off. She had seen Hester Dell standing at the house door.
+
+"Child," said Hester gravely, "thee shouldst not stay out so late as
+this."
+
+"It is so warm a night, Hester!"
+
+"But thee shouldst not be beyond the premises. Patience would not like
+it. It is past thy bedtime, too. Patience's sleeping-draught has not
+come," she added, turning to another subject.
+
+"Her sleeping-draught not come!" repeated Anna in surprise.
+
+"It has not. I have been expecting the boy to knock every minute, or I
+should have come to see after thee. Friend Parry may have forgotten it."
+
+"Why, of course he must have forgotten it," said Anna, inwardly
+promising the boy a sixpence for his forgetfulness. "The medicine always
+comes in the morning. Will Patience sleep without it?"
+
+"I fear me not. What dost thee think? Suppose I were to run for it?"
+
+"Yes, do, Hester."
+
+They went in, Hester closing the back door and locking it. She put on
+her shawl and bonnet, and was going out at the front door when the clock
+struck ten.
+
+"It is ten o'clock, child," she said to Anna. "Thee go to bed. Thee
+needst not sit up. I'll take the latch-key with me and let myself in."
+
+"Oh, Hester! I don't want to go to bed yet," returned Anna fretfully.
+"It is like a summer's evening."
+
+"But thee hadst better, child," urged Hester. "Patience has been angry
+with me once or twice, saying I suffer thee to sit up late. A pretty
+budget she will be telling thy father on his return! Thee go to bed. Thy
+candle is ready here on the slab. Good night."
+
+Hester departed, shutting fast the door, and carrying with her the
+latch-key. Anna, fully convinced that friend Parry's forgetfulness, or
+the boy's, must have been designed as a special favour to herself, went
+softly into the best parlour to take the book out of her pretty
+work-table.
+
+But the room was dark, and Anna could not find her keys. She believed
+she had left her keys on the top of this very work-table; but feel as
+she would she could not place her hands upon them. With a word of
+impatience, lest, with all her hurry, Herbert Dare should be gone before
+she could return to him with the book, she went to the kitchen, lighted
+the chamber candle spoken of by Hester as placed ready for her use, and
+carried it into the parlour.
+
+Her keys were found on the mantel-piece. She unlocked the drawer, took
+from it the book, blew out the candle, and ran through the garden to the
+field.
+
+Another minute, and Herbert would have left. He was turning away. In
+truth, he had not in the least expected to see Anna back again. "Then
+you have been able to come!" he exclaimed, in his surprise.
+
+"Hester is gone out," explained Anna. "Friend Parry has forgotten to
+send Patience's medicine, and Hester has gone for it. Herbert, thee only
+think! But for Hester's expecting Parry's boy to knock at the door, she
+would have come out here searching for me! She said she would. I must
+never forget the time again. There's the book, and thank thee. I am
+sorry and yet glad to give it thee back."
+
+"Is that not a paradox?" asked Herbert, with a smile. "I do not know why
+you should be either sorry or glad: to be both seems inexplicable."
+
+"I am sorry to lose it: it is the most charming book I have read, and
+but for Patience I should like to have kept it for ever," returned Anna
+with enthusiasm. "But I always felt afraid of Hester's finding it and
+carrying it up to Patience. Patience would be angry; and she might tell
+my father. That is why I am glad to give it back to thee."
+
+"Why did you not lock it up?" asked Herbert.
+
+"I did lock it up. I locked it in my work-table drawer. But I forget to
+put my keys in my pocket; I leave them about anywhere. I should have
+been out with it sooner, but that I could not find the keys."
+
+Anna was in no momentary hurry to run in now. Hester was safe for full
+twenty minutes to come, therefore her haste need not be so great. She
+knew that it was past her bedtime, and that Patience would be wondering
+(unless by great good-fortune Patience should have dropped asleep) why
+she did not go in to wish her good night. But these reflections Anna
+conveniently ignored, in the charm of remaining longer to talk about the
+book. She told Herbert that she had been copying the engravings, but she
+must put the drawings in some safe place before Patience was about
+again. "Tell me the time, please," she suddenly said, bringing her
+chatter to a standstill.
+
+Herbert took out his watch, and held its face towards the moon. "It is
+twelve minutes past ten."
+
+"Then I must be going in," said Anna. "She could be back in twenty
+minutes, and she must not find me out again."
+
+Herbert turned with her, and walked to the gate; pacing slowly, both of
+them, and talking still. He turned in at the gate with her, and Anna
+made no demur. No fear of his being seen. Patience was as safe in bed as
+if she had been chained there, and Hester could not be back quite yet.
+Arrived at the door, closed as Anna had left it, Herbert put out his
+hand. "I suppose I must bid you a final good night now, Anna," he said
+in low tones.
+
+
+"That thee must. I have to come down the garden again to lock the gate
+after thee. And Hester may not be more than three or four minutes
+longer. Good night to thee, Herbert."
+
+"Let me see that it is all safe for you, against you do go in," said
+Herbert, laying his hand on the handle of the door to open it.
+
+To open it? Nay: he could not open it. The handle resisted his efforts.
+"Did you lock it, Anna?"
+
+Anna smiled at what she thought his awkwardness. "Thee art turning it
+the wrong way, Herbert. See!"
+
+He withdrew his hand to give place to hers, and she turned the handle
+softly and gently the contrary way; that is, she essayed to turn it. But
+it would not turn for her, any more than it had turned for Herbert Dare.
+A sick feeling of terror rushed over Anna, as a conviction of the truth
+grew upon her. Hester Dell had returned, and she was locked out!
+
+In good truth, it was no less a calamity. Hester Dell had not gone far
+from the door on her errand, when she met the doctor's boy with his
+basket, hastening up with the medicine. "I was just coming after it,"
+said Hester to him. "Whatever brings thee so late?"
+
+"Mr. Parry was called out this morning before he had time to make it up,
+and he has only just come home," was the boy's reply.
+
+"Better late than never," he somewhat saucily added.
+
+"Well, so it is," acquiesced Hester, who rarely gave anything but a meek
+retort. And she turned back home, letting herself in with the latch-key.
+The house appeared precisely as she had left it, except that Anna's
+candle had disappeared from the mahogany slab in the passage. "That's
+right! the child's gone to bed," soliloquised she.
+
+She proceeded to go to bed herself. The Quaker's was an early household.
+All Hester had to do now, was to give Patience her sleeping-draught.
+"Let me see," continued Hester, still in soliloquy, "I think I did lock
+the back door."
+
+To make sure, she tried the key and found it was not locked. Rather
+wondering, for she certainly thought she _had_ locked it, but dismissing
+the subject the next minute from her thoughts, she locked it now and
+took the key out. Then she continued her way up to Patience. Patience,
+lying there lonely and dull with her night-light, turned her eyes on
+Hester.
+
+"Did thee think we had forgotten thee, Patience? Parry has been out all
+day, the boy says, and the physic is but this minute come."
+
+"Where's Anna?" inquired Patience.
+
+"She is gone to bed."
+
+"Why did she not come to me as usual?"
+
+"Did she not come?" asked Hester.
+
+"I have seen nothing of her all the evening."
+
+"Maybe she thought thee'd be dozing," observed Hester, bringing forward
+the sleeping-draught which she had been pouring into a wine-glass. She
+said no more. Her private opinion was that Anna had purposely abstained
+from the visit lest she should receive a scolding for going to bed late,
+her usual hour being half-past nine. Neither did Patience say any more.
+She was feeling that Anna might be a little less ungrateful. She took
+the draught, and Hester went to bed.
+
+And poor Anna? To describe her dismay, her consternation, would be a
+useless attempt. The doors were fast--the windows were fast also.
+Herbert Dare essayed to soothe her, but she would not be soothed. She
+sat down on the step of the back door and cried bitterly: all her
+apprehension being for the terrible scolding she should have from
+Patience, were it found out; the worse than scolding if Patience told
+her father.
+
+To give Herbert Dare his due, he felt truly vexed at the dilemma for
+Anna's sake. Could he have let her in by getting down a chimney himself,
+or in any other impromptu way, and so opened the door for her, he would
+have done it. "Don't cry, Anna," he entreated, "don't cry! I'll take
+care of you. Nothing shall harm you. I'll not go away."
+
+The more he talked, the more she cried. Very like a little child. Had
+Herbert Dare known how to break the glass without noise he would have
+taken out a pane in the kitchen window, and so reached the fastening and
+opened it. Anna, in worse terror than ever, begged him not to attempt
+it. It would be sure to arouse Hester.
+
+"But you'll be so cold, child, staying here all night!" he urged. "You
+are shivering now."
+
+Anna was shivering: shivering with vexation and fear. Herbert thought it
+would be better that he should boldly knock up Hester; and he suggested
+it: nay, he pressed it. But the proposal sounded more alarming to Anna
+than any that had gone before it. It seemed that there was nothing to be
+done.
+
+How long she sat there, crying and shivering and refusing to be
+comforted or to hear reason, she could not tell. Half the night, it
+seemed. But Anna, you must remember, was counting time by her own state
+of mind, not by the clock. Suddenly a bright thought, as a ray of light,
+flashed into her brain.
+
+"There's the pantry window," she cried, arresting her tears. "How could
+I ever have forgotten it? There is no glass, and thee art strong enough
+to push in the wire."
+
+This pantry window Herbert Dare had known nothing about. It was at the
+side of the house, thickly surrounded by shrubs; a square window frame,
+protected by wire. He fought his way to it amidst the shrubs; but to get
+in proved a work of time and difficulty. The window was at some height
+from the ground, the wire was strong. Anna sat on the door-step, never
+stirring, leaving him to get in if he could, her tears falling, and
+terrific visions of Patience's anger chasing each other through her
+mind. And the night went on.
+
+"Anna!"
+
+She could have shouted forth a cry of delight as she leaped up. He had
+entered, had found his way to the kitchen window, had gently raised it,
+and was softly calling to her. Some little difficulty still, but with
+Herbert's assistance she was safely landed, a great tear in her dress
+the only damage. He had managed to obtain a light by means of some
+fusees in his pocket, and had lighted a candle. Anna sat down on a
+chair, her face radiant through her tears. "How shall I ever thank
+thee?"
+
+He was looking at his fingers with a half-serious, half-mocking
+expression of dismay. The wire had torn them in many places, and they
+were bleeding. "I could have got in quicker had I forced the wire out in
+the middle," he observed, "but that would have told tales. I pushed it
+away from the side, and have pushed it back again into its place as well
+as I could. Perhaps it may escape notice."
+
+"How shall I ever thank thee?" was all Anna could repeat in her
+gratitude.
+
+"Now you know what you must do, Anna," said he. "I am going to jump out
+through the window, and be off home. You must shut it and fasten it
+after me: I'd shut it myself, after I'm out, but that these stains on my
+fingers would be transferred to the frame. And when you leave the
+kitchen, remember to turn the key of the door outside. I found it
+turned. Do you understand? And now farewell, my little locked-out
+princess. Don't say I have not worked wonders for you, as the good
+spirits do in the fairy tales."
+
+She caught his hand in her glad delight. She looked at him with a face
+full of gratitude. Herbert Dare bent down and took a kiss from the
+up-turned face. Perhaps he thought he had fairly earned the reward. Then
+he proceeded to swing himself through the window, feeling delighted that
+he had been able to free Anna from her dilemma.
+
+Before Helstonleigh arose next morning, a startling report was
+circulating through the city, the very air teeming with it. A report
+that Anthony Dare had been killed in the night by his brother Herbert.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+COMMOTION.
+
+
+The streets of Helstonleigh, lying so still and quiet in the moonlight,
+were broken in upon by the noisy sound of a carriage, bowling through
+them. A carriage that was abroad late. It wanted very little of the time
+when the church clocks would boom out the two hours after midnight.
+Time, surely, for all sober people to be in bed!
+
+The carriage contained Mr. Dare, his wife and daughter. They went, as
+you may remember, to a dinner party in the country. The dinner was
+succeeded by an evening gathering, and it was nearly one o'clock when
+they left the house to return. It wanted only five minutes to two when
+the carriage stopped at their own home, and sleepy Joseph opened the
+door to them.
+
+"All in bed?" asked Mr. Dare, as he bustled into the hall.
+
+"I believe so, sir," answered Joseph, as carelessly as he could speak.
+Mr. Dare, he was aware, alluded to his sons; and not being by any means
+sure upon the point, Joseph was willing to escape further questioning.
+
+Two of the maids came forward--the lady's maid, as she was called in the
+family, and Betsy. Betsy was no other than our old friend Betsy Carter:
+once the little maid-of-all-work at Mrs. Halliburton's; risen now to be
+a very fine housemaid at Mrs. Dare's. They had sat up to attend upon
+Mrs. Dare and Adelaide.
+
+Mr. Dare had been for a long while in the habit of smoking a pipe before
+he went to bed. He would have told you that he could not do without it.
+If business or pleasure took him out, he must have his pipe when he
+returned, however late it might be.
+
+"How hot it is!" he exclaimed, throwing back his coat. "Leave the hall
+door open, Joseph: I'll sit outside. Bring me my pipe."
+
+Joseph looked for the pipe in its appointed resting-place, and could not
+see it. It was a small, handsome pipe, silver-mounted, with an amber
+mouth-piece. The tobacco-jar was there, but Joseph could see nothing of
+the pipe.
+
+"Law! I remember!" exclaimed Betsy. "Master left it in the dining-room
+last night, and I put it under the sideboard when I was doing the room
+this morning, intending to bring it away. I'll go and get it."
+
+Taking the candle from Joseph's hand, she turned hastily into the
+dining-room. Not, however, as hastily as she came out of it. She rushed
+out, uttering a succession of piercing shrieks, and seized upon Joseph.
+The shrieks echoed through the house, upstairs and down, and Mr. Dare
+came in.
+
+"Why, what on earth's the matter, girl?" cried he. "Have you seen a
+ghost?"
+
+"Oh, sir! Oh, Joseph, don't let go of me; Mr. Anthony's lying in there,
+dead!"
+
+"Don't be a simpleton," responded Mr. Dare, staring at Betsy.
+
+Joseph gave a rather less complimentary reprimand, and shook the girl
+off. But suddenly, even as the words left his lips, there rose up before
+his mind's eye the vision of the past evening: the quarrel, the threats,
+the violence between Anthony and Herbert. A strange apprehension seated
+itself in the man's mind.
+
+"Be still, you donkey!" he whispered to Betsy, his voice scarcely
+audible, his manner subdued. "I'll go in and see."
+
+Taking the candle, he went into the dining-room. Mr. Dare followed. The
+worst thought that occurred to Mr. Dare was, that Anthony might have
+taken more wine than was good for him, and had fallen down, helpless, in
+the dining-room. Unhappily, Anthony had been known so to transgress.
+Only a week or two before----but let that pass: it has nothing to do
+with us now.
+
+Mr. Dare followed Joseph in. At the upper end of the room, near the
+window, lay some one on the ground. It was surely Anthony. He was lying
+on his side, his head thrown back, his face up-turned. A ghastly face,
+which sent poor Joseph's pulses bounding on with a terrible fear as he
+looked down at it. The same face which had scared Betsy when _she_
+looked down.
+
+"He is stark dead!" whispered Joseph, with a shiver, to Mr. Dare.
+
+Mr. Dare, his own life-blood seeming to have stopped, bent over his son
+by the light of the candle. Anthony appeared to be not only dead, but
+cold. In his terrible shock, his agitation, he still remembered that it
+was well, if possible, to spare the sight to his wife and daughter. Mrs.
+Dare and Adelaide, alarmed by Betsy's screams, had run downstairs, and
+were now hastening into the room.
+
+"Go back! go back!" cried Mr. Dare, fencing them away with his hands.
+"Adelaide, you must not come in! Julia," he added to his wife, in tones
+of imploring entreaty, "go upstairs, and keep back Adelaide."
+
+He half led, half pushed them across the hall. Mrs. Dare had never in
+all her life seen his face as she saw it now--a face of terror. She
+caught the fear; vaguely enough, it must be confessed, for she had not
+heard Anthony's name, as yet, mentioned in connection with it.
+
+"What is it?" she asked, holding on by the balustrades. "What is there
+in the dining-room?"
+
+"I don't know what it is," replied Mr. Dare, from between his white
+lips. "Go upstairs! Adelaide, go up with your mother."
+
+Mr. Dare was stopped by more screams. Whilst he was preventing immediate
+terror to his wife and daughter, the lady's maid, her curiosity excited
+beyond repression, had slipped into the dining-room, and peeped over
+Joseph's shoulder. What she had expected to see she perhaps could not
+have stated; what she did see was so far worse than her wildest fears,
+that she lost sense of everything, except the moment's fear; and shriek
+after shriek echoed from her.
+
+A scene of confusion ensued. Mrs. Dare tried to force her way to the
+room; Adelaide followed her; Betsy began bewailing Mr. Anthony, by name,
+in wild words. And the sleepers, above, came flocking out of their
+chambers, with trembling limbs and white faces.
+
+Mr. Dare put his back against the dining-room door. "Girls, go back!
+Julia, go back, for the love of Heaven! Mademoiselle, is that you? Be so
+good as to stay where you are, and keep Rosa and Minny with you."
+
+"Mais, qu'est-ce que c'est, donc?" exclaimed mademoiselle, speaking, in
+her wonder, in her most familiar tongue, and, truth to say, paying
+little heed to Mr. Dare's injunction. "Y a-t-il du malheur arrivé?"
+
+Betsy went up to her. Betsy recognised her as one not of the family, to
+whom she could ease her overflowing mind. The same thought had occurred
+to Betsy as to Joseph. "Poor Mr. Anthony's lying in there dead, mamzel,"
+she whispered. "Mr. Herbert must have killed him."
+
+Unheeding the request of Mr. Dare, unmindful of the deficiences or want
+of elegance in her costume, which consisted of what she called a
+_peignoir_, and a borderless calico nightcap, mademoiselle flew down to
+the hall and slipped into the dining-room. Some of the others slipped in
+also, and a sad scene ensued. What with wife, governess, servants, and
+children, Mr. Dare was powerless to end it. Mademoiselle went straight
+up, gave one look, and staggered back against the wall.
+
+"C'est vrai!" she muttered. "C'est Monsieur Anthony."
+
+"It is Anthony," shivered Mr. Dare, "I fear--I fear violence has been
+done him."
+
+The governess was breathing heavily. She looked quite as ghastly as did
+that up-turned face. "But why should it be?" she asked, in English. "Who
+has done it?"
+
+Ah, who had done it! Joseph's frightened face seemed to say that he
+could tell if he dared, Cyril bounded into the room, and clasped one of
+the arms. But he let it fall again. "It is rigid!" he gasped. "Is he
+dead? Father! he can't be dead!"
+
+Mr. Dare hurried Joseph from the room--hurried him across the hall to
+the door. He, Mr. Dare, seemed so agitated as scarcely to know what he
+was about. "Make all haste," he said; "the nearest surgeon."
+
+"Sir," whispered Joseph, turning when he was outside the door, his
+agitation as great as his master's: "I'm afraid it's Mr. Herbert who has
+done this."
+
+"Why?" sharply asked Mr. Dare.
+
+"They had a dreadful quarrel this evening, sir, after you left. Mr.
+Herbert drew a knife upon his brother. I got in just in time to stop
+bloodshed, or it might have happened then."
+
+Mr. Dare suppressed a groan. "Go off, Joseph, and bring a doctor here.
+He may not be past reviving, Milbank is the nearest. If he is at home,
+bring him; if not, get anybody."
+
+Joseph, without his hat, sped across the lawn, and gained the entrance
+gate at the very moment that a gig was passing. By the light of a lamp,
+Joseph saw that it contained Mr. Glenn, the surgeon, driven by his
+servant. He had been on a late professional visit into the country.
+Joseph shouted running before the horse in his excitement, and the man
+pulled up.
+
+"What's the matter, Joseph?" asked Mr. Glenn. "Any one ill?"
+
+Somewhat curious to say, Mr. Glenn was the usual medical attendant of
+the Dares. Joseph explained as well as he could. Mr. Anthony had been
+found lying on the dining-room carpet, to all appearance dead. Mr. Glenn
+descended.
+
+"Anything up at your place?" asked a policeman, who had just come by, on
+his beat.
+
+"I should think there is," returned Joseph. "One of the gentlemen's
+been found dead."
+
+"Dead!" echoed the policeman. "Which of them is it?" he asked, after a
+pause.
+
+"Mr. Anthony."
+
+"Why, I saw him turn in here about half-past eleven!" observed the
+officer, "He is in a fit, perhaps."
+
+"Why do you say that?" asked Joseph.
+
+"Because he had been taking a drop too much. He could hardly walk.
+Somebody brought him as far as the gate."
+
+Mr. Glenn had hastened on. The policeman followed with Joseph. Followed,
+possibly, to gratify his curiosity; possibly, because he thought his
+services might be in some way required. When the two entered the
+dining-room, Mr. Glenn was kneeling down to examine Anthony, and sounds
+of distress came on their ears from a distance. They were caused by the
+hysterics of Mrs. Dare.
+
+"Is he dead, sir?" asked the policeman, in a low tone.
+
+"He has been dead these two or three hours," was Mr. Glenn's reply.
+
+But it was not a fit. It was not anything so innocent. Mr. Glenn found
+that the cause of death was a stab in the side. Death, he believed, must
+have been instantaneous: and the hemorrhage was chiefly internal. There
+were very few stains on the clothes.
+
+"What's this!" cried Mr. Glenn.
+
+He was pulling at some large substance on which Anthony had fallen. It
+proved to be a cloak. Cyril--and some others present--recognised it as
+Herbert's cloak. Where was Herbert? In bed? Was it possible that he
+could sleep through the noise and confusion that the house was in?
+
+"Can nothing be done?" asked Mr. Dare of the surgeon.
+
+Mr. Glenn shook his head. "He is stone dead, you see; dead, and nearly
+cold. He must have been dead more than two hours. I should say nearer
+three."
+
+From two to three hours! Then that would bring the time of his death to
+about half-past eleven o'clock; close upon the time that the policeman
+saw him returning home. Some one turned to ask the policeman a question,
+but he had disappeared. Mr. Glenn went to see what he could do for Mrs.
+Dare, whose cries had been painful to hear, and Mr. Dare drew Joseph
+aside. Somehow he felt that he _dared_ not question him in the presence
+of witnesses, lest any condemnatory fact should transpire to bring the
+guilt home to his second son. In spite of the sight of Anthony lying
+dead before him, in spite of what he had heard of the quarrel, he could
+not bring his mind to believe that Herbert had been guilty of this most
+dastardly deed.
+
+"What time did you let him in?" asked Mr. Dare, pointing to his
+ill-fated son.
+
+Joseph answered evasively. "The policeman said it was about half after
+eleven, sir."
+
+"And what time did Mr. Herbert come home?"
+
+In point of fact, but for seeing the cloak where he did see it, Joseph
+would not have known whether Mr. Herbert was at home yet. He felt there
+was nothing for it but to tell the simple truth to Mr. Dare--that the
+gentlemen had been in the habit of letting themselves in at any hour
+they pleased, the dining-room window being left unfastened for them.
+Joseph made the admission, and Mr. Dare received it with anger.
+
+"I did it by their orders, sir," the man said, with deprecation. "If you
+think it was wrong, perhaps you'll put things on a better footing for
+the future. But, to wait up every night till its pretty near time to
+rise again, is what I can't do, or anybody else. Flesh and blood is but
+mortal, sir, and couldn't stand it."
+
+"But you were not kept up like that?" cried Mr. Dare.
+
+"Yes, sir, I was. If one of the gentlemen wasn't out, the other would
+be. I told them it was impossible I could be up nearly all night and
+every night, and rise in the morning just the same, and do my work in
+the day. So they took to have the dining-room window left open, and came
+in that way, and I went to rest at my proper hour. Mr. Cyril and Mr.
+George, too, they are taking to stay out."
+
+"The house might have been robbed over and over again!" exclaimed Mr.
+Dare.
+
+"I told them so, sir. But they laughed at me. They said who'd be likely
+to come through the grounds and up to the windows and try them? At any
+rate, sir," added Joseph, as a last excuse, "they _ordered_ it done. And
+that's how it is, sir, that I don't know what time either Mr. Anthony or
+Mr. Herbert came in last night."
+
+Mr. Dare said no more. The fruits of the way in which his sons had been
+reared were coming heavily home to him. He turned to go upstairs to
+Herbert's chamber. On the bottom stairs, swaying herself to and fro in
+her _peignoir_, a staring print, all the colours of the rainbow, sat the
+governess. She lifted her white face as Mr. Dare approached.
+
+"Is he dead?"
+
+Mr. Dare shook his head. "The surgeon says he has been dead ever since
+the beginning of the night."
+
+"And Monsieur Herbert? Is _he_ dead?"
+
+"_He_ dead!" repeated Mr. Dare in an accent of alarm, fearing possibly
+she might have a motive for the question. "What should bring him also
+dead? Mademoiselle, why do you ask it?"
+
+"Eh, me, I don't know," she answered. "I am bewildered with it all. Why
+should he be dead, and not the other? Why should either be dead?"
+
+Mr. Dare saw that she did look bewildered; scarcely in her senses. She
+had a white handkerchief in her hand, and was wiping the moisture from
+her scarcely less white face. "Did you witness the quarrel between
+them?" he inquired, supposing that she had done so by her words.
+
+"If I did, I not tell," she vehemently answered, her English less clear
+than usual. "If Joseph say--I hear him say it to you just now--that
+Monsieur Herbert took a knife to his brother, I not give testimony to
+it. What affair is it of mine, that I should tell against one or the
+other? Who did it?--who killed him?"--she rapidly continued. "It was not
+Monsieur Herbert. No, I will say always that it was not Monsieur
+Herbert. He would not kill his brother."
+
+"I do not think he would," earnestly spoke Mr. Dare.
+
+"No, no, no!" said mademoiselle, her voice rising with her emphasis. "He
+never kill his brother; he not enough _méchant_ for that."
+
+"Perhaps he has not come in?" cried Mr. Dare, catching at the thought.
+
+Betsy Garter answered the words. She had stolen up in the general
+restlessness, and halted there. "He must be come in, sir," she said;
+"else how could his cloak be in the dining-room? They are saying that
+it's Mr. Herbert's cloak which was under Mr. Anthony."
+
+"What has Mr. Herbert's cloak to do with his coming in or not coming
+in?" sharply asked Mr. Dare. "He would not be wearing his cloak this
+weather."
+
+
+"But he does wear it, sir," returned Betsy. "He went out in it
+to-night."
+
+"Did you see him?" sternly asked Mr. Dare.
+
+"If I hadn't seen him, I couldn't have told that he went out in it,"
+independently replied Betsy, who, like her mother, was fond of
+maintaining her own opinion. "I was looking out of the window in Miss
+Adelaide's room, and I saw Mr. Herbert go out by way of the dining-room
+window towards the entrance-gate."
+
+"Wearing his cloak?"
+
+"Wearing his cloak," assented Betsy, "I hoped he was hot enough in it."
+
+The words seemed to carry terrible conviction to Mr. Dare's mind.
+Unwilling to believe the girl, he sought Joseph and asked him.
+
+"Yes, for certain," Joseph answered. "Mr. Herbert, as he was coming
+downstairs to go out, stopped to speak to me, sir, and he was fastening
+his cloak on then."
+
+Minny ran up, bursting with grief and terror as she seized upon Mr.
+Dare. "Papa! papa! is it true?" she sobbed.
+
+"Is what true, child?"
+
+"That it was Herbert? They are saying so."
+
+"Hush!" said Mr. Dare. Carrying a candle, he went up to Herbert's room,
+his heart aching. That Herbert could sleep through the noise was
+surprising; and yet, not much so. His room was more remote from the
+house than were the other rooms, and looked towards the back. But, had
+he slept through it? When Mr. Dare went in, he was sitting up in bed,
+awaking, or pretending to awake, from sleep. The window, thrown wide
+open, may have contributed to deaden any sound in the house. "Can you
+sleep through this, Herbert?" cried Mr. Dare.
+
+Herbert stared, and rubbed his eyes, and stared again, as one
+bewildered. "Is that you, father?" he presently cried. "What is it?"
+
+"Herbert," said his father, in low tones of pain, of dread; "what have
+you been doing to your brother?"
+
+Herbert, as if not understanding the drift of the question, stared more
+than ever. "I have done nothing to him," he presently said. "Do you mean
+Anthony?"
+
+"Anthony is lying on the dining-room floor killed--murdered. Herbert,
+_who did it_?"
+
+Herbert Dare sat motionless in bed, looking utterly lost. That he could
+not understand, or was affecting not to understand, was evident.
+"Anthony is--what do you say, sir?"
+
+"He is dead; he is _murdered_," replied Mr. Dare. "Oh, my son, my son,
+say you did not do it! for the love of heaven, say you did not do it!"
+And the unhappy father burst into tears and sank down on the bed,
+utterly unmanned.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+ACCUSED.
+
+
+The grey dawn of the early May morning was breaking over the world--over
+the group gathered in Mr. Dare's dining-room. That gentleman, his
+surviving sons, a stranger, a constable or two; and Sergeant Delves, who
+had been summoned to the scene. Sundry of the household were going in
+and out, of their own restless, curious accord, or by summons. The
+sergeant was making inquiries into the facts and details of the evening.
+
+Anthony Dare--as may be remembered--had sullenly retired to his room,
+refusing to go out when the message came to him from Lord Hawkesley. It
+appeared, by what was afterwards learnt, that he, Anthony Dare, had made
+an appointment to meet Hawkesley and some other men at the
+Star-and-Garter hotel, where Lord Hawkesley was staying; the proposed
+amusement of the evening being cards. Anthony Dare remained in his
+chamber, solacing his chafed temper with brandy-and-water, until the
+waiter from the Star-and-Garter appeared a second time, bearing a note.
+This note Sergeant Delves had found in one of the pockets, and had it
+now open before him. It ran as follows:--
+
+     "DEAR DARE,--We are all here waiting, and can't make up the
+     tables without you. What do you mean by shirking us? Come
+     along, and don't be a month over it.--Yours,
+
+     "HAWKESLEY."
+
+This note had prevailed. Anthony, possibly repenting of the solitary
+evening to which he had condemned himself, put on his boots again and
+went forth: not--it is not pleasant to have to record it, but it cannot
+be concealed--not sober. He had taken ale with his dinner, wine after
+it, and brandy-and-water in his room. The three combined had told upon
+him.
+
+On his arrival at the Star-and-Garter, he found six or seven gentlemen
+assembled. But, instead of sitting down there in Lord Hawkesley's room,
+it was suddenly decided to adjourn to the lodgings of a Mr. Brittle,
+hard by; a young Oxonian, who had been plucked in his Little Go, and was
+supposed to be reading hard to avoid a second similar catastrophe. They
+went to Mr. Brittle's and sat down to cards, over which brandy-and-water
+and other drinks were introduced. Anthony Dare, by way of quenching his
+thirst, did not spare them, and was not particular as to the sorts. The
+consequence was that he soon became most disagreeable company, snarling
+with all around; in short, unfit for play. This _contretemps_ put the
+rest of the party out of sorts, and they broke up. But for that, they
+might probably have sat on, until morning, and that poor unhappy life
+have been spared. There was no knowing what might have been. Anthony
+Dare was in no fit state to walk alone, and one of them, Mr. Brittle,
+undertook to see him home. Mr. Brittle left him at the gate, and Anthony
+Dare stumbled over the lawn and gained the house. After that, nothing
+further was known. So much as this would not have been known, but that,
+in hastening for Delves, the policeman had come across Mr. Brittle. It
+was only natural that the latter, shocked and startled, should bend his
+steps to the scene; and from him they gathered the account of Anthony's
+movements abroad.
+
+But now came the difficulty. Who had let Anthony in? No one. There was
+little doubt that he had made his way through the dining-room window.
+Joseph had turned the key of the front door at eleven o'clock, and he
+had not been called upon to open it until the return of Mr. and Mrs.
+Dare. The policeman who happened to be passing when Anthony came
+home--or it may be more correct to say, was brought home--testified to
+the probable fact that he had entered by means of the dining-room
+window. The man had watched him: had seen that, instead of making for
+the front door, which faced the road and was in view, he had stumbled
+across the grass, and disappeared down by the side of the house. On this
+side the dining-room window was situated; therefore it was only
+reasonable to suppose that Anthony had so entered.
+
+"Had you any motive in watching him?" asked Sergeant Delves of this man.
+
+"None, except to see that he did not fall," was the reply. "When the
+gentleman who brought him home loosed his arm, he told him, in a joking
+way, not to get kissing the ground as he went in; and I thought I'd
+watch him that I might go to his assistance if he did fall. He could
+hardly walk: he pitched about with every step."
+
+"Did he fall?"
+
+"No; he managed to keep up. But I should think he was a good five
+minutes getting over the grass plat."
+
+"Did the gentleman remain to watch him?"
+
+"No, not for above a minute. He just waited to see that he got safe over
+the gravel path on to the grass, and then he went back."
+
+"Did you see anyone else come in? About that time?--or before it?--or
+after it?"
+
+The man shook his head. "I didn't see anyone else at all. I shut the
+gate after Mr. Anthony, and I didn't see it opened again. Not but what
+plenty might have opened and shut it, and gone in, too, when I was
+higher up my beat."
+
+Sergeant Delves called Joseph. "It appears uncommonly odd that you
+should have heard no noise whatever," he observed. "A man's movements
+are not generally very quiet when in the state described as being that
+of young Mr. Dare's. The probability is that he would enter the
+dining-room noisily. He'd be nearly sure to fall against the furniture,
+being in the dark."
+
+"It's certain that I never did hear him," replied Joseph. "We was shut
+up in the kitchen, and I was mostly nodding from the time I locked up at
+eleven till master came home at two. The two girls was chattering loud
+enough; they was at the table, making-up caps, or something of that. The
+cook went to bed at ten; she was tired."
+
+"Then, with the exception of you three, all the household were in bed?"
+
+"All of 'em--as was at home," answered Joseph. "The governess had gone
+early, the two young ladies went about ten, Mr. Cyril and Mr. George
+went soon after ten. They came home from cricket 'dead beat' they said,
+had supper, and went to bed soon after it."
+
+"It's not usual for them--the young men, I mean--to go to bed so early,
+is it?" asked Sergeant Delves.
+
+"No, except on cricket nights," answered Joseph. "After cricket they
+generally come home and have supper, and don't go out again. Other
+nights they are mostly sure to be out late."
+
+"And you did not hear Mr. Herbert come in?"
+
+"Sergeant Delves, I say that I never heard nothing nor nobody from the
+time I locked the front door till master and missis came home,"
+reiterated Joseph, growing angry. "Let me repeat it ten times over, I
+couldn't say it plainer. If I had heard either of the gentlemen come in,
+I should have gone to 'em to see if anything was wanted. Specially to
+Mr. Anthony, knowing that he was not sober when he went out."
+
+Two points appeared more particularly to strike Sergeant Delves. The one
+was, that no noise should have been heard; that a deed like this could
+have been committed in, as it appeared, absolute silence. The other was,
+that the dining-room window should have been found fastened inside. The
+latter fact confirmed the strong suspicion that the offender was an
+inmate of the house. A person, not an inmate of the house, would
+naturally have escaped by the open dining-room window; but to do this,
+_and_ to fasten it inside after him was an impossibility. Every other
+window in the house, every door, had been securely fastened; some in the
+earlier part of the evening, some at eleven o'clock by Joseph. Herbert
+Dare voluntarily acknowledged that it was he who had fastened the
+dining-room window. His own account was--and the sergeant looked at him
+narrowly while he gave it--that he had returned home late, getting on
+for two o'clock; that he had come in through the dining-room, and had
+put down the window fastening. He declared that he had not seen Anthony.
+If Anthony had been lying there, as he was afterwards found, he,
+Herbert, had not observed him. But, he said, so far as he remembered, he
+never glanced to that part of the room at all, but had gone straight
+through on the other side, between the table and the fireplace. And if
+he had glanced to it he could have seen nothing, for the room was dark.
+He had no light, and had to feel his way.
+
+"Was it usual for the young gentlemen to fasten the window?" Sergeant
+Delves asked of Joseph. And Joseph replied that they sometimes did,
+sometimes did not. If by any chance Mr. Anthony and Mr. Herbert came in
+together, then they would fasten it; or if, when the one came in, he
+knew that the other was not out, he would equally fasten it. Mr. Cyril
+and Mr. George did not often come in that way; in fact, they were not
+out so late, generally speaking, as were their brothers.
+
+
+"Precisely so," Herbert assented, with reference to the fastening. He
+had fastened it, believing his brother Anthony to be at home and in bed.
+When he went out the previous evening, Anthony had already gone to his
+room, expressing his intention not to leave it again that night.
+
+Sergeant Delves inquired--no doubt for reasons of his own--whether this
+expressed intention on the part of Anthony could be testified to by any
+one besides Herbert. Yes. By Joseph, by the governess, by Rosa and Minny
+Dare; all four had heard him say it. The sergeant would not trouble the
+young ladies, but requested to speak to the governess.
+
+The governess was indignant at the request being made. She was in and
+out amongst them with her white face, in her many-coloured _peignior_.
+She had been upstairs and partially dressed herself; had discarded the
+calico nightcap and done her hair, put on the _peignior_ again, and come
+down to see and to listen. But she did not like being questioned.
+
+"I know nothing about it," she said to the sergeant, speaking
+vehemently. "What should I know about it? I will tell you nothing. I
+went to bed before it was well nine o'clock; I had a headache; and I
+never heard anything more till the commotion began. Why you ask me?"
+
+"But you can surely tell, ma'am, whether or not you heard Mr. Anthony
+say he was going to his chamber for the night?" remonstrated the
+sergeant.
+
+"Yes, he did say it," she answered vehemently. "He said it in the salon.
+He kicked off his boots, and told Joseph to bring his slippers, and to
+take brandy-and-water to his room, for he should not leave it again that
+night. I never thought or knew that he had left it until I saw him lying
+in the dining-room, and they said he was dead."
+
+"Was Mr. Herbert present when he said he should go to his room for the
+night?"
+
+"He was present, I think: I think he had come in then to the salon. That
+is all I know. I made the tea, and then my head got bad, and I went to
+bed. I can tell you nothing further."
+
+"Did you hear any noise in the house, ma'am?"
+
+"No. If there was any noise I did not notice it. I soon went to sleep.
+Where is the use of your asking me these things? You should ask those
+who sat up. I shall be sick if you make me talk about it. Nothing of
+this ever arrived in any family where I have been before."
+
+The sergeant allowed her to retire. She went to the stairs and sat down
+on the lower step, and leaned her cheek upon her hand, all as she had
+done previously. Mr. Dare asked her why she did not go upstairs, away
+from the confusion and bustle of the sad scene; but she shook her head.
+She did not care to be in her chamber alone, she answered, and her
+pupils were shut in with Madame Dare and Mademoiselle Adelaide.
+
+It is possible that one thing puzzled the sergeant: though what puzzled
+him and what did not puzzle him had to be left to conjecture, for he
+said nothing about it. No weapon had been found. The policemen had been
+searching the room thoroughly, had partly searched the house; but had
+come upon no instrument likely to have inflicted the wound. A
+carving-knife or common table-knife had been suggested, remembering the
+previous occurrences of the evening; but Mr. Glenn's decided opinion
+was, that it must have been a very different instrument; some slender,
+sharp-pointed, two-edged blade, he thought, about six inches in length.
+
+The most suspicious evidence, referring to Herbert, was the cloak. The
+sergeant had examined it curiously, with compressed lips. Herbert
+disposed of this, so far as he was concerned--that is, if he was to be
+believed. He said that he had put his cloak on, had gone out in it as
+far as the entrance gate; but finding it warmer than was agreeable, he
+had turned back, and flung it on to the dining-room table, going in, as
+he had come out, through the window. He added, as a little bit of
+confirmatory evidence, that he remembered seeing the cloak begin to
+slide off the table again, that he saw it must fall to the ground; but,
+being in a hurry, he would not stop to prevent its doing so, or to pick
+it up.
+
+The sergeant never seemed to take his sidelong glance from Herbert Dare.
+He had gone to work in his own way; hearing the different accounts and
+conjectures, sifting this bit of evidence, turning about that, holding a
+whispered colloquy with the man who had been sent to examine Herbert's
+room: holding a longer whispered colloquy with Herbert himself. On the
+departure of the surgeon and Mr. Brittle, who had gone away together, he
+had marched to the front and side doors of the house, locked them, and
+put the keys into his pocket. "Nobody goes out of this without my
+permission," quoth he.
+
+Then he took Mr. Dare aside. "There's no mistake about this, I fear,"
+said he gravely.
+
+Mr. Dare knew what he meant. He himself was growing grievously
+faint-hearted. But he would not say so; he would not allow it to be seen
+that he cast, or could cast, a suspicion on Herbert. "It appears to me
+that--that--if poor Anthony was in the state they describe, that he may
+have sat down or laid down after entering the dining-room, and dropped
+asleep," observed Mr. Dare. "Easy, then--the window being left open--for
+some midnight housebreaker from the street to have come in and attacked
+him."
+
+"Pooh!" said Sergeant Delves. "It is no housebreaker that has done this.
+We have a difficult line of duty to perform at times, us police; and all
+we can do to soften matters, is to go to work as genteelly as is
+consistent with the law. I'm sorry to have to say it, Mr. Dare, but I
+have felt obliged to order my men to keep a look-out on Mr. Herbert."
+
+A chill ran through Mr. Dare. "It could not have been Herbert!" he
+rejoined, his tone one of pain, almost of entreaty. "Mr. Glenn says it
+could not have been done later than half-past eleven, or so. Herbert
+never came home until nearly two."
+
+"Who is to prove that he was not at home till near two?"
+
+"He says he was not. I have no doubt it can be proved. And poor Anthony
+was dead more than two hours before."
+
+"Now, look you here," cried Sergeant Delves, falling back on a favourite
+phrase of his. "Mr. Glenn is correct enough as to the time of the
+occurrence: I have had some experience in death myself, and I'm sure he
+is not far out. But let that pass. Here are witnesses who saw him alive
+at half-past eleven o'clock, and you come home at two and find him dead.
+Now, let your son Herbert thus state where he was from half-past eleven
+till two. He says he was out: not near home at all. Very good. Only let
+him mention the place, so that we can verify it, and find, beyond
+dispute, that he _was_ out, and the suspicion against him will be at an
+end. But he won't do this."
+
+"Not do it?" echoed Mr. Dare.
+
+"He tells me point-blank that he can't and he won't. I asked him."
+
+Mr. Dare turned impetuously to the room where he had left his second
+son--his eldest son now. "Here, Herbert"--he was beginning. But the
+officer cut short the words by drawing him back.
+
+"Don't go and make matters worse," whispered he: "perhaps they'll be bad
+enough without it. Now, Lawyer Dare, you'll do well not to turn
+obstinate, for I am giving you a bit of friendly advice. You and I have
+had many a transaction together, and I don't mind going a bit out of my
+way for you, as I wouldn't do for other people. The worst thing your son
+could do, would be to say before those chattering servants that he can't
+or won't tell where he has been all night, or half the night. It would
+be self-condemnation at once. Ask him in private, if you must ask him."
+
+Mr. Dare called his son to him, and Herbert answered to it. A policeman
+was sauntering after him, but the sergeant gave him a nod, and the man
+went back.
+
+"Herbert, you say you did not come in until near two this morning."
+
+"Neither did I. It wanted about twenty minutes to it. The churches
+struck half-past one as I came through the town."
+
+"Where did you stay?"
+
+"Well--I can't say," replied Herbert.
+
+Mr. Dare grew agitated. "You must say, Herbert," he hoarsely whispered,
+"or take the consequences."
+
+"I can't help the consequences," was Herbert's answer. "Where I was last
+night is no matter to any one, and I shall not say."
+
+"Your not saying--if you can say--is just folly," interposed the
+sergeant. "It's the first question the magistrates will ask when you are
+placed before them."
+
+Herbert looked up angrily. "Place me before the magistrates!" he echoed.
+"What do you mean? You will not dare to take me into custody!"
+
+"You have been in custody this half-hour," coolly returned the sergeant.
+
+Herbert looked terribly fierce.
+
+"I will not submit to this indignity," he exclaimed. "_I will not._
+Sergeant Delves, you are overstepping----"
+
+"Look here," interrupted the sergeant, drawing something from some
+unseen receptacle; and Mr. Herbert, to his dismay, caught sight of a
+pair of handcuffs. "Don't you force me to use them," said the officer.
+"You are in custody, and must go before the magistrates; but now, you be
+a gentleman, and I'll use you as one."
+
+"I protest upon my honour that I have had neither act nor part in this
+crime!" cried Herbert, in agitation. "Do you think I would stain my hand
+with the sin of Cain?"
+
+"What is that on your hand?" asked the sergeant, bending forward to look
+more closely at Herbert's fingers.
+
+Herbert held them out openly enough. "I was doing something last night
+which tore my fingers," he said. "I was trying to undo the fastenings of
+some wire. Sergeant Delves, I declare to you solemnly, that from the
+moment when my brother went to his chamber, as witnesses have stated to
+you, I never saw him until my father brought me down from my bed to see
+him lying dead."
+
+"You drew a knife on him not many hours before, you know, Mr. Herbert!"
+
+"It was done in the heat of passion. He provoked me very much; but I
+should not have used it. No, poor fellow! I should never have injured
+him."
+
+"Well, you only make your tale good to the magistrates," was all the
+sergeant's answer. "It will be their affair as soon as you are before
+them--not mine."
+
+Herbert Dare was handed back to the constable; and, as soon as the
+justice-room opened, was conveyed before the magistrates--all, as the
+sergeant termed it, in a genteel, gentlemanly sort of way. He was
+charged with the murder of his brother Anthony.
+
+To describe the commotion that spread over Helstonleigh would be beyond
+any pen. The college boys were in a strange state of excitement: both
+Anthony and Herbert Dare had been college boys themselves not so very
+long ago. Gar Halliburton--who was no longer a college boy, but a
+supernumerary--went home full of it. Having imparted it there, he
+thought he could not do better than go in and regale Patience with the
+news, by way of _divertissement_ to her sick bed. "May I come up,
+Patience?" he called out from the foot of the stairs. "I have something
+to tell you."
+
+Receiving permission, up he flew. Patience, partially raised, was sewing
+with her hands, which she could just contrive to do. Anna sat by the
+window, putting the buttons on some new shirts.
+
+
+"I have finished two," cried she, turning round to Gar in great glee.
+"And my father's coming home next week, he writes us word. Perhaps thy
+mother has had a letter from William. Look at the shirts!" she
+continued, exhibiting them.
+
+"Never mind bothering about shirts, now, Anna," returned Gar, losing
+sight of his gallantry in his excitement. "Patience, the most dreadful
+thing has happened. Anthony Dare's murdered!"
+
+Patience, calm Patience, only looked at Gar. Perhaps she did not believe
+it. Anna's hands, holding out the shirts, were arrested midway: her
+mouth and blue eyes alike opening.
+
+"He was murdered in their dining-room in the night," went on Gar, intent
+only on his tale. "The town is all up in arms; you never saw such an
+uproar. When we came out of school just now, we thought the French must
+have come to invade us, by the crowds there were in the street. You
+couldn't get near the Guildhall, where the examination was going on. Not
+more than half a dozen of us were able to fight our way in. Herbert Dare
+looked so pale; he was standing there, guarded by three policemen----"
+
+"Thee hast a fast tongue, Gar," interrupted Patience. "Dost thee mean to
+say Herbert Dare was in custody?"
+
+"Of course, he was," replied Gar, faster than before. "It is he who has
+done it. At least, he is accused of it. He and Anthony had a quarrel
+yesterday, and it came to knives. They were parted then; but he is
+supposed to have laid wait for Anthony in the night and killed him."
+
+"Is Anthony dead? Is he----Anna! what hast thee----?"
+
+Anna had dropped the shirts and the buttons. Her blue eyes had closed,
+her lips and cheeks had grown white, her hands fell powerless. "She is
+fainting!" shouted Gar, as he ran to support her.
+
+"Gar, dear," said Patience, "thee shouldst not tell ill news quite so
+abruptly. Thee hast made me feel queer. Canst thee stretch thy hands out
+to the bell? It will bring up Hester."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+COMMITTED FOR TRIAL.
+
+
+Helstonleigh could not recover its equanimity. Never had it been so
+rudely shaken. Incidents there had been as startling; crimes of as deep
+a dye; but, taking it with all its attendant circumstances, no
+occurrence, in the memory of the oldest inhabitant, had excited the
+interest that was attaching to the death and assumed murder of Anthony
+Dare.
+
+The social standing of the parties, above that in which such unhappy
+incidents are more generally found; the conspicuous position they
+occupied in the town, and the very uncertainty--the mystery, it may be
+said--in which the affair was wrapped, wrought local curiosity to the
+highest point.
+
+Scarcely a shadow of doubt rested on the public mind that the deed had
+been done by Herbert Dare. The Police force, actively engaged in
+searching out all the details, held the same opinion. In one sense, this
+was, perhaps, unfortunate; for, when strong suspicion, whether of the
+police or of the public, is especially directed to one isolated point,
+it inevitably tends to keep down doubts that might arise in regard to
+other quarters.
+
+It seemed scarcely possible to hope that Herbert was not guilty. All the
+facts tended to the assumption that he was so. There was the ill-feeling
+known to have existed between himself and his brother: the quarrel and
+violence in the dining-room not many hours before, in which quarrel
+Herbert _had_ raised a knife upon him. "But for the entrance of the
+servant Joseph," said the people, one to another, "the murder might have
+been done then." Joseph had stopped evil consequences at the time, but
+he had not stopped Herbert's mouth--the threat he had uttered in his
+passion--still to be revenged. Terribly those words told now against
+Herbert Dare.
+
+Another thing that told against him, and in a most forcible manner, was
+the cloak. That he had put it on to go out; nay, had been seen to go out
+in it by the housemaid, was indisputable; and his brother was found
+lying on this very cloak. In vain Herbert protested, when before the
+magistrates and at the coroner's inquest, that he returned before
+leaving the gates, and had flung this cloak into the dining-room,
+finding it too hot that evening to wear. He obtained no credit. He had
+not been seen to do this; and the word of an accused man goes for
+little. All ominous, these things--all telling against him, but nothing,
+taking them collectively, as compared with his refusal to state where he
+was that night. He left the house between eight and nine, close upon
+nine, he thought; he was not sure of the exact time to a quarter of an
+hour; and he never returned to it until nearly two. Such was his
+account. But, where he had been in the interim, he positively refused to
+state.
+
+It was only his assertion, you see, against the broad basis of
+suspicion. Anthony Dare's death must have taken place, as testified by
+Mr. Glenn, somewhere about half-past eleven; who was to prove that
+Herbert at that time was not at home? "I was not," Herbert reiterated,
+when before the coroner. "I did not return home till between half-past
+one and two. The churches struck the half-hour as I was coming through
+the town, and it would take me afterwards some ten minutes to reach
+home. It must have been about twenty minutes to two when I entered."
+
+"But where were you? Where had you been? Where did you come from?" he
+was asked.
+
+"That I cannot state," he replied. "I was out upon a little business of
+my own; business that concerns no one but myself; and I decline to make
+it public."
+
+On that score nothing more could be obtained from him. The coroner drew
+his own conclusions; the jury drew _theirs_; the police had already
+drawn theirs, and very positive ones.
+
+These were the two facts that excited the ire of Sergeant Delves and his
+official colleagues: with all their searching, they could find no weapon
+likely to have been the one used; and they could not discover where
+Herbert Dare had gone to that evening. It happened that no one
+remembered to have seen him passing in the town, early or late; or, if
+they had seen him, it had made no impression on their memory. The
+appearance of Mr. Dare's sons was so common an occurrence that no
+especial note was likely to have been taken of it. Herbert declared that
+in passing through West Street, Turtle, the auctioneer, was leaning out
+at his open bedroom window, and that he, Herbert, had called out to him,
+and asked whether he was star-gazing. Mr. Turtle, when applied to, could
+not corroborate this. He believed that he _had_ been looking out at his
+window that night; he believed that it might have been about the hour
+named, getting on for two, for he was late going to bed, having been to
+a supper party; but he had no recollection whatever of seeing Mr.
+Herbert pass, or of having been spoken to by him, or by any one else.
+When pressed upon the point, Mr. Turtle acknowledged that his intellects
+might not have been in the clearest state of perception, the supper
+party having been a jovial one.
+
+One of the jury remarked that it was very singular the prisoner could go
+through the dining-room, and not observe his brother lying in it. The
+prisoner replied that it was not singular at all. The room was in
+darkness, and he had felt his way through it on the opposite side of the
+table to that where his brother was afterwards found. He had gone
+straight through, and up to his chamber, as quietly as possible, not to
+disturb the house; and he dropped asleep as soon as he was in bed.
+
+The verdict returned was "Wilful murder against Herbert Dare," and he
+was committed to the county gaol to take his trial at the assizes. Mr.
+Dare's house was beyond the precincts of the city. Sergeant Delves and
+his men renewed their inquiries; but they could discover no trace,
+either of the weapon, or of where Herbert Dare had passed the suspicious
+hours. The sergeant was vexed; but he would not allow that he was
+beaten. "Only give us time," said he, with a characteristic nod. "The
+Pyramids of Egypt were only built up stone by stone."
+
+Tuesday morning--the morning fixed for the funeral of Anthony Dare. The
+curious portion of Helstonleigh wended its way up to the churchyard; as
+it is the delight of the curious portion of a town to do. What a sad
+sight it was! That dark object, covered by its pall, carried by its
+attendants, followed by the mourners; Mr. Dare, and his sons Cyril and
+George. He, the father, bent his face in his handkerchief, as he walked
+behind the coffin to the grave. Many a man in Helstonleigh enjoyed a
+higher share of esteem and respect than did Lawyer Dare; but not one
+present in that crowded churchyard that did not feel for him in his
+bitter grief. Not one, let us hope, that did not feel to his heart's
+core the fate of the unhappy Anthony, now, for weal or for woe, to
+answer before his Maker for his life on earth.
+
+That same day, Tuesday, witnessed the return of Samuel Lynn and William
+Halliburton. They arrived in the evening, and of course the first news
+they were greeted with was the prevailing topic. Few things caused the
+ever-composed Quaker to betray surprise; but William was half-stunned
+with the news. Anthony Dare dead--murdered--buried that very day; and
+Herbert in prison, awaiting his trial for the offence! To William the
+whole affair seemed more incredible than real.
+
+"Sir," he said to his master, when, the following morning, they were
+alone together in the counting-house at the manufactory, "do you believe
+Herbert Dare can be guilty?"
+
+Mr. Ashley had been gazing at William, lost in thought. The change we
+often see, or fancy we see, in a near friend, after a few weeks'
+absence, was apparent in William. He had improved in looks; and yet
+those looks, with their true nobility, both of form and intellect, had
+been scarcely capable of improvement. Nevertheless, it was there, and
+Mr. Ashley had been struck with it.
+
+"I cannot say," he replied, aroused by the question. "Facts appear
+conclusively against him; but it seems incredible that he should so have
+lost himself. To be suspected and committed on such a charge is grief
+enough, without the reality of guilt."
+
+
+"So it is," acquiesced William.
+
+"We feel the disgrace very keenly--as all must who are connected with
+the Dares in ever so remote a degree. _I_ feel it, William; feel it as a
+blow; Mrs. Ashley is the cousin of Anthony Dare."
+
+"They are relatives of ours also," said William in a low tone. "My
+father was first cousin to Mrs. Dare."
+
+Mr. Ashley looked at him with surprise. "Your father first cousin to
+Mrs. Dare!" he repeated. "What are you saying?"
+
+"Her first cousin, sir. You have heard of old Mr. Cooper, of
+Birmingham?"
+
+"From whom the Dares inherited their money. Well?"
+
+"Mr. Cooper had a brother and a sister. Mrs. Dare was the daughter of
+the brother; the sister married the Reverend William Halliburton, and my
+father was their son. Mrs. Dare, as Julia Cooper, and my father, Edgar
+Halliburton, both lived together for some time under their uncle's roof
+at Birmingham."
+
+A moment's pause, and then Mr. Ashley laid his hand on William's
+shoulder. "Then that brings a sort of relationship between us, William.
+I shall have a right to feel pride in you now."
+
+William laughed. But his cheek flushed with the pleasure of a more
+earnest feeling. His greatest earthly wish was to be appreciated by Mr.
+Ashley.
+
+"How is it I never heard of this relationship before?" cried Mr. Ashley.
+"Was it purposely concealed?"
+
+"It is only within a year or two that I have known of it," replied
+William. "Frank and Gar are not aware of it yet. When we first came to
+Helstonleigh, the Dares were much annoyed at it; and they made it known
+to my mother in so unmistakable a manner, that she resolved to drop all
+mention of the relationship; she would have dropped the relationship
+itself if she could have done so. It was natural, perhaps, that they
+should feel annoyed," continued William, seeking to apologize for them.
+"They were rich and great in the eyes of the town; we were poor and
+obscure."
+
+Mr. Ashley was casting his recollections backwards. A certain event,
+which had always somewhat puzzled him, was becoming clear now. "William,
+when Anthony Dare--acting, as he said, for me--put that seizure into
+your house for rent, it must have been done with the view of driving you
+from the town?"
+
+"My mother says she has always thought so, sir."
+
+"I see; I see. Why, William, half the inheritance, enjoyed by the Dares,
+ought justly to have been your father's!"
+
+"We shall do as well without it, in the long-run, sir," replied William,
+a bright smile illumining his face. "Hard though the struggle was at the
+beginning!"
+
+"Ay, that you will!" warmly returned Mr. Ashley. "The ways of Providence
+are wonderful! Yes, William--and I know you have been taught to think
+so--what men call the chances of the world, are all God's dealings.
+Reflect on the circumstances favouring the Dares; reflect on your own
+drawbacks and disadvantages! They had wealth, position, a lucrative
+profession; everything, in fact, to help them on, that can be desired by
+a family in middle-class life; whilst you had poverty, obscurity, and
+toil to contend with. But now, look at what they are! Mr. Dare's money
+is dissipated; he is overwhelmed with embarrassment--I know it to be a
+fact, William; but this is for your ear alone. Folly, recklessness,
+irreligion, reign in his house; his daughters lost in pretentious
+vanity; his sons in something worse. In a few years they will have gone
+down--down. Yes," added Mr. Ashley, pointing with his finger to the
+floor of his counting-house, "down to the dogs. I can see it coming, as
+surely as that the sun is in the heavens. You and they will have
+exchanged positions, William; nay, you and yours, unless I am greatly
+mistaken, will be in a far higher position than they have ever occupied;
+for you will have secured the favour of God, and the approbation of all
+good men."
+
+"That Frank and Gar will attain to a position in time, I should be worse
+than a heathen to doubt, looking back on the wonderful manner in which
+we have been helped on," thoughtfully observed William. "For myself I am
+not sanguine."
+
+"Do you never cherish dreams on your own account?" inquired Mr. Ashley.
+
+"If I do, sir, they are vague dreams. My position affords no scope for
+ambition."
+
+"I don't know that," said Mr. Ashley. "Would you not be satisfied to
+become one of the great manufacturers of this great city?" he continued,
+laughing.
+
+"Not unless I could be one of the greatest. Such as----" William
+stopped.
+
+"Myself, for instance?" quietly put in Mr. Ashley.
+
+"Yes, indeed," answered William, lifting his earnest eyes to his master.
+"Were it possible that I could ever attain to be as you are, sir, in all
+things--in character, in position, in the estimation of my
+fellow-citizens--it would be sufficient ambition for me, and I should
+sit down content."
+
+"Not you," cried Mr. Ashley. "You would then be casting your thoughts to
+serving your said fellow-citizens in Parliament, or some such exalted
+vision. Man's nature is to soar, you know; it cannot rest. As soon as
+one object of ambition is attained, others are sought after."
+
+"So far as I go, we need not discuss it," was William's answer. "There's
+no chance of my ever becoming even a second-rate manufacturer; let alone
+what you are, sir."
+
+"The next best thing to being myself, would perhaps be that of being my
+partner, William."
+
+The voice in which his master spoke was so significant, that William's
+face flushed to crimson. Mr. Ashley noticed it.
+
+"Did that ambition ever occur to you?"
+
+"No, sir, never. That honour is looked upon as being destined for Cyril
+Dare."
+
+"Indeed!" calmly repeated Mr. Ashley. "If you could transform your
+nature into Cyril, I do not say but that it might be so in time."
+
+"He expects it himself, sir."
+
+"Would he be a worthy associate for me, think you?" inquired Mr.
+
+Ashley, bending his gaze full on William.
+
+William made no reply. Perhaps none was expected, for his master
+resumed:
+
+"I do not recommend you to indulge that particular dream of ambition; I
+cannot see sufficiently into the future. It is my intention to push you
+somewhat on in the world. I have no son to advance," he added, an
+expression of sadness crossing his face. "All I can do for my boy is to
+leave him at ease after me. Therefore I may, if I live, advance you in
+his stead. Provided, William, you continue to deserve it."
+
+A smile parted William's lips. That, he would ever strive for, heaven
+helping him.
+
+Mr. Ashley again laid his hand on William, and gazed into his face. "I
+have had a wonderful account of you from Samuel Lynn. And it is not
+often the Friend launches into decided praise."
+
+"Oh, have you, sir?" returned William with animation. "I am glad he was
+pleased with me."
+
+"He was more than pleased. But I must not forget that I was charged with
+a message from Henry. He is outrageous at your not having gone to him
+last night. I shall be sending him to France one of these days, under
+your escort, William. It may do him good, in more ways than one."
+
+"I will come to Henry this evening, sir. I must leave him, though, for
+half an hour, to go round to East's."
+
+"Your conscience is engaged, I see. You know what Henry accused you of,
+the last time you left him to go to East's?"
+
+"Of being enamoured of Charlotte," said William, laughing in answer to
+Mr. Ashley's smile. "I will come, at any rate, sir, and battle the other
+matter out with Henry."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+A BRUISED HEART.
+
+
+If it were a hopeless task to attempt to describe the consternation of
+Helstonleigh at the death of Anthony Dare, far more difficult would it
+be to picture that of Anna Lynn. Believe Herbert guilty, Anna did not;
+she could scarcely have believed that, had an angel come down from
+heaven to affirm it. Her state of mind was not to be envied; suspense,
+sorrow, anxiety filled it, causing her to be in a grievous state of
+restlessness. She had to conceal this from the eyes of Patience; from
+the eyes of the world. For one thing, she could not get at the correct
+particulars; newspapers did not come in her way, and she shrank, in her
+self-consciousness, from asking. Her whole being--if we may dare to say
+it here--was wrapt in Herbert Dare; father, friends, home, country; she
+could have sacrificed them all to save him. She would have laid down her
+life for his. Her good sense was distorted, her judgment warped; she saw
+passing events, not with the eye of dispassionate fact, or with any fact
+at all, but through the unhealthy tinge of fond, blind prejudice. The
+blow had almost crushed her; the dread suspense was wearing out her
+heart. She seemed no longer the same careless child as before; in a few
+hours she had overstepped the barrier of girlish timidity, and had
+gained the experience which is bought with sorrow.
+
+On the evening mentioned in the last chapter, just before William went
+out to keep his appointment with Henry Ashley, he saw from the window
+Anna in his mother's garden, bending over the flowers, and glancing up
+at him. Glancing, as it struck William, with a strangely wistful
+expression. He went out to her.
+
+"Tending the flowers, Anna?"
+
+She turned to him, her fair young face utterly colourless. "I have been
+so wanting to see thee, William! I came here, hoping thee wouldst come
+out. At dinner time I was here, and thee only nodded to me from the
+window. I did not like to beckon to thee."
+
+"I am sorry to have been so stupid, Anna. What is it?"
+
+"Thee hast heard what has happened--that dreadful thing! Hast thee heard
+it all?"
+
+"I believe so. All that is known."
+
+"I want thee to tell it me. Patience won't talk of it; Hester only
+shakes her head; and I am afraid to ask Gar. _Thee_ tell it to me."
+
+"It would not do you good to know, Anna," he gravely said. "Better try
+and not think----"
+
+"William, hush thee!" she feverishly exclaimed. "Thee knew there was
+a--a friendship between me and _him_. If I cannot learn all there is to
+be learnt, I shall die."
+
+William looked down at the changing cheek, the eyes full of pain, the
+trembling hands, clasped in their eagerness. It might be better to tell
+her than to leave her in this state of suspense.
+
+"William, there is no one in the wide world that knows he cared for me,
+but thee," she imploringly resumed. "Thee must tell me; thee _must_ tell
+me!"
+
+"You mean that you want to hear the particulars of--of what took place
+on Thursday night?"
+
+"Yes. All. Then, and since. I have but heard snatches of the wicked
+tale."
+
+He obeyed her: telling her all the broad facts, but suppressing a few of
+the details. She leaned against the garden-gate, listening in silence;
+her face turned from him, looking through the bars into the field.
+
+"Why do they not believe him?" was her first comment, spoken sharply and
+abruptly. "He says he was not near the house at the time the act must
+have been done: why do they not believe him?"
+
+"It is easy to assert a thing, Anna. But the law requires proof."
+
+"Proof? That he must declare to them where he has been?"
+
+"Undoubtedly. And corroborative proof must also be given."
+
+"But what sort of proof? I do not understand their laws."
+
+"Suppose Herbert Dare asserted that he had spent those hours with me,
+for instance; then I must go forward at the trial and confirm his
+assertion. Also any other witnesses who may have seen him with me, if
+there were any. It would be establishing what is called an _alibi_."
+
+"And would they acquit him then? Suppose there were only one witness to
+speak for him? Would one be sufficient?"
+
+"Certainly. Provided the witness were trustworthy."
+
+"If a witness went forward and declared it now, would they release him?"
+
+"Impossible. He is committed to take his trial at the assizes, and he
+cannot be released beforehand. It is exceedingly unwise of him not to
+declare where he was that evening--if he can do so."
+
+"Where do the public think he was? What do they say?"
+
+"I am afraid the public, Anna, think that he was not out anywhere. At
+any rate, after eleven or half-past."
+
+"Then they are very cruel!" she passionately exclaimed. "Do they _all_
+think that?"
+
+"There may be a few who judge that it was as he says; that he was really
+away, and is, consequently, innocent."
+
+"And where do _they_ think he was?" eagerly responded Anna again. "Do
+they suspect any place where he might have been?"
+
+William made no reply. It was not at all expedient to impart to her all
+the gossip or surmises of the town. But his silence seemed to agitate
+her more than any reply could have done. She turned to him, trembling
+with emotion, the tears streaming down her face.
+
+"Oh, William! tell me what is thought! Tell me, I implore thee! Thee
+cannot leave me in this trouble. Where is it thought he was?"
+
+He took her hands; he bent over her as tenderly as any brother could
+have done; he read all too surely how opposite to the truth had been her
+former assertion to him--that she did not care for Herbert Dare.
+
+"Anna, child, you must not agitate yourself in this way: there is no
+just cause for doing so. I assure you I do not know where it is thought
+Herbert Dare may have been that night; neither, so far as can be learnt,
+does any one else know. It is the chief point--where he was--that is
+puzzling the town."
+
+She laid her head down on the gate again, closing her eyes, as in very
+weariness. William's heart ached for her.
+
+"He may not be guilty, Anna," was all the consolation he could find to
+offer.
+
+"_May_ not be guilty!" she echoed in a tone of pain. "He _is_ not
+guilty. William, I tell thee he is not. Dost thee think I would defend
+him if he could do so wicked a thing?"
+
+He did not dispute the point with her; he did not tell her that her
+assumption of his innocence was inconsistent with the facts of the case.
+Presently Anna resumed.
+
+"Why must he remain in gaol till the trial? There was that man who stole
+the skins from Thomas Ashley--they let him out, when he was taken, until
+the sessions came on, and then he went up for trial."
+
+"That man was out on bail. But they do not take bail in cases so grave
+as this."
+
+"I may not stay longer. There's Hester coming to call me in. I rely upon
+thee to tell me anything fresh that may arise," she said, lifting her
+beseeching eyes to his.
+
+"One word, Anna, before you go. And yet, I see how worse than useless it
+is to say it to you now. You must forget Herbert Dare."
+
+"I shall forget him, William, when I cease to have memory," she
+whispered. "Never before. Thee wilt keep my counsel?"
+
+"Truly and faithfully."
+
+"Fare thee well, William; I have no friend but thee."
+
+She ran swiftly into their own premises. William turned to pursue his
+way to Mr. Ashley's, the thought of Henry Ashley's misplaced attachment
+lying on his mind as an incubus.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+ONE DYING IN HONEY FAIR.
+
+
+Mrs. Buffle stood in what she called her "back'us," practically
+superintending a periodical wash. The day was hot, and the steam was
+hot, and, as Mrs. Buffle rubbed away, she began to think she should
+never be cool again.
+
+"Missis," shrieked out a young voice from the precincts of the shop,
+"Ben Tyrrett's wife says will you let her have a gill o' vinegar? Be I
+to serve it?"
+
+The words came from the small damsel who was had in to help on cleaning
+and washing days. Mrs. Buffle kept her hands still in the soapsuds, and
+projected her hot face over the tub to answer.
+
+"Matty, tell Mary Ann Tyrrett as she promised faithful to bring me
+something off her score this week, but I've not seen the colour of it
+yet."
+
+"She says as it's to put to his head," called back Matty, alluding to
+the present demand. "He's bad a-bed, and have fainted right off."
+
+"Serve him right," responded Mrs. Buffle. "You may give her the vinegar,
+Matty. Tell her as it's a penny farthing. I heered he had been drinking
+again," she added to herself and the washing tub, "and laid hisself down
+in the wet road the night afore last, and was found there in the
+morning."
+
+Later in the day, it happened that William Halliburton was passing
+through Honey Fair, and met Charlotte East. She stopped him. "Have you
+heard, sir, that Tyrrett is dying?" she asked.
+
+"Tyrrett dying!" repeated William in amazement. "Who says he is?"
+
+"The doctor says it, I believe, sir. I must say he looks like it. Mary
+Ann sent for me, and I have been down to see him."
+
+"Why, what can be the matter with him?" asked William. "He was at work
+the day before yesterday!"
+
+"He was at work, sir, but he could not speak, they tell me, for that
+illness that has been hanging about him so long, and had settled on his
+chest. That night, after leaving work, instead of going home and getting
+a basin of gruel, or something of that sort, he went to the Horned Ram,
+and drank there till he couldn't keep upright."
+
+"With his chest in that state!"
+
+"And that was not the worst," resumed Charlotte. "It had been a wet day,
+if you remember, sir, and he somehow strayed into Oxlip Lane, and fell
+down, and lay there till morning. What with drink, and what with
+exposure to the wet, his chest grew dangerously inflamed, and now the
+doctor says he has not many hours to live."
+
+"I am sorry to hear it," cried William. "Is he sensible?"
+
+"Too sensible, sir, in one sense," replied Charlotte. "His remorse is
+dreadful. He is saying that if he had not misspent his life, he might
+have died a good man, instead of a bad one."
+
+William passed on, much concerned at the news. His way led him past Ben
+Tyrrett's lodgings, and he turned in. Mary Ann was sobbing and wailing,
+in the midst of as many curious and condoling neighbours as the kitchen
+would contain. All were in full gossip--as might be expected. Mrs. Cross
+had taken home the three little children, by way of keeping the place
+quiet; and the sick man was lying in the room above, surrounded by
+several of his fellow-workmen, who had heard of his critical state.
+
+Some of the women sidled off when William entered, rather ashamed of
+being caught chattering vehemently. It was remarkable the deference that
+was paid him, and from no assumption of his own--indeed, the absence of
+assumption may have partially accounted for it. But, though ever
+courteous and pleasant with them all, he was a thorough gentleman: and
+the working classes are keen to distinguish this.
+
+"Why, Mrs. Tyrrett, this is sad news!" he said. "Is your husband so
+ill?"
+
+"Oh, he must die, he must die, sir!" she answered in a frantic tone.
+Uncomfortably as they had lived together, the man was still her
+husband, and there is no doubt she was feeling the present crisis; was
+shrinking with dread from the future. A widow with three young children,
+and the workhouse for an asylum! It was the only prospect before her.
+"He must die, anyways; but he might have lasted a few hours longer, if I
+could have got what the doctor ordered."
+
+William did not understand.
+
+"It was a blister and some physic, sir," explained one of the women.
+"The doctor wrote it on a paper, and said it was to be took to the
+nearest druggist's. But when they got it there, Darwin said he couldn't
+trust the Tyrretts, and they must send the money if they wanted the
+things."
+
+"It was not Mr. Parry, then, who was called in?"
+
+"It were a strange doctor, sir, as was fetched. There was Tyrrett's last
+bout of illness owing for to Parry, and so they didn't like to send for
+him. As to them druggists, they be some of 'em a cross-grained set,
+unless you goes with the money in your hand."
+
+William asked to see the prescription. It was produced, and he read its
+contents--he was as capable of doing so and of understanding it as the
+best doctor in Helstonleigh. He tore a leaf from his pocket-book, wrote
+a few words in pencil, folded it with the prescription, and desired one
+of the women to take it to the chemist's again. He then went up to the
+sick room.
+
+Tyrrett was lying on a flock mattress, on an ugly brown bedstead, the
+four posts upright and undraped. A blanket and a checked blue cotton
+quilt covered him. His breathing was terribly laboured, his face
+painfully anxious. William approached him, bending his head, to avoid
+contact with the ceiling.
+
+"I'm a-going, sir," cried the man, in tones as anxious as his face. "I'm
+a-going at last."
+
+"I hope not," said William. "I hope you will get better. You are to have
+a blister on your chest, and----"
+
+"No he ain't, sir," interrupted one of the men. "Darwin won't send it."
+
+"Oh yes, he will, if he is properly asked. They have gone again to him.
+Are you in much pain, Tyrrett?"
+
+"I'm in an agony of pain here, sir," pointing to his chest. "But that
+ain't nothing to my pain of mind. Oh, Mr. Halliburton, you're good, sir;
+you haven't nothing to reproach yourself with; can't you do nothing for
+me? I'm going into the sight of my Maker, and He's angry with me!"
+
+In truth, William knew not what to answer. Tyrrett's voice was as a wail
+of anguish; his hands were stretched out beseechingly.
+
+"Charlotte East were here just now, and she told me to go to
+Christ--that He was merciful and forgiving. But how am I to go to Him?
+If I try, sir, I can't, for there's my past life rising up before me. I
+have been a bad man: I have never once in all my life tried to please
+God."
+
+The words echoed through the stillness of the room; echoed with a sound
+that was terribly awful. _Never once to have tried to please God!_
+Throughout a whole life, and throughout all its blessings!
+
+"I have never thought of God," he continued to reiterate. "I have never
+cared for Him, or tried to please Him, or done the least thing for Him.
+And now I'm going to face His wrath, and I can't help myself!"
+
+"You may be spared yet," said William; "you may indeed. And your future
+life must atone for the past."
+
+"I shan't be spared, sir; I feel that the world's all up with me," was
+the rejoinder. "I'm going fast, and there's nobody to give me a word of
+comfort! Can't _you_, sir? I'm going away, and God's angry with me!"
+
+William leaned over him. "I can only say as Charlotte East did," he
+whispered. "Try and find your Saviour. There is mercy with Him at the
+eleventh hour."
+
+"I have not the time to find Him," breathed forth Tyrrett, in agony. "I
+might find Him if I had time given me; but I have not got it."
+
+William, shrinking in his youth and inexperience from arguing upon
+topics so momentous, was not equal to the emergency. Who was? He did
+what he could; and that was to despatch a message for a clergyman, who
+answered the summons with speed.
+
+The blister also came, and the medicine that had been prescribed.
+William went home, hoping all might prove as a healing balm to the sick
+man.
+
+A fallacious hope. Tyrrett died the following morning. When William went
+round early on his mission of inquiry, he found him dead. Some of the
+men, whom he had seen with Tyrrett the previous night, were assembled in
+the kitchen.
+
+"He is but just gone, sir," they said, "The women be up with him now.
+They have took his wife round screeching to her mother's. He died with
+that there blister on his chest."
+
+"Did he die peacefully?" was William's question.
+
+"Awful hard, sir, toward the last; moaning, and calling, and clenching
+his hands in mortal pain. His sister, she come round--she's a hard one,
+is that Liza Tyrrett--and she set on at the wife, saying it was her
+fault that he'd took to go out drinking. That there parson couldn't do
+nothing with him," concluded the speaker, lowering his voice.
+
+William's breath stood still. "No!"
+
+The man shook his head. "Tyrrett weren't in a frame o' mind for it, sir.
+He kep' crying out as he had led a bad life, and never thought of
+God--and them was his last words. It ain't happy, sir, to die like
+that. It have quite cowed down us as was with him: one gets thinking,
+sir, what sort of a place it may be, t'other side, where he's gone to."
+
+William lifted his head, a sort of eager hope on his countenance,
+speaking cheerily. "Could you not let poor Tyrrett's death act as a
+warning to you?"
+
+There was a dead silence. Five men were present; every one of them
+leading careless lives. Somehow they did not much like to hear of
+"warning," although the present moment was one of unusual seriousness.
+
+"Religion is so dreadful dull and gloomy, sir."
+
+"Religion dull and gloomy!" echoed William. "Well, perhaps some people
+do make a gloomy affair of it; but then I don't think theirs can be the
+right religion. I do not believe people were sent into the world to be
+gloomy: time enough for that when troubles come."
+
+"What _is_ religion?" asked one of the men.
+
+"It is a sort of thing that's a great deal better to be felt than talked
+about," answered William. "I am no parson, and cannot pretend to
+enlighten you. We might never come to an understanding over it, were we
+to discuss it all day long. I would rather talk to you of life, and its
+practical duties."
+
+"Tyrrett said as he had never paid heed to any of his duties. It were
+his cry over and over again, sir, in the night. He said he had drunk,
+and swore, and beat his wife, and done just what he oughtn't to ha'
+done."
+
+"Ay, I fear it was so," replied William. "Poor Tyrrett's existence was
+divided into three phrases--working, drinking, quarrelling:
+dissatisfaction attending all. I fear a great many more in Honey Fair
+could say the same."
+
+The men's consciences were pricking them; some of them began to stand
+uncomfortably on one leg. _They_ tippled; _they_ quarrelled; they _had_
+been known to administer personal correction to their wives on
+provocation.
+
+"Times upon times I asked Tyrrett to come round of an evening to Robert
+East's," continued William. "He never did come. But I can tell you this,
+my men; had he taken to pass his evenings there twelve months ago, when
+the society--as they call it--was first formed, he might have been a
+hale man now, instead of lying there, dead."
+
+"Do you mean that he'd have growed religious, sir?"
+
+"I tell you we will put religion out of the discussion: as you don't
+seem to like the word. Had Tyrrett taken to like rational evenings,
+instead of public-houses, it would have made a wonderful difference in
+his mode of thought, and difference in conduct would have followed. Look
+at his father-in-law, Cross. He was living without hope or aim, at
+loggerheads with his wife and with the world, and rather given to
+wishing himself dead. All that's over. Do you think I should like to go
+about with a dirty face and holes in my coat?"
+
+The men laughed. They thought not.
+
+"Cross used to do so. But you see nothing of that now. Many others used
+to do so. Many do so still."
+
+Rather conscience-stricken again, the men tried to hide their elbows.
+"It's true enough," said one. "Cross, and some more of 'em, are getting
+smart."
+
+"Smart inside as well as out," said William. "They are acquiring
+self-respect; one of the best qualities a man can find. They wouldn't be
+seen in the street now in rags, or the worse for drink, or in any other
+degrading position; no, not if you bribed them with gold. Coming round
+to East's has done that for them. They are beginning to see that it's
+just as well to lead pleasant lives here, as unpleasant ones. In a short
+time, Cross will be getting furniture about him again, towards setting
+up the home he lost. He--and many more--will also, as I truly believe,
+be beginning to set up furniture of another sort."
+
+"What sort's that, sir?"
+
+"The furniture that will stand him in need for the next life; the life
+that Tyrrett has now entered upon," replied William in deeper tones. "It
+is a life that _must_ come, you know; our little span of time here, in
+comparison with eternity, is but as a drop of water to the great river
+that runs through the town; and it is as well to be prepared for it.
+Now, the next five I am going to get round to East's are you."
+
+
+"Us, sir?"
+
+"Every one of you; although I believe you have been in the habit of
+complimenting your friends who go there with the title of 'milksops.' I
+want to take you there this evening. If you don't like it, you know you
+need not repeat the visit. You will come, to oblige me, won't you?"
+
+They said they would. And William went out satisfied, though he hardly
+knew how Robert East would manage to stow away the new comers. Not many
+steps from the door he encountered Mrs. Buffle. She stopped him to talk
+of Tyrrett.
+
+"Better that he had spent his loose time at East's than at the publics,"
+remarked that lady.
+
+"It is the very thing we have been saying," answered William. "I wish we
+could get all Honey Fair there; though, indeed there's no room for more
+than we have now. I cast a longing eye sometimes to that building at the
+back, which they say was built for a Mormon stronghold, and has never
+been fitted up, owing to a dispute among themselves about the number of
+wives each elder might appropriate to his own share."
+
+"Disgraceful pollagists!" struck in Mrs. Buffle, apostrophizing the
+Mormon elders. "One husband is enough to have at one's fireside,
+goodness knows, without being worried with an unlimited number."
+
+"That is not the question," said William, laughing. "It is, how many
+wives are enough? However, I wish we could get the building. East will
+have to hold the gathering in his garden soon."
+
+"There's no denying that it have worked good in Honey Fair,"
+acknowledged Mrs. Buffle. "It isn't alone the men that have grown more
+respectable, them as have took to go, but their wives too. You see, sir,
+in sitting at the public-houses, it wasn't only that they drank
+themselves quarrelsome, but they spent their money. Now their tempers
+are saved, and their money's saved. The wives see the benefit of it, and
+of course try to be better-behaved theirselves. Not but what there's
+plenty of room for improvement still," added Mrs. Buffle, in a tone of
+patronage.
+
+"It will come in time," said William.
+
+"What we must do now, is to look out for a larger room."
+
+"One with a chimbley in it, as'll draw?" suggested Mrs. Buffle.
+
+"Oh yes. What would they do without fire on a winter's night? The great
+point is, to have things thoroughly comfortable."
+
+"If it hadn't been for the chimbley, I might have offered our big
+garret, sir. But it's the crankiest thing ever built, is that chimbley;
+the minute a handful of fire's lighted, the smoke puffs it out again.
+And then again--there'd be the passing through the shop, obstructing the
+custom."
+
+"Of course there would," assented William. "We must try for that failure
+in the rear, after all."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+COMING HOME TO THE DARES.
+
+
+The Pyramids of Egypt grew, in the course of time, into pyramids, as was
+oracularly remarked by Sergeant Delves; but that official's exertions,
+labour as hard as he would, grew to nothing--when applied to the cause
+with which he had compared the pyramids. All inquiry, all searching
+brought to bear upon it by him and his co-adherents, did not bring
+anything to light of Herbert Dare's movements on that fatal night. Where
+he had passed the hours remained an impenetrable mystery; and the
+sergeant had to confess himself foiled. He came, not unnaturally, to the
+conclusion that Herbert Dare was not anywhere, so far as the outer world
+was concerned: that he had been at home, committing the mischief. A
+conclusion the sergeant had drawn from the very first, and it had never
+been shaken. Nevertheless, it was his duty to put all the skill and
+craft of the local police force into action; and very close inquiries
+were made. Every house of entertainment in the city, of whatever
+nature--whether a billiard-room or an oyster-shop; whether a chief hotel
+or an obscure public-house--was visited and keenly questioned; but no
+one would acknowledge to having seen Herbert Dare on the particular
+evening. In short, no trace of him could be unearthed.
+
+"Just as much out as I was," said the sergeant to himself. And
+
+Helstonleigh held the same conviction.
+
+Pomeranian Knoll was desolate: with a desolation it had never expected
+to fall upon it. A shattering blow had been struck to Mr. and Mrs. Dare.
+To lose their eldest son in so terrible a manner, seemed, of itself,
+sufficient agony for a whole lifetime. Whatever may have been his
+faults--and Helstonleigh knew that he was somewhat rich in faults--he
+was dear to them; dearer than her other children to Mrs. Dare. Herbert
+had remarked, in conversing with Anna Lynn, that Anthony was his
+mother's favourite. It was so. She had loved him deeply, had been blind
+to his failings. Neither Mr. Dare nor his wife was amongst the religious
+of the world. Religious thoughts and reflections, they, in common with
+many others in Helstonleigh, were content to leave to a remote
+death-bed. But they had been less than human, worse than heathen, could
+they be insensible to the fate of Anthony--hurled away with his sins
+upon his head. He was cut off suddenly from this world, and--what of the
+next? It was a question, an uncertainty, that they dared not follow; and
+they sat, one on each side their desolate hearth, and wailed forth their
+vain anguish.
+
+This would, in truth, have been tribulation enough to have overshadowed
+a life; but there was more beyond it. Hemmed in by pride, as the Dares
+had been, playing at being great and grand in Helstonleigh, the
+situation of Herbert, setting aside their fears or their sympathy for
+himself, was about the most complete checkmate that could have fallen
+upon them. It was the cup of humiliation drained to its dregs. Whether
+he should be proved guilty or not, he was thrown into prison as a common
+felon, awaiting his trial for murder; and that disgrace could not be
+wiped out. Did they believe him guilty? They did not know themselves. To
+suspect him of such a crime was painful in the last degree to their
+feelings; but why did he persist in refusing to state where he was on
+the eventful night? There was the point that staggered them.
+
+A deep gloom overhung the house, extending to all its inmates. Even the
+servants went about with sad faces and quiet steps. The young ladies
+knew that a calamity had been dealt to them from which they should never
+wholly recover. Their star of brilliancy, in its little sphere of light
+at Helstonleigh, had faded into dimness, if not wholly gone down below
+the horizon. Should Herbert be found guilty, it could never rise again.
+Adelaide rarely spoke; she appeared to possess some inward source of
+vexation or grief, apart from the general tribulation. At least, so
+judged Signora Varsini; and she was a shrewd observer. She, Miss Dare,
+spent most of her time shut up in her own room. Rosa and Minny were
+chiefly with their governess. They were getting of an age to feel it in
+an equal degree with the rest. Rosa was eighteen, and had begun to go
+out with Mrs. Dare and Adelaide: Minny was anticipating the same
+privilege. It was all stopped now--visiting, gaiety, pleasure; and it
+was felt as a part of the misfortune.
+
+The first shock of the occurrence subsided, the funeral over, and the
+family settled down in its mourning, the governess exacted their studies
+from her two pupils as before. They were loth to recommence them, and
+appealed to their mother. "It was cruel of mademoiselle to wish it of
+them," they said. Mademoiselle rejoined that her motive was anything but
+cruel: she felt sure that occupation for the mind was the best
+counteraction to grief. If they would not study, where was the use of
+her remaining, she demanded. Madame Dare had better allow her to leave.
+She would go without notice, if madame pleased. She should be glad to
+get back to the Continent. They did not have murders there in society;
+at least, she, mademoiselle, had never encountered personal experience
+of it.
+
+Mrs. Dare did not appear willing to accede to the proposition. The
+governess was a most efficient instructress; and six or twelve months
+more of her services would be essential to her pupils, if they were to
+be turned out as pupils ought to be. Besides, Sergeant Delves had
+intimated that the signora's testimony would be necessary at the trial,
+and therefore she could not be allowed to depart. Mr. Dare thought if
+they did allow her to depart, they might be accused of wishing to
+suppress evidence, and it might tell against Herbert. So mademoiselle
+had to resign herself to remaining. "Très bien," she equably said; "she
+was willing; only the young ladies must resume their lessons." A mandate
+in which Mrs. Dare acquiesced.
+
+Sometimes Minny, who was given to be incorrigibly idle, would burst into
+tears over the trouble of her work, and then lay it upon her distress
+touching the uncertain fate of Herbert. One day, upon doing this, the
+governess broke out sharply.
+
+"He deserves to lie in prison, does Monsieur Herbert!"
+
+"Why do you say that, mademoiselle?" asked Minny resentfully.
+
+"Because he is a fool," politely returned mademoiselle. "He say, does he
+not, that he was not home at the time. It is well; but why does he not
+say where he was? I think he is a fool, me."
+
+"You may as well say outright, mademoiselle, that you think him guilty!"
+retorted Minny.
+
+"But I not think him guilty," dissented mademoiselle. "I have said from
+the first that he was not guilty. I think he is not one capable of doing
+such an injury, to his brother or to any one else. I used to be great
+friends with Monsieur Herbert once, when I gave him those Italian
+lessons, and I never saw to make me believe his disposition was a
+cruel."
+
+In point of fact, the governess, more explicitly than any one else in
+the house, had unceasingly declared her belief in Herbert's innocence.
+Truly and sincerely she did not believe him capable of so grievous a
+crime. He was not of a cruel or revengeful disposition: certainly not
+one to lie in wait, and attack another savagely and secretly. She had
+never believed that he was, and would not believe it now. Neither had
+his family. Sergeant Delves' opinion was, that whoever had attacked
+Anthony _had_ lain in wait for him in the dining room, and had sprung
+upon him as he entered. It is possible, however, that the same point
+staggered mademoiselle that staggered the rest--Herbert Dare's refusal
+to state where he was at the time. Believing, as she did, that he could
+account for it if he chose, she deemed herself perfectly justified in
+applying to him the complimentary epithet you have just heard. She
+expressed true sympathy and regret at the untimely fate of Anthony,
+lamenting him much and genuinely.
+
+Upon Cyril and George the punishment also fell. With one brother not
+cold in his grave, and the other thrown into gaol to await his trial for
+murder, they could not, for shame, pursue their amusements as formerly;
+and amusements to Cyril and George Dare had become a necessity of daily
+life. Their friends and companions were growing shy of them--or they
+fancied it. Conscience is all too suggestive. They fancied people
+shunned them when they walked along the street: Cyril, even, as he stood
+in Samuel Lynn's room at the manufactory, thought the men, as they
+passed in and out, looked askance at him. Very likely it was only
+imagination. George Dare had set his heart upon a commission; one of the
+members for the city had made a half-promise to Mr. Dare that he would
+"see what could be done at the Horse Guards." Failing available interest
+in that quarter, George was in hope that his father would screw out
+money to purchase one. But, until Herbert was proved innocent (if that
+time should ever arrive), the question of his entering the army must
+remain in abeyance. This state of things altogether did not give
+pleasure to Cyril and George Dare. But there was no remedy for it, and
+they had to content themselves with sundry private explosions of temper,
+by way of relief to their minds.
+
+Yes, the evil fell upon all; upon the parents and upon the children. Of
+course, the latter suffered nothing in comparison with Mr. and Mrs.
+Dare. Unhappy days, restless nights, were their portion now: the world
+seemed to be growing too miserable to live in.
+
+"There must be a fatality upon the boys!" Mr. Dare exclaimed one day, in
+the bitterness of his spirit, as he paced the room with restless steps,
+his wife sitting moodily, her elbow on the centre-table, her cheek
+pressed upon her hand. "Unless there had been a fatality upon them, they
+never could have turned out as they have."
+
+Mrs. Dare resented the speech. In her unhappy frame of mind, which told
+terribly upon her temper, it seemed a sort of relief to resent
+everything. If Mr. Dare spoke against their sons, she stood up for them.
+"Turned out!" she repeated angrily.
+
+"Let us say, as things have turned out, then, if you will. They appear
+to be turning out pretty badly, as it seems to me. The boys have had
+every indulgence in life: they have enjoyed a luxurious home; they have
+ruined me to supply their extravagances----"
+
+"Ruined you!" again resented Mrs. Dare.
+
+"Ay; ruined. It has all but come to it. And yet, what good has the
+indulgence or have the advantages brought them? Far better--I begin to
+see it now--that they had been reared to self-denial; made to work for
+their daily bread."
+
+"How can you give utterance to such things!" rejoined Mrs. Dare, in a
+chafed tone.
+
+Mr. Dare stopped in his restless pacing, and confronted his wife. "Are
+we happy in our sons? Speak the truth."
+
+"How could any one be happy, overwhelmed with a misfortune such as
+this?"
+
+"Put that aside: what are they without it? Rebellious to us; badly
+conducted in the sight of the world."
+
+"Who says they are badly conducted?" asked Mrs. Dare, an undercurrent of
+consciousness whispering that she need not have made the objection.
+"They may be a little wild; but it is a common failing with those of
+their age and condition. Their faults are only faults of youth and of
+uncurbed spirits."
+
+"I wish, then, their spirits had been curbed," was Mr. Dare's reply. "It
+is useless now to reproach each other," he continued, resuming his walk;
+"but there must have been something radically wrong in their
+bringing-up. Anthony, gone: Herbert, perhaps, to follow him by almost a
+worse death, certainly a more disgraceful one: Cyril----" Mr. Dare
+stopped abruptly in his catalogue, and went on more generally. "There is
+no comfort in them for us: there never will be any."
+
+"What can you bring against Cyril?" sharply asked Mrs. Dare. It may be,
+that these complaints of her husband fretted her temper; chafed,
+perhaps, her conscience. Certain it was, they rendered her irritable;
+and Mr. Dare had latterly indulged in them frequently. "If Cyril is a
+little wild, it is a gentlemanly failing. There's nothing else to urge
+against him."
+
+"Is theft gentlemanly?"
+
+"Theft!" repeated Mrs. Dare.
+
+"Theft. I have concealed many things from you, Julia, wishing to spare
+your feelings. But it may be as well now that you should know a little
+more of what your sons really are. Cyril might have stood where Herbert
+will stand--at the criminal bar; though for a crime of lesser degree.
+For all I can tell, he may stand at it still."
+
+Mrs. Dare looked scared. "What has he done?" she asked, her tone growing
+timid.
+
+"I say that I have kept these things from you. I wish I could have kept
+them from you always; but it seems to me that exposure is arising in
+many ways, and it is better that you should be prepared for it, if it
+must come. I awake now in the morning to apprehension; I am alarmed
+throughout the day at my own shadow, dreading what unknown fate may not
+be falling upon them. Herbert in peril of the hangman: Cyril in peril of
+a forced voyage to the penal settlements."
+
+A sensation of utter fear stole over Mrs. Dare. For the moment, she
+could not speak. But she rallied her powers to defend Cyril.
+
+"I think Cyril is hardly used, what with one thing and another. He was
+to have gone on that French journey, and at the last moment was pushed
+out of it for Halliburton. I felt more vexed at it, almost, than Cyril
+himself, and I spoke a word of my mind to Mrs. Ashley."
+
+"You did?"
+
+"Yes. I did not speak of it in the light of disappointment to Cyril; the
+actual fact of not taking the journey; so much as of the vexation he
+experienced at being supplanted by one whom he--whom we all--consider
+inferior to himself, William Halliburton. I let Mrs. Ashley know that we
+regarded it as a most unmerited and uncalled-for slight; and I took care
+to drop a hint that we believed Halliburton to have been guilty in that
+cheque affair."
+
+Mr. Dare paused. "What did Mrs. Ashley say?" he presently asked.
+
+"She said very little. I never saw her so frigid. She intimated that Mr.
+Ashley was a competent judge of his own business----"
+
+"I mean as to the cheque?" interrupted Mr. Dare.
+
+"She was more frigid over that than over the other. She preferred not to
+discuss it, she answered; who might have stolen it; or who not."
+
+"I can set you right on both points," said Mr. Dare. "Cyril came to me,
+complaining of being superseded in this French journey, and I complied
+with his request, that I should go and remonstrate with Mr.
+Ashley--being a simpleton for my pains. Mr. Ashley informed me that he
+never had entertained the slightest intention of despatching Cyril, and
+why Cyril should have taken up the notion, he could not tell. Mr. Ashley
+went on to say that he did not consider Cyril sufficiently steady to be
+intrusted abroad alone----"
+
+"Steady!" echoed Mrs. Dare. "What has steadiness to do with executing
+business? And, as to being alone, Quaker Lynn went over also."
+
+"But at the outset, which was the time I spoke to him, Mr. Ashley's
+intention was to dispatch only one--Halliburton. He said that Cyril's
+want of steadiness would always have been a bar to his thinking of him.
+Shall I go on and enlighten you on the other point--the cheque?" Mr.
+Dare added, after a pause.
+
+"Y--es," she answered, a nervous dread causing her to speak with
+hesitation. Had she a foreshadowing of what was coming?
+
+"It was Cyril who took it," said Mr. Dare, dropping his voice to a
+whisper.
+
+"Cyril!" she gasped.
+
+"Our son, Cyril. No other."
+
+Mrs. Dare took her hand from her cheek, and leaned back in the chair.
+She was very pale.
+
+"He was traced to White's shop, where he changed the cheque for gold. He
+had put on Herbert's cloak, the plaid lining outside. When he began to
+fear detection, he ripped the lining out, and left the cloak in the
+state it is; now in the possession of the police. Some of the jags and
+cuts have been sewn up, I suppose by one of the servants: I made no
+close inquiries. That cloak," he added, with a passing shiver, "might
+tell queer tales of our sons, if it were able to speak."
+
+"How did you know it was Cyril?" breathed Mrs. Dare.
+
+"From Delves."
+
+"Delves! Does _he_ know it?"
+
+"He does. And the man is keeping the secret out of consideration for us.
+Delves is good-hearted at bottom. Not but that I spoke a friendly word
+for him when he was made sergeant. It all tells."
+
+"And Mr. Ashley?" she asked.
+
+"There is no doubt that Ashley has some suspicion: the very fact of his
+not making a stir in it proves that he has. It would not please him that
+a relative--as Cyril is--should stand his trial for felony."
+
+"How harshly you put it!" exclaimed Mrs. Dare, bursting into tears.
+"Felony."
+
+"Nay; what else can I call it?"
+
+A pause ensued. Mr. Dare resumed his restless pacing. Mrs. Dare sat with
+her handkerchief to her face. Presently she looked up.
+
+"They said it was Halliburton's cloak that the person wore who went to
+change the cheque."
+
+"It was not Halliburton's. It was Herbert's turned inside out. Herbert
+knew nothing about it, for I questioned him. He had gone out that night,
+leaving his cloak hanging in his closet. I asked him how it happened
+that his cloak, on the inside, should resemble Halliburton's, and he
+said it was a coincidence. I don't believe him. I entertain little doubt
+that it was so contrived with a view to enacting some mischief. In fact,
+what with one revelation and another, I live, as I say, in constant
+dread of new troubles turning up."
+
+Bitter, most bitter were these revelations to Mrs. Dare; bitter had they
+been to her husband. Too swiftly were the fruits of their children's
+rearing coming home to them, bringing their recompense. "There must be a
+fatality upon the boys!" he reiterated. Possibly. But had neither
+parents nor children done aught to invoke it?
+
+"Since these evils have come upon our house--the fate of Anthony, the
+uncertainty overhanging Herbert, the certain guilt of Cyril," resumed
+Mr. Dare: "I have asked myself whether the money we inherited from old
+Mr. Cooper may not have wrought ill for us, instead of good."
+
+"Have wrought ill?"
+
+"Ay! Brought with it a curse, instead of a blessing."
+
+She made no remark.
+
+"He warned us that if we took Edgar Halliburton's share it would not
+bring us good. Do you remember how eagerly he spoke it? We did take it,"
+Mr. Dare added, dropping his voice to the lowest whisper. "And I believe
+it has just acted as a curse upon us."
+
+"You are fanciful!" she cried, her hands shivering, as she raised her
+handkerchief to her pale face.
+
+"No; there's no fancy in it. We should have done well to attend to the
+warning of the dying. Heaven is my witness that at the time, such a
+thought as that of appropriating it ourselves never crossed my mind. We
+launched out into expense, and the other share became a necessity to us.
+It is that expense which has ruined our children."
+
+"How can you say it?" she rejoined, lifting her hands in a passionate
+sort of manner.
+
+"It has been nothing else. Had they been reared more plainly, they would
+not have acquired those extravagant notions which have proved their
+bane. Without that inheritance and the style of living we allowed it to
+entail upon us, the boys must have understood that they would have to
+earn money before they spent it, and they would have put their shoulders
+to the wheel. Julia," he continued, halting by her, and stretching forth
+his troubled face until it nearly touched hers, "it might have been
+well now, well with them and with us, had our children been obliged to
+battle with the poverty to which we condemned the Halliburtons."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+AN UGLY VISION.
+
+
+Mr. Dare had not taken upon himself the legal conduct of his son
+Herbert's case. It had been intrusted to the care of a solicitor in
+Helstonleigh, Mr. Winthorne. This gentleman, more forcibly than any one
+else, urged upon Herbert Dare the necessity of declaring--if he could
+declare--where he had been on the night of the murder. He clearly
+foresaw that, if his client persisted in his present silence, there was
+no chance of any result but the worst.
+
+He could obtain no response. Deaf to him, as he had been to others,
+Herbert Dare would disclose nothing. In vain Mr. Winthorne pointed to
+consequences; first, by delicate hints; next, by hints not delicate;
+then, by speaking out broadly and fully. It is not pleasant to tell your
+client, in so many words, that he will be hanged and nothing can save
+him, unless he compels you to it. Herbert Dare so compelled Mr.
+Winthorne. All in vain. Mr. Winthorne found he might just as well talk
+to the walls of the cell. Herbert Dare declared, in the most positive
+manner, that he had been out the whole of the time stated; from
+half-past eight o'clock, until nearly two; and from this declaration he
+never swerved.
+
+Mr. Winthorne was perplexed. The prisoner's assertions were so uniformly
+earnest, bearing so apparently the stamp of truth, that he could not
+disbelieve him; or rather, sometimes he believed and sometimes he
+doubted. It is true that Herbert's declarations did wear an air of
+entire truth; but Mr. Winthorne had been engaged for criminal offenders
+before, and knew what the assertions of a great many of them were worth.
+Down deep in his heart he reasoned very much after the manner of
+Sergeant Delves: "If he had been absent, he'd confess it to save his
+neck." He said so to Herbert.
+
+Herbert took the matter, on the whole, coolly; he had done so from the
+beginning. He did not believe that his neck was really in jeopardy.
+"They'll never find me guilty," was his belief. He could not avoid
+standing his trial: that was a calamity from which there was no escape:
+but he steadily refused to look at its results in a sombre light.
+
+"_Can_ you tell me where you were?" Mr. Winthorne one morning
+impulsively asked him, when June was drawing to its close.
+
+"I could if I liked," replied Herbert Dare. "I suppose you mean by that,
+to throw discredit on what I say, Winthorne; but you are wrong. I could
+point out to you and to all Helstonleigh where I was that night; but I
+will not do so. I have my reasons, and I will not."
+
+"Then you will fall," said the lawyer. "The very fact of there being no
+other quarter than yourself on which to cast a shadow of suspicion, will
+tell against you. You have been bred to the law, and must see these
+things as plainly as I can put them to you."
+
+"There's the point that puzzles me--who it can have been that did the
+injury. I'd give half my remaining life to know."
+
+Mr. Winthorne thought that the whole of it, to judge by present
+appearances, might not be an inconveniently prolonged period; but he did
+not say so. "What is your objection to speak?" he asked.
+
+"You have put the same question about fifty times, Winthorne, and you'll
+never get any different answer from the one you have had already--that I
+don't choose to state it."
+
+"I suppose you were not committing murder in another quarter of the
+town, were you?"
+
+"I suppose I was not," equably returned Herbert.
+
+"Then, failing that crime, there's no other in the decalogue that I'd
+not confess to, to save my life. Whether I was robbing a bank, or
+setting a church on fire, I'd tell it out rather than be hanged by the
+neck until I was dead."
+
+"Ah, but I was not doing either," said Herbert.
+
+"Then there's the less reason for your persisting in the observance of
+so much mystery."
+
+"My doing so is my own business," returned Herbert.
+
+"No, it is not your own business," objected Mr. Winthorne. "You assert
+that you are innocent of the crime with which you are charged----"
+
+"I assert nothing but the truth," interrupted Herbert.
+
+"Good. Then, if you are innocent, and if you can prove your innocence,
+it is your duty to your family to do it. A man's duties in this life are
+not owing to himself alone: above all, a son's. He owes allegiance to
+his father and mother; his consideration for them should be above his
+consideration for himself. If you can prove your innocence it will be an
+unpardonable sin not to do it; a sin inflicted on your family."
+
+"I can't help it," replied Herbert in his obstinacy. "I have my reasons
+for not speaking, and I shall not speak."
+
+"You will surely suffer the penalty," said Mr. Winthorne.
+
+"Then I must suffer it," returned the prisoner.
+
+But it is one thing to talk, and another to act. Many a brave spirit,
+ready and willing to undergo hanging in theory, would find his heart
+fail and his bravery altogether die out, were he really required to
+reduce it to practice.
+
+Herbert Dare was only human. After July had come in and the time for the
+opening of the assizes might be counted by hours, then his courage began
+to flinch. He spent a night in tossing from side to side on his pallet
+(a wide difference between that and his comfortable bed at home), during
+which a certain ugly apparatus, to be erected for his especial use
+within the walls of the prison some fine Saturday morning, on which he
+might figure by no means gracefully, had mentally disturbed his rest.
+
+
+He arose unrefreshed. The vision of that possible future was not a
+pleasant one. Herbert remembered once, when he had been a college boy,
+that the Saturday morning's occasional drama had been enacted for the
+warning and edification of the town, and of the country people flocking
+into it for market. The college boys had determined for once in their
+lives to see the sight--if they could accomplish it. The ceremony was
+invariably performed at eight o'clock; the exhibition closed at nine;
+and the boys' difficulty was, how to arrive at the scene in time,
+considering that it was only at the striking of the latter hour that
+they were let loose down the steps of the school. They had tried the
+_time_ between the cloisters and the county prison; and found that by
+dint of taking the shorter way through the back streets, tearing along
+at the fleetest pace, and knocking over every obstruction--human,
+animal, or material--that might unfortunately be in their path, they
+could do the distance in four minutes. Arriving rather out of wind, it's
+true: but that was nothing.
+
+Four minutes! they did not see their way. If the curtain descended at
+nine, sharp, as good be forty minutes after the hour, as four, in point
+of practical effect. But the Helstonleigh college boys--as you may
+sometimes have heard remarked before--were not wont to allow
+difficulties to overmaster them. If there was a possible way of
+overcoming obstacles, they were sure to find it. Consultations had been
+anxious. To request the head-master to allow them as a favour to depart
+five or ten minutes before the usual time, would be worse than useless.
+It was a question whether he ever would have accorded it; but there was
+no chance of it on _that_ morning. Neither could the whole school be
+taken summarily with spasms, or croup, or any other excruciating malady
+necessitating compassion and an early dismissal.
+
+They came to the resolve of applying to the official who had the
+cathedral clock under his charge: or, as they phrased it, "coming over
+the clock-man." By dint of coaxing, or bribery, or some other element of
+persuasion, they got this functionary to promise to put the clock on
+eight minutes on that particular morning. And it was done. And at eight
+minutes before nine by the sun, the cathedral clock rang out its nine
+strokes. But, instead of the master lifting his finger--the signal for
+the boys to tear forth--the master sat quiet at his desk, and never gave
+it. He sat until the eight minutes had gone by, when the other churches
+in the town gave out their hour; he sat _four minutes after that_: and
+then he nodded them their dismissal.
+
+The twelve minutes had seemed to the boys like twelve hours. Where the
+hitch was, they never knew; they never have known to this day; as they
+would tell you themselves. Whether the master had received an inkling of
+what was in the wind; or whether, by one of those extraordinary
+coincidences that sometimes occur in life, he, for that one morning,
+allowed the hour to slip by unheeded--had not heard it strike--they
+could not tell. He gave out no explanation, then or afterwards. The
+clock-man protested that he had been true; had not breathed a hint to
+any one living of the purposed advancement; and the boys had no reason
+to disbelieve him.
+
+
+However it might have been, they could not alter it. It was four minutes
+past nine when they clattered _pêle-mêle_ down the school-room steps.
+Away they tore, full of fallacious hope, out at the cloisters, through
+the cathedral precincts, along the nearest streets, and arrived within
+the given four minutes, rather than over it.
+
+Alas, for human expectations! The prison was there, it is true,
+formidable as usual; but all trace of the morning's jubilee had passed
+away. Not only had the chief actor been removed, but also that ugly
+apparatus which Herbert Dare had dreamt of. _That_ might have afforded
+them some gratification to contemplate, failing the greater sight. The
+college boys, dumb in the first moment of their disappointment, gave
+vent to it at length with three dismal groans, the echoes of which might
+have been heard as far off as the cathedral. Groans not intended for the
+unhappy mortal, then beyond hearing of that or any other earthly sound;
+not for the officials of the county prison, all too quick-handed that
+morning; but given as a compliment to the respected gentleman at that
+time holding the situation of head-master.
+
+Herbert Dare remembered this: it was rising up in his mind with strange
+distinctness. He himself had been one of the deputation chosen to "come
+over" the clock-man; had been the chief persuader of that functionary.
+Would the college boys hasten down if _he_ were to----In spite of his
+bravery, he broke off the speculation with a shudder; and, calling the
+turnkey to him, he despatched a message for Mr. Winthorne. Was it the
+remembrance of his old school-fellows, of what _they_ would think of
+him, that brought about what no other consideration had been able to
+effect?
+
+As much indulgence as it was possible to allow a prisoner was accorded
+to Herbert Dare. Indeed, it may be questioned whether any previous
+prisoner, incarcerated within the walls of the county prison, had ever
+enjoyed so much. The governor of the prison and Mr. Dare had lived on
+intimate terms. Mr. Dare and his two elder sons had been familiar, in
+their legal capacity, with both its civil and criminal prisoners; and
+the turnkeys had often bowed Herbert in and out of cells, as they now
+bowed out Mr. Winthorne. Altogether, what with the governor's friendly
+feeling, and the turnkey's reverential one, Herbert Dare obtained more
+privileges than the ordinary run of prisoners. The message was at once
+taken to Mr. Winthorne, and it brought that gentleman back again.
+
+"I have made up my mind to tell," was Herbert's brief salutation when he
+entered.
+
+"A very sensible resolution," replied the lawyer. Doubts, however,
+crossed his mind as he spoke, whether the prisoner was not about to set
+up some plea which had never had place in fact. In like manner to
+Sergeant Delves, Mr. Winthorne had arrived at the firm belief that there
+was nothing to tell. "Well?" said he.
+
+"That is, conditionally," resumed Herbert Dare. "It would be of little
+use my saying I was at such and such a place, unless I could bring
+forward confirmatory evidence."
+
+"Of course it would not."
+
+"Well; there are witnesses who could give this satisfactory evidence:
+but the question is, will they be willing to do it?"
+
+"What motive or excuse could they have for refusing?" returned Mr.
+Winthorne. "When a fellow-creature's life is at stake, surely there is
+no man so lost to humanity as not to come forward and save it, if it be
+in his power."
+
+"Circumstances alter cases," was the curt reply of Herbert Dare.
+
+"Was it your doubt, as to whether they would come forward, that caused
+your hesitation to call on them to do so?" asked Mr. Winthorne,
+something not pleasant in his tones.
+
+"Not altogether. I foresaw a difficulty in it; I foresee it still.
+Winthorne, you look at me with a face full of doubt. There is no need
+for it--as you will find."
+
+"Well, go on," said the lawyer; for Herbert had stopped.
+
+"The thing must be gone about in a very cautious manner; and I don't
+quite see how it can be done," resumed Herbert slowly. "Winthorne, I
+think I had better make a confidant of you, and tell you the whole story
+from beginning to end."
+
+"If I am to do you any good, I must hear it, I expect. A man can't work
+in the dark."
+
+"Sit down then, and I'll begin. Though, mind--I tell it you in
+confidence. It's not for Helstonleigh. But you will see the expediency
+of being silent when you have heard it."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+SERGEANT DELVES "LOOKS UP."
+
+
+The following Saturday was the day fixed for the opening of the
+commission at Helstonleigh. It soon came round, and the streets in the
+afternoon wore their usual holiday appearance. The high sheriff's
+procession went out to meet the judges, and groups stood about, waiting
+and watching for its return. Amongst other people blocking up the way,
+might be observed the portly person of Sergeant Delves. He strolled
+along, seeming to look at nothing, but his keen eye was everywhere. It
+suddenly fell upon Mr. Winthorne, who was picking his way through the
+crowd as fast as he could do so, apparently in a hurry. Hurry or not,
+Sergeant Delves stopped him, and drew him to a safe spot beyond the
+reach of curious ears.
+
+"I was looking for you, Mr. Winthorne," said Delves in a confidential
+tone. "I say--this tale, that Dare will succeed in establishing an
+_alibi_, is it reliable?"
+
+"Why--who the mischief can have been setting that afloat?" returned the
+lawyer, in tones of the utmost astonishment, not unmixed with vexation.
+
+"Dare himself was my informant," replied the sergeant. "I was in the
+prison just now, and saw him in the yard with the turnkey. He called me
+aside, and told me he was as good as acquitted."
+
+"Then he is an idiot for his pains. He had no right to talk of it, even
+to you."
+
+"_I_ am dark," carelessly returned Delves. "I don't wish ill to the
+Dares, and wouldn't work it to them; as perhaps some of them could tell
+you," he added significantly. "What about this acquittal that he talks
+of?"
+
+"There's no doubt he will be acquitted. He will prove an _alibi_."
+
+"Is it a got-up _alibi_?" asked the plain-speaking sergeant.
+
+"No. And as far as I go, I would not lend myself to getting up anything
+false," observed the solicitor. "He has said from the first, you know,
+that he was not near the house at the time, and so it will turn out."
+
+"Has he confessed where he was, after all his standing out?"
+
+"Yes; to me: it will be disclosed at the trial."
+
+"He was after no good, I know," nodded the sergeant oracularly.
+
+Mr. Winthorne raised his eyebrows, and slightly jerked his shoulders.
+The movement may have meant anything or nothing. He did not reply in
+words.
+
+Sergeant Delves fell into a reverie. He roused himself from it to take a
+searching gaze at the lawyer. "Sir," said he, and he could hardly have
+spoken more earnestly had his life depended on it, "tell me the truth
+out-and-out. Do you, yourself, from the depths of your own judgment,
+believe Herbert Dare to have been innocent?"
+
+"Delves, as truly as that you and I now stand here, I honestly believe
+that he had no more to do with his brother's death than we had."
+
+"Then I'm blest if I don't take up the other scent!" exclaimed Mr.
+Delves, slapping his thigh. "I did think of it once, but I dropped it
+again, so sure was I that it was Master Herbert."
+
+"What scent is that?"
+
+"Look here," said the sergeant--"but now it's my turn to warn you to be
+dark. There was a young woman met Anthony Dare the night of the murder,
+when he was going down to the Star and Garter. It's a young woman he did
+not behave genteel to some time back, as the ghost says in the song. She
+met him that night, and she gave him a bit of her tongue; not much, for
+he wouldn't stop to listen. But now, Mr. Winthorne, it has crossed my
+mind many times whether she might not have watched for his going home
+again, and followed him; followed him right into the dining-room, and
+done the mischief. I'll lay a guinea it was her!" added the sergeant,
+arriving at a hasty conclusion. "I shall look up again now."
+
+"Do you mean that young woman in Honey Fair?" asked Mr. Winthorne.
+
+"Just so. Her, and nobody else. The doubt has crossed me; but, as I say,
+I was so certain it was the brother, that I did not follow it up."
+
+"Could a woman's feeble hand inflict such injuries?" debated the
+solicitor.
+
+"'Feeble' be hanged!" politely rejoined the sergeant. "Some women have
+the fists of men; and the strength of 'em, too. You don't know 'em as we
+do. A desperate woman will do anything. And Anthony Dare, remember, had
+not his strength in him that night."
+
+Mr. Winthorne shook his head. "That girl has no look of ferocity about
+her. I should question it being her. Let's see--what is her name?"
+
+"Listen!" returned the sergeant. "When you have had half as much to do
+with people as I have, you'll have learnt not to go by looks. Her name
+is Caroline Mason."
+
+At that moment the cathedral bells rang out, announcing the return of
+the procession, the advent of the judges. As if the sound reminded the
+lawyer of the speed of time, he hastily went on his way; leaving the
+sergeant to use his eyes and ears at the expense of the crowd.
+
+"I wonder how the prisoners in the gaol feels?" remarked a woman whom
+the sergeant recognised as being no other than Mrs. Cross. She had just
+come out of a warehouse with her supply of work for the ensuing week.
+
+"Ah, poor creatures!" responded another of the group, and _that_ was
+Mrs. Brumm. "I wonder how young Dare likes it!"
+
+"Or how old Dare likes it--if he can hear 'em all the way up at his
+office. They'll know their fate soon, them two."
+
+In close vicinity to this colloquy was a young woman, drawn against the
+wall, under shelter of a projecting doorway. Her once good-looking face
+was haggard, and her clothes were scanty. It was for this reason,
+perhaps, that she appeared to shun observation. Sergeant Delves,
+apparently without any other design than that of working his way
+leisurely through the throng, edged himself up to her.
+
+"Looking out for the show, Miss Mason?"
+
+Caroline turned her spiritless eyes upon him. "I'm waiting till there's
+a way cleared for me to get through, without pushing against folks and
+contaminating 'em. What's the show to me, or me to it?"
+
+"At the last assizes, in March, when the judges came in, young Anthony
+Dare made one in the streets, looking on," resumed the sergeant,
+chatting affably. "I saw him and spoke to him. And now he is gone where
+there's no shows to see."
+
+She made no reply.
+
+"The women there," pointing his thumb at the group of talkers hard by,
+"are saying that Herbert Dare won't like the sound of the college
+bells.--Hey, me! Look at those young toads of college boys, just let out
+of school!" broke off the sergeant, as a tribe of some twenty of the
+king's scholars came fighting and elbowing their way through the throng
+to the front. "They are just like so many wild colts! Maybe the
+prisoner, Herbert Dare, is now casting his thoughts back to the time
+when he made one of the band, and was as free from care as they are.
+It's not so long ago."
+
+Caroline Mason asked a question somewhat abruptly. "Will he be found
+guilty, sir, do you think?"
+
+The sergeant turned the tail of his keen eye upon her, and answered the
+question by asking another. "Do you?"
+
+She shook her head. "I don't think he was guilty."
+
+"You don't?"
+
+"No, I don't. Why should one brother kill another?"
+
+"Very true," coughed the sergeant. "But somebody must have done it. If
+Herbert Dare did not, who did?"
+
+"Ah! who did? I'd like to know," she passionately added. "He had folks
+in this town that owed him grudges, had Mr. Anthony Dare."
+
+"If my vision didn't deceive me, I saw you talking to him that very
+same night," carelessly observed the sergeant.
+
+"Did you see me?" she rejoined, apparently as much at ease as the
+sergeant himself. "I had to do an errand at that end of the town, and I
+met him, and told him what he was. I hadn't spoke to him for months and
+months; for years, I think. I had slipped into doors, down entries,
+anywhere to avoid him, if I saw him coming; but a feeling came over me
+to speak to him then. I'm glad I did. I hope the truths I said to him
+went along with him to enliven him on his journey!"
+
+"Did you see him after that, later in the evening?" resumed the
+inspector, putting the question sociably, and stretching his neck up to
+obtain a view of something at a distance.
+
+"No, I didn't," she replied. "But I would, if I had thought it was going
+to be his last. I'd have bade him remember all his good works where he
+was going to. I'd almost have went with him, I would, to have heard how
+he answered for them, up there."
+
+Caroline Mason glanced upwards to indicate the sky, when a loud flourish
+of trumpets from the advancing heralds sounded close upon them. As they
+rode up at a foot pace, they dropped their trumpets, and the mounted
+javelin-men quickly followed, their javelins in rest. A carriage or two;
+a few more officials; and then advanced the equipage of the high
+sheriff. Only one of the judges was in it, fully robed: a fine man, with
+a benign countenance. A grave smile was on it as he spoke to the
+sheriff, who sat opposite to him, his chaplain by his side.
+
+Sergeant Delves's attention was distracted for an instant, and when he
+looked round again, Caroline Mason had disappeared. He just caught sight
+of her in the distance, winding her way through the crowd, her head
+down.
+
+"Did she do it, or did she not?" cried the sergeant, in soliloquy. "Go
+on, go on, my lady, for the present; you are about to be a bit looked
+after."
+
+How _did_ the prisoners feel, and Herbert Dare amongst them, as the
+joyous sounds, outside, fell upon their ears; the blast of the trumpets,
+the sweetness of the bells, the stir of life: penetrating within the
+walls of the city and county prisons? Did they feel that the pomp and
+show, run after as a holiday sight, was only a cruel advent to
+them?--that the formidable and fiery vision in the scarlet robe and
+flowing wig, who sat in the carriage, bending his serene face upon the
+mob, collected to stare and shout, might prove the pronouncer of their
+doom?--a doom that should close the portals of this world upon them, and
+open those of eternity!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+THE TRIAL.
+
+
+Tuesday morning was the day fixed for the trial of Herbert Dare. You
+might have walked upon the people's heads in the vicinity of the
+Guildhall, for all the town wished to get in to hear it. Of course only
+a very small portion of the town, relatively speaking, could have its
+wish, or succeed in fighting a way to a place. Of the rest, some went
+back to their homes, disappointed and exploding; and the rest collected
+outside and blocked up the street. The police had their work cut out
+that day; whilst the javelin-men, heralding in the judges, experienced
+great difficulty in keeping clear the passages. The heat in court would
+be desperate as the day advanced.
+
+Sir William Leader, as senior judge, took his seat in the criminal
+court. It was he whom you saw in the sheriff's carriage on Saturday. The
+same benignant face was bent upon the crowded court that had been bent
+upon the street mob; the same penetrating eye; the same grave, calm
+bearing. The prisoner was immediately placed at the bar, and all eyes,
+strange or familiar, were strained to look at him. They saw a tall,
+handsome young man, looking too gentlemanly to stand in the felon's
+dock. He was habited in deep mourning. His countenance, usually somewhat
+conspicuous for its bright complexion, was pale, probably from the
+moment's emotion, and his white handkerchief was lifted to his mouth as
+he moved forward; otherwise he was calm. Old Anthony Dale was in court,
+looking far more agitated than his son. Preliminaries were gone through,
+and the trial began.
+
+"Prisoner at the bar, how say you? Are you guilty, or not guilty?"
+
+Herbert Dare raised his eyes fearlessly, and pleaded in a firm tone:
+
+"Not Guilty!"
+
+The leading counsel for the prosecution, Serjeant Seeitall, stated the
+case. His address occupied some time, and he then proceeded to call
+witnesses. One of the first examined was Betsy Carter. She deposed to
+the facts of having sat up with the lady's-maid and Joseph, until the
+return of Mr. and Mrs. Dare and their daughter; to having then gone into
+the dining-room with a light to look for Mr. Dare's pipe, which she had
+left there in the morning, when cleaning the room. "In moving forward
+with the candle, I saw something dark on the ground," continued Betsy,
+who, when her first timidity had gone off, seemed inclined to be
+communicative. "At the first glance, I thought it was one of the
+gentlemen gone to sleep there; but when I stooped down with the light, I
+saw it was the face of the dead. Awful, it looked!"
+
+"What did you next do?" demanded the examining counsel.
+
+"Screeched out, gentlemen," responded Betsy.
+
+"What else?"
+
+"I went out of the room, screeching to Joseph in the hall, and master
+came in from outside the front door, where he was waiting, all peaceful
+and ignorant, for his pipe, little thinking what there was so close to
+him. I screeched out all the more, gentlemen, when I remembered the
+quarrel that had took place at dinner that afternoon, and I knew it was
+nobody but Mr. Herbert that had done the murder."
+
+The witness was sharply told to confine herself to evidence.
+
+"It couldn't be nobody else," retorted Betsy, who, once set going, was a
+match for any cross-examiner. "There was the cloak to prove it. Mr.
+Herbert had gone out in the cloak that very night, and the poor dead
+gentleman was lying on it. Which proves it must have come off in the
+scuffle between 'em."
+
+The fact of the quarrel, the facts connected with the cloak, as well as
+all other facts, had been mentioned by the learned Serjeant Seeitall in
+his opening address. The witness was questioned as to what she knew of
+the quarrel: but it appeared that she had not been present; consequently
+could not testify to it. The cloak she could say more about, and spoke
+of it confidently as Mr. Herbert's.
+
+"How did you know the cloak, found under the dead man, was Mr.
+Herbert's?" interposed the prisoner's counsel, Mr. Chattaway.
+
+"Because I did," returned the witness.
+
+"I ask you how you knew it?"
+
+"By lots of tokens," she answered. "By the shining black clasp, for one
+thing, and by the tears and jags in it, for another. Nobody has ever
+pretended it was not the cloak. I have seen it fifty times hanging up in
+Mr. Herbert's closet."
+
+"You saw the prisoner going out in it that evening?"
+
+"Yes, I did," she answered. "I was looking out at Miss Adelaide's
+chamber window, and I saw him come out of the dining-room window, and go
+off towards the front gates. The gentlemen often went out through the
+dining-room window, instead of at the hall door."
+
+"The prisoner says he came back immediately, and left his cloak in the
+dining-room, going out finally without it. Did you see him come back?"
+
+"No, I didn't," replied Betsy.
+
+"How long did you remain at the window?"
+
+"Not long."
+
+"Did you remain long enough for him to cross the lawn to the front
+entrance gates, and come back again?"
+
+"No, I don't think I did, sir."
+
+"The court will please take note of that answer," said Mr. Chattaway,
+who was aware that a great deal had been made of the fact of the
+housemaid's having seen him go out in the cloak. "You left the window
+then, immediately?"
+
+"Pretty near immediately. I don't think I stayed long enough at it for
+him to come back from the front gates--if he did come. I have never said
+I did," she resentfully continued.
+
+"What time was it that you saw him go out?"
+
+"I hadn't took particular notice of the time. It was dusk. I was turning
+down my beds; and I generally do that a little before nine. The next
+room I went into was Mr. Anthony's."
+
+"The deceased was in it, was he not?"
+
+"He was in it, stretched full length upon the sofa. He had his head down
+on the cushion, and his feet up over the arm at the foot, all
+comfortable and easy, with a cigar in his mouth, and some glasses and
+things on the table near him. 'What are you come bothering in here for?'
+he asked. So I begged his pardon; for you see, gentlemen, I didn't know
+he was there, and I went out again, and met Joseph carrying up a note to
+him. A little while after that, he went out."
+
+The witness's propensity to degenerate into gossip appeared
+irrepressible. Several times she was stopped; once by the judge.
+
+"Of how many servants did the household of Mr. Dare consist?" she was
+asked.
+
+"There were four of us, gentlemen."
+
+"Did you all sit up that night?"
+
+"All but the cook. She went to bed."
+
+"And the family, those who were at home, went to bed?"
+
+"All of them, sir. The governess went early; she was not well; and Miss
+Rosa and Miss Minny went, and the two young gentlemen went when they
+came home from playing cricket."
+
+"In point of fact, then, no one was up except you three servants in the
+kitchen?"
+
+"Nobody, sir."
+
+"And you heard no noise in the house until the return of Mr. and Mrs.
+Dare?"
+
+"We never heard nothing," responded Betsy. "We were sitting quietly in
+the kitchen; me and the lady's-maid at work, and Joseph asleep. We never
+heard any noise at all."
+
+This was the substance of what was asked her. Joseph was next called,
+and gave his testimony. He deposed to having fastened up the house at
+eleven o'clock, with the exception of the dining-room window: that was
+left open in obedience to orders. All other facts within his knowledge
+he also testified to. The governess, Signorina Varsini, was called, and
+questioned upon two points: what she had seen and heard of the quarrel,
+and of the subsequent conduct of Anthony and Herbert to each other in
+the drawing-room. But her testimony amounted to nothing, and she might
+as well not have been troubled. She was also asked whether she had heard
+any noise in the house between eleven o'clock and the return of Mr. and
+Mrs. Dare. She replied that she did not hear any, for she had been
+asleep. She went to sleep long before eleven, and did not wake up until
+aroused by the commotion caused by the finding of the body. The witness
+was proceeding to favour the court with her own conviction that the
+prisoner was innocent, but was brought up with a summary notice that
+that was not evidence, and that, if she knew nothing more, she might
+withdraw. Upon which, she honoured the bench with an elaborate curtsey,
+and retired. Not a witness throughout the day gave evidence with more
+absolute equanimity.
+
+Lord Hawkesley was examined; also Mr. Brittle--the latter coming to
+Helstonleigh on his subpoena. But to give the testimony of all the
+witnesses in length, would only be to repeat what has already been
+related. It will be sufficient to extract a few questions here and
+there.
+
+"What were the games played in your rooms that evening?" was asked of
+Mr. Brittle.
+
+"Some played whist; some écarté."
+
+"At which did the deceased play?"
+
+"At whist."
+
+"Was he a loser, or a gainer?"
+
+"A loser; but to a very trifling amount. We were playing half-crown
+points. He and myself played against Lord Hawkesley and Captain Bellew.
+We broke up because he, the deceased, was not sufficiently sober to
+play."
+
+"Was he sober when he joined you?"
+
+"By no means. He appeared to have been drinking rather freely; and he
+took more in my rooms, which made him worse."
+
+"Why did you accompany him home?"
+
+"He was scarcely in a state to proceed alone: and I felt no objection to
+a walk. It was a fine night."
+
+"Did he speak, during the evening, of the dispute which had taken place
+between him and his brother?" interposed the judge.
+
+"He did not, my lord. A slight incident occurred, as we were going to
+his home, which it may be perhaps as well to mention----"
+
+"You must mention everything which bears upon this unhappy case, sir,"
+interrupted the judge. "You are sworn to tell the whole truth."
+
+"I do not suppose it does bear upon it directly, my lord. Had I attached
+importance to it, I should have spoken of it before. In passing the
+turning which leads to the race-course, a man met us, and began to abuse
+the deceased. The deceased was inclined to stop and return it, but I
+drew him on."
+
+"Of what nature was the abuse?" asked the counsel.
+
+"I do not recollect the precise terms. It was to the effect that he, the
+deceased, tippled away his money instead of paying his debts. The man
+backed against the wall as he spoke: he appeared to have had rather too
+much himself. I drew the deceased on, and we were soon out of hearing."
+
+"What became of the man?"
+
+"I do not know. We left him standing against the wall. He called loudly
+after the deceased to know when his bill was to be paid. I judged him to
+be some petty tradesman."
+
+"Did he follow you?"
+
+"No. At least, we heard no more of him afterwards. I saw the deceased
+safely within his own gate, and left him."
+
+"What state, as to sobriety, was the deceased in then?"
+
+"He was what may be called half-seasover," replied the witness. "He
+could talk, but his words were not very distinct."
+
+"Could he walk alone?"
+
+"After a fashion. He stumbled as he walked."
+
+"What time was this?"
+
+"About half-past eleven. I think the half-hour struck directly after I
+left him, but I am not quite sure."
+
+"As you returned, did you see anything of the man who had accosted the
+deceased?"
+
+"Not anything."
+
+Strange to say the very man thus spoken of was in court, listening to
+the trial. Upon hearing the evidence given by Mr. Brittle, he
+voluntarily came forward as a witness. He said he had been "having a
+drop," and it had made him abusive, but that Anthony Dare had owed him
+money long for work done, mending and making. He was a jobbing tailor,
+and the bill was a matter of fourteen pounds. Anthony Dare had only put
+him off and off; he was a poor man, with a wife and family to keep, and
+he wanted the money badly; but now, he supposed, he should never be
+paid. He lived close to the spot where he met the deceased and the
+gentleman who had just given evidence, and he could prove that he went
+home as soon as they were out of sight, and was in bed at half-past
+eleven. What with debts and various other things, he concluded the town
+had had enough to rue in young Anthony Dare. Still, the poor fellow
+didn't deserve such a shocking fate as murder, and he would have been
+the first to protect him from it.
+
+That the evidence was given in good faith, was undoubted. He was known
+to the town as a harmless, inoffensive man, addicted, though upon rare
+occasions, to taking more than was good for him, when he was apt to
+dilate upon his grievances.
+
+The constable who had been on duty that night near Mr. Dare's residence
+was the next witness called. "Did you see the deceased that night?" was
+asked of him.
+
+"Yes, sir, I did," was the reply. "I saw him walking home with the
+gentleman who has given evidence--Mr. Brittle. I noticed that young Mr.
+Dare talked thick, as if he had been drinking."
+
+"Did they appear to be on good terms?"
+
+"Very good terms, sir. Mr. Brittle was laughing when he opened the gate
+for the deceased, and told him to mind he did not kiss the grass; or
+something to that effect."
+
+"Were you close to them?"
+
+"Quite close, sir. I said 'Good night' to the deceased, but he seemed
+not to notice it. I stood and watched him over the grass. He reeled as
+he walked."
+
+"What time was this?"
+
+"Nigh upon half-past eleven, sir."
+
+"Did you detect any signs of people moving within the house?"
+
+"Not any, sir. The house seemed quite still, and the blinds were down
+before the windows."
+
+"Did you see any one enter the gate that night besides the deceased?"
+
+"Not any one."
+
+"Not the prisoner?"
+
+"Not any one," repeated the policeman.
+
+"Did you see anything of the prisoner later, between half-past one and
+two, the time he alleges as that of his going home?"
+
+"I never saw the prisoner at all that night, sir."
+
+"He could have gone in, as he states, without your seeing him?"
+interposed the prisoner's counsel.
+
+"Yes, certainly, a dozen times over. My beat extended to half-a-mile
+beyond Mr. Dare's."
+
+One witness, who was placed in the box, created a profound sensation:
+for it was the unhappy father, Anthony Dare. Since the deed was
+committed, two months ago, Mr. Dare had been growing old. His brow was
+furrowed, his cheeks were wrinkled, his hair was turning white, and he
+looked, as he obeyed the call to the witness-box, as a man sinking under
+a heavy weight of care. Many of the countenances present expressed deep
+commiseration for him.
+
+He was sworn, and various questions were asked him. Amongst others,
+whether he knew anything of the quarrel which had taken place between
+his two sons.
+
+"Personally, nothing," was the reply. "I was not at home."
+
+"It has been testified that when they were parted, your son Herbert
+threatened his brother. Is he of a revengeful disposition?"
+
+"No," replied Mr. Dare, with emotion; "that, I can truly say, he is not.
+My poor son, Anthony, was somewhat given to sullenness; but Herbert
+never was."
+
+"There had been a great deal of ill-feeling between them of late, I
+believe."
+
+"I fear there had been."
+
+
+"It is stated that you yourself, upon leaving home that evening, left
+them a warning not to quarrel. Was it so?"
+
+"I believe I did. Anthony entered the house as we were leaving it, and I
+did say something to him to that effect."
+
+"The prisoner was not present?"
+
+"No. He had not returned."
+
+"It is proved that he came home later, dined, and went out again at
+dusk. It does not appear that he was seen afterwards by any member of
+your household, until you yourself went up to his room and found him
+there, after the discovery of the body. His own account is, that he had
+only recently returned. Do you know where he was, during his absence?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Or where he went to?"
+
+"No," repeated the witness in sadly faltering tones, for he knew that
+this was the one weak point in the defence.
+
+"He will not tell you?"
+
+"He declines to do so. But," the witness added, with emotion, "he has
+denied his guilt to me from the first, in the most decisive manner: and
+I solemnly believe him to be innocent. Why he will not state where he
+was, I cannot conceive; but not a shade of doubt rests upon my mind that
+he could state it if he chose, and that it would be the means of
+establishing the fact of his absence. I would not assert this if I did
+not believe it," said the witness, raising his trembling hand. "They
+were both my boys: the one destroyed was my eldest, perhaps my dearest;
+and I declare that I would not, knowingly, screen his assassin, although
+that assassin were his brother."
+
+The case for the prosecution concluded, and the defence was entered
+upon. The prisoner's counsel--two of them eminent men, Mr. Chattaway
+himself being no secondary light in the forensic world--laboured under
+one disadvantage, as it appeared to the crowded court. They exerted all
+their eloquence in seeking to divert the guilt from the prisoner: but
+they could not--distort facts as they might, call upon imagination as
+they would--they could not conjure up the ghost of any other channel to
+which to direct suspicion. There lay the weak point, as it had lain
+throughout. If Herbert Dare was not guilty, who was? The family, quietly
+sleeping in their beds, were beyond the pale of suspicion; the household
+equally so; and no trace of any midnight intruder to the house could be
+found. It was a grave stumbling-block for the prisoner's counsel; but
+such stumbling-blocks are as nothing to an expert pleader. Bit by bit
+Mr. Chattaway disposed, or seemed to dispose, of every argument that
+could tell against the prisoner. The presence of the cloak in the
+dining-room, from which so much appearance of guilt had been deduced, he
+converted into a negative proof of innocence. "Had he been the one
+engaged in the struggle," argued the learned Q.C., "would he have been
+mad enough to leave his own cloak there, underneath his victim, a
+damning proof of guilt? No! that, at any rate, he would have taken away.
+The very fact of the cloak being under the murdered man was a most
+indisputable proof, as he regarded it, that the prisoner remained
+totally ignorant of what had happened--ignorant of his unfortunate
+brother's being at all in the dining-room. Why! had he only surmised
+that his brother was lying, wounded or dead, in the room, would he not
+have hastened to remove his cloak out of it, before it should be seen
+there, knowing, as he must know, that, from the very terms on which he
+and his brother had been, it would be looked upon as a proof of his
+guilt?" The argument told well with the jury--probably with the judge.
+
+Bit by bit, so did he thus dispose of the suspicious circumstances: of
+all, except one. And that was the great one, the one that nobody could
+get over: the refusal of the prisoner to state where he was that night.
+"All in good time, gentlemen of the jury," said Mr. Chattaway, some
+murmured words reaching his ear that the omission was deemed ominous. "I
+am coming to that later; and I shall prove as complete and distinct an
+_alibi_ as it was ever my lot to submit to an enlightened court."
+
+The court listened, the jury listened, the spectators listened, and
+"hoped he might." He had spoken, for the most part, to incredulous ears.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+THE WITNESSES FOR THE ALIBI.
+
+
+When the speech of the counsel ended, and the time came for the
+production of the witness or witnesses who were to prove the _alibi_,
+there appeared to be some delay. The intense heat of the court had been
+growing greater with every hour. The rays of the afternoon sun, now
+sinking lower and lower in the heavens, had only brought with them a
+more deadly feeling of suffocation. But, to go out for a breath of air,
+even had the thronged state of the passages permitted the movement,
+appeared to enter into no one's thoughts. Their suspense was too keen,
+their interest too absorbing. Who were those mysterious witnesses, that
+would testify to the innocence of Herbert Dare?
+
+A stir at the extreme end of the court, where it joined the other
+passage. Every eye was strained to see, every ear to listen, as an usher
+came clearing the way. "By your leave there--by your leave; room for a
+witness!"
+
+The spectators looked, and stretched their necks, and looked again. A
+few among them experienced a strange thrill of disappointment, and felt
+that they should have much pleasure in being allowed the privilege of
+boxing the usher's ears, for he preceded no one more important than
+Richard Winthorne, the lawyer. Ah, but wait a bit! What short and slight
+figure is it that Mr. Winthorne is guiding along? The angry crowd have
+not caught sight of her yet.
+
+But, when they do--when the drooping, shrinking form is at length in the
+witness-box; her eyes never raised, her lovely face bent in timid
+dread--then a murmur arises, and shakes the court to its foundation. The
+judge feels for his glasses--rarely used--and puts them across his nose,
+and gazes at her. A fair girl, attired in the simple, modest garb
+peculiar to the sect called Quakers, not more modest than the lovely and
+gentle face. She does not take the oath, only the affirmation peculiar
+to her people.
+
+"What is your name?" commenced the prisoner's counsel.
+
+That she spoke words in reply, was evident, by the moving of her lips:
+but they could not be heard.
+
+"You must speak up," interposed the judge, in tones of kindness.
+
+A deep struggle for breath, an effort of which even those around could
+see the pain, and the answer came. "They call me Anna. I am the daughter
+of Samuel Lynn."
+
+"Where do your live?"
+
+"I live with my father and Patience, in the London Road."
+
+"What do you know of the prisoner at the bar?"
+
+A pause. She probably did not understand the sort of answer required.
+One came that was unexpected.
+
+"I know him to be innocent of the crime of which he is accused."
+
+"How do you know this?"
+
+"Because he could not have been near the spot at the time."
+
+"Where was he then?"
+
+"With me."
+
+But the reply came forth in so faint a whisper that again she had to be
+enjoined to speak louder, and she repeated it, using different words.
+
+"He was at our house."
+
+"At what hour did he go to your house?"
+
+"It was past nine when he came up first."
+
+"And what time did he leave?"
+
+"It was about one in the morning."
+
+The answer appeared to create some stir. A late hour for a sober little
+Quakeress to confess to.
+
+"Was he spending the evening with your friends?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Did they not know he was there?"
+
+"No."
+
+"It was a clandestine visit to yourself, then? Where were they?"
+
+A pause, and a very trembling answer. "They were in bed."
+
+"Oh! You were entertaining him by yourself, then?"
+
+She burst into tears. The judge let fall his glasses as though under the
+pressure of some annoyance, every feature of his fine face expressive of
+compassion: it may be, his thoughts had flown to daughters of his own.
+The crowd stood with open mouths, gaping with undisguised astonishment,
+and the burly Queen's counsel proceeded.
+
+"And so he prolonged his visit until one o'clock in the morning?"
+
+"I was locked out," she sobbed. "That is how he came to stay so late."
+
+Bit by bit, with question and cross-questioning, it all came out: that
+Herbert Dare had been in the habit of paying stolen visits to the field,
+and that Anna had been in the habit of meeting him there. That she had
+gone in on this night just before ten, which was later than she had ever
+stayed out before: but, finding Hester had to go out for medicine for
+Patience, she had run to the field again to take a book to the prisoner;
+and that upon attempting to enter soon afterwards, she found the door
+locked, Hester having met the doctor's boy, and come back at once. She
+told it all, as simply and guilelessly as a child.
+
+"What were you doing all that time? From ten o'clock until one in the
+morning?"
+
+"I was sitting on the door-step, crying."
+
+"Was the prisoner with you?"
+
+"Yes. He stood by me part of the time, telling me not to be afraid; and
+the rest of the time--more than an hour, I think--he was working at the
+wires of the pantry window, to try to get in."
+
+"Was he all that time at the wires?"
+
+"It was a long time before I remembered the pantry window. He wanted to
+knock up Hester, but I was afraid to let him. I feared she might tell
+Patience, and they would have been so angry with me. He got in, at last,
+at the pantry window, and he opened the kitchen window for me, and I
+went in by it."
+
+"And you mean to say he was all that time, till one o'clock in the
+morning, forcing the wires of a pantry window?" cried Sergeant Seeitall.
+
+"It was nearly one. I am telling thee the truth."
+
+"And you did not lose sight of the prisoner from the time he first came
+to the field, at nine o'clock, until he left you at one?"
+
+"Only for the few minutes--it may have been four or five--when I ran in
+and came out again with the book. He waited in the field."
+
+"What time was that?"
+
+"The ten o'clock bell was going in Helstonleigh. We could hear it."
+
+"He was with you all the rest of the time."
+
+"Yes, all. When he was working at the pantry window I could not see him,
+because he was round the angle of the house, but I could hear him at the
+wires. Not a minute of the time but I heard him. He was more than an
+hour at the wires, as I have told thee."
+
+"And until he began at the wires?"
+
+"He was standing up by me, telling me not to be afraid."
+
+"All the time? You affirm this?"
+
+"I am affirming all that I say to thee. I am speaking as before my
+Maker."
+
+"Don't you think it is a pretty confession for a young lady to make?"
+
+She burst into fresh tears. The judge turned his grave face upon
+Sergeant Seeitall. But the sergeant had impudence enough for ten.
+
+"Pray, how many times had that pretty little midnight drama been
+enacted?" he continued, whilst Anna sobbed in distress.
+
+"Never before," burst forth a deep voice. "Don't you see it was a pure
+accident, as she tells you? How dare you treat her as you might a
+shameless witness?"
+
+The interruption--one of powerful emotion--had come from the prisoner.
+At the sound of his voice, Anna started, and looked round hurriedly to
+the quarter whence it came. It was the first time she had raised her
+eyes to the court since entering the witness-box. She had glanced up to
+answer whoever questioned her, and that was all.
+
+"Well?" said Sergeant Seeitall, as if demanding what else she might have
+to communicate.
+
+"I have no more to tell. I have told thee all I know. It was nearly one
+o'clock when he went away, and I never saw him after."
+
+"Did the prisoner wear a cloak when he came to the field that night?"
+
+"No. He wore one sometimes, but he did not have it on that night. It was
+very warm----"
+
+But, at that moment, Anna Lynn became conscious that a familiar face was
+strained upon her from the midst of the crowd: familiar, and yet not
+familiar; for the face was distorted from its natural look, and was
+blanched, as of one in the last agony--the face of Samuel Lynn. With a
+sharp cry of pain--of dread--Anna fell on the floor in a fainting fit.
+What the shame of being before that public court, of answering the
+searching questions of the counsel, had failed to take away--her
+senses--the sight of her father, cognizant of her disgrace, had
+effected. Surely it was a disgrace for a young and guileless maiden to
+have to confess to such an escapade--an escapade that sounded worse to
+censuring ears than it had been in reality. Anna fainted. Mr. Winthorne
+stepped forward, and she was borne out.
+
+Another Quakeress was now put into the witness-box, and the court looked
+upon a little middle-aged woman, whose face was sallow, and who showed
+her defective teeth as she spoke. It was Hester Dell. She wore a brown
+silk bonnet, lined with white, and a fawn-coloured shawl. She was told
+that she must state what she knew, relative to the visit of Herbert Dare
+that night.
+
+"I went to rest at my usual hour, or, maybe, a trifle later, for I had
+waited for the arrival of some physic, never supposing but that the
+child, Anna, had gone to her room before me, and was safe in bed. I had
+been asleep some considerable time, as it seemed, when I was awakened by
+what sounded like the raising of the kitchen window underneath. I sat up
+in bed and listened, and was convinced that the window was being raised
+slowly and cautiously, as if the raiser did not want it to be heard. I
+was considerably startled, the more so as I knew I had left the window
+fastened: and my thoughts turned to house-breakers. While I deliberated
+what to do, seeing I was but a lone woman in the house, save for the
+child Anna, and Patience who was disabled in her bed, I heard what
+appeared to be the voice of the child, and it sounded in the yard. I
+went to my window, but I could not see anything, it being right over the
+kitchen, and I not daring to open it. But I still heard Anna's voice:
+she was speaking in a low tone, and I believed I caught other tones
+also--those of a man. I thought I must be asleep and dreaming: next I
+thought it must be young Gar from the next door, Jane Halliburton's son.
+Her other sons I knew to be not at home; the one being abroad, the other
+at the University of Oxford. I deliberated, could anything be the matter
+at their house, and the boy have come for help. Then I reflected that
+that was most unlikely, for why should he be stealthily opening the
+kitchen window, and why should Anna be whispering with him? In short, to
+tell thee the truth"--raising her eyes to the judge, whom she appeared
+to address, to the ignoring of everyone else--"I did not know what to
+think, and I grew more disturbed. I quietly put on a few things, and
+went softly down the stairs, deeming it well, for my own sake, to feel
+my way, as it were, and not to run headlong into danger. I stood a
+moment at the kitchen door, listening; and there I distinctly heard Anna
+laugh--a little, gentle laugh. It reassured me, though I was still
+puzzled; and I opened the door at once."
+
+Here the witness made a dead pause.
+
+"What did you see when you opened the door?" asked the judge.
+
+"I would not tell thee, but that I am bound to tell thee," she frankly
+answered. "I saw the prisoner, Herbert Dare. He appeared to have been
+laughing with Anna, who stood near him, and he was preparing to get out
+at the window as I entered."
+
+"Well? what next?" inquired the counsel in an impatient tone; for Hester
+had stopped again.
+
+"I can hardly tell what next," replied the witness. "Looking back, it
+appears nothing but confusion in my mind. It seemed nothing but
+confusion at the time. Anna cried out, and hid her face in fear; and the
+prisoner attempted some explanation, which I would not listen to. To see
+a son of Anthony Dare's in the house with the child at that midnight
+hour, filled me with anger and bewilderment. I ordered him away; I
+believe I pushed him through the window; I threatened to call in a
+policeman. Finally he went away."
+
+"Saying nothing?"
+
+"I tell you all, I would not listen to it. I remembered scraps of what
+he said afterwards. That Anna was not to blame--that I had no cause to
+scold her or to acquaint Patience with what happened--that the fault, if
+there was any fault, was mine, for locking the back door so quickly. I
+refused to hear farther, and he departed, saying he would explain when I
+was less angry. That is all I saw of him."
+
+"Did you mention this affair to anyone?" asked the counsel for the
+prosecution.
+
+"No."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"The child clung about me in tears after he was gone, giving me the
+explanation that I would not hear from him, and beseeching me not to
+acquaint Patience. She told me how it had happened. That upon my going
+out to see after the sleeping-draught for Patience, she had taken the
+opportunity to run to the field with a book, where Herbert Dare waited:
+and that upon attempting to come in again she found the door locked."
+
+"You returned sooner than she expected?"
+
+"Yes. I met the doctor's boy near our house, bringing the physic, and I
+took it from him and went home again directly. Not seeing Anna about, I
+never thought but that she had retired to bed. I went up also, trying
+the back door as I passed it, which to my surprise I found unfastened."
+
+"Why to your surprise?"
+
+"Because I had, as I believed, previously turned the key of it. Finding
+it unlocked, I concluded I must have been mistaken. Afterwards, when the
+explanation came, I learnt that Anna had undone it. She clung about me,
+as I tell thee, sobbing and crying, saying, as he had said, that there
+was no cause to be angry with her: that she could not help what had
+happened; and that she had sat crying on the door-step the whole of the
+time, until he had effected an entrance for her. I went to the pantry
+window, and saw where the wires had been torn away, not roughly, but
+neatly; and I knew it must have taken a long time to accomplish. I fell
+in with the child's prayer, and did not speak of what had occurred; not
+even to Patience. This is the first time it has escaped my lips."
+
+"So you deemed it desirable to conceal such an adventure, and give the
+prisoner opportunity to renew his midnight visits?" retorted the counsel
+for the prosecution.
+
+"What was done could not be undone," said the witness. "I was willing to
+spare the scandal to the child, and not be the means of spreading it
+abroad. While I was deliberating whether to tell Patience, seeing she
+was in so suffering a state, news came that Herbert Dare was a prisoner.
+He had been arrested the following morning, on the accusation of
+murdering his brother, and I knew that he was safe for several weeks to
+come. Hence I held my tongue."
+
+The witness had given her evidence in a clear, straightforward,
+uncompromising manner, widely at variance with the distressed timidity
+of Anna. Not a shade of doubt rested on the mind of any person in court
+that both had spoken the exact truth. But the counsel seemed inclined to
+question still.
+
+"Since when did you know you were coming here to give this evidence?"
+
+"Only when I did come. Richard Winthorne, the man of law, came to our
+house in a fly this afternoon, and brought us away with him. By some
+remarks he exchanged with Anna when we were in it, I found that she had
+known of it this day or two. They feared to avert me, I suppose, lest,
+maybe, I might refuse to attend."
+
+"One question more, witness. Did the prisoner wear a cloak that night?"
+
+"No; I did not see any."
+
+This closed the evidence, and the witness was allowed to withdraw.
+Richard Winthorne went in search of Samuel Lynn, and found him seated on
+a bench in the outer hall surrounded by gentlemen of his persuasion,
+many of them of high standing in Helstonleigh. Tales of marvel, you
+know, never lose anything in spreading; neither are people given to
+placing a light construction on public gossip, when they can, by any
+stretch of imagination, give it a dark one. In this affair, however, no
+very great stretch was required. The town jumped to the charitable
+conclusion that Anna Lynn must be one of the naughtiest girls under the
+sun; imprudent, ungrateful, disobedient; I don't know what else. Had she
+been guilty of scattering poison in Atterly's field, and so killed all
+the lambs, they could not have said, or thought, worse than they did.
+All joined in it, charitable and uncharitable; all sorts of evil notions
+were spread, and were taken up. Herbert Dare, you may be very sure, came
+in for _his_ share.
+
+The news had been taken to Mr. Ashley's manufactory, sent by the
+astounded Patience, that Richard Winthorne had come and taken away Anna
+and Hester Dell to give testimony at the trial of Herbert Dare. The
+Quaker, perplexed and wondering, believed Patience must be demented;
+that the message could have no foundation in truth. Nevertheless, he
+bent his steps to the Guildhall, accompanied by William Halliburton, and
+was witness to the evidence. He, strict and sober-minded, was not likely
+to take up a more favourable construction of the general facts than the
+town was taking up. It may be guessed what it was for him.
+
+He sat now on a bench in the outer hall, surrounded by friends, who, on
+hearing the crying scandal whispered, touching a young member of their
+body, had come flocking down to the Guildhall. When they spoke to him,
+he did not appear to hear; he sat with his hands on his knees, and his
+head sunk on his breast, never raising it. Richard Winthorne approached
+him.
+
+"Miss Lynn and her servant will not be wanted again," said the lawyer.
+"I have sent for a fly."
+
+The fly came. Anna was placed in it by Mr. Winthorne; Hester Dell
+followed; and Samuel Lynn came forward and stumbled into it. It is the
+proper word. He appeared to have no power left in his limbs.
+
+"Thou wilt not be harsh with her, Samuel," whispered an influential
+Friend, who had a benevolent countenance. "Some of us will confer with
+thee to-morrow; but, meanwhile, do not be harsh with her. Thou wilt call
+to mind that she is thy child, and motherless."
+
+Samuel Lynn made no reply. He did not appear to hear. He sat opposite
+his daughter, his eyes never lifted, and his face assuming a leaden hue.
+Hester suddenly leaned from the door, and beckoned to William
+Halliburton.
+
+"Will thee please be so obliging as go up with us in the fly?" she said
+in his ear. "I do not like his look."
+
+William stepped in, and the fly drove away with closed blinds, to the
+intense chagrin of the curious mob. Before it was out of the town,
+William and Hester, with a simultaneous movement, supported the Quaker.
+Anna screamed. "What is it?" she uttered, terrified at the sight of his
+drawn, distorted face.
+
+"It is thy work," said Hester, less placidly than she would have spoken
+in a calmer moment. "If thee hast saved the life of thy friend, Herbert
+Dare, thee hast probably destroyed that of thy father."
+
+They were close to the residence of Mr. Parry, and William ordered the
+fly to stop. The surgeon was at home, and took William's place in it.
+Samuel Lynn had been struck down with paralysis.
+
+William was at the house before they were, preparing Patience. Patience
+was so far restored to health herself as to be able to walk about a
+little; she was very lame still.
+
+They carried Mr. Lynn to his room. Anna in her deep humiliation and
+shame--having to give evidence, and such evidence, in the face of that
+open court, had been nothing less to her--flew to her own chamber, and
+flung herself, dressed as she was, on the carpet, in desperate
+abandonment. William saw her there as he passed it from her father's
+room. There was no one to attend to her, for they were occupied with Mr.
+Lynn. It was no moment for ceremony, and William entered and attempted
+to raise her.
+
+"Let me be, William; let me be! I only want to die."
+
+"Anna, child, this will not mend the past. Do not give way like this."
+
+But she resolutely turned from him, sobbing more wildly. "Only to die!
+only to die!"
+
+William went for his mother, and gave her the outline of the tale,
+asking her to go to the house of distress and see what could be done.
+Jane, in utter astonishment, sought further explanation. She could not
+understand him in the least.
+
+"I assure you, I understand it nearly as little," replied William. "Anna
+was locked out through some mistake of Hester's, it appears, and Herbert
+Dare stayed with her. That it will be the means of acquitting him, there
+is no doubt; but Helstonleigh is making its comments very freely."
+
+Jane went in, her senses bewildered. She found Patience in a state not
+to be described; she found Anna where William had left her, reiterating
+the same cry, "Oh, that I were dead! that I were dead!"
+
+Meanwhile, the trial at the Guildhall was drawing to its close, and the
+judge proceeded to sum up. Not with the frantic bursts of oratory
+indulged in by those eloquent gentlemen, the counsel, but in a tone of
+dispassionate reasoning. He placed the facts concisely before the jury,
+not speaking in favour of the prisoner, but candidly avowing that he did
+not see how they could get over the evidence of the prisoner's two
+witnesses, the young Quaker lady and her maid. If that was to be
+believed--and for himself he fully believed it--then the prisoner could
+not have been guilty of the murder, and was clearly entitled to an
+acquittal. It was six o'clock when the jury retired to deliberate.
+
+The judge, the bar, the spectators, sat on, or stood, with what patience
+they might, in the crowded and heated court. On the fiat of those twelve
+men hung the life of the prisoner: whether he was to be discharged an
+innocent man, or hanged as a guilty one. Reposing in the pocket of Sir
+William Leader was a certain little cap, black in colour, innocuous in
+itself, but of awful significance when brought forth by the hand of the
+presiding judge. Was it destined to be brought forth that night?
+
+The jury were coming in at last. Only an hour had they remained in
+deliberation, for seven o'clock was booming out over the town. It had
+seemed to the impatient spectators more than two hours. What must it
+have seemed to the prisoner? They ranged themselves in their box, and
+the crier proclaimed silence.
+
+"Have you agreed upon your verdict, gentlemen of the jury?"
+
+"We have."
+
+"How say you, gentlemen, guilty or not guilty?"
+
+The foreman advanced an imperceptible step and looked at the judge,
+speaking deliberately:
+
+"My lord, we find the prisoner NOT GUILTY."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+A COUCH OF PAIN.
+
+
+"William, I have had my death-blow! I have had my death-blow!"
+
+The speaker was Henry Ashley. Four days had elapsed since the trial of
+Herbert Dare, and William Halliburton saw him now for the first time
+after that event. What with mind and body, Henry was in a grievous state
+of pain: all William's compassion was called forth, as he leaned over
+his couch.
+
+It has been hinted that Helstonleigh, in its charity, took up the very
+worst view of the case that could be taken up, with regard to Anna Lynn.
+Had she gone about with a blazing torch and set all the houses on fire,
+their inhabitants could not have mounted themselves on higher stilts.
+Somehow, _everybody_ took it up. It was like those apparently
+well-authenticated political reports that arrive now and then by
+telegram, driving the Stock Exchange, or the Paris Bourse, into a state
+of mad credulity. No one _thought_ to doubt it; people caught up the
+notion from one another as they catch a fever. If even Samuel Lynn had
+looked upon it in the worst light, bringing to him paralysis, little
+chance was there that others might gaze through a brighter glass. It had
+half killed Henry Ashley: and the words were not, in point of fact, so
+wild as they sounded. "I have had my death-blow! I have had my
+death-blow!"
+
+"No, you have not," was William's answer. "It is a blow--I know it--but
+not one that you cannot outlive."
+
+"Why did you not come to me? Four whole days, and you have never been
+near the house!"
+
+"Because I feared that you would be throwing yourself into the state of
+agitation that you are now doing," replied William, candidly. "Mr.
+Ashley said to me on the Wednesday, 'Henry has one of his bad attacks
+again.' I knew it to be more of mind than body this time, and I thought
+it well that you should be left in quiet. There's no one you can talk
+about it to, except me."
+
+"Your staying away has not served your purpose, then. My father came to
+me with the details, thinking to divert me for a moment from my physical
+pain; never supposing that each word was a dagger plunged into my very
+being. My mother came, with this scrap of news, or the other scrap. Mary
+came, wondering and eager, asking information at second-hand: mamma was
+mysterious over it, and would not tell her. Mary cannot credit ill of
+Anna: she has as great a trust in her still as I had. As I had! Oh,
+William! she was my object in life. She was all my future--my world--my
+heaven!"
+
+"Now you know you will suffer for this excitement," cried William,
+almost as he would have said it to a wayward child.
+
+He might as well have talked to the wind. Henry neither heard nor heeded
+him. He continued, his manner as full of agitation as his mind.
+
+"I am not as other men. You can go forth, all of you, into the world, to
+your pleasures, your amusements. I am confined here. But what mattered
+it? Did I envy you? No. While I had her to think of, I was happier than
+you."
+
+"Had this not happened, you might have been crossed in some other way,
+and so it would have come to the same thing."
+
+"And now it is over," reiterated Henry, paying no attention to the
+remark. "It is over, and gone; and I--I wish, William, I had gone with
+it."
+
+"I wish you would be reasonable."
+
+"Don't preach. You active men, with your innumerable objects and
+interests in life, cannot know what it is for one like me, shut out from
+the world, to _love_. I tell you, William, it was literally my life; the
+core of my life; my all. I am not sure but that I have been mad ever
+since."
+
+"I am not sure but that you are mad now," returned William, believing
+that to humour him might be the worst plan he could adopt.
+
+"I dare say I am," was the unsatisfactory answer. "Four days, and I have
+had to bury it all within me! I could not wail it out to my own pillow
+at night; for they concluded it was one of my bad attacks, and old nurse
+was posted in the bed in the next room with the door open. There's no
+one I can rave to but you, and you must let me do it, unless you would
+have me go quite mad, I hope I shan't be here long to be a trouble to
+any of you."
+
+William did not know what to say. He believed there was nothing for it
+at present but to let him "rave himself out." "But I wish," he said,
+aloud, continuing the bent of his own thoughts, "that you would be a
+little rational over it."
+
+"Stop a bit. Did you ever experience a blow such as this?"
+
+"No indeed."
+
+"Then don't hold forth to me, I say. You do not understand. It was all
+the joy I had on earth."
+
+"You must learn to find other joys, other----"
+
+"The despicable villain!" broke forth Henry, the heat-drops welling to
+his brow, as they had welled to Anna's when before the judge. "The
+shame-faced, cowardly villain! Was she not Samuel Lynn's child, and my
+sister's friend? What possessed the jury to acquit him? Did they think a
+rope's-end too good for his neck?"
+
+"He was proved innocent of the murder. If he has any conscience----"
+
+"What?" fiercely interrupted Henry Ashley. "_He_ a conscience! I don't
+know what you are dreaming of. Is he going to stop in Helstonleigh?"
+
+"I conclude so. He resumed his place quietly in his father's office the
+day after the trial. He is in London now, but only temporarily."
+
+"Resumed his place quietly! What was the mob about, then?"
+
+The question was put so quaintly, in such confiding simplicity, that a
+smile rose to William's face. "In awe of the police, I expect," he
+answered. "The Dares, while his fate was uncertain, have been
+rusticating. Cyril told me to-day, that now that the accusation was
+proved to have been false, they were 'coming out' again."
+
+"Coming out in what? Villainy?"
+
+"He left the 'what' to be inferred. In grandeur, I expect. The
+established innocence of Herbert----"
+
+"If you apply that word to the man, William Halliburton, you are as
+black as he is."
+
+William remembered Henry's tribulation both of mind and body, and went
+on without the shadow of a retort.
+
+"I apply it to him in relation to the crime of which he was charged. His
+acquittal and release have caused the Dares to hold up their heads
+again. But they have lost caste in Helstonleigh."
+
+"Caste!" was the scornful ejaculation of Henry Ashley. "They never had
+any caste to lose. Does the master intend to retain Cyril in the
+manufactory?"
+
+"I have heard nothing to the contrary. If he retained him whilst the
+accusation was hanging over Herbert Dare's head, he will not be likely
+to discard him now it is removed."
+
+"Removed!" shrieked Henry. "If one accusation has been removed, has not
+a worse taken its place?"
+
+"Would it be just to visit on one brother the sins of another?"
+
+"A nice pair of brothers they are!" cried Henry in the sharp, petulant
+manner habitual to him, when racked with pain. "How will Samuel Lynn
+like the company of Cyril Dare by his side in the manufactory, when he
+gets well again?"
+
+William shook his head. These considerations were not for him. They were
+Mr. Ashley's.
+
+"You heard her give her evidence?" resumed Henry, breaking a pause.
+
+"Most of it."
+
+"Tell it me."
+
+"No, Henry; it would not do you good to hear it."
+
+"Tell it me, I say," persisted Henry wilfully. "I know it in substance.
+I want to have it repeated over to me, word for word."
+
+"But----"
+
+Henry suddenly raised his hand and laid it on William's lips, with a
+warning movement. He turned and saw Mary Ashley.
+
+"Take her back to the drawing-room, William," he whispered. "I can bear
+no one but you about me now. Not yet, Mary," he added aloud, motioning
+his sister away with his hand. "Not now."
+
+Mary halted in indecision. William advanced, placed her hand within his
+arm, and led her, somewhat summarily, from the room.
+
+"I am only obeying orders, Miss Ashley," said he. "They are to see you
+back to the drawing-room."
+
+"If Henry can bear you with him, he might bear me."
+
+"You know what his whims and fancies are, when he is suffering."
+
+"Is there not a particularly good understanding between you and Henry?"
+she pointedly asked.
+
+"Yes; we understand each other perfectly."
+
+"Well, then, tell me--what is it that is the matter with him this time?
+I do not like to say so to mamma, because she might call me fanciful,
+but it appears to me that Henry's illness is more on the mind than on
+the body."
+
+William made no reply.
+
+"And yet, I cannot imagine it possible for Henry to have picked up any
+annoyance or grief," resumed Mary. "How can he have done so? He is not
+like one who goes out into the world--who has to meet with cares and
+cheeks. You do not speak," she added, looking at William. "Is it that
+you will not tell me? or do you know nothing?"
+
+William lowered his voice. "I can only say that, should there be
+anything of the sort you mention, the kinder course for Henry--indeed
+the only course--will be, not to allow him to perceive that you suspect
+it. Conceal the suspicion both from him and from others. Remember his
+excessive sensitiveness. When he sees cause to hide his feelings, it
+would be almost death to him to have them scrutinized."
+
+"I think you must be in his full confidence," observed Mary, looking at
+William.
+
+"Pretty well so," he answered, with a passing smile.
+
+"Then, if he has any secret grief, will you try and soothe it to him?"
+
+"With all my best endeavours," earnestly spoke William. But there was
+not the least apparent necessity for his taking Mary Ashley's hand
+between his own, and pressing it there while he said it, any more than
+there was necessity for that vivid blush of hers, as she turned into the
+drawing-room.
+
+But you must be anxious to hear of Anna Lynn. Poor Anna! who had fallen
+so terribly into the black books of the town, without really very much
+deserving it. It was a most unlucky _contretemps_, having been locked
+out; it was a still more unfortunate sequel, having to confess to it at
+the trial. She was not a pattern of goodness, it must be confessed: had
+not yet attained to that perfect model, which expects, as of a right, a
+niche in the saintly calendar. She was reprehensibly vain; she delighted
+in plaguing Patience; and she took to running out into the field, when
+it had been far better that she had remained at home. That running out
+entailed deceit and some stories: but it entailed nothing worse, and
+Helstonleigh need not have been so very severe in its judgment.
+
+Never had there been a more forcible illustration of the old saying,
+"Give a dog a bad name, and hang him," than in this instance. When
+William Halliburton had told Anna that Herbert Dare was not a good man,
+and did not bear a good name, he had told her the strict truth. For that
+very reason a secret intimacy with him was undesirable, however innocent
+it might be, however innocent it _was_, in itself: and for that very
+reason did Helstonleigh look at it through clouded spectacles. Had she
+been locked out all night, instead of half a one, with some one in
+better odour, Helstonleigh had not set up its scornful crest. It is
+quite impossible to tell you what Herbert Dare had done, to have such a
+burden on his back as people seemed inclined to lay there. Perhaps they
+did not know themselves. Some accused him of one thing, some of another;
+ill reports never lose by carrying: the two cats on the tiles, you know,
+were magnified into a hundred. No one is as black as he is
+painted--there's a saying to that effect--neither, I dare say, was
+Herbert Dare. At any rate--and that is what we have to do with--he was
+not so in this particular instance. He was as vexed at the locking out
+as any one else could have been; and he did the best (save one thing)
+that he could for Anna, under the circumstances, and got her in again.
+The only proper thing to have done, was to knock up Hester. He had
+wished to do it, but had yielded to Anna's entreaties, that were born of
+fear.
+
+Not a soul seemed to cast so much as a good word or a charitable thought
+to him in the matter. Did he deserve none? However thoughtless or
+reprehensible his conduct was, in drawing Anna into those field
+excursions, when the explosion came, he met it as a gentleman. Many a
+one, more renowned for the cardinal graces than was Herbert Dare, might
+have spoken out at once, and cleared himself at the expense of making
+known Anna's unlucky escapade. Not so he. A doubt may have been upon him
+that were it betrayed Helstonleigh might cast a taint on her fair name:
+and he strove to save it. He suffered the brand of a murderer to be
+attached to him--he languished for many weeks in prison as a
+criminal--all to save it. He all but went to the scaffold to save it. He
+might have called Anna and Hester Dell forward at the inquest, at the
+preliminary examination before the magistrates, and thus have cleared
+himself; but he would not do so. Whilst there was a chance of his
+innocence being brought to light in any other manner, he would not call
+on Anna. He allowed the odium to settle upon his own head. He went to
+prison, hoping that he should be cleared in some other way. There was a
+generous, chivalric feeling in this, which Helstonleigh could not
+understand when emanating from Herbert Dare, and they declined to give
+him credit for it. They preferred to look at the affair altogether in a
+different light, and to lavish hard names upon it. Every soul was alike:
+there was no exception: Samuel Lynn, and all else in Helstonleigh. They
+caught the epidemic, I say, one from another.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+A RAY OF LIGHT.
+
+
+The first sharpness of the edge worn off, Anna grew cross. She did not
+see why every one should be blaming her. What had so sadly prostrated
+herself was the shame of having to appear before the court; to stand in
+it and give her evidence. The excitement, the shame, combined with the
+terrifying illness of her father, brought on, as Hester told her,
+through her, had sent her into a wild state of contrition and alarm.
+Little wonder that she wished herself dead! The mood passed away as the
+days went on, and Anna became tolerably herself again. When Friends
+called at the house to inquire after or to see her father, she ran and
+hid herself in her room, fearful lest a lecture on those field
+recreations might be delivered to her gratuitously. She shunned
+Patience, too, as much as she could. Patience had grown cold and silent;
+and Anna rather liked the change.
+
+She sat for the most part in her father's room, never moving from his
+bedside, unless disturbed from it; never speaking; eating only when food
+was placed before her. Anna was in grievous fear lest a public reprimand
+should be in store for her, delivered at meeting on First Day: but she
+saw no reason why every one should continue to be cross with her at
+home.
+
+She happened to be alone with her father when he first recovered
+consciousness. Some fifteen days had elapsed since the trial. But for
+the fact of her being with him, a difficulty might have been experienced
+to get her there. She dreaded his anger, his reproach, more than
+anything. So long as he lay without his senses, knowing her not, so long
+was she content to sit, watching. She was seated by the bedside in her
+usual listless attitude, head and eyes cast down, when her father's
+hand, not the one affected, was suddenly lifted and laid upon hers,
+which rested on the counterpane. Startled, Anna turned her gaze upon
+him, and she saw that his intellects were restored. With a suppressed
+cry of dismay she would have flown away, but he clasped his fingers
+round hers.
+
+"Anna!"
+
+She sank down on her knees, shaking as if with ague, and buried her face
+in the clothes. Samuel Lynn stretched forth his hand and put it on her
+head.
+
+"Thou art my own child, Anna; thy mother left thee to me for good and
+for ill; and I will stand by thee in thy sorrow."
+
+She burst into a storm of hysterical tears. He let it have its course;
+he drew her wet face to his and kissed it; he talked to her soothingly,
+never speaking a single word of reproach; and Anna overcame her fear and
+her sobs. She knelt down by the bed still, and let her cheek rest on the
+counterpane.
+
+"It has nearly killed me," he murmured, after a while. "But I pray for
+life: I will struggle hard to live, that thee mayst have one protector.
+Friends and foes may cast reproach to thee, but I will not."
+
+"Why should _they_ cast reproach to me, father?" returned Anna, with a
+little spice of resentment. "I have not harmed them."
+
+"No, child; thee hast not; only thyself. I will help thee to bear the
+reproach. Thou art my own child."
+
+"But there's nothing for _them_ to reproach me with," she reiterated,
+her face buried deeper in the counterpane. "It was not pleasant to stand
+there; but it is over. And they need not reflect upon me for it."
+
+"What is over? To stand where?" he asked.
+
+
+"At the Guildhall, on the trial."
+
+"It is not _that_ that people will reproach thee with, Anna. It was not
+a nice thing for thee; but that, in itself, brings no reproach."
+
+Anna lifted her head wonderingly. "What does, then?" she uttered.
+
+He did not answer. He only closed his eyes, a deep groan bursting from
+the very depths of his heart. It came into Anna's mind that he must be
+thinking of her previous acquaintance with Herbert Dare; of her stolen
+meetings in the field by twilight.
+
+"Oh, father, don't thee be angry with me!" she implored, the tears
+streaming from her eyes. "It was no harm; it was not indeed. Thee
+mightst have been present always, for all the harm there was, and I wish
+thee hadst been. Why should thee think anger of it? There was no more
+harm in my talking with him now and then in the field, than there was in
+my talking with him in Margaret Ashley's drawing-room."
+
+Something in the simple words, in the tone, in the manner altogether,
+caused the Quaker's heart to leap within him. Had he been making a
+molehill into a mountain? Surely, yes! But what else he would have said
+or done, what questions asked, cannot be known, for they were
+interrupted by a visit from William Halliburton. Anna stole away.
+
+William was full of hearty congratulation on the visible
+improvement--the, so far, restoration to health. The Quaker murmured
+some half-inarticulate words, indicating something to the effect that he
+might not have been ill, but for taking up a worse view of the case
+than, as he believed now, it really merited.
+
+William leaned over him; a glad look in his eye; a glad sound in his low
+voice.
+
+"My mother has been telling Patience so to-day. She, my mother, is
+convinced now that very exaggerated blame was cast upon Anna. It was
+foolish of her, of course, to fall into the habit of running to the
+field; but the locking out might have happened to anyone. My mother told
+me this not half an hour ago. She has seen and talked to Anna frequently
+this last day or two, and has drawn her own positive deductions. My
+mother is vexed with herself for having fallen into the popular
+condemnation."
+
+"Ay!" uttered Samuel Lynn. "There _is_ condemnation abroad, then? I
+thought there was."
+
+"People will come to their senses in good time," was William's answer.
+"Never doubt it."
+
+The Quaker raised his feeble hand, and laid it upon William's. "The
+Ashleys--have _they_ blamed her?"
+
+"I fear they have," was the only reply he could make, in his strict
+truth.
+
+"Then, William, thee go to them. Go to them now, and set them right."
+
+He was already going, for he was engaged to the Ashleys that evening.
+Between Henry Ashley, the men at East's, and his own studies, which he
+would not wholly neglect, William's evenings had a tolerably busy time
+of it. He had assumed Samuel Lynn's place in the manufactory by Mr.
+Ashley's orders, head of all things, under the master. Cyril ground his
+teeth at this; he looked upon it as a slight to himself; but Cyril had
+no power to alter it.
+
+William found Mr. and Mrs. Ashley alone. Mary was out. He sat with them
+for a few minutes, talking of Anna, and then rose to go to Henry. "How
+is he this evening?" he inquired.
+
+"Ill and very fractious," was Mr. Ashley's reply. "William, you have
+great influence over him. I wish you could persuade him to _give way_
+less. He is not ill enough, so far as we can see, to keep his room; but
+we cannot get him out of it."
+
+Henry was in one of his depressed moods, excessively dispirited and
+irritable. "Oh! so you have come!" he burst forth as William entered. "I
+should be ashamed to neglect a sick fellow as you neglect me. If I were
+well and strong, and you ill, you would find it different."
+
+"I know I am late," acknowledged William. "Samuel Lynn took up a little
+of my time; and I have been sitting some minutes in the drawing-room."
+
+"Of course!" was the fractious answer. "Any one before me."
+
+"Samuel Lynn is a great deal better," continued William. "His mind is
+restored."
+
+Henry received the news ungraciously, making no rejoinder; but his side
+was twitching with pain. "How is _she_?" he asked. "Is the shame
+fretting out her life?"
+
+"Not at all. She is very well. As to shame--as you call it--I believe
+she has not taken much to herself."
+
+"It will kill her: you'll see. The sooner the better for her I should
+say."
+
+William sat down on the edge of the sofa, on which the invalid was
+lying. "Henry, I would set you right upon a point, if I thought it would
+be expedient to do so. You do go into fits of excitement so great, that
+it is dangerous to speak."
+
+"Tell out anything you have to tell. Tell me, if you choose, that the
+house is on fire, and I must be pitched out of window to escape it. It
+would make no impression upon me. My fits of excitement have passed away
+with Anna Lynn."
+
+"My news relates to Anna."
+
+"What if it does? She has passed away _for me_."
+
+"Helstonleigh, in its usual hasty fashion of jumping to conclusions, has
+jumped to a false one," continued William. "There have been no grounds
+for the great blame cast to Anna; except in the minds of a charitable
+public."
+
+"A fact?" asked Henry, after a pause.
+
+"There's not a shade of doubt about it."
+
+He received the answer with equanimity; it may be said, with apathy. And
+turning on his couch, he drew the cover over him, repeating the words
+previously spoken: "She has passed away for me."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+MR. DELVES ON HIS BEAM ENDS.
+
+
+Samuel Lynn grew better, and Mr. Ashley, in his considerate kindness,
+proposed that he should reside abroad for a few months in the
+neighbourhood of Annonay, to watch the skin market, and pick up skins
+that would be suitable for their use. Anna and Patience were to
+accompany him. Anna had somewhat regained her footing in the good graces
+of the gossipers. That she did so, was partly owing to the indignant
+defence of her, entered upon by Herbert Dare. Herbert did behave well in
+this case, and he must have his due. Upon his return from London,
+whither he had gone soon after the termination of the trial, remaining
+away a week or two, he found what a very charitable ovation Helstonleigh
+was bestowing upon Anna Lynn. He met it with a storm of indignation; he
+bade them think as badly of him as they chose; believe him a second
+Burke if they liked; but to keep their mistaken tongues off Anna. What
+with one thing and another, some of the scandal-mongers did begin to
+think they had been too hasty, and withdrew their censure. Some (as a
+matter of course) preferred to doubt still; and opinions remained
+divided.
+
+Helstonleigh took up the gossip on another score--that of Mr. Ashley's
+sending Samuel Lynn abroad, as his skin-buyer, for an indefinite period.
+"A famous trade Ashley must be doing, to go to that expense!" grumbled
+some of the envious manufacturers. True; he _had_ a famous trade. And if
+he had not had one, he might have sent him all the same. Helstonleigh
+never knew the benevolence of Thomas Ashley's heart. The journey was
+fully decided upon; and Samuel Lynn had an application from a member of
+his own persuasion, to rent his house, furnished, for the term of his
+absence. He was glad to accept the accommodation.
+
+But, before Mr. Lynn and his family started, Helstonleigh was fated to
+sustain another loss, in the person of Herbert Dare. Herbert contrived
+to get some sort of mission entrusted to _him_ abroad, and made rather a
+summary exit from Helstonleigh to enter upon it. A friend of Herbert's,
+who had gone over to live in Holland, and with whom he was in frequent
+correspondence, wrote and offered him a situation in a merchant's house
+in Rotterdam, as "English clerk." The offer came in answer to a hint, or
+perhaps more than a hint, from Herbert, that a year or two's sojourn
+abroad would be acceptable to him. He would receive a good salary, if he
+proved himself equal to the duties, the information stated, and might
+rise in it, if he chose to remain. Herbert wrote off-hand to secure it,
+and then told his father what he had done.
+
+"Enter a house at Rotterdam, as English clerk!" repeated Mr. Dare,
+unable to credit his own ears. "_You_ a clerk!"
+
+"What am I to do?" asked Herbert. "Since I came out of there," pointing
+in the direction of the county prison, "claims have thickened upon me. I
+do owe a good deal, and that's a fact--what with my own scores, and that
+for which I am liable for--for poor Anthony. People won't wait much
+longer; and I have no fancy to try the debtor's side of the prison."
+
+They were standing in the front room of the office. Mr. Dare's business
+appeared to be considerably falling off, and the office had often
+leisure on its hands now. Of the two clerks kept, one had holiday, the
+other was out. Somehow, what with one untoward thing and another, people
+were growing shy of the Dares. Mr. Dare leaned against the corner of the
+window-frame, watching the passers-by, his hands in his pockets, and a
+blank look on his face.
+
+"You say you can't help me, sir?" Herbert continued.
+
+"You know I can't; sufficiently to do any good," returned Mr. Dare. "I
+am too much pressed for money myself. Look at the expenses attending the
+trial: and I was embarrassed enough before. I _cannot_ help you."
+
+"It seems to me, too, that you want me gone from here."
+
+"I have not said so," curtly responded Mr. Dare.
+
+"You told me the other day that it was my presence in the office which
+scared clients from it."
+
+Mr. Dare could not deny the fact. He _had_ said it. What's more, he had
+thought it; and did so still. "I cannot tell what else it is that is
+keeping clients away," he rejoined. "We have not had a dozen in since
+the trial."
+
+"It is a slack season of the year."
+
+"Maybe," shortly answered Mr. Dare. "Slack as it is, there's some
+business astir, but people are going elsewhere to get it done; those,
+too, who have never for years been near anyone but us. The truth is,
+Herbert, you fell into bad odour with the town on the day of the trial;
+and that you must know. Though acquitted of the murder, all sorts of
+other things were laid to your charge. Quaker Lynn's stroke amongst the
+rest."
+
+"Carping sinners!" ejaculated Herbert.
+
+"And I suppose it turned people against the office," continued Mr.
+Dare. "My belief is, they won't come back again as long as you are in
+it."
+
+"That's precisely what I meant you had hinted to me" said Herbert.
+"Therefore, I thought I had better leave it. Pattison says he can get me
+this berth, and I should like to try it."
+
+"_You_'ll not like to turn merchant's clerk," repeated Mr. Dare with
+emphasis.
+
+"I shall like it better than being nailed for debt here," somewhat
+coarsely answered Herbert. "It is not so agreeable at home now,
+especially in this office, that I should cry to stay in it. You have
+changed, sir, amongst the rest: many a day through, you don't give me a
+civil word."
+
+Again Mr. Dare felt that he _had_ changed to Herbert. When he found that
+he--Herbert--might have cleared himself at first from the terrible
+accusation of fratricide, had he so chosen, instead of allowing the
+obloquy to rest upon himself and his family for so long a period, he had
+become bitterly angry. Mrs. Dare and the whole family joined in the
+feeling, and Herbert suffered.
+
+"As to civility, Herbert, I must first get over the soreness left by
+your conduct. You acted very badly in allowing the case to go on to
+trial. If you had no objection to sit down quietly under the crime
+yourself, you had no right to throw the disgrace and expense upon your
+family."
+
+"If it were to come over again, I would not do so," acknowledged
+Herbert. "I thought then I was acting for the best."
+
+"Pshaw!" was the peevish ejaculation of Mr. Dare.
+
+"Altogether," resumed Herbert, "I think I had better go away. After a
+time, something or other may turn up to make things smoother here, and
+then I can come home again; unless I find a better opening abroad. I may
+do so; and I believe I shall like living there."
+
+"Very well," said Mr. Dare, after some minutes' silence. "It may be for
+the best. At all events, it will give time for things here to blow over.
+If you don't find it what you like, you can only return."
+
+"I shall be sure not to return, unless I can square up some of my
+liabilities here," returned Herbert. "You must help me to get there,
+sir."
+
+"What do you want?" asked Mr. Dare.
+
+"Fifty pounds."
+
+"I can't do it, Herbert," was the prompt answer.
+
+"I must have it if I am to go," was Herbert's firm reply. "There are two
+or three trifles here which I will not leave unsettled, and I cannot go
+over there with pockets absolutely empty. Fifty pounds is not so great a
+sum, sir, to pay to get rid of me."
+
+Old Anthony Dare knit his brow in perplexity. He supposed he must
+furnish the money, though he did not in the least see how it was to be
+done.
+
+The matter settled, Herbert took his hat and went out. The first object
+his eyes alighted on outside was Sergeant Delves. That worthy, pacing
+through the town, had brought himself to an anchor opposite the office
+of Mr. Dare, and was regarding it, lost in a brown study. The sergeant
+was in a state of discomfiture, touching the affair of the late Anthony
+Dare. He had lost no time in "looking after" Miss Caroline Mason, as he
+had promised himself; and the sequence had been--defeat. Without any
+open stir on the part of the police--without allowing Caroline herself
+to know that she was doubted--the sergeant contrived to put himself in
+full possession of her movements on that night. The result proved that
+she must be exempt from the suspicion; or, as the sergeant expressed it,
+"was out of the hole;" and that gentleman remained at fault again.
+
+Herbert crossed over to him. "What are you looking at, Delves?"
+
+"I wasn't looking at anything in particular," was the answer. "Coming in
+sight of your office naturally brought my thoughts back to that
+unsatisfactory business. I never was so baffled before."
+
+"It is very strange who it could have been," observed Herbert. "I often
+think of it."
+
+"Never so baffled before," continued the sergeant, as if there had been
+no interruption to his own words. "I could almost have been upon oath at
+the time, that the murderer was in the house; hadn't left it. And
+yet----"
+
+"You could have been upon oath that it was I," interrupted Herbert.
+
+"That's true. I could. But you had yourself chiefly to thank for it, Mr.
+Herbert Dare, through making a mystery of your movements that night.
+After you were cleared, my mind turned to that girl; and that, I found,
+was no go."
+
+"What girl?" interrupted Herbert.
+
+"The one in Honey Fair: your brother Anthony's old sweetheart. It wasn't
+her, though; I have proofs. Charlotte East had her at her house that
+evening, and kept her till twelve o'clock, when she went home to bed in
+her garret. Charlotte's going to try to make something of her again. And
+now I am baffled, and I don't deny it."
+
+"To suspect any girl is ridiculous," observed Herbert Dare. "No girl, it
+is to be hoped, would possess the courage or the strength to accomplish
+such a deed as that."
+
+"You don't know 'em as we police do," nodded the sergeant. "I was asking
+your father only a day or two ago, whether he could make sure of his
+servants, that they had not been in it----"
+
+"Of our servants?" interrupted Herbert, in surprise. "What an idea!"
+
+"Well, I have gone round to my old opinion--that it _was_ some one in
+the house," returned the sergeant. "But it seems the servants are all on
+the square. I can't make it out."
+
+"Why on earth should you suppose it to be any one in the house?"
+questioned Herbert, in considerable wonderment.
+
+"Because I do," was the answer. "We police see and note down what others
+pass over. There was odds and ends of things at the time that made us
+infer it; and I can't get it out of my mind."
+
+"It is an impossibility that it could have been a resident of the
+house," dissented Herbert. "Every one in it is above suspicion."
+
+"Who do _you_ fancy it might have been?" asked the sergeant, abruptly,
+almost as if he wished to surprise Herbert out of an incautious answer.
+
+But Herbert had nothing to tell him; no suspicion was on his mind to be
+surprised out of. "If I could fancy it was, or might be, any particular
+individual, I should come to you and say so, without asking," he
+replied. "I am as much at fault as you can be. Anthony may have made
+slight enemies in the town, what with his debts and his temper, and one
+thing or another; but no enemies of that terrible nature--capable of
+killing him. I wish I could see cause for a reasonable suspicion," he
+added with emotion. "I would give my right arm"--stretching it out--"to
+solve the mystery. As well for my sake as for my dead brother's."
+
+"Well, all I can say is, that I am down on my beam ends," concluded the
+sergeant.
+
+Meanwhile Henry Ashley was getting little better. He had fallen into a
+state of utter prostration. Mental anguish had told upon him physically,
+and his bodily weakness was no doubt great: but he made no effort to
+rouse himself. He would lie for hours, his eyes half-closed, noticing no
+one. The medical men said they had seen nothing like it, and Mr. and
+Mrs. Ashley grew alarmed. The only one to remonstrate with him--he alone
+held the key to its cause--was William Halliburton.
+
+William's influence over him was very great: he yielded to no one, not
+even to his father, as he would yield to William. Henry gave the reins
+to his tongue, and said all sorts of irritating things to William, as he
+did to every one else. It only masked the deep affection, the lasting
+friendship, which had taken possession of his heart for William.
+
+"Let me be; let me be," he said to William one day, in answer to a
+remonstrance that he should rouse himself. "I told you that my life had
+passed out with _her_."
+
+"But your life has not passed out with her," argued William; "your life
+is in you, just as much as it ever was. And it is your duty to make some
+use of your life; not to let it run to waste--as you are doing."
+
+"It does not affect you," was the tart reply.
+
+"It does very much affect me. I am grieved to see you hug your pain,
+instead of shaking it off; vexed to think that a man should so bury his
+days. It is an unfortunate thing that no one is cognizant of this matter
+but myself."
+
+"Is it though!" retorted Henry. "You are a fine Job's comforter!"
+
+"Yes, it is. Were it known to those about you, you would not for shame
+lie here, and indulge regrets after an imprudent and silly girl."
+
+Henry flashed an angry glance at him from his soft dark eyes. "Take
+care, my good fellow! I can stand some things; but I don't stand all."
+
+"An imprudent, silly girl, who does not care a rush for you,"
+emphatically repeated William: "whose wild and ill-judged affection is
+given to another. Was ever infatuation like unto yours!"
+
+"Have a care, I tell you!" burst forth Henry. "By what right do you say
+these things to me?"
+
+"I say them for your good--and I intend that you should feel them. When
+a surgeon's knife probes a wound, the patient groans and winces; but it
+is done to cure him."
+
+"You are a man of eloquence!" sarcastically rejoined Henry. "Pity but
+you could flourish at the Bar, and take the anticipated shine out of
+Frank!"
+
+"Answer me one plain question, Henry. Do you still indulge a hope
+towards Anna Lynn?--to her becoming your wife?"
+
+With a shriek of anger, Henry caught up his slipper, and sent it flying
+through the air at William's head.
+
+"What's that for?" equably demanded William, dodging his head out of the
+way.
+
+"How dare you hint at such a thing? I told you there were some things I
+wouldn't stand. Is it fitting that one who has figured in such an
+escapade should be made the wife of an Ashley? If we were left by our
+two selves upon the earth, all else gone dead and out of it, I wouldn't
+marry her."
+
+"Precisely so. I have judged you rightly. Then, under this state of
+things, what in the name of fortune is the use of your lying here and
+thinking about her?"
+
+"I don't think about her," fractiously returned Henry. "You are always
+fancying things."
+
+"You do think about her. I can see that you do. I should be above it,"
+quaintly continued William.
+
+"Go and pick up my slipper."
+
+"Will you come down to tea this evening?"
+
+"No, I won't. You come here and preach up this morality, or divinity, or
+whatever you may please to term it, to me; but, wait and see how you'd
+act, if you should ever get struck on the keen edge as I have been."
+
+"Come! let me help you up."
+
+"Don't bother. I am not going to get up. I----"
+
+At that moment, Mr. Ashley opened the door. His errand likewise was to
+induce Henry to leave his sofa and his room, and join them below. Henry
+could not be brought to comply.
+
+"No. I have just told William. I cannot think why he did not go back and
+say so. He only stops here to worry me. There! get along, William; and
+come back when you have swallowed enough tea."
+
+Mr. Ashley laid his hand on William's arm, as they walked together along
+the corridor, and brought him to a halt. "What _is_ this illness of
+Henry's? There is some secret connected with it, I am sure, and you are
+cognizant of it. I must know what it is."
+
+Mr. Ashley's tone was a decided one; his manner firm. William made no
+reply.
+
+"Tell me what it is, William."
+
+"I cannot," said William. "Certainly not without Henry's permission; and
+I do not think he will give it. If it were my secret, sir, instead of
+his, I would tell it at your bidding."
+
+"Is it of the mind or the body?"
+
+"The mind. I think the worst is over. Do not speak to him about it, I
+pray you, sir."
+
+"William, is it anything that can be remedied? By money?--by any means
+at command?"
+
+"It can never be remedied," replied William earnestly, "Were the whole
+world brought to bear upon it, it could do nothing. Time and his own
+good sense must effect the cure."
+
+"Then I may as well not ask about it if I cannot aid. You are fully in
+his confidence."
+
+"Yes. And all that another can do, I am doing. We have a daily battle. I
+want to rouse him out of his apathy."
+
+"Oh, that you could!" aspirated Mr. Ashley.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+A LOSS FOR POMERANIAN KNOLL.
+
+
+Pomeranian Knoll had scarcely recovered its equanimity after the shock
+of the departure of Herbert Dare for foreign parts, when it found itself
+about to be shorn of another inmate. The word "shock" is used to express
+the suddenness of the affair, rather than in its enlarged and more
+ordinary sense. Herbert, what with one thing and another, had brought a
+good deal of vexation upon the paternal home; Helstonleigh also had not
+been holding him in extensive favour since the trial; and that home was
+not sorry that he should absent himself from it for a time. But it
+certainly did not bargain for his announcing his departure one night,
+and being off the next morning. Yet such was the course he pursued: and
+in that light his departure may be said to have been a shock to the
+town. Mr. Dare had known of it longer; but he had not proclaimed it any
+more than Herbert had: it may be that Herbert feared being stopped, if
+the intended journey got wind.
+
+A week or two after this, Signora Varsini received a letter with a
+foreign post-mark on it. The fact was nothing extraordinary in itself:
+the signora did occasionally receive letters bearing foreign post-marks;
+but this one threw her into a state of commotion, the like of which had
+never been witnessed. Thrusting the letter into the deepest pocket of
+her dress when it was delivered to her, she finished giving the music
+lesson to Minny, which she was occupied upon, and then retired to her
+room to peruse it. From this she emerged a short time after, with a long
+face of consternation, uttering frantic ejaculations. Mrs. Dare was
+quite alarmed. What was the matter with mademoiselle?
+
+"Ah, what misère! what désolation! what tristes nouvelles!" The letter
+was from her aunt in Paris, who was thrown upon her death-bed; and she,
+mademoiselle, must hasten thither without delay. If she could not start
+by a train that day, she must go by the first one the next. She was
+désolée to leave madame at a coup; her heart would break in bidding
+adieu to the young ladies; but necessity was stern. She must make her
+baggage forthwith, and would be obliged to madame for her salary.
+
+Mrs. Dare was taken--as the saying runs--all of a heap. She had not
+cared to part with mademoiselle so soon, although the retaining her
+entailed an additional expense, which they could ill afford in their
+gradually increasing embarrassments and straitening means: but the chief
+point that puzzled her was the paying up of the salary. Between thirty
+and forty pounds were due. There appeared, however, to be no help for
+it, and she applied to Mr. Dare.
+
+"You may as well ask me for my head as for that sum to-day," was that
+gentleman's reply, thinking he was destined never to find peace on
+earth. "Tell her you will send it after her, if she must go."
+
+Mrs. Dare shook her head. It would not be of the least use, she was
+sure. Mademoiselle was not one to be put off in that way, or to depart
+without her money.
+
+How Mr. Dare managed it he perhaps hardly knew himself; but he brought
+home the money at night, and the governess was paid in full. On the
+following morning there was a ceremonious leave-taking, loud and
+suggestive on the part of mademoiselle. She saluted them all on both
+cheeks, and promised to write every week, at least. A fly came to the
+door for her and her luggage, and George Dare mounted the box to escort
+her to the station. Mademoiselle politely invited him inside; but he had
+just lighted a cigar, and preferred to stop where he was.
+
+"I say, mademoiselle," cried he, after she was seated in the railway
+carriage, "if you should happen to come across Herbert, I wish you'd
+tell him----"
+
+Mademoiselle interrupted with a burst of indignation. _She_ come across
+Monsieur Herbert! What should bring her coming across _him_? Monsieur
+George must be _fou_ to think it. Monsieur Herbert was not in Paris, was
+he? She had understood he was in Holland.
+
+"Oh, well, it's all on the other side of the Channel," answered George,
+whose geographical notions of the Continent were not very definite.
+"Perhaps you won't see him, though, mademoiselle; so never mind."
+
+Mademoiselle replied by telling him to take care of himself; for the
+whistle was sounding. George drew back, and watched the train off;
+mademoiselle nodding her farewell to him from the window.
+
+And that was the last that Helstonleigh saw of Mrs. Dare's Italian
+governess, the Signora Varsini. Helstonleigh might not have been any the
+worse had it never seen the first of her. Mrs. Dare, after her
+departure, suddenly remembered that mademoiselle had once told her she
+had not a single relative in the world. Who could this aunt be, to whom
+she was hastening?
+
+And Henry Ashley? As the weeks and the months went on, Henry began to
+rouse himself from his prostration; his apathy. William Halliburton made
+no secret of it to Henry that it was suspected he was suffering from
+some inward grief which he was concealing, and that he had been
+questioned on the point by Mr. Ashley. "You know," said William, "I
+shall have no resource but to _tell_, unless you show yourself a
+sensible man, and come out of this nonsense."
+
+It alarmed Henry; rather than have his secret feelings betrayed for the
+family benefit, he could have died. In a grumbling and discontented sort
+of mood, he went about again, and resumed his idle occupations (such as
+they were) as usual. One evening William enticed him out for a walk,
+took possession of his arm, and pounced into Robert East's, before Henry
+well knew where he was. He sat down, apathetic and indifferent, after
+nodding carelessly to the respectful salutation of the men. "I must give
+just ten minutes to them, as I am here," observed William. "You can go
+to sleep the while."
+
+The ten minutes lengthened into twenty, and Henry's attention was so far
+roused that he came to the table in his impulsive way, and began talking
+on his own account. When William was ready to go, he was not; and he
+actually told the men that he would come round again. It was a great
+point gained.
+
+Small beginnings, it has been remarked, lead to great endings. The
+humble, confined way in which the class had begun at Robert East's; the
+vague ideas of William upon the subject; the doubtings of East and
+Crouch, were looked back upon with a smile. For the little venture had
+swollen itself into a great undertaking--an undertaking that was
+destined to effect a revolution throughout the whole of Honey Fair, and
+might probably even extend to Helstonleigh itself. The drawback now was
+want of room; numbers were being kept away by it. Henry Ashley did go
+again; and finding that books of the right kind ran short, he, the day
+after his second visit, wrote off an order for a whole cargo.
+
+Mr. Ashley was in a state of inward delight. Anything to rouse him! "You
+think it will succeed, that movement, do you, Henry?" he carelessly
+observed.
+
+"It's safe to succeed," was the answer. "William, with his palavering,
+has gained the ear of the fellows. I don't believe there's William
+Halliburton's equal in the whole world!" he added, with enthusiasm.
+"Fancy his sacrificing his time to such a thing, and for no benefit to
+himself! It will bear a rich crop of fruit too. If I have the gift--I'll
+give you a long word for once--of ratiocination, this reform of
+William's will be more extensive than we now foresee."
+
+The chief thing in these evenings was to keep alive the interest of the
+men. Not to lead them to abstruse things, which they had a difficulty in
+understanding, and remained strange to at best; but rather to plunge
+them into familiar home topics--the philosophy, if you will, of everyday
+life. There is a right and a wrong way of doing most things, and it
+often happens that people, from ignorance, pursue the wrong. Of the
+plain sanitary laws, relating to physical health, Honey Fair was
+intensely ignorant: of the ventilation of rooms, of cleanliness, of the
+most simple rules by which the body can be kept in order, they knew no
+more than they did of the moon. When a man was, to use Honey Fair
+phraseology, "took bad," he generally neglected the symptoms altogether,
+thereby laying the foundation of worse illness: or else he went to a
+doctor, and ran himself into expense. A little familiarity with ordinary
+complaints and ordinary antidotes would have remedied this. An
+acquaintance with sanitary laws would have prevented it. When children
+were down with measles or scarlatina, the careless of the land allowed
+the maladies to take their own course, and the sufferers to air
+themselves in the gutters, as usual. The cautious ones smothered the
+patients in a hot room, keeping up a fire as large as the stock of coals
+would allow, and borrowing all the blankets from the houses on either
+side, to heap upon them. No wonder the supply of little coffins was
+great to Honey Fair.
+
+All these things would be talked of and discussed, and a little
+enlightenment imparted to the men, as a guidance for the future. No one
+who did not witness it can imagine the delighted satisfaction with which
+these and similar practical topics were welcomed; for they bore for them
+a personal interest--they concerned themselves, their families, and
+their homes.
+
+One evening the way in which Honey Fair rather liked to spend its
+Sundays was under discussion; namely, the men in smoking; the women
+slatternly and dirty; the children fighting and quarrelling in the dirt
+outside.
+
+William Halliburton was asking them in a half-earnest, half-joking
+manner, what particular benefit they found in it, that it should not be
+remedied? Could they impart its pleasures to him? If so----
+
+His voice suddenly faltered and stopped. Standing just inside the door
+of the room, a quiet spectator and listener of the proceedings, was
+Thomas Ashley. The men followed William's gaze, saw who was amongst
+them, and rose in respectful silence.
+
+Mr. Ashley came forward, signing to William to continue. But William's
+eloquence had died out, leaving only a heightened colour in its place.
+In the presence of Mr. Ashley, whom he so loved and respected, he had
+grown timid as a child.
+
+"Do you know," said Mr. Ashley, addressing the men, "it gives me greater
+pleasure to see you here than it would do were I to hear that you had
+come into a fortune."
+
+They smiled and shook their heads. "Fortunes didn't come to the like o'
+them."
+
+"Never mind," replied Mr. Ashley: "fortunes are not the best gifts in
+life."
+
+He stayed talking with them some little time, quiet words of
+encouragement, and then withdrew, wishing them good luck. William left
+with him: and as they passed through Honey Fair, the women ran to their
+doors to gaze after them. Mr. Ashley, slightly bent with his advancing
+years, leaned upon William's arm, but his face was fresh as ever, and
+his dark hair showed no signs of age. William erect, noble; his height
+greater than Mr. Ashley's, his forehead broader, his deep grey eyes
+strangely earnest and sincere; and a flitting smile playing on his lips.
+He was listening to Mr. Ashley's satisfaction at what he had witnessed.
+
+"How long do you intend to sacrifice your evenings to them?"
+
+"It is no sacrifice, Mr. Ashley. I am glad to do it. I consider it one
+of the best uses to which my evenings could be given. I intend to enlist
+Henry for good in the cause, if I can do so."
+
+"You will be an ingenious persuader if you do," returned Mr. Ashley. "I
+would give half I am worth," he abruptly added, "to see the boy take an
+interest in life."
+
+"It will be sure to come, sir. One of these days I shall surprise him
+into reading a good play to the men. Something to laugh at. It will be a
+beginning."
+
+"He is very much better," observed Mr. Ashley. "All that listless apathy
+is going."
+
+"Oh yes. He is all but cured."
+
+"What was it, William?"
+
+William was taken by surprise. He did not answer, and Mr. Ashley
+repeated the question.
+
+"It is his secret, sir, not mine."
+
+"You must confide it to me," said Mr. Ashley, in his tone of quiet
+firmness. "You know me, William. When I promise that neither it nor the
+fact of its having been disclosed to me, shall ever escape me, directly
+or indirectly, to any living person, you know that you may depend upon
+me."
+
+He paused. William did not speak: he was debating with himself what he
+_ought_ to do.
+
+"William, it is a relief that I must have. Since my suspicions, that
+there was a secret, were confirmed, I cannot tell you what improbable
+fancies and fears have not run riot in my brain. For prostration so
+excessive to have overtaken him, one would almost think he had been
+guilty of murder, or some other unaccountable crime. _You must relieve
+my mind_: which, in spite of my uncontrollable fancies, I do not doubt
+the truth will do. It will make no difference to any one; it will only
+be an additional bond between myself and you; and you, my almost son."
+
+William's duty rose before him, clear and distinct. But when he spoke,
+it was in a whisper.
+
+"He loved Anna Lynn."
+
+Mr. Ashley walked on without comment. William resumed.
+
+"Had that unhappy affair not taken place, Henry's intention was to make
+her his wife, provided you could have been brought to consent to it. His
+whole days used to be spent, I believe, in planning how he could best
+invent a chance of obtaining it."
+
+"And now?" very sharply asked Mr. Ashley.
+
+"Now the thing is at an end for ever. Henry's good sense has come to his
+aid; I suppose I may say his pride; his self-esteem. Innocent of actual
+ill as Anna was in the affair, there was sufficient reflection cast upon
+her to prove to Henry that his hopeful visions could never be carried
+out. That was Henry's secret, sir: and I almost feared the blow would
+have killed him. But he is getting over it."
+
+Mr. Ashley drew a deep breath. "William, I thank you. You have relieved
+me from a nightmare: and you may forget having given me the confidence
+if you like, for it will never be abused. What are you going to do about
+space?" he continued, in a different tone.
+
+"About space, sir?"
+
+"For those protégés of yours, at East's. They seem to me to be tolerably
+confined for it, there?"
+
+"Yes, and that is not the worst," said William. "Men are asking to join
+every day, and they cannot be taken in."
+
+"_I_ can't think how you manage to get so many--and to keep them."
+
+"I suppose the chief secret is, that their interest enters into it. We
+contrive to keep that up. Most of them would not go back to the Horned
+Ram for the world."
+
+"Well, where shall you stow them?"
+
+"It is more than I can say, sir. We must manage it somehow."
+
+"Henry told me you were ambitious enough to aspire to the Mormon
+failure."
+
+"I was foolish enough to do so," replied William, with a laugh. "Seeing
+it was very much in the condition of the famed picture taken of the good
+Dr. Primrose and his family--useless--I went and offered a rent for
+it--only a trifling sum, it is true; but if our fires only kept it from
+damp, one would think the builder might have been glad to let it, thrown
+as it is upon his hands. I told him so."
+
+"What did he say?"
+
+"He stood out for thirty pounds. But that's more than I--than we can
+afford."
+
+"And who was going to find the money? You?"
+
+William hesitated; but did not see any way out of the dilemma.
+
+"Well, sir, you know it is a sad pity for the good work to be stopped,
+through so insignificant a trifle as want of room."
+
+"I think it is," replied Mr. Ashley. "You can hire it to-morrow, and
+move your forms and tables and books into it as soon as you like. I will
+find the rent."
+
+The words took William by surprise. "Oh, Mr. Ashley, do you really mean
+it?"
+
+"Really mean it? It is little enough, compared with what you are doing.
+A few years, William, and your name may be great in Helstonleigh. You
+are working on for it."
+
+William walked with Mr. Ashley as far as his house, and then turned back
+to his own. He found sorrow there. Not having been home since
+dinner-time, for he had taken tea at Mr. Ashley's, he was unconscious of
+some tidings which had been brought by the afternoon's post. Jane sat
+and grieved while she told him. Her brother Robert was dead. Very rarely
+indeed did she hear from the New World; Margaret appeared to be too full
+of cares and domestic bustle to write often. She might not have written
+now, but to tell of the death of Robert.
+
+"I have lost myself sometimes in a vision of seeing Robert home again,"
+said Jane, with a sigh. "And now he is gone!"
+
+"He was not married, was he?" asked William.
+
+"No. I fear he never got on very well. Never to be at his ease."
+
+Gar came in noisily, and interrupted them. The death of an uncle whom he
+had never seen, and who had lived thousands of miles away, did not
+appear to Gar to be a matter calling for any especial amount of grief.
+Gar was in high spirits on his own account; for Gar was going to
+Cambridge. Not in all the pomp and pride of an unlimited purse, however,
+but as a humble sizar.
+
+Gar, not seeing his way very clearly, had been wise enough to pluck up
+courage and apply for counsel to the head master of the college school.
+He had told him that he meant to go to college, and how he meant to go,
+and he asked Mr. Keating if he could help him to a situation, where he
+might be useful between terms. "A school where I might become a junior
+assistant," suggested Gar. "Or any family who would take me to read with
+their sons? If I only earned my food, it would be so much the less
+weight upon my mother," added he, in the candid spirit peculiar to the
+family.
+
+"Have you forgotten that you ought to work, yourself, out of terms,
+nearly as hard as in them?" asked Mr. Keating.
+
+"Oh, no, sir, I have not forgotten it. I will take care to accomplish my
+own work as well. That should not suffer."
+
+Mr. Keating looked at the cheerful, hopeful face, a sure index of the
+brave hopeful spirit. He had taken unusual interest in the two
+Halliburtons, so clever and persevering. It had been impossible for him
+not to do so; for, if Mr. Keating had a weakness, it was for a good
+classical scholar.
+
+"I'll see about it, Gar," said he. "But you are rather young to read
+with students. And I do not suppose any school would be willing to
+engage you on account of the interruption that keeping your terms would
+cause. If nothing better turns up, you can remain in the college
+school-room here, and undertake one of the junior desks. I should give
+you nothing for it," added the master, "except your meals. Those you
+would be welcome to take at my house with my private pupils, sleeping at
+your own home. And I think that, for you, it would be a better
+arrangement than any other, for it would leave you plenty of time for
+your own studies, and I could still superintend them."
+
+Gar thought the arrangement would be first-rate. It would be the very
+thing. "Not that I ever thought of it," he ingenuously said. "I did not
+know the college school admitted assistants."
+
+"Neither does it," replied the master. "You would be ostensibly my
+private pupil. And if I choose to set a private pupil to keep the desks
+to their work, that is my affair."
+
+Gar could only reiterate his thanks.
+
+"I am pleased to give you this little encouragement," remarked Mr.
+Keating. "When I see boys hopefully plodding on in the teeth of
+difficulties, of brave heart, of sterling conduct, they deserve all the
+encouragement that can be given to them. If you and your brothers only
+go on as you have hitherto gone on, you will stand in after-years as
+bright examples of what industry and perseverance can achieve."
+
+So that, altogether, Gar was in spirits, and did not by any means put on
+superfluous mourning for a gentleman who had died in the backwoods of
+Canada, although he was his mother's brother.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+AN OFFER OF MARRIAGE.
+
+
+"Mary," said Mr. Ashley, "I have received an offer of marriage for you."
+
+A somewhat abrupt announcement to make to a young lady, and Mr. Ashley
+spoke in the gravest tone. They were seated round the breakfast table,
+Mary by her mother's side, who was pouring out the coffee. Mary looked
+surprised, rather amused; but that was the only emotion discernible in
+her countenance.
+
+"It is fine to be you, Miss Mary!" struck in Henry, before anyone could
+speak. "Pray, sir, who is the venturer?"
+
+"He assures me that his happiness is bound up in his offer being
+accepted," resumed Mr. Ashley. "I fancy he felt inclined to assure me
+that Mary's was also. Of course, all I can do, is, to lay the proposal
+before her."
+
+"What _is_ it that you are talking about, Thomas?" interposed Mrs.
+Ashley, unable until then to say a word, and speaking with some
+irritability. "I do not consider Mary old enough to be married. How can
+you think of saying such things to her?"
+
+"Neither do I, mamma," said Mary, with a laugh. "I like my home too well
+to leave it."
+
+"And while you are talking sentiment, my curiosity is on the rack,"
+cried Henry. "I have inquired the name of the bridegroom, and I should
+like to be answered."
+
+"The would-be bridegroom," put in Mary.
+
+"Mary, I am ashamed of you!" went on Henry. "I blush for your manners.
+Nice credit she does to your bringing up, mamma! When young ladies of
+condition receive a celestial offer, they behave with due propriety,
+hang their heads with a blush, and subdue their voice to a whisper. And
+here's Mary--look at her!--talking quite loudly and making merry over
+it. Once more, sir, who is the adventurous gentleman? Is it good old
+General Wells, our gouty neighbour opposite, who is lifted in and out of
+his chariot for his daily airing? I have told Mary repeatedly that she
+was setting her cap at him."
+
+"It is not so advantageous a proposal in a financial point of view,"
+observed Mr. Ashley, maintaining his impassibility. "It proceeds from
+one of my dependents at the manufactory."
+
+Mary had the sugar-basin in her hand at the moment, and a sudden tremor
+seemed to seize her. She set it down; but so clumsily, that half the
+lumps fell out. Her face had turned to a glowing crimson. Mr. Ashley
+noticed it.
+
+Mrs. Ashley only noticed the sugar. "Mary, how came you to do that? Very
+careless, my dear."
+
+Mary began meekly to pick up the sugar, the flush giving way to pallor.
+She lifted her handkerchief to her face and held it there, as if she had
+a cold.
+
+"The honour comes from Cyril Dare," said Mr. Ashley.
+
+"Cyril Dare!"
+
+"Cyril Dare!"
+
+In different tones of scorn, but each expressing it most fully, the
+repetition broke from Mrs. Ashley and Henry. Mary, on the contrary,
+recovered her equanimity and her countenance. She laughed out, as if she
+were glad.
+
+"What did you say to him, papa?"
+
+"I gave him my opinion only. That I thought he had mistaken my daughter,
+if he entertained hopes that she would listen to his suit. The question
+rests with you, Mary."
+
+"Oh papa, what nonsense! rests with me! Why you know I would never have
+Cyril Dare."
+
+A smile crossed Mr. Ashley's face. He probably _had_ known it.
+
+"Cyril Dare!" repeated Mary, as if unable to overcome her astonishment.
+"He must have turned silly. I would not have Cyril Dare if he were worth
+his weight in gold."
+
+"And he must be worth a great deal more than his weight in gold, Mary,
+before I would consent to your having him," quietly rejoined Mr. Ashley.
+
+"Have _him_!" echoed Henry. "If I feared there was a danger of the
+daughter of all the Ashleys so degrading herself, I should bribe cook to
+make an arsenic cake, cut the young lady a portion myself, and stand by
+while she ate it."
+
+"Don't talk foolishly, Henry," rebuked Mrs. Ashley.
+
+"Mamma, I must say I do not think it would be half so foolish as Cyril
+Dare was," cried Mary, with spirit.
+
+Mrs. Ashley, relieved from any temporary fear of losing Mary, was
+comfortably going on with her breakfast. "Did Cyril say how he meant to
+provide for Mary, if he obtained her?" asked she, with an amused look.
+
+"He did not touch upon ways and means. I conclude that he intended I
+should have the honour of keeping them both."
+
+Henry Ashley leaned back in his chair, and laughed. "If this is not the
+richest joke I have heard for a long while! Cyril Dare! the kinsman of
+Herbert the beautiful! Confound his im-pu-dence!"
+
+"Then you decline the honour of the alliance, Mary?" said Mr. Ashley.
+"What am I to tell him?"
+
+"What you please, papa. Tell him, if you like, that I would rather marry
+a chimney-sweep. I _would_, if it came to a choice between the two. How
+very senseless of Cyril to think of such a thing!"
+
+"How very shrewd, I think, Mary--if he could only have got you," was the
+reply of Mr. Ashley.
+
+"If!" saucily put in Mary.
+
+Henry bent over the table to his sister. "I tell you what, Mary. You go
+this morning and offer yourself to our gouty friend, the general. He
+will jump at it, and we'll have the banns put up. We cannot, you know,
+be subjected to such shocks as these, on your account; it is
+unreasonable to expect it. I assure you it will be the most effectual
+plan to set Cyril Dare, and those of his tribe, at rest. No, thank you,
+ma'am," turning to Mrs. Ashley--"no more coffee. This has been enough
+breakfast for me."
+
+"Who is this?" asked Mr. Ashley, as footsteps were heard on the
+gravel-walk.
+
+Mrs. Ashley lifted her eyes. "It is William Halliburton."
+
+"William Halliburton!" echoed Henry. "Ah! if you could have put his
+heart and intellect into Cyril's form, now, it might have done."
+
+He spoke with that freedom of speech which characterized him, and in
+which, from his infirmity, he had not been checked. No one made any
+remark in answer, and William entered. He had come to ask some business
+question of Mr. Ashley.
+
+"I will walk down with you," said Mr. Ashley, "and see to it. Take a
+seat, William."
+
+"It is getting late, sir."
+
+"Well, I suppose you can afford to be late for once," replied Mr.
+Ashley. And William smiled as he sat down.
+
+"We have had a letter from Cambridge, this morning. From Gar."
+
+"And how does Mr. Gar get on?" asked Henry.
+
+"First rate. He takes a leaf out of Frank's book; determined to see no
+difficulties in his way. Frank's letters are always cheering. I really
+believe he cares no more for being a servitor than he would for wearing
+a hat at Christchurch. All his wish is to get on: he looks to the
+future."
+
+"But he does his duty in the present," quietly remarked Mr. Ashley.
+
+William smiled. "It is the only way to insure the future, sir. Frank and
+Gar have been learning that all their lives."
+
+Mr. Ashley, telling William not to get the fidgets, for he was not ready
+yet, withdrew to the next room with his wife. They had some weighty
+domestic matter to settle, touching a dinner party. Henry linked his arm
+within William's and drew him to the window, throwing it open to the
+early spring sunshine. Mary remained at the breakfast table.
+
+"What do you think Cyril Dare, the presuming, has had the conscience to
+ask?" began he.
+
+"I know," replied William. "I heard him say he should ask it yesterday."
+
+"The deuce you did?" uttered Henry. "And you did not knock him down?"
+
+"Knock him down! Was it any business of mine?"
+
+"You might have done it as my friend, I think. A slight correction of
+his impudence."
+
+"I do not see that it is your business either," returned William. "It is
+Mr. Ashley's."
+
+"Oh, indeed! Perhaps you would like it carried out?"
+
+"I have no right to say it shall not be."
+
+"Thank you!" chafed Henry. "Mary," he called out to his sister, "here's
+Halliburton recommending that that business we know of shall be carried
+out."
+
+William only laughed. He was accustomed to Henry's exaggerations. "It is
+what Cyril has been expecting for years," said he.
+
+Henry gazed at him. "What is? What are you talking of?"
+
+"Being taken into partnership by Mr. Ashley."
+
+"Is it _that_ you are blundering over? Does he expect it?" continued
+Henry, after a pause.
+
+"Cyril said, yesterday, the firm would soon be Ashley and Dare."
+
+"Did he indeed! He had better not count upon it so as to disturb his
+digestion. That's presumption enough, goodness knows; but it is a mere
+flea-bite compared with the other. He has asked for Mary. It is true as
+that we are standing here."
+
+William turned his questioning gaze on Henry. He did not understand.
+"Asked for her for what? What to do?"
+
+"To be his wife."
+
+"Oh!" The strange sound was not a burst of indignation, or a groan of
+pain: it was a mixture of both. William thrust his head out of the
+window.
+
+"He actually asked the master for her yesterday!" went on Henry. "He
+said his heart, or liver, or some such part of him was bound up in her:
+as she was bound up in him. Fancy the honour of her becoming Mrs.
+Cyril!"
+
+William did not turn his head: not a glimpse of his face could be
+caught. "Will she have him?" he asked, at length.
+
+The question exasperated Henry. "Yes, she will. There! Go and
+congratulate her. You are a fool, William."
+
+The sound of his angry voice, not his words, reached Mary's ears. She
+came forward. "What is the matter, Henry?"
+
+"So he is a fool," was Henry's answer. "He wants to know if you are
+going to marry Cyril Dare. I tell him yes. No one but an idiot would
+have asked it."
+
+William turned, his face full of an emotion that Henry had never seen
+there: a streak of scarlet on his cheeks, his earnest eyes strangely
+troubled. And Mary?--her face seemed to have borrowed the same flush, as
+she stood there, her head and eyelashes bent.
+
+Henry Ashley gazed, first at one, next at the other, and then turned and
+leaned from the window himself. In contrition for having spoken so
+openly of his sister's affairs? Not at all. Whistling the bars of a
+renowned comic song of the day called "The Steam Arm."
+
+Mr. Ashley put in his head. "I am ready, William."
+
+William touched Mary's hand in silence by way of adieu, and halted as he
+passed Henry. "Shall you come round to the men to-night?"
+
+"No, I shan't," retorted Henry. "I am upset for the day."
+
+He was halfway down the path when he heard himself called by Henry,
+still leaning from the window. He went back to him.
+
+"She said she'd rather have a chimney-sweep than Cyril Dare. Don't go
+and make a muff of yourself again."
+
+William turned away without any answer. Mr. Ashley, who had waited, put
+his arm within his, and they proceeded to the manufactory.
+
+"Have you heard this rumour, respecting Herbert Dare, that has been
+wafted over from Germany within the last day or two?" inquired Mr.
+Ashley, as they walked along.
+
+"Yes, sir," replied William.
+
+"I wonder if it is true?"
+
+William did not answer. William's private opinion was, that it was true.
+It had been tolerably well authenticated. A rumour that need not be very
+specifically enlarged upon here. Helstonleigh never came to the bottom
+of it: never knew for certain how much of it was true, and how much
+false, and we cannot expect to be better favoured than Helstonleigh, in
+the point of enlightenment. It was not a pleasant rumour, and the late
+governess's name was unaccountably mixed up in it. For one thing, it
+said that Herbert Dare, finding commercial pursuits not congenial to his
+taste, had given them up, and was roaming about Germany. Mademoiselle
+also. It was a report that did not do credit to Herbert, or tend to
+reflect respectability on his family; yet Mr. Ashley fully believed that
+to that report he owed the application of Cyril with regard to Mary,
+strange as it may appear at a first glance, to say it. The application
+had astonished Mr. Ashley beyond expression. He could only come to the
+conclusion that Cyril must have entertained the hope for some time, but
+had been induced to disclose it prematurely. So prematurely--even
+allowing that other circumstances favoured it--that Mr. Ashley was
+tempted to laugh. A man without means, without a home, without any
+definite prospects, merely a workman, as might be said, in his
+manufactory, upon a very small salary; it was ridiculous in the extreme
+for _him_ to offer marriage to Miss Ashley. Mr. Ashley, of upright
+conduct in the sight of day, was not one to wink at folly; any escapade
+such as that, now flying about Helstonleigh as attributed to Herbert,
+would not be an additional recommendation in Cyril's favour. Had he
+hastened to speak _before_ it should reach Mr. Ashley's ears? Mr. Ashley
+thought so. An hour after Cyril had spoken, he heard the scandal; and it
+flashed over his mind that to that he was indebted for the premature
+honour. Cyril would have liked to secure his consent before anything
+unpleasant transpired.
+
+As Mr. Ashley came in view of the manufactory, Cyril Dare observed him.
+Cyril was lounging in an indolent manner at the entrance doors,
+exchanging greetings with the various passers-by. He ought to have been
+inside at his business; but oughts went for little with Cyril. Since
+Samuel Lynn's departure, Cyril had been living in clover; enjoying as
+much idleness as he liked. William assumed no authority over him, though
+full authority had been given to William over the manufactory in
+general; and Cyril, except when he just happened to be under Mr.
+Ashley's eye, passed his time agreeably. Cyril stared as he caught sight
+of the master, and then went in, his spirits going down a little. To see
+the master thus walking confidentially with William, seemed to argue
+unfavourably for his suit; though why it should seem so, Cyril did not
+know. Cyril's staring was occasioned by that fact. He had never been
+promoted to the honour of thus walking familiarly with Mr. Ashley. In
+fact, for the master, a reserved and proud man with all his good
+qualities, to link his arm within a dependant's, astonished Cyril
+considerably.
+
+When they entered, Cyril was at work in his apron, standing at the
+counter in the master's room, steady and assiduous, as though he had
+been there for the last half-hour. The master came in, but William
+remained in Mr. Lynn's room.
+
+"Good morning, sir," said Cyril.
+
+"Good morning," replied the master.
+
+He sat down to his desk, and opened a letter that was lying on it.
+Presently he looked up.
+
+"Cyril!"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Step here."
+
+Cyril approached the desk, feeling what a lady might call nervous. The
+decisive moment had come: should he be provided for, for life; enjoy a
+good position and the means of living as a gentleman? Or would his
+unlucky star prevail, and consign him to--he did not quite foresee to
+what?
+
+"I have spoken to Miss Ashley. She was excessively surprised at your
+application, and begs to decline it in the most unequivocal manner.
+Allow me to add a recommendation from myself, that you bury in oblivion
+the fact of your having made it."
+
+Cyril hesitated for a moment, and looked foolish. "Why?" he asked.
+
+"_Why?_" repeated Mr. Ashley. "I think you could answer that query for
+yourself, and save me the trouble. I do not wish to go too closely into
+facts and causes, past and present, unless you desire it. One thing you
+must be aware of, Cyril, that such a proposition from you to my daughter
+was utterly out of place. I should have rejected it point-blank
+yesterday; in fact, in the surprise of the moment, I almost spoke out
+more plainly than you would have liked, but that I thought it as well
+for you to have Miss Ashley's opinion as well as my own."
+
+"Why am I rejected, sir?" continued Cyril.
+
+Mr. Ashley waved his hand with dignity. "Return to your employment,
+Cyril. It is quite sufficient for you to know that you are rejected,
+without my going into motives and reasons. They might not, I say, be
+palatable to you."
+
+Cyril did not venture to press it further. He returned to the counter,
+and stood there, ostensibly going on with his work, and boiling over
+with rage. The master sat some little time longer and then left the
+room. Soon after, William came in. His eye caught Cyril's employment.
+
+"Cyril," cried he, hastily advancing to him, "you must not make up those
+gloves. I told you yesterday not to touch them."
+
+A dangerous speech. Cyril was not unlike touchwood at that moment,
+liable to go off at the slightest contact. "You told me!" he burst
+forth. "Do you think I am going to do what you choose to tell me? Try it
+on for the future, that's all. _You_ tell _me_!"
+
+"They are the very best gloves, and must be sorted with nicety,"
+returned William. "Don't you know that the sorting of the last parcel
+was found fault with in London? It vexed the master; and he desired me
+to do all the sorting myself, until Mr. Lynn should be at home."
+
+"I choose to sort," returned Cyril.
+
+"But you must not sort in the face of the master's orders; or, if you
+do, I must go over them again."
+
+"That's right; praise up yourself!" foamed Cyril. "Of course you are an
+efficient sorter, and I am a bad one."
+
+"You might be as good a sorter as any one, if you chose to give it
+proper time and attention. What a temper you are in this morning! What's
+the matter?"
+
+"The matter is, that I have submitted to your rule long enough, but I'll
+do it no longer," was the reply of Cyril, whose anger was gathering
+strength, and whose ill feeling towards William, deep down in his heart
+from long ago, had had envy added to it of late.
+
+William made no reply. He carefully swept the dozens that Cyril had made
+up, farther down the counter, that they might be in a stronger light.
+
+"What's that for?" cried Cyril. "How dare you meddle with my work? They
+are done as well as you can do them, any day."
+
+"Now, where's the use of flying into this passion, Cyril? What's it for?
+Do you suppose I go over your work again for pleasure, or to find fault
+with it? I do it because the master has ordered me to make up every
+dozen that goes out; and if you do it first of all, it is sheer waste of
+time. See here," added William, holding two or three pairs towards him,
+"_these_ will not do for firsts."
+
+Angry Cyril! He was quite beside himself with anger. It was not this
+trifling matter in the daily business that would have excited him; but
+Mr. Ashley's rejection, his words altogether, had turned Cyril's blood
+into gall; and this was made the outlet. He dashed the gloves out of
+William's hand to the farthest corner of the room, and struck him a
+powerful blow on the chest. It caused William to stagger: he was
+unprepared for it; but whether he would have returned it must remain
+uncertain. Before there was time or opportunity, Cyril found himself
+whirled backwards by a hand as powerful as his own; and a voice of stern
+authority was demanding the meaning of the scene.
+
+The hand, the voice, were those of the master.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+THE EXPLOSION.
+
+
+"What is the meaning of this, Cyril Dare?"
+
+Had Cyril supposed that the master was so close at hand, he had subdued
+his passion to something short of striking a blow. He stood against the
+counter, his brow lowering, his eye furious; William looked angry too.
+Mr. Ashley, calm and dignified, waited for an answer.
+
+None came. Cyril was too excited to speak.
+
+"Will you explain it?" said the master, turning to William. "Fighting in
+my counting-house!"
+
+"I cannot, sir," replied William, recovering his equanimity. "I do not
+understand it. I did nothing to provoke him, that I am aware of. It is
+true I said I must go over the gloves again that he had made up."
+
+"What are those gloves flung there?"
+
+"I was showing them to him--that they were not fit for firsts."
+
+"They are fit for firsts!" retorted Cyril, breaking his silence. "I know
+I did put a pair in that was not up to the mark."
+
+The master went and picked up the gloves himself. Taking them to the
+light, he turned them about in his hands.
+
+"I should put two of these pairs as seconds, and one as thirds,"
+remarked he. "You must have been asleep when you put this one among the
+firsts," he continued, indicating the latter pair, and speaking to Cyril
+Dare. "It has a flaw in it."
+
+"Of course you will uphold Halliburton, sir, whatever he may say. That
+has been the case for a long time past."
+
+He spoke in an insolent tone; such as none within the walls of that
+manufactory had ever dared to use to the master. The master turned upon
+him, speaking quietly and significantly.
+
+
+"You forget yourself, Cyril Dare."
+
+"All he does is right, and all I do is wrong," persisted Cyril. "You
+treat him, sir, just as though you considered him the gentleman, instead
+of me."
+
+A half-smile, which had too much mockery in it to please Cyril, crossed
+the lips of Mr. Ashley. "What's that you say about being a gentleman,
+Cyril? Repeat it, will you? I should like to hear it again."
+
+Mockery and double mockery! Cyril's suggestive ears detected it in the
+tone, if no other ears could do so. It did not improve his temper. "The
+thing is this, sir: I won't submit to this state of affairs any longer.
+I was not placed here to be ruled over by him; and if things can't be
+put upon a better footing, one of us must leave."
+
+"Then, as it has come to this explosion, I say the same," struck in
+William. "It is high time that things were put upon a better footing.
+Cyril, you have forced me to speak, and you must take the consequences.
+Sir," turning to the master, "my authority over the men is ridiculed in
+their hearing. It ought not to be so."
+
+"By whom?" demanded the master.
+
+"You can ask that question of Cyril, sir."
+
+The master did ask it of Cyril. "Have you done this?"
+
+"Possibly I have," innocently returned Cyril.
+
+"You know you have," rejoined William.
+
+"Only yesterday, when I was giving directions to the stainers, he
+derided all I said, and one of them inquired whether I had received
+orders for what I was telling them. If the authority vested in me is to
+be undermined, the men will soon set it at naught."
+
+Mr. Ashley looked provoked; more so than William ever remembered to have
+seen him. He paused a moment, his lips quivering angrily, and then flung
+open the counting-house door.
+
+"Dick!"
+
+Dick, a young tinker of ten, black in clothes and in skin, came flying
+at the summons and its unusually stern tone. "Please, sir?"
+
+"Ring the large bell."
+
+Dick stared with all his eyes at hearing the words. To ring the large
+bell between ten and eleven o'clock in the morning was a marvel that had
+never happened in Dick's experience. But the master's orders were to be
+obeyed, not questioned; and Dick, rang out a prolonged peal. The master
+looked into the serving-room.
+
+"James Meeking, I have ordered the bell rung for the men. Pass the word
+for them to come into my room; and do you and East come with them."
+
+The men appeared, flocking from all parts of the premises, their
+astonishment certainly not inferior to Dick's. What could be the meaning
+of the wholesale summoning to the presence of the master? They stood
+there crowding, a sea of curious faces. Dick, consigned to the
+background, climbed up the door-post, and held on by it in a mysterious
+manner.
+
+Mr. Ashley drew William to his side, and laid his hand upon him.
+
+"It has been told to me that the authority vested in Mr. Halliburton has
+not been implicitly obeyed by every one in the manufactory. I have
+called you before me to give you my instructions personally upon the
+point, that there may be no misunderstanding in the future. Whatever
+directions he may see well to give, you will receive them from him, as
+you would from myself. I invest him with full and complete power. And in
+all my absences from the manufactory, whether they may be of an hour's,
+a day's, or any longer duration, Mr. Halliburton is its master."
+
+They touched their hair, turned and went out as far as the serving-room,
+collecting there to talk. In a short time, one of them was seen coming
+back again; a grey-haired man, a sorter of leather. He addressed himself
+to Mr. Ashley.
+
+"We have not disputed his orders, please, sir, that we can call to mind;
+and if we have done it unintentional, we'd ask pardon for it, for it's
+what we never thought to do. Next to yourself, sir, we couldn't wish for
+a better master than young Mr. Halliburton. We think as much of him,
+sir, as we should if he was your own son."
+
+"All right, my men," cheerfully responded Thomas Ashley.
+
+But was not Cyril put in the background by this? As badly as Dick had
+been; and Cyril had no door-post to climb, and so obtain vantage ground.
+He had stood with his back to the crowd and his face to the counter.
+When the men were out of hearing, he turned and walked up to the
+master.
+
+"It is the place I thought to fill," said he. "It is the place that was
+promised me."
+
+"Not promised," replied Mr. Ashley. "Not thought to be promised. A very
+long time ago, you may have been spoken of conditionally, as likely to
+fill it. Conditionally, I say."
+
+"Conditionally on what, sir?"
+
+"On your fitness for it. By conduct and by capability."
+
+"What is the matter with my conduct, sir?" returned Cyril, his tone a
+sharp one.
+
+"It is bad," curtly replied Mr. Ashley. "Deceitful in public; bad in
+private. I have told you once before this morning, that I do not care to
+go into details; you must know that there is no necessity for my doing
+so."
+
+Cyril paused. "I have been led to expect, sir, that you would take me
+into partnership."
+
+"Not by me," said the master.
+
+"My father and mother had given me the hope ever since I came here."
+
+"I cannot help that. They had no authority for it from me."
+
+"They have always said I should be made your partner and son-in-law,"
+persisted Cyril.
+
+"They have! It is very obliging of them, I am sure, to settle my affairs
+for me, even to the disposal of my daughter! Pray what nice little
+destiny may they have carved out for Mrs. Ashley or for my son?"
+
+Cyril chafed at the words. He would have liked, just then, to strike Mr.
+Ashley, as he had struck William. "Would I ever have demeaned myself to
+enter a glove manufactory, disgracing my family, had I known I was to be
+only a workman in it?" he cried. "No, sir, that I never would. I am
+rightly served, for putting myself out of my position as a gentleman."
+
+Mr. Ashley, but for the pity he felt, could have laughed outright. He
+really did feel pity for Cyril. He believed that the unhappy way in
+which the young Dares were turning out might be laid to the fault of
+their rearing, and this had rendered him considerate to Cyril. _How_
+considerate he had for a long while been, he himself alone knew: Cyril
+perhaps suspected.
+
+"It is a shame!" cried Cyril. "To be dealt with in this way is nothing
+less than a fraud upon me. I was led to expect that I should be made
+your partner."
+
+"Wait a bit, Cyril. I am willing to put you right upon the point. The
+proposal, that you should be placed here, emanated in the first instance
+from your father. He came to me one day, here, in this very room,
+saying that he concluded I should not put Henry to business, and thought
+it would be a fine opening for his son Cyril. He hinted that I should
+want some one to succeed me; and that you might come to it with that
+view. But I most distinctly disclaimed endorsing that hint in the
+remotest degree. I would not subscribe to it so much as by a vague
+'Perhaps it may be so.' All that I conceded upon the point was this. I
+told Mr. Dare that when the time came for me to be looking out for some
+one to succeed me--if it ever did come--and I found his son--you--had
+served me faithfully, was upright in conduct and in heart--one, in
+short, whom I could thoroughly confide in--why, then he should have the
+preference over any other. So much I did say, Cyril, but no more."
+
+
+"And why won't you give me the preference, sir?"
+
+Mr. Ashley looked at him, apparently in surprise that he could ask the
+question. He bent his head forward, and spoke in a low tone, but one
+full of meaning.
+
+"Upright in conduct and in heart, I said, Cyril. It was an absolute
+condition."
+
+Cyril's gaze fell before Mr. Ashley's. His conscience may have pricked
+him, and he had the grace to look ashamed of himself. There ensued a
+pause.
+
+Presently Cyril looked up. "Then I am to understand, sir, that all hope
+of being your partner and successor is over?"
+
+"It is. It has been over this many a year, Cyril. I should do wrong to
+deal otherwise than perfectly plainly with you. Were you to reform
+anything there may have been amiss in your conduct, to become a model of
+excellence in the sight of Helstonleigh, I could never admit your name
+to be associated with mine. The very notion is offensive to me."
+
+Cyril--it was a great wonder--restrained his passion. "Perhaps I had
+better leave, then?" he said.
+
+"You are welcome to stay until you can find a situation more agreeable
+to you," replied Mr. Ashley. "Provided you undertake to behave
+yourself."
+
+"Stay! and for nothing in the end!" echoed Cyril. "No, that I never
+will! If I must remain a dependant, I'll try it on at something else. I
+am sick of this."
+
+He untied his apron, dashed it on to the floor, and went out without
+another word. So furiously did he stamp through the serving-room, that
+James Meeking turned round to look at him, and Dick, taking a recreative
+balance at that moment on the edge of an upright coal-scuttle, thought
+he must be running for the fire-engines. Dick's speculations were
+disturbed by the sound of the master's voice, calling to him.
+
+He hastened to the counting-house, and was ordered to "take that apron
+away." Dick picked it up and withdrew with it, folding it carefully
+against Mr. Cyril should come in. Dick little thought the manufactory
+had seen the last of him.
+
+Mr. Ashley was indulging in a quiet laugh. "Demeaning himself by
+entering my manufactory! Disgracing his family--the high blood of the
+Dares! Poor Cyril! William, do you look at it in the same light?"
+
+William had remained in the room, taking no part whatever in the final
+contest. He had stood with his back to them, following his occupation.
+He turned round now.
+
+"Sir, you know I do not."
+
+"You once told me it presented no field for getting on. What was the
+word you used?--was it ambition? Truly, there's not much ambition
+attached to it. Nevertheless, I am satisfied with my career, William,
+although I am only the glove manufacturer, Thomas Ashley."
+
+_He_ satisfied! How many a one would be proud to be in the position of
+Thomas Ashley! William did not say so. He began to speak of Cyril Dare.
+
+"Do you think he will come back again, sir?"
+
+"I do not think he will. Should he do so, the doors are closed to him.
+He has left of his own accord, and I shall not allow him to return."
+
+"I am very sorry," remarked William. "It has been partly my fault."
+
+"Do not make yourself uneasy. I have _tolerated_ Cyril Dare here; have
+allowed him to remain on sufferance: and that is the best that can be
+said of it."
+
+"He may feel it as a blow."
+
+"As a jubilee, you mean. It will be nothing less to him. He has hated
+the manufactory with all his heart from the moment he first entered it,
+and is now, if we could see him, kicking up his heels with delight at
+the emancipation. Cyril Dare my partner!"
+
+William continued his work, saying nothing. Mr. Ashley resumed:
+
+"I must be casting my thoughts around for a fitting substitute to
+succeed to the post of ambition Cyril coveted. Can you direct me to any
+quarter, William?"
+
+Mr. Ashley was now standing at William's side, looking at him as he went
+over the gloves left by Cyril. He saw the red flush mount to his face.
+Mr. Ashley laid his hand on William's shoulder, and spoke in low tones,
+full of emotion.
+
+"It may come, my boy; my almost son! And when Thomas Ashley's head shall
+be low in the grave, the leading manufacturer of this city may be
+William Halliburton."
+
+A loud rapping at the door with a thick stick interrupted the master's
+words. He turned to behold Mr. Dare. It appeared that Cyril had by
+chance met his father in the street almost immediately after going out;
+he had volunteered to him a most exaggerated account, and Mr. Dare had
+come, as he said, to learn the rights of it.
+
+William left the room. He could not avoid remarking the bowed, broken
+appearance of the man. Mr. Ashley related the particulars, and the
+listener was obliged to acknowledge that Cyril had been to blame--had
+been too hasty.
+
+"I confess it appears so," he said. "He must have been led away by
+temper. But, Mr. Ashley, you ought to stretch a point, and make a
+concession. We are kinsmen."
+
+"What concession?"
+
+"Discharge William Halliburton. Things can never go on smoothly between
+him and Cyril. Stretch a point to oblige us, and send him away."
+
+"Discharge William Halliburton!" echoed Mr. Ashley in surprise. "I could
+as soon discharge myself. William is the right hand of the business. It
+could go on without me, but I am not sure that it could do so without
+him."
+
+"Cyril can take his place."
+
+"Cyril is not qualified for it. And----"
+
+"Cyril declares he will never enter the place again, so long as
+Halliburton is in it."
+
+"Cyril never will enter it again," quietly rejoined Mr. Ashley. "Cyril
+and I have parted. I will give you his wages for this week, now that you
+are here; legally, though, he could not claim them."
+
+Mr. Dare looked sad--gloomy. It was only what he had expected for some
+time past. "You promised to do well by him, Mr. Ashley; to take him into
+partnership."
+
+"You must surely remember that I promised nothing of the sort," said Mr.
+Ashley. "I have been telling the same thing to Cyril. All I said--and a
+shrewd, business man, as you are, could not fail thoroughly to
+understand me," he pointedly added--"was, that I would choose Cyril in
+preference to others, provided he proved himself worthy of the
+preference. Circumstances appear to have worked entirely against
+carrying out that idea, Mr. Dare."
+
+"What circumstances?"
+
+Mr. Ashley did not immediately reply, and the question was repeated in a
+hasty, almost an imperative tone. Then Mr. Ashley answered it.
+
+"I do not wish to say a word that should unnecessarily hurt your
+feelings; but in a matter of business I believe there is no resource but
+to speak plainly. The unfortunate notoriety acquired, in one way or
+other, by your sons, has rendered the name of Dare so conspicuous, that,
+were there no other reason, it could never be associated with mine."
+
+"Conspicuous? How?" interposed Mr. Dare.
+
+Mr. Ashley would not have believed the words were uttered as a question,
+but that the answer was evidently waited for. "You ask _how_," he said.
+"Surely I need not remind you. The scandal which, in more ways than one,
+attached to Anthony--though I am sorry to allude to him, poor fellow,
+in any such way; the circumstances attending the trial of Herbert;
+the----"
+
+"Herbert was innocent," interrupted Mr. Dare.
+
+"Innocent of the murder, no doubt; as innocent as you or I. But people
+made free with his name in other ways; had often made free with it. And
+look at this last report, wafted over to us from Germany, that is just
+now astonishing the city!"
+
+"Hang him for a simpleton!" burst forth Mr. Dare.
+
+"It is all so much discredit to the name--to the family altogether,"
+concluded Mr. Ashley, as if his sentence had not been interrupted.
+
+"The faults of his brothers ought to be no good reason for your
+rejecting Cyril."
+
+"They are not my reason for rejecting him," quietly returned Mr. Ashley.
+
+"No? You have just said they were."
+
+"I said the notoriety given by your sons to the name of Dare would bar
+its association with mine. In saying 'your sons,' I included Cyril
+himself. _He_ interposes the greatest barrier of all. Were the rest of
+them of good report in the sight of day, Cyril is not so."
+
+"What's the matter with him?" asked Mr. Dare.
+
+"I do not care to tell you. A great deal of it you must know."
+
+"Go on," cried Anthony Dare, who was leaning forward in his chair, his
+chin resting on his stick, as one who sets himself calmly to hear the
+whole.
+
+"Cyril's private conduct is bad. He----"
+
+"Follies of youth only," cried old Anthony. "He will outlive them."
+
+"Youth's follies sometimes end in manhood's crimes," was the reply. "I
+am thankful that my son is free from them."
+
+"Your son!" returned Anthony Dare, coughing down his slighting tone.
+"Your son is one apart. He has not the health to be knocking about. If
+young men are worth anything, they are sure to be a bit wild."
+
+A frown passed over the master's brow. "You are mistaken, Mr. Dare.
+Young men who are worth anything keep themselves from such folly.
+Opinions have taken a turn. Society is becoming more sensible of the
+world's increased enlightenment; and ill conduct, although its pursuer
+may be a fashionable young man, is beginning to be called by its right
+name. Would you believe that Cyril has, more than once, come here--I
+hesitate to say the word, it is so ugly a one--drunk? Drunk, Mr. Dare!"
+
+"No!"
+
+"He has."
+
+"Then he must have been a fool for his pains," was the angry retort of
+old Anthony.
+
+"He is untruthful; he is idle; he is deceitful--but I do not, I say,
+care to go into this. Were you cognizant of the application Cyril made
+to me yesterday, respecting my daughter?"
+
+"I don't know of any application."
+
+"He did me the honour to make her an offer of marriage."
+
+Old Anthony lifted his head sharply, not speaking. The master continued:
+
+"He said yesterday that he was acting by your advice. He repeated
+to-day, that you and Mrs. Dare had led him to look to Mary."
+
+"Well?" returned Mr. Dare. "But I did not know he had spoken."
+
+"How could you--excuse me, I again say, if I am to speak plainly--how
+could you ever have entertained so wild an idea?"
+
+"Perhaps you would like to call it a presumptuous one?" chafed Mr. Dare.
+
+"I do call it so," returned Mr. Ashley. "It can be regarded as nothing
+less; any impartial person would tell you so. I put out of the
+discussion altogether the want of means on the part of Cyril; I speak of
+its suitability. That Cyril should have aspired to an alliance with Mary
+Ashley was presumption in the highest degree. It has displeased me very
+much, and Henry looks upon it in the light of an insult."
+
+"Who's Henry?" scornfully returned Mr. Dare. "A dreamy hypochondriac!
+Pray is Cyril not as well born as Mary Ashley?"
+
+"Has he been as well reared? Is he proving that he has been? A man's
+conduct is of far more importance than his birth."
+
+"It would seem that you care little about birth, or rearing either, or
+you would not exalt Halliburton to a level with yourself."
+
+The master fixed his expressive eyes on Anthony Dare. "Halliburton's
+birth is, at any rate, as good as your family's and mine. His father's
+mother and your wife's father were brother and sister."
+
+Old Anthony looked taken by surprise. "I don't know anything about it,"
+said he, somewhat roughly. "I know a little of how he has been bred, he
+and his brothers."
+
+"So do I," said Mr. Ashley. "I wish a few more in the world had been
+bred in the same way."
+
+"Why! they have been bred to work!" exclaimed old Anthony, in
+astonishment. "They have not been bred as gentlemen. They have not had
+enough to eat."
+
+The concluding sentence elicited an involuntary laugh from the master.
+"At any rate, the want does not appear to have stinted their growth, or
+injured them in a physical point of view," he rejoined, a touch of
+sarcasm in his tone. "They are fine-grown men; and, Mr. Dare, they are
+_gentlemen_, whether they have been bred as such or not. Gentlemen in
+looks, in manners, and in mind and heart."
+
+"I don't care what they are," again repeated old Anthony. "I did not
+come here to talk about them, but about Cyril. Your exalting Halliburton
+into the general favour that ought legitimately to have been Cyril's is
+a piece of injustice. Cyril says you have this morning announced
+publicly that Halliburton is master, under you. It is flagrant
+injustice."
+
+"No man living has ever had cause to tax me with injustice,"
+impressively answered Thomas Ashley. "I have been far more just to Cyril
+than he deserves. Stay: 'just' is a wrong word. I have been far more
+_lenient_ to him. Shall I tell you that I have kept him on here out of
+compassion, in the hope that the considerate way in which I treated him
+might be an inducement to him to turn over a new leaf, and discard his
+faults? I would not turn him away to be a town's talk. Deep down within
+the archives of my memory, my own sole knowledge, I buried the great
+fault of which he was guilty here. He was young; and I would not take
+from him his fair fame on the very threshold of his commercial life."
+
+"Great fault?" hesitated Mr. Dare, looking half frightened.
+
+Thomas Ashley inclined his head, and lowered his voice to a deeper
+whisper.
+
+"When he robbed my desk of the cheque, I fancy your own suspicions of
+him were to the full as much awakened as mine."
+
+There was no reply, unless a groan from Anthony Dare could be called
+one. His hands, supporting his chin, rested on his stick still. Mr.
+Ashley resumed:
+
+"I became convinced, though not in the first blush of the affair that
+the transgressor was no other than Cyril; and I deliberated what my
+course should be. Natural impulse would have led me to turn him away, if
+not to prosecute. The latter would scarcely have been palatable towards
+one of my wife's kindred. What was I to do with him? Turn him adrift
+without a character? and a character that would get him any other
+situation of confidence, I could not give him. I resolved to keep him
+on. For his own sake I would give him a chance of redeeming what he may
+have done in a moment's thoughtless temptation. I spoke to him
+privately. I did not tell him in so many words that I knew him to be
+guilty; but he could not well misunderstand that my suspicions were
+awakened. I told him his conduct had not been good--not such that I
+could approve; but that I was willing, for his own sake, to bury the
+past in silence, and retain him, as a last chance. I very distinctly
+warned him what would be the consequences of the smallest repetition of
+his fault: that no consideration for myself or for him would induce me
+to look over it a second time. Thus he stayed on: I, continually giving
+an eye to his conduct, and taking due precautions for the protection of
+my property, and keeping fast my keys. James Meeking received my orders
+that Mr. Cyril should never be called upon to help pay the men, or to
+count the packets of halfpence; and when the man looked wonderingly at
+me in return, I casually added that there was no necessity to put Mr.
+Cyril to an employment he particularly disliked, while he could call
+upon East to help him, or in case of need, upon Mr. Halliburton. Never
+think again, Mr. Dare, that I have been unjust to your son. If I have
+erred at all, it has been on the side of kindness."
+
+There was a long pause. Anthony Dare probably was feeling the kindness,
+in spite of himself.
+
+"What have you had to complain of in him since?" he asked.
+
+"Not of any more robbery: but of his general conduct a great deal. He is
+deceitful: he has appeared here in the state I have hinted to you; he is
+incorrigibly idle. He probably fancies, because I do not take a very
+active part in the management of my business and my workpeople, that I
+sit here with my eyes shut, seeing little and knowing less of what goes
+on around me. He is essentially mistaken: I am cognizant of all; as much
+so, or nearly as much so, as Samuel Lynn would be, were he at his post
+again. Look at his sorting of gloves, for instance--the very thing about
+which the disturbance occurred just now. Cyril _can_ sort if he pleases;
+he is as capable of sorting them properly as I should be; perhaps more
+so: but he does not do it; and every dozen he attempts to make up has to
+be done over again. In point of fact, he has been of no real use here;
+for nothing that he attempts to do will he do well. A fitting hand to
+fill the post of manager! Taking all these facts into consideration,"
+added the master, "you will not be surprised that an offer of marriage
+from Cyril Dare to my daughter bears an appearance little removed from
+insult."
+
+So it was all known to Mr. Ashley, and there was an end of Cyril and his
+hopes! It may be said of his prospects.
+
+"What is he to do now?" broke from the lips of Anthony Dare.
+
+"Indeed I do not know. Unless he changes his habits, he will do no good
+at anything."
+
+"Won't you take him back again?"
+
+"No," unequivocally pronounced Mr. Ashley. "He has left of his own
+accord, and he must abide by it. Stay--hear me out. Were I to allow him
+to return, he would not remain here a week; I am certain of it. That
+Cyril has been acting a part, to beguile me of my favour with regard to
+those foolish hopes of his, there is no doubt. The hopes gone, he would
+not keep up even the semblance of good conduct; neither would he submit
+to the rule of William Halliburton. It is best as it is; he is gone, and
+he cannot return. My opinion is, that were the offer of return made to
+him, he would reject it."
+
+Mr. Dare's opinion was not far different, although he had pleaded for
+the concession.
+
+"Then you will not make him your partner?" he resumed.
+
+"Mr. Dare!"
+
+"I suppose you will take in Halliburton?"
+
+"It is very probable. Whoever I take must be a man of probity and
+honour: and a gentleman," he added, with a stress upon the word.
+"William Halliburton is all that."
+
+Anthony Dare rose with a groan. He could contend no longer.
+
+"My sons have been my bane," he uttered from between his bloodless lips.
+"I wonder, sometimes, whether they were born bad."
+
+"No," said Thomas Ashley. "The badness has come with their training."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+"CALLED."
+
+
+And now there occurs another gap in the story--a gap of years, and we
+have entered on the third and last part.
+
+The patient well-doing of the Halliburtons was approaching fruition,
+their struggles were well-nigh over, and they were ready to play their
+part, for success or for failure, in the great drama of life. Jane's
+troubles were at an end.
+
+Did you ever remark how some things, when they draw towards a close,
+seem to advance with rapid strides, unlike the slow, crawling pace that
+characterized their beginning? Life: in its childhood, its youth, nay,
+in its middle age, how slowly it seems to pass! how protracted its
+distinctive periods appear to be! But when old age approaches then time
+moves with giant strides. Undertake a work, whether of the hands or the
+head, very, very slow does the progress appear to be, until it is far
+advanced; and then the conclusion is attained fast and imperceptibly.
+Thus does it seem to be in the history of the young Halliburtons. To
+them the race may have been tedious, the labour as hard at the close of
+their preparatory career as at its commencement; but not so to those who
+were watching them.
+
+There has not been space to trace the life of Frank and Gar at the
+Universities, to record word by word how they bore onward with
+unflinching perseverance, looking towards the goal in view. Great praise
+was due to them; and they won it from those who knew what hard work
+meant. Patiently and steadily had they laboured on, making of themselves
+sound and brilliant scholars, resisting temptations that lead so many
+astray, and _bearing_ the slights and mortifications incidental to their
+subordinate position. "I'll take it all out, when I am Lord Chancellor
+of England," Frank would say, in his cheery way. Of course Frank had
+always intended to go up for honours; and of course Frank gained them.
+He went to Oxford as a humble servitor, and he left it a man of note.
+Francis Halliburton had obtained a double-first, and gained his
+fellowship.
+
+He had entered himself a student of the Middle Temple long before his
+college career was over. The expenses of qualifying for the Bar are
+considerable, and Frank's fellowship did not suffice for all. He
+procured literary employment: writing a leading article for one of the
+daily papers, and contributing to sundry reviews.
+
+Gar, too, had quitted Cambridge with unusual credit, though he was _not_
+senior wrangler. No one but Gar, perhaps, knew that he had aspired to
+that proud distinction, so it did not signify. A more solid scholar, or
+one with a higher character in the best sense of the term, never left
+the University to be ordained by the Bishop of Helstonleigh--or by any
+other prelate on the bench. He had a choice of a title to orders. His
+uncle, the Reverend Francis Tait--who, like his father before him, had,
+after many years' service, obtained a living--had offered Gar his title.
+But a clergyman in the county of Helstonleigh had also offered him one,
+and Gar, thanking his uncle, chose Helstonleigh.
+
+William's dream of ambition was fulfilled; the dream which he had _not_
+indulged; for it had seemed all too high and vague for possibility. He
+was Mr. Ashley's partner. The great firm in Helstonleigh was Ashley and
+Halliburton.
+
+Ashley and Halliburton! And the event had been so gradually, so
+naturally led up to, that Helstonleigh was not surprised when it was
+announced. Of course William received as yet only a small share of the
+profits: how small or how large was not known. Helstonleigh racked its
+curiosity to learn particulars, and racked it in vain. One fact was
+assumed beyond doubt: that a portion of the profits was secured to Henry
+in the event of Mr. Ashley's death.
+
+William was now virtually sole master of the business. Mr. Ashley had
+partially retired from the manufactory: at least, his visits to it were
+of occurrence so rare as almost to amount to retirement. Samuel Lynn was
+manager, as of old; William had assumed Mr. Ashley's place and desk in
+the counting-house--as master. Mr. Ashley had purchased an estate,
+Deoffam Hall, some two to three miles distant from the city, close to
+the little village of Deoffam: and there he and his family had gone to
+reside. He retained his old house in the London Road, and they would
+visit it occasionally, and pass a week there. The change of abode did
+not appear to give unqualified gratification to Henry Ashley. He had
+become so attached to William that he could not bear to be far away from
+him. In the old home William's visits had been daily; or rather,
+nightly: in this he did see him so often. William contrived to go over
+twice or thrice a week; but that did not appear to be often enough for
+Henry. Mary Ashley was not married; to the surprise of Helstonleigh: but
+Mary somewhat obstinately refused to leave the paternal home. William
+and his mother lived on together in the old house. But they were alone
+now: for he could afford to keep up its expenses, and he had insisted
+upon doing so; insisted that she who had worked so hard for them, should
+have rest, now they could work for her.
+
+Yes, they had all worked; worked on for the end, and gained it. Looking
+back, Jane wondered how she had struggled on. It seemed now next to an
+impossibility that she could have done it. Verily and truly she believed
+that God alone had borne her up. Had it been a foreshadowing of what was
+to come, when her father, years back, had warned her, on the very day of
+her marriage with Mr. Halliburton had been decided, that it might bring
+many troubles upon her? Perhaps so. One thing was certain: that it had
+brought them, and in no common degree. But the troubles were surmounted
+now: and Jane's boys were turned out just as well as though she had had
+thousands a year to bring them up upon. Perhaps better.
+
+Perhaps better! How full of force is the suggestion! I wonder if no one
+will let this history of the young Halliburtons read a lesson to them?
+Many a student, used worse by fortune and the world than he thinks he
+deserves, might take it to himself with profit. Do not let it be flung
+away as a fancy picture; endeavour to make it your reality. A career,
+worked out as theirs was, insures success as a necessity. "Ah!" you may
+think, "I am poor; I can't hope to achieve such things." Poor! What were
+they? What's that you say? "There are so many difficulties in the way!"
+Quite true; there are difficulties in the way of attaining most things
+worth having; but they are only placed there to be overcome. Like the
+hillocks and stumbling-blocks in that dream that came to Mr. Halliburton
+when he was dying, they are placed there to be subdued, not to be
+shunned in fear, or turned from in idleness. Whatever may be your object
+in life, work on for it. Be you heir to a dukedom, or be your heritage
+that of daily toil, an object you must have: a man who has none is the
+most miserable being on the face of the earth. Bear manfully onward and
+attain the prize. Toil may be hard, but it will grow lighter as you
+advance; impediments may be disheartening, but they are not
+insurmountable; privations may be painful, but you are working on to
+plenty; temptations to indolence, to flagging, to that many-headed
+monster, sin, may be pulling at you; but they will not stir you from
+your path an inch, unless you choose to let them do so. Only be
+resolute; only regard trustingly the end, and labour for it; and it will
+surely come. It may look in the distance so far off that the very hope
+of attaining it seems but a chimera. Never mind; bear hopefully on, and
+the distance will lessen palpably with every step. No real good was ever
+attained to in this world without working for it. No real good, as I
+honestly believe, was ever gained, unless God's blessing went with the
+endeavours to attain it. _Make a friend of God._ Do that, and fight your
+way on, doing your duty, and you will find the goal: as the sons of Mrs.
+Halliburton did.
+
+Jane was sitting alone one afternoon in her parlour. She was little
+changed. None, looking at her, could believe her old enough to be the
+mother of those three great men, her sons. Not that Gar was
+particularly great; he was only of middle height. Jane wore a shaded
+silk dress; and her hair looked as smooth and abundant as in the old
+days of her girlhood. It was remarkable how little her past troubles had
+told upon her good looks; how little she was aging.
+
+She saw the postman come to the door, and Dobbs brought in a letter.
+"It's Mr. Frank's writing," growled Dobbs.
+
+Jane opened it, and found that Frank had been "called." Half his care
+was over.
+
+     "MY DARLING MOTHER,--I am made a barrister at last. I really
+     am; and I beg you will all receive the announcement with
+     appropriate awe and deference. I was called to-day: and I
+     intend to have a photograph taken of myself in my wig and gown,
+     and send it down to you as a confirmation of the fact. When you
+     see the guy the wig makes of me, you will say you never saw an
+     ugly man before. Tell Dobbs so; it will gladden her heart:
+     don't you remember how she used to assure us, when boys, that
+     we ought to be put under a glass case, as three ultra specimens
+     of ugliness?
+
+     "I shall get on now, dearest mother. It may be a little up-hill
+     work at first: but there's no fear. A first-rate law firm has
+     promised me some briefs: and one of these speedy days I shall
+     inevitably take the ears of some court by storm--the jury
+     struck into themselves with the learned counsel's astounding
+     eloquence, and the bar dumb--and then my fortune's made. I need
+     not tell you what circuit I shall patronize, or in how short a
+     time afterwards I intend to be leading it: but I will tell you
+     that my first object in life, when I am up in the world, shall
+     be the ease and comfort of my dear mother. William is not going
+     to do everything, and have you all to himself.
+
+     "Talking about William, ask him if he cannot get up some chance
+     litigation, that I may have the honour of appearing for him
+     next assizes. I'll do it all free, _gratis_, for nothing. Ever
+     your own son,
+
+     "FRANK."
+
+Jane started up from her chair at the news, almost as a glad child. Who
+could she find to share it with her? She ran into the next house to
+Patience. Patience limped a little in her walk still; she would limp
+always. Anna, in her sober Quaker's cap, the border resting on her fair
+forehead, looked up from her drawing, and Jane told them the news, and
+read the letter.
+
+"That is nice," said Patience. "It must be a weight off thy mind."
+
+"I don't know that it is that," replied Jane. "I have never doubted his
+success. I don't doubt it still. But I am very glad."
+
+"I wish I had a cause to try," cried Anna, who had recovered all her old
+spirits and her love of chatter. "I would let Frank plead it for me."
+
+"Will you come back with me, Anna, and take tea?" said Jane. "I shall be
+alone this evening. William is going over to Deoffam Hall."
+
+"I'll come," replied Anna, beginning to put up her pencils with
+alacrity. Truth to say, she was just as fond of going out and of taking
+off her cap, that her curls might fall, as she used to be. She had quite
+recovered caste in the opinion of Helstonleigh. In fact, when the
+reaction set in, Helstonleigh had been rather demonstrative in its
+expression of repentance for having taken so harsh a view of the case.
+Nevertheless, it had been a real lesson to Anna, and had rendered her
+more sober and cautious in conduct.
+
+Dobbs was standing at the kitchen door as they went in. "Dobbs," said
+Jane, in the gladness of her heart, "Mr. Frank is called."
+
+"Called?" responded Dobbs, staring with all her might.
+
+"Yes. He was called yesterday."
+
+"Him called!" repeated Dobbs, evidently doubting the fact. "Then, ma'am
+you'll excuse me, but I'm not a-going to believe it. It's a deal more
+likely he's gone off t'other way, than that he's called to grace."
+
+Anna nearly choked with laughter. Jane laughed so that she could not at
+once speak. "Oh, Dobbs, I don't mean that sort of calling. He is called
+to the Bar. He has become a barrister."
+
+"Oh--that," said Dobbs ungraciously. "Much good may it do him, ma'am!"
+
+"He wears a wig and gown now, Dobbs," put in Anna. "He says his mother
+is to tell thee that it makes a guy of him, and so gladden thy heart."
+
+"Ugh!" grunted Dobbs.
+
+"We will make him put them on when he comes down, won't we! Dobbs, if
+thee'd like his picture in them, he'll send it thee."
+
+"He'd better keep it," retorted Dobbs. "I never yet saw no good in young
+chaps having their picturs took, Miss Anna. They're vain enough without
+that. Called! That would have been a new flight for _him_."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+A GLIMPSE OF A BLISSFUL DREAM.
+
+
+A prettier place than Deoffam Hall could not well be conceived. "For its
+size," carping people would add. Well, it was not so large as Windsor
+Castle; but it was no smaller than the bishop's palace at
+Helstonleigh--if it has been your good fortune to see that renowned
+edifice. Deoffam Hall was a white, moderate-sized, modern villa, rising
+in the midst of charming grounds; grassy lawns smooth as velvet, winding
+rivulets, groves of trees affording shelter on a summer's day. On the
+terrace before the windows a stately peacock was fond of spreading its
+plumes, and in the small park--it was only a small one--the deer rubbed
+their antlers on the fine old trees. The deer and the peacock were the
+especial pets of Henry Ashley. Deoffam itself was an insignificant
+village; a few gentlemen's houses and a good many cottages comprised it.
+It was pleasantly and conveniently situated; within a walk of
+Helstonleigh for those who liked walking, or within a short drive. But,
+desirable as it was as a residence, Henry Ashley was rather addicted to
+grumbling at it. He would often wish himself back in his old home.
+
+One lovely morning in early summer, when they were assembled together
+discussing plans for the day, he suddenly broke into one of his
+grumbling humours. "You bought Deoffam for me, sir," he was beginning,
+"but----"
+
+"I bought it for myself and your mother," interposed Mr. Ashley.
+
+"Of course. But to descend to me afterwards--you know what I mean. I
+have made up my mind, when that time shall come, to send gratitude to
+the winds, and sell it. Stuck out here, alone with the peacock, you and
+the mother gone, I should----I don't like to outrage your feelings by
+saying what I might do."
+
+"There's Mary," said Mrs. Ashley.
+
+"Mary! I expect she'll have gone into fresh quarters by that time. She
+has only stopped here so long out of politeness to me."
+
+Mary lifted her eyes, a smile and a glow on her bright face. A lovely
+picture, she, in her delicate summer muslin dress.
+
+"I tell every one she is devoted to me," went on Henry, in his quaint
+fashion. "'Very strange that handsome girl, Mary Ashley, does not get
+married!' cries Helstonleigh. Mary, my dear, I know your vanity is
+already as great as it can be, so I don't fear to increase it. 'My
+sister get married!' I say to them. 'Not she; she has resolved to make a
+noble sacrifice of herself for my sake, and live at home with me, a
+vestal virgin, and see to the puddings.'"
+
+The smile left Mary's face--the glow remained. "I do wish you would not
+talk nonsense, Henry! As if Helstonleigh troubled itself to make
+remarks upon me. It is not so rude as you are."
+
+"Just hark at her!" returned Henry. "Helstonleigh not trouble itself to
+make remarks! When you know the town was up in arms when you refused Sir
+Harry Marr, and sent him packing. Such an honour had never fallen to its
+luck before--that one of its fair citizens, born and bred, should have
+the chance of becoming a real live My Lady."
+
+
+Mary was cutting a pencil at the moment, and broke the point off.
+"Papa," cried she, turning her hot face to his, "can't you make Henry
+talk sense?--if he must talk at all."
+
+Mrs. Ashley interposed. It was quite true that Mary had had, as Henry
+phrased it, a chance of becoming a "real live My Lady"; and there lurked
+in Mrs. Ashley's heart a shadow of grievance, of disappointment, that
+she should have refused the honour. She spoke rather sharply, taking
+Henry's part, not Mary's.
+
+"Henry is talking nothing but sense. My opinion is that you behaved
+quite rudely to Sir Harry. It is an offer you will not have again, Mary.
+Still," added Mrs. Ashley, subduing her tone a little, "it is no
+business of Helstonleigh's; neither do I see whence the town could have
+derived its knowledge."
+
+"As if any news could be stirring, good or bad, that Helstonleigh does
+not ferret its way to!" returned Henry.
+
+"My belief is that Henry went and told," retorted Mary.
+
+"I! what next?" cried Henry. "As if I should tell of the graceless
+doings of my sister; it is bad enough to lie under the weighty knowledge
+one's self."
+
+"And as if I should ever consent to marry Sir Harry Marr!" returned
+Mary, with a touch of her brother's spirit.
+
+"Mary," said Mr. Ashley, quietly, "you seemed to slip out of that
+business, and of all questioning over it, as smoothly as an eel. I never
+came to the bottom of it. What was your objection to Sir Harry?"
+
+"Objection, papa?" she faltered, with a crimsoned face. "I--I did not
+care for him."
+
+"Oh, that was it, was it?" returned Mr. Ashley.
+
+"Is it always to go on so, my dear?" asked her mother.
+
+Poor Mary was in sad confusion, scarcely knowing whether to burst into
+anger or into tears. "What do you mean, mamma? How 'go on'?"
+
+"This rejection of every one. You have had three good offers----"
+
+"Not counting the venture of Cyril Dare," put in Henry.
+
+"And you say 'No' to all," concluded Mrs. Ashley. "I fear you must be
+very fastidious."
+
+"And she's growing into an old maid, and----"
+
+"Be quiet, Henry. Can't you leave me in peace?"
+
+"My dear, it is true," cried Henry, who was in one of his teasing moods.
+"Of course I have not kept count of your age since you were eighteen--it
+wouldn't be polite to do so; but my private conviction is that you are
+four-and-twenty this blessed summer."
+
+"If I were four-and-thirty," answered Mary, "I wouldn't marry Sir Harry
+Marr. I am not _obliged_ to marry, I suppose, am I?"
+
+"My dear, no one said you were," said Henry, flinging a rose at her,
+which he took from his button-hole. "But don't you see that this brings
+round my argument, that you have resolved to make yourself a noble
+sisterly sacrifice, and stop at home with me? Don't you take to cats
+yet, though!"
+
+Mary thought she was getting the worst of it, and left the room. Soon
+afterwards Mrs. Ashley was called out by a servant.
+
+"Did you receive a note from William this morning, sir?" asked Henry.
+
+"Yes," replied Mr. Ashley, taking it from his pocket. "He mentions in it
+that there is a report in the town that Herbert Dare is dead."
+
+"Herbert Dare! I wonder if it's true?"
+
+"It is to be hoped not. I fear he was not very fit to die. I am going
+into Helstonleigh, and shall probably hear more."
+
+"Oh! are you going in to-day, sir? Despatch William back, will you?"
+
+"I don't know, Henry. They may be busy at the manufactory. If so, I am
+sure he will not leave it."
+
+"What a blessing if that manufactory were up in the clouds!" was Henry's
+rejoinder. "When I want William particularly, it is sure to be--that
+manufactory!"
+
+"It is well William does not think as you do," remarked Mr. Ashley.
+
+"Well, sir, he must certainly think Samuel Lynn a nonentity, or he would
+not stick himself so closely to business. You never applied yourself in
+such a way."
+
+"Yes, I did. But you must please to remember, Master Henry, that the
+cases are not on a parallel. I was head and chief of all, accountable to
+none. Had I chosen to take a twelvemonth's holiday, and let the business
+go, it would have been my own affair exclusively. Whether the business
+went right, or whether it went wrong, I was accountable to none. William
+is not in that position."
+
+"I know he is often in the position of not being to be had when he is
+wanted," was Henry's reply, as he listlessly turned over some books
+that lay on the table.
+
+"Will you go into town with me?"
+
+"I could not stand it to-day. My hip is giving me twinges."
+
+"Is it? I had better bring back Parry."
+
+"No. I won't have him, unless I find there's actual need. The mother
+knows what to do with me. I don't suppose it will come to anything; and
+I have been so much better of late."
+
+"Yes, you have. Although you quarrel with Deoffam, it is the change to
+it--the air of the place--that has renewed your health, you ungrateful
+boy!"
+
+Mr. Ashley's eyes were bent lovingly on Henry's as he said it. Henry
+seized his father's hands, his half-mocking tone exchanged for one of
+earnestness.
+
+"Not ungrateful, sir--far from it. I know the value of my dear father:
+that a kinder or a better one son could not possess. I shall grumble on
+to my life's end. It is my amusement. But the grumbling is from my lips
+only: not from my fractious spirit, as it was in days gone by."
+
+"I have remarked that: remarked it with deep thankfulness. You have
+acquired a victory over that fractious spirit."
+
+"For which the chief thanks are due to William Halliburton. Sir, it is
+so. But for him, most probably I should have gone, a discontented
+wretch, to the--let me be poetical for once--silent tomb: never seeking
+out either the light or the love that may be found in this world."
+
+Mr. Ashley glanced at his son. He saw that he was contending with
+emotion, although he had reassumed his bantering tone.
+
+"Henry, what light--what love?"
+
+"The light and the love that a man may take into his own spirit.
+He--William--told me, years ago, that I might make even my life a
+pleasant and a useful one; and measureless was the ridicule I gave him
+for it. But I have found that he was right. When William came to the
+house one night, a humble errand-boy, sent by Samuel Lynn with a
+note--do you remember it, sir?--and offered to help me, dunce that I
+was, with my Latin exercise--a help I graciously condescended to
+accept--we little thought what a blessing had entered the dwelling."
+
+"We little thought what a brave, honest, indomitable spirit was
+enshrined in the humble errand-boy," continued Mr. Ashley.
+
+"He has got on as he deserved. He will be a worthy successor to you,
+sir: a second Thomas Ashley; a far better one than I should ever have
+been, had I possessed the rudest health. There's only one thing more for
+William to gain, and then I expect he will be at rest."
+
+"What's that?"
+
+"Oh, it's no concern of mine, sir. If folks can't manage for themselves,
+they need not come to me to help them."
+
+Mr. Ashley looked keenly at his son. Henry passed to another topic.
+
+"Do send him here, sir, when you get in; or else drive him back with
+you."
+
+"I shall see," said Mr. Ashley. "Do you know where your mother went to?"
+
+"After some domestic catastrophe, I expect. Martha came to the door,
+with a face as green as the peacock's tail, and beckoned her out. The
+best dinner-service come to grief, perhaps."
+
+Mr. Ashley rang, and ordered the pony-carriage to be got ready: one
+bought chiefly for Henry, that he might drive into town. Before he
+started, he came across Mary, who stood at one of the corridor windows
+upstairs, and had evidently been crying.
+
+"What is your grief, Mary?"
+
+She turned to the sheltering arm open to her, and tried to choke the
+tears down, which were again rising. "I wish you and mamma would not
+keep so angry at my refusing Sir Harry Marr."
+
+"Who told you I was angry, Mary?"
+
+"Oh, papa, I fancied so this morning. Mamma is angry about it, and it
+pains me. It is as though you wanted me gone."
+
+"My dear child! Gone! For our comfort I should wish you might never go,
+Mary. But for your own, it may be different."
+
+"I do not wish to go," she sobbed. "I want to stay at home always. It
+was not my fault, papa, if I could not like Sir Harry."
+
+"You should never, with my consent, marry any one you did not like,
+Mary; not if it were the greatest match in the three kingdoms. Why this
+distress, my dear? Mamma's vexation will blow over. She hoped--as Henry
+tells us--to see you converted into a 'real live My Lady.' 'My daughter,
+Lady Marr!' It will blow over, child."
+
+Mary cried in silence. "And you will not let me be driven away, papa?
+You will keep me at home always?"
+
+Mr. Ashley shook his head. "Always is a long day, Mary. Some one may be
+coming, less distasteful than Sir Harry Marr, who will induce you to
+leave it."
+
+"No, never!" cried she, somewhat more vehemently than the case seemed to
+warrant. "Should any one be asking you for me, you can tell them 'No,'
+at once; do not trouble to bring the news to me."
+
+"_Any one_, Mary?"
+
+"Yes, papa, no matter who. Do not drive me away from you."
+
+He stooped and kissed her. She stood at the window still, in a dreamy
+attitude, and watched the carriage drive off with Mr. Ashley. Presently
+Henry passed.
+
+"Has the master gone, do you know, Mary?"
+
+"Five minutes ago."
+
+"I hope and trust he'll send back William."
+
+It was striking half-past two when Mr. Ashley entered the manufactory.
+Samuel Lynn was in his own room, sorting gloves; William was in the
+counting house, seated at his desk. His, now; formerly Mr. Ashley's; the
+very desk from which the cheque had disappeared; but William took a more
+active part in the general management than Mr. Ashley had ever done. He
+rose, shook hands with the master, and placed a chair for him. The
+"master" still he was called; indeed, he actually was so; William, "Mr.
+Halliburton."
+
+A short time given to business details, and then Mr. Ashley referred to
+the report of Herbert Dare's death. Poor Herbert Dare had never returned
+from abroad, and it was to be feared he had been getting lower and lower
+in the scale of society. Under happier auspices, and with different
+training, Herbert might have made a happier and a better man.
+Helstonleigh did not know how he lived abroad, or why he stayed there.
+Possibly the free and easy continental life had become necessary to him.
+Homburg, Baden-Baden, Wiesbaden, wherever there were gaming-tables,
+there might be found Herbert Dare. That he must find a living at them in
+some way seemed pretty evident. It was a great pity.
+
+"How did you hear that he was dead?" inquired Mr. Ashley.
+
+"From Richard Winthorne," replied William. "I met him yesterday evening
+in Guild Street, and he told me a report had come over that Herbert Dare
+had died of fever."
+
+As William spoke, a gentleman entered the room, and interrupted them; a
+Captain Chambers. "Have you heard that Herbert Dare's dead?" was his
+first greeting.
+
+"Is it certain?" asked Mr. Ashley.
+
+"I don't know. Report says it is certain; but report is not always to be
+believed. How that family has gone down!" continued Captain Chambers.
+"Anthony first; now Herbert; and Cyril will be next. He will go out of
+the world in some discreditable way. A wretched scamp! Shocking habits!
+Old Dare, too, unless I am mistaken, is on his last legs."
+
+"Is he ill?" inquired Mr. Ashley.
+
+"No; no worse than usual; but I never saw a man so broken. I alluded to
+the legs of prosperity. Talk about reports, though," and Captain
+Chambers suddenly wheeled round on William, "there's one going the round
+of the town to-day about you."
+
+"What's that?" asked William. "Not that I am dead, I suppose, or on my
+last legs?"
+
+"Something better. That you are going to marry Sophy Glenn."
+
+William looked all amazement, an amused smile stealing over his lips.
+"Well, I never!" uttered he, using a phrase just then in vogue in
+Helstonleigh. "What has put that into the town's head?"
+
+"You should best know that," said Captain Chambers. "Did you not, for
+one thing, beau Miss Sophy to a concert last night? Come, Master
+William! guilty or not guilty?"
+
+"Guilty of the beauing," answered William. "I called on the Glenns
+yesterday evening, and found them starting for the concert; so I
+accompanied them. I did give my arm to Sophy."
+
+"And whispered the sweet words, 'Will you be my charming wife?'"
+
+"No, that I did not," said William, laughing. "And I dare say I shall
+never whisper them to any woman yet born: if it will give Helstonleigh
+satisfaction to know so much."
+
+"You might go farther and fare worse, than in taking Sophy Glenn, I can
+tell you that, Master William," returned Captain Chambers. "Remember,
+she is the lucky one of three sisters, and had the benignant godmother.
+Sophy Glenn counts five thousand pounds to her fortune."
+
+When Captain Chambers took his departure, Mr. Ashley looked at William.
+"I have heard Henry joke you about the Glenn girls--nice little girls
+they are too! Is there anything in it, William?"
+
+"Sir! How can you ask such a thing?"
+
+"I think, with Chambers, that a man might do worse than marry Sophy
+Glenn."
+
+"So do I, sir. But I shall not be the man."
+
+"Well, I think it is time you contemplated something of the sort. You
+will soon be thirty years of age."
+
+"Yes, sir, but I do not intend to marry."
+
+"Why not?" asked Mr. Ashley.
+
+"Because--I fear my wishes would lead me to soar too high. That is,
+I--I--mean----" He stopped; and seemed to be falling into inextricable
+confusion. A notable thing for the self-possessed William Halliburton.
+
+"Do you mean that you have an attachment in some quarter?" resumed Mr.
+Ashley.
+
+William's face turned fiery red. "I cannot deny it, sir," he answered,
+after considerable hesitation.
+
+"And that she is above your reach?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"In what manner? In position?--or by any insurmountable obstacle? I
+suppose she is not some one else's wife?"
+
+William smiled. "Oh, no. In position."
+
+"Shall I give you my opinion, William, without knowing the case in
+detail?"
+
+William was standing at one corner of the mantel-piece, his arm leaning
+on its narrow shelf. He did not lift his eyes. "Yes, sir, if you
+please."
+
+"Then I think there is scarcely any marriageable girl in the county, to
+whom you might not aspire, and in time win."
+
+"Oh, Mr. Ashley!"
+
+"Is it the daughter of the lord-lieutenant?"
+
+William laughed.
+
+"Is it the bishop's daughter?"
+
+William shook his head. "She seems to be quite as far removed from me."
+
+"Come, I must know. Who is it?"
+
+"It is impossible that I can tell you, sir."
+
+"I must know. I don't think I have ever asked you in vain, since the
+time when, a boy, you confessed your thoughts about the found shilling.
+Secrets from me! I will know, William!"
+
+William did not answer. The upper part of his face was concealed by his
+hand; but Mr. Ashley marked the sweet smile that played around his
+mouth.
+
+"Come, I will help you. Is it the charming Dobbs?"
+
+Amused, he took his hand from his face. "Well, sir--no."
+
+"It cannot be Charlotte East; because she is married."
+
+William seemed as impervious as ever. The master suddenly laid his hand
+upon his shoulder, and confronted him face to face.
+
+"Is it Mary Ashley?"
+
+The burning flush of scarlet that dyed his face, even to the very roots
+of his hair, told Mr. Ashley the truth, far more effectually than words
+could have done. There ensued a pause. Mr. Ashley was the first to break
+it.
+
+"How long have you loved her?"
+
+"For years. _That_ has been the wild dream of my aspirations: one that I
+knew would never be realized," he answered, suffering his eyes to meet
+for a moment Mr. Ashley's.
+
+"Have you spoken to her of it?"
+
+"Never."
+
+"Or led her to believe you loved her?"
+
+"No, sir. Unless my looks and tones may have betrayed me. I fear they
+have; but it was not intentionally done."
+
+"Honest in this, as in all else," thought Mr. Ashley. "What am I to say
+to you?" he asked aloud.
+
+"I do not know," sighed William. "I expect, of course, sir, that you
+will forbid me Deoffam Hall: but I can still meet Henry at the house in
+town. I hope you will forgive me!" he added in an impassioned tone. "I
+could not help loving her. Before I knew what my new feelings meant,
+love had come. Such love! Had I been in a position to marry her, I would
+have made her life one dream of happiness! When I awoke to it all----"
+
+"What awoke you?" was the interruption.
+
+
+"I think it was Cyril Dare's asking for her. I debated with myself
+then, whether I ought to give up going to your house; but I came to the
+conclusion that, so long as I was able to hide my feelings from her, I
+need not banish myself. My judgment was wrong, I know; but the
+temptation to see her occasionally was great, and I did not resist it."
+
+"And so you continued to go, feeding the flame?"
+
+"Yes. Feeding it passionately and hopelessly; never forgetting that the
+pain of separation must come!"
+
+"Did you hear of Sir Harry Marr's offer?"
+
+"Yes, I heard of it."
+
+William swept his hand across his face as he spoke. It wore a _wrung_
+expression. Mr. Ashley changed his tone.
+
+"William, I cannot decide this matter, one way or the other. You must
+ask Mary to do that!"
+
+"_Sir!_"
+
+"If Mary chooses to favour you more than she does other suitors, I will
+not forbid her doing it. Only this very day she begged me, with tears,
+to keep all such troublesome customers away from her; to refuse them of
+my own accord. But it strikes me that you may as well have an answer
+from herself!"
+
+William, his whole soul in his eyes, was gazing at Mr. Ashley. He could
+not tell whether he might believe what he heard; whether he was awake or
+dreaming.
+
+"Did I deliver you a message from Henry?"
+
+"No, sir," was the abstracted response.
+
+"He wants you to go over to him. I said I would send you if you were not
+busy. He is not very well to-day."
+
+"But--Mr. Ashley--did you mean what you said?"
+
+"Should I have said it had I not meant it?" was the quiet answer. "Have
+you a difficulty in believing it?"
+
+The ingenuous light rose to William's eyes, as he raised them to his
+master's. "I have no money," he whispered. "I cannot settle a farthing
+upon her."
+
+"You have something better than money, William--worth. And I can make
+settlements. Go and hear what Mary says. You will catch the half-past
+three o'clock coach, if you make haste."
+
+William went out, believing still that he must be in a trance. His
+deeply buried dream of the long past years: was it about, indeed, to
+become reality?
+
+But in the midst of it he could not help casting a thought to a less
+pleasing subject--the Dares. Herbert was young to die; he was, no doubt,
+unprepared to die; and William sincerely hoped that the report would
+prove untrue. The Dares were going down sadly in the social scale; Cyril
+especially. He was just what Captain Chambers had called him--a scamp.
+After leaving Mr. Ashley's, he had entered his father's office; as a
+temporary thing, it was said; but he had never left it for anything
+else. A great deal of his time was passed in public-houses. George,
+whose commission never came, had gone out, some two or three years ago,
+to Sydney. His sister Julia and her husband had settled there, and they
+had found an opening for George. William walked on, thinking of the
+Dares' position and of his own.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+WAYS AND MEANS.
+
+
+When William reached Deoffam Hall, he found Henry Ashley alone, lying in
+the drawing-room, the sofa near the open window.
+
+"That's good!" cried he. "Good of the master for sending you, and of you
+for coming."
+
+"You don't look well to-day," observed William. "Your brow has the old
+lines of pain in it."
+
+"Thanks to my hip, which is giving me threatening twinges. What's this
+report about Dare? Is it confirmed?"
+
+"Not absolutely. It was Winthorne told me. Captain Chambers came into
+the manufactory, and spoke of it this afternoon."
+
+"I dare say it's true," said Henry. "I wonder if Anna Lynn will put on
+weeds for him?" he sarcastically added.
+
+"Quakers don't wear weeds."
+
+"Teach your grandmother," returned Henry, lapsing into one of those
+free, popular phrases he indulged in, and _was_ indulged in. "How you
+stare at me! Do you think I am not _cured_? Ay; years ago."
+
+"You'd have no objection to see Anna marry, I suppose?"
+
+"She's welcome to marry, for me. You may go and propose to her yourself,
+if you like. I'll be groomsman at the wedding."
+
+"Would the alliance give you pleasure?"
+
+Henry laughed. "You'd deserve hanging in chains, if you did enter upon
+it; that's all."
+
+"I have had one wife assigned to me to-day," remarked William.
+
+"Whom may she be?"
+
+"Sophy Glenn."
+
+"Sophy Glenn?"
+
+"Sophy Glenn. Chambers gravely assured me that Helstonleigh had settled
+the match. He, Chambers, considers that I may go farther and fare worse.
+Mr. Ashley said the same."
+
+"But what do _you_ say?" cried Henry, rising up on his sofa, and
+speaking quite sharply.
+
+"I? Oh, I shall consider of it."
+
+At that moment Mary Ashley appeared on the terrace outside; a small
+basket and a pair of scissors in her hand. Henry called to her. "Are you
+going to cut more flowers?"
+
+"Yes. Mamma has sent the others away. She said they were fading." Seeing
+William there, she nodded to him, her colour rising.
+
+"I say, Mary--he has come here to bring some news," went on Henry. "What
+do you suppose it is?"
+
+"Mamma has told me. About Herbert Dare."
+
+"Not that. He is going to make himself into a respectable man, and marry
+Sophy Glenn. He came here to announce it. Don't cut too much of that
+syringa; its sweetness is overpowering in a room."
+
+Mary walked away. William felt excessively annoyed. "You are more
+dangerous than a child," he exclaimed. "What made you say that?"
+
+And Henry, like a true child, fell back, laughing aloud. "I say, though,
+comrade, where are you off to?" he called after William, who was leaving
+the room.
+
+"To cut the flowers for your sister, of course."
+
+But when William reached Mary Ashley, she had apparently forgotten her
+errand. Standing in a dark spot against the trunk of the acacia tree,
+her face was white and still, and the basket lay on the ground. She
+picked it up, and would have hastened away, but William caught her hand
+and placed it within his arm, little less agitated than she was.
+
+"Not to tell him that news," he whispered. "I did indeed come here,
+hoping to solicit one to be my wife; but it was not Sophy Glenn. Mary,
+you cannot mistake what my feelings have long been."
+
+"But--papa?" she gasped, unable to control her emotion.
+
+He looked at her; he made her look at him. What strange, happy light was
+that in his earnest eyes, causing her heart to bound? "Mr. Ashley sent
+me to you," he softly whispered.
+
+Henry lay and waited till he was tired. No William; no Mary; no flowers;
+no anything. Had they both gone to sleep? He arose; and, taking his
+stick, limped away to see after them. But he searched the flower-garden
+in vain.
+
+In the sheltered shrubbery, pacing it leisurely, as closely together as
+they could well be linked, were they; a great deal too much occupied
+with each other to pay attention to anything else. The basket lay on the
+ground, empty of all, except the scissors.
+
+"Well, you two are a nice lot for a summer's day!" began Henry, after
+his old fashion, and using his own astonished eyes. "What of the
+flowers?"
+
+Mary would have flown, but William held her tightly, and led her up to
+her brother. He strove to speak jestingly; but his voice betrayed his
+emotion.
+
+"Henry, shall it be your sister, or Sophy Glenn?"
+
+"So! you have been settling it for yourselves, have you! I would not be
+in your shoes, Miss Ashley, when the parental thunderbolts shall
+descend. Was this what you flung Sir Harry over for? There never was any
+accounting for taste in this world, and there never will be. I ask you
+where the flowers are, and I should like an answer."
+
+"I will cut them now," said William. "Will you come?" he asked, holding
+out his arm to Henry.
+
+"No," replied Henry, sitting down on the shrubbery bench, "I must
+digest this shock first. You two will be enough to cut them, I dare
+say."
+
+They walked away towards the flower-garden. But ere they had gone many
+steps he called out; and they turned.
+
+"Mary! before you tie yourself up irrevocably, I hope you will reflect
+upon the ignominy of his being nothing on earth but a manufacturer. A
+pretty come down, that, for the Lady Marr who might have been!"
+
+He was in one of his most ironical moods; a sure sign that his inward
+state was that of glowing satisfaction. This had been his hope for
+years--his plan, it may be said; but he had kept himself silent and
+neutral. As he sat there ruminating, he heard the distant sound of the
+pony carriage; and, taking a short cut, met it in the park. Mr. Ashley
+handed the reins to his groom, got out, and gave his arm to Henry.
+
+"How are you by this time?"
+
+"Better, sir. Nothing much to brag of."
+
+"I thought William would have been with you. Is he not come?"
+
+"Yes, he is come. But I am second with him to-day. Miss Mary's first."
+
+"Oh indeed!" returned Mr. Ashley.
+
+"They are gone off somewhere, under the pretext of cutting flowers. I
+don't think the flowers were quite the object, though."
+
+He stole a glance at his father as he spoke. But he gathered nothing.
+And he dashed at once into the subject he had at heart.
+
+"Father, you will not stand in their light! It will be a crushing blow
+to both, if you do. Let him have her! There's not a man in the world
+half as worthy."
+
+But still Mr. Ashley made no rejoinder. Henry scarcely gave him time to
+make one.
+
+"I have seen it a long time. I have seen how Halliburton kept down his
+feelings, not being sure of the ground with you. I fear that to-day they
+must have overmastered him; for he has certainly spoken out. Dear
+father, don't make two of the best spirits in the world miserable, by
+withholding your consent!"
+
+"Henry," said Mr. Ashley, turning to him with a smile, "do you fancy
+William Halliburton is one to have spoken out without my consent?"
+
+Henry's thin cheek flushed. "Did you give it him? Have you already given
+it him?"
+
+"I gave it him to-day. I drew from him the fact of his attachment to
+Mary: not telling him in so many words that he should have her, but
+leaving it for her to decide."
+
+"Then it will be: for I have seen where Miss Mary's love has been. How
+immeasurably you have relieved me!" continued Henry. "The last half-hour
+I have been seeing nothing but perplexity and cross-grained guardians."
+
+"Have you?" returned Mr. Ashley. "You should have brought a little
+common sense to bear upon the subject, Henry."
+
+"But my fear was, sir, that you would not bring the common sense to
+bear," freely spoke Henry.
+
+"You do not quite understand me. Had I entertained an insuperable
+objection to Mary's becoming his wife, do you suppose I should have been
+so wanting in prudence and forethought as to have allowed opportunity
+for an attachment to ripen? I have long believed that there was no man
+within the circle of my acquaintance, or without it, so deserving of
+Mary, except in fortune: therefore I suffered him to come here, with my
+eyes open as to what might be the result. A very probable result, it has
+appeared to me. I would forgive any girl who fell in love with William
+Halliburton."
+
+"And what about ways and means?"
+
+"William's share shall be increased, and Mary will not go to him
+dowerless. They must live in our house in Helstonleigh; and when we want
+to go there we must be their guests."
+
+"It will be the working-out of my visions," said Henry in low deep
+tones. "I have seen them in it in fancy; in that very house; and myself
+with them, my home when I please. I think you have been planning for me,
+as much as for them."
+
+"Not exactly, Henry. I have not planned. I have only let things take
+their course. It will be happier for you, my boy, than if she had gone
+from us to be Lady Marr."
+
+"Oh! if ever I felt inclined to smother a man, it was that Marr. I
+never, you know, brought myself to be decently civil to him. There's no
+answering for the vanity of maidens, and I thought it just possible he
+might put William's nose out of joint. What will the mother say?"
+
+"The mother will be divided," said Mr. Ashley, a smile crossing his
+face. "She likes William; but she likes a title. We must allow her a day
+or two to get over it. I will go and give her the tidings now, if Mary
+has not done so."
+
+"Mary is with her lovier," returned Henry. "She can't have dragged
+herself away from him yet."
+
+Mary, however, was not with her "lovier." As Mr. Ashley crossed the
+hall, he met her. She stopped in hesitation, and coloured vividly.
+
+"Well, Mary, I soon sent you a candidate; though it was in defiance of
+your express orders. Did I do right?"
+
+Mary burst into tears, and Mr. Ashley drew her face to him. "May God
+bless your future and his, my child!"
+
+"I am afraid to tell mamma," she sobbed. "I think she will be angry. I
+could not help liking him."
+
+"Why, that is the very excuse he made to me! Neither can I help liking
+him, Mary. I will tell mamma."
+
+Mrs. Ashley received the tidings not altogether with equanimity. As Mr.
+Ashley had surmised, she was divided between conflicting opinions. She
+liked and admired William; but she equally liked and admired a title and
+fortune.
+
+"Such a position to relinquish--the union with Sir Harry!"
+
+"Had she married Sir Harry we should have lost her," said Mr. Ashley.
+
+"Lost her!"
+
+"To be sure we should. She would have gone to her new home, twelve miles
+on the other side of Helstonleigh, amidst her new connections, and have
+been lost to us, excepting for a formal visit now and then. As it is, we
+shall keep her; at her old home."
+
+"Yes, there's a great deal to be said on both sides," acknowledged Mrs.
+Ashley. "What does Henry say?"
+
+"That he thinks I have been planning to secure his happiness. Had Mary
+married away, we--when we quit this scene--must have left him to his
+lonely self: now, we shall leave him to them. Things are wisely
+ordered," impressively added Mr. Ashley: "in this, as in all else.
+Margaret, let us accept them, and be grateful."
+
+Mrs. Ashley went to seek William. "You will be a loving husband to her,"
+she said with agitation. "You will take care of her and cherish her?"
+
+"With the best endeavours of my whole life," he fervently answered, as
+he took Mrs. Ashley's hands in his.
+
+It was a happy group that evening. Henry lay on his sofa in complacent
+ease, Mary drawn down beside him, and William leaning over the back of
+it, while Mr. and Mrs. Ashley sat at a distance, partially out of
+hearing.
+
+"Have you heard what the master says?" asked Henry. "He thinks you have
+been getting up your bargain out of complaisance to me. You are aware, I
+hope, Mr. William, that whoever takes Mary must take me?"
+
+"I am perfectly willing."
+
+"It is well you are! And--do you know where you are to live?"
+
+William shook his head. "You can understand how all these future
+considerations have weighed me down," he said, glancing at Mary.
+
+"You are to live at the house in Helstonleigh. It's to be converted into
+yours by some patent process. The master had an eye to this, I know,
+when he declined to take out any of the furniture, upon our removal
+here. The house is to be yours, and the run of it is to be mine; and I
+shall grumble away to my heart's content at you both. What do you answer
+to that, Mr. William? I don't ask her; she's nobody."
+
+"I can only answer that the more you run into it, the better pleased we
+shall be. And we can stand any extent of grumbling."
+
+"I am glad you can. You ought to by this time, for you have been pretty
+well seasoned to it. So, in the Helstonleigh house, remember, my old
+rooms are mine; and I intend to be the plague of your lives. After a
+time--may it be a long time!--I suppose it will be 'Mr. Halliburton of
+Deoffam Hall.'"
+
+"What nonsense you talk, Henry!"
+
+"Nonsense? I shall make it over to you. Catch me sticking myself out
+here in solitary state to the admiration of the peacock! What's the
+matter with you now, you two! Oh, well, if you turn up your noses at
+Deoffam, it shall never be yours. I'll leave it to the eldest
+chickabiddy. And mark you, please! I shall have him named 'Ashley,' and
+stand godfather to him; and, he'll be mine, and not yours. I shall do
+just as I like with the whole lot, if they count a score, and spoil them
+as much as I choose."
+
+"What _is_ the matter there?" exclaimed Mrs. Ashley, perceiving a
+commotion on the sofa.
+
+Mary succeeded in freeing herself, and went away with a crimsoned face.
+"Mamma, I think Henry must be going out of his mind! He is talking so
+absurdly."
+
+"Absurdly! Was what I said absurd, William?"
+
+William laughed. "It was premature, at any rate."
+
+Henry stretched up his hands and laid hold of William's. "It is true
+what Mary says--that I must be going out of my mind. So I am: with joy."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+But the report of Herbert Dare's death proved to be a false one.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI.
+
+THE DREAM REALIZED.
+
+
+The approaching marriage of William Halliburton gave rise to a dispute.
+A dispute of love, though, not bitterness. Frank and Gar contended which
+should have their mother. William no longer wanted her; he was going to
+a home of his own. Frank wished to take larger chambers where she would
+find sufficient accommodation; he urged a hundred reasons; his
+grievances with his laundress, and his buttonless shirts. Gar, who was
+in priest's orders now, had remained in that same first curacy, at a
+hundred a year and the parsonage house to live in. He said he had been
+wanting his mother all along, and could not do without her.
+
+Jane inclined to Gar. She said she had an idea that old ladies--how they
+would have rebelled at hearing her call herself old!--were out of place
+in a young barrister's chambers; and she had a further idea that
+chambers were comfortless quarters to live in. The question was to be
+decided when they met at William's wedding. Frank was getting on well;
+better than the ordinary run of aspirants; he had come through
+Helstonleigh two or three times on circuit, and had picked up odds and
+ends of briefs there.
+
+Meanwhile William took possession of Mr. Ashley's old house, and the
+wedding day approached. Besides her boys, Jane had another visitor for
+the time; her brother Francis, who came down to marry them. Perhaps
+because the Vicar of Deoffam had recently died. He might have come all
+the same, had that gouty old gentleman been still alive.
+
+All clear and cloudless rose the September sun on Deoffam; never a
+brighter sun shone on a wedding. It was a quiet wedding: only a few
+guests were invited to it. Mary, in her white lace robes and floating
+veil--flushed, timid, lovely--stood with her bridesmaids; not more
+lovely than one of those bridesmaids, for one was Anna Lynn.
+
+Anna Lynn! Yes; Anna Lynn. To the lasting scandal of Patience, Anna
+stood in the open church, dressed in bridesmaid's attire. Mary, who had
+not been permitted the same intimacy with Anna since that marked and
+unhappy time, but who had loved her all along, had been allowed by Mrs.
+Ashley to choose her for one of her bridesmaids. The invitation was
+proffered, and Samuel Lynn did not see reason to decline it. Patience
+was indignantly rebellious; Anna, wild with delight. Look at her, as she
+stands there! flowing robes of white around her, not made after the
+primitive fashion of _her_ robes, but in the fashion of the day. Her
+falling hair shades her carmine cheeks, and her blue eyes seek modestly
+the ground. A fair picture; and a dangerous one to Henry Ashley, had
+those old feelings of his remained in the ascendant. But he was cured;
+as he told William: and he told it in truth.
+
+A short time, and Anna would want bridesmaids on her own account; though
+that may be speaking metaphorically of a Quakeress. Anna's pretty face
+had pierced the heart of one of their male body; and he had asked for
+Anna in marriage. A very desirable male was he, in a social point of
+view; and female Helstonleigh turned up its nose in envy at Anna's
+fortune. He was considerably older than Anna; a fine-looking man and a
+wealthy one, engaged in wholesale business. His name was Gurney; his
+residence, outside the city, was a handsome one, replete with every
+comfort; and he drove a carriage-and-pair. He had been for some time a
+visitor at Samuel Lynn's, and Anna had learned to like him. That his
+object in visiting there could only be Anna, every one had been sure of,
+his position being so superior to Samuel Lynn's. Every one but Anna.
+Somehow, since that past escapade, Anna had not cast a thought to
+marrying, or to the probability of anyone asking her; and she did not
+suspect his intentions. If she had suspected them, she might have set
+herself against him; for there was a little spice of opposition in her,
+which she loved to indulge. However, before that suspicion came to her
+she had grown to care for him too much to play the coquette. Strange to
+say, there was something in his figure and in the outline of his face,
+which reminded people of Herbert Dare; but his features and their
+expression were quite different.
+
+It was a most excellent match for Anna; there was no doubt of that; but
+it did not afford complete satisfaction to Patience. Patience felt a
+foreboding that he would be a good deal more indulgent to Anna than she
+considered was wholesomely good for her: Patience had a misgiving that
+Anna would be putting off her caps as she chose, then, and would not be
+reprimanded for it. Not unlikely; could that future bridegroom, Charles
+Gurney, catch sight of Anna as she stands now! for a more charming
+picture never was seen.
+
+William, quiet and self-possessed, received Mary from the hands of her
+father, who gave her away. The Reverend Francis Tait read the service,
+and Gar, in his white canonicals, stood with him, after the new fashion
+of the day. Jane's tears dropped on her pearl-grey damask dress; Frank
+made himself very busy amongst the bridesmaids; and Henry Ashley was in
+his most mocking mood. Thus they were made man and wife; and Mr. Tait's
+voice rose high and echoed down the aisles of the little old church at
+Deoffam, as he spoke the solemn injunction--"THOSE WHOM GOD HATH JOINED
+TOGETHER, LET NO MAN PUT ASUNDER."
+
+Helstonleigh's streets were lined that day, and Helstonleigh's windows
+were alive with heads. It was known that the bride and bridegroom would
+pass through the town, on the first stage of their bridal tour, whose
+ultimate destination was to be the Continent. The whole crowd of the
+Ashley workpeople had gathered outside the manufactory, neglecting their
+afternoon's work; a neglect which Samuel Lynn not only winked at, but
+participated in, for he stood with them. As the carriage, which was Mr.
+Ashley's, came in sight, its four horses urged by the postillions to a
+sharp trot, one deafening cheer arose from the men. William laughed and
+nodded to them; but they did not get half a good view of the master's
+daughter beside him: nothing but a glimpse of a flushed cheek, and a
+piece of a white veil.
+
+Slouching at the corner of a street, in a seedy coat, his eyes
+bloodshot, was Cyril Dare. Never did one look more of a _mauvais sujet_
+than he, as he watched the chariot pass. The place now occupied by
+William might have been his, had he so willed it and worked for it. Not,
+perhaps, that of Mary's husband; he could not be sure of that, but as
+Mr. Ashley's partner. A bitter cloud of disappointment, of repentance,
+crossed his face as he looked at them. They both saw him standing there.
+Did Mary think what a promising husband he would have made her? Cyril
+flung a word after them; and it was not a blessing.
+
+Dobbs had also flung something after them, and in point of time and
+precedence this ought to have been mentioned first. Patience, watching
+from her window, curious as every one else, had seen Dobbs come out with
+something under her apron, and take up her station at the gate, where
+she waited patiently for just an hour and a quarter. As the carriage had
+come into view, Dobbs sheltered herself behind the shrubs, nothing to be
+seen of her above them, but her cap and eyes. The moment the carriage
+was past, out flew Dobbs to the middle of the road. Bringing forth from
+their hiding-place a pair of shoes considerably the worse for wear, the
+one possessing no sole, and the other no upper leather, Dobbs dashed
+them with force after the chariot, very much discomposing the manservant
+in the rear, whose head they struck.
+
+"Nothing like old shoes to bring 'em luck," grunted Dobbs to Patience,
+as she retired indoors. "I never knew good come of a wedding that didn't
+get 'em."
+
+"_I_ wish them luck; the luck of a safe arrival home from those
+unpleasant foreign parts," emphatically remarked Patience, who had found
+her residence amongst the French nothing less than a species of
+terrestrial purgatory.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII.
+
+THE BISHOP'S LETTER.
+
+
+A day or two after the wedding, a letter was delivered at Mrs.
+Halliburton's residence, addressed to Gar. Its seal, a mitre, prepared
+Gar to find that it came from the Bishop of Helstonleigh. Its contents
+proved to be a mandate, commanding his attendance the following morning
+at the palace at nine o'clock. Gar turned nervous. Had he fallen under
+his bishop's displeasure, and was about to be reprimanded? Mr. Tait had
+gone back to London; Gar was to leave on the following day, Saturday;
+Frank meant to stay on for a week or two. It was his vacation.
+
+"That's Gar all over!" cried Frank, who had perched himself on a side
+table. "Gar is sure to look to the dark side of things, instead of the
+bright. If the Lord Chancellor sent for me, I should set it down that my
+fortune was about to be made. His lordship's going to present you with a
+living, Gar."
+
+"That's good!" retorted Gar. "What interest have I with the bishop?"
+
+"He has known you long enough."
+
+"As he has many others. If the bishop interested himself for all the
+clergymen who have been educated at Helstonleigh college school, he
+would have enough upon his hands. I expect it is to find fault with me
+for some unconscious offence."
+
+"Go it, Gar! You'll get no sleep to-night."
+
+"Frank, I must say the note appears a peremptory one," remarked Jane.
+
+"Middling for that. It's short, if not sweet."
+
+Whether Gar had any sleep or not that night, he did not say; but he
+started to keep the appointment punctually. His mother and Frank
+remained together, and Jane fell into a bit of quiet talk over the
+breakfast table.
+
+"Frank," said she, "I am often uneasy about you."
+
+"About me!" cried Frank in considerable wonderment.
+
+"If you were to go wrong! I know what the temptations of a London life
+must be. Especially to a young man who has, so to say, no home."
+
+"I steer clear of them. Mother darling, I am telling you the truth," he
+added earnestly. "Do you think we could ever fall away from such
+training as yours? No. Look at what William is; look at Gar; and for
+myself, though I don't like to boast, I assure you, the Anti-evil-doing
+Society--if you have ever heard of that respected body--might hoist me
+on a pedestal at Exeter Hall as their choicest model. You don't like my
+joking! Believe me, then, in all seriousness, that your sons will never
+fail you. We did not battle on in our duty as boys, to forget it as men.
+You taught us the bravest lesson that a mother can teach, or a child
+learn, when you contrived to impress upon us the truth that God is our
+witness always, ever present."
+
+Jane's eyes filled with tears: not of grief. She knew that Frank was
+speaking from his heart.
+
+"And you are getting on well?"
+
+"What with stray briefs that come to me, and my literary work, and the
+fellowship, I make six or seven hundred a year already."
+
+"I hope you are not spending it all?"
+
+"That I am not. I put by all I can. It is true that I don't live upon
+bread and potatoes six days in the week, as you know we have done; but I
+take care that my expenses are moderate. It is keeping hare-brained
+follies at arm's-length that enables me to save."
+
+"And now, Frank, for another question. What made you send me that
+hundred-pound note?"
+
+"I shall send you another soon," was all Frank's answer. "The idea of my
+gaining a superfluity of money, and sending none to my darling mother!"
+
+"But indeed I don't know what to do with it, Frank. I do not require
+it."
+
+"Then put it by to look at. As long as I have brains to work with, I
+shall think of my mother. Have you forgotten how she worked for us? I
+wish you would come and live with me?"
+
+Jane entered into all her arguments for deeming that she should be
+better with Gar. Not the least of them was, that she should still be
+near Helstonleigh. Of all her sons, Jane, perhaps unconsciously to
+herself, most loved her eldest: and to go far away from him would have
+been another trouble.
+
+By-and-by, they saw Gar coming back. And he did not look as if he had
+been receiving a reprimand: quite the contrary. He came in almost as
+impulsively as he used to do in his schoolboy days.
+
+"Frank, you were right! The bishop is going to give me a living. Mother,
+it is true."
+
+"Of course," said Frank. "I always am right."
+
+"The bishop did not keep me waiting a minute, although I was there
+before my time. He was very kind, and----"
+
+"But about the living?" cried impatient Frank.
+
+"I am telling you, Frank. The bishop said he had watched us grow
+up--meaning you, as well--and he felt pleased to tell me that he had
+never seen anything but good in either of us. But I need not repeat all
+that. He went on to ask me whether I should be prepared to do my duty
+zealously in a living, were one given to me. I answered that I hoped I
+should--and the long and the short of it is, that I am going to be
+appointed to one."
+
+"Long live the bishop!" cried Frank. "Where's the living situated! In
+the moon?"
+
+"Ah, where indeed? Guess what living it is, mother."
+
+"Gar, dear, how can I?" asked Jane. "Is it a minor canonry?"
+
+They both laughed. It recalled Jane to her absence of mind. The bishop
+had nothing to do with bestowing the minor canonries. Neither could a
+minor canonry be called a "living."
+
+"Mother, it is Deoffam."
+
+"Deoffam! Oh, Gar!"
+
+"Yes, it is Deoffam. You will not have to go far away from Helstonleigh,
+now."
+
+"I'll lay my court wig that Mr. Ashley has had his finger in the pie!"
+cried quick Frank.
+
+But, in point of fact, the gift had emanated from the prelate himself.
+And a very good gift it was: four hundred a year, and the prettiest
+parsonage house within ten miles. The brilliant scholarship of the
+Halliburtons, attained by their own unflagging industry, the high
+character they had always borne, had not been lost upon the Bishop of
+Helstonleigh. Gar's conduct as a clergyman had been exemplary; Gar's
+preaching was of no mean order, and the bishop deemed that such a one as
+Gar ought not to be overlooked. The day has gone by for a bishop to know
+nothing of the younger clergy of his diocese, and he of Helstonleigh had
+Gar Halliburton down in his preferment book. It is just possible that
+the announcement of his name in the local papers, as having helped to
+marry his brother at Deoffam, may have put that particular living into
+the bishop's head. Certain it was, that, a few hours after the bishop
+read it, he ordered his carriage, and went to pay a visit at Deoffam
+Hall. During his stay, he took Mr. Ashley's arm, and drew him out on to
+the terrace, very much as though he wished to take a nearer view of the
+peacock.
+
+"I have been thinking, Mr. Ashley, of bestowing the living of Deoffam
+upon Edgar Halliburton. What should you say to it?"
+
+"That I should almost feel it as a personal favour paid to myself," was
+the reply of Mr. Ashley.
+
+"Then it is done," said the bishop. "He is young, but I know a great
+many older men who are less deserving than he."
+
+"Your lordship may rely upon it that there are few men, young or old,
+who are so intrinsically deserving as the Halliburtons."
+
+"I know it," said the bishop. "They interested me as lads, and I have
+watched them ever since."
+
+And that is how Gar became Vicar of Deoffam.
+
+"You will be trying for a minor canonry now, Gar, I suppose, living so
+near to it?" observed Jane.
+
+"Mrs. Halliburton, will you be so kind as not to put unsuitable notions
+into his head?" interrupted Frank. "The Reverend Gar must look out for a
+canonry, not a minor. And he won't stop there. When I am on the
+woolsack, in my place in the Lords, Gar may be opposite to me, a
+spiritual peer."
+
+Jane laughed, as did Frank. Who knew, though? It all lay in the future.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+A DYING CONFESSION.
+
+
+Meanwhile William Halliburton and his wife had crossed the Channel.
+Amongst other letters, written home to convey news of them, was the
+following. It was written by Mary to Mrs. Ashley, after they had been
+abroad a week or two.
+
+     "_Hôtel du Chapeau Rouge_, _Dunkerque_,
+
+     "_September 24th._
+
+     "MY EVER DEAR MAMMA,
+
+     "You have heard from William how it was that we altered our
+     intended route. I thought the sea-side so delightful that I was
+     unwilling to leave it, even for Paris, and we determined to
+     remain on the coast, especially as I shall have other
+     opportunities of seeing Paris with William. Boulogne was
+     crowded and noisy, so we left it for less frequented towns,
+     staying a day or two in each place. We went to Calais and to
+     Gravelines; also to Bourbourg, and to Cassel--the two latter
+     _not_ on the coast. The view from Cassel--which you must not
+     confound with Cassel in Germany--is magnificent. We met some
+     English people on the summit of the hill, and they told us the
+     English called it the Malvern of France. I am not sure which
+     affords the finer view, Cassel or Malvern. They say that eighty
+     towns or villages may be counted from it; but I cannot say that
+     we made out anything like so many. We can see the sea in the
+     far distance--as we can, on a clear day, catch a glimpse from
+     Malvern of the Bristol Channel. The view from some of the
+     windows of the Hôtel de Sauvage was so beautiful that I was
+     never tired of looking at it. William says he shall show me
+     better views when he takes me to Lyons and Annonay, but I
+     scarcely think it possible. At a short distance rises a
+     monastery of the order of La Trappe, where the monks never
+     speak, except the 'Memento mori' when they meet each other.
+     Some of the customs of the hotel were primitive; they gave us
+     tablespoons in our coffee-cups for breakfast.
+
+     "From Cassel we came to Dunkerque, and are staying at the
+     Chapeau Rouge, the only large hotel in the place. The other
+     large hotel was made into a convent some time back; both are in
+     the Rue des Capucins. It is a fine and very clean old fortified
+     town, with a statue of Jean Bart in the middle of the Place.
+     Place Jean Bart, it is called; and the market is held in it on
+     Wednesdays and Saturdays, as it is at Helstonleigh. Such a
+     crowded scene on the Saturday! and the women's snow-white caps
+     quite shine in the sun. I cannot tell you how much I like to
+     look at these old Flemish towns! By moonlight, they look
+     exactly like the towns you are familiar with in old pictures.
+     There is a large basin here, and a long harbour and pier. One
+     English lady, whom we met at the table d'hôte, said she had
+     never been to the end of the pier yet, and she had lived in
+     Dunkerque four years. It was too far for a walk, she said. The
+     country round is flat and poor, and the lower classes mostly
+     speak Flemish.
+
+     "On Monday we went by barge to a place called Bergues, four
+     miles off. It was market day there, and the barge was crowded
+     with passengers from Dunkerque. A nice old town, with a fine
+     church. They charged us only five sous for our passage. But I
+     must leave all these descriptions until I return home, and come
+     to what I have chiefly to tell you.
+
+     "There is a piece of enclosed ground here, called the Pare. On
+     the previous Saturday, which was the day we first arrived here,
+     I and William were walking through it, and sat down on one of
+     the benches facing the old tower. I was rather tired, having
+     been to the end of the pier--for its length did not alarm us.
+     Some one was seated at the other end of the bench, but we did
+     not take particular notice of her. Suddenly she turned to me,
+     and spoke: 'Have I not the honour of seeing Miss Ashley?'
+     Mamma, you may imagine my surprise. It was that Italian
+     governess of the Dares, Mademoiselle Varsini, as they used to
+     call her. William interposed: I don't think he liked her
+     speaking to me. I suppose he thought of that story about her,
+     which came over from Germany. He rose and took me on his arm to
+     move away. 'Formerly Miss Ashley,' he said to her: 'now Mrs.
+     Halliburton.' But William's anger died away--if he had felt
+     any--when he saw her face. I cannot describe to you how
+     fearfully ill she looked. Her cheeks were white, and drawn, and
+     hollow; her eyes were sunk within a dark circle, and her lips
+     were open and looked black. 'Are you ill?' I asked her. 'I am
+     so ill that a few days will be the finish of me,' she answered.
+     'The doctor gave me to the falling of the leaves, and many are
+     already strewing the grass; in less than a week's time from
+     this, I shall be lower than they are.' 'Is Herbert Dare with
+     you?' inquired William--but he has said since that he spoke in
+     the moment's impulse. Had he taken thought, he would not have
+     put the question. 'No, he is not with me,' she answered, in an
+     angry tone. 'I know nothing of him. He is just a vagabond on
+     the face of the earth.' 'What is it that is the matter with
+     you?' William asked her. 'They call it decay,' she answered. 'I
+     was in Brussels, getting my living by daily teaching. I had to
+     go out in all weathers, and I did not take heed to the colds I
+     caught. I suppose they settled on my lungs.' 'Have you been in
+     this town long?' we inquired of her. 'I came in August,' she
+     answered. 'The Belgian doctor said if I had a change, it might
+     do something for me, and I came here; it was the same to me
+     where I went. But it did me harm instead of good. I grew worse
+     directly I came; and the doctor here said I must not move away
+     again; the travelling would injure me. What mattered it? As
+     good die here as elsewhere.' That she had death written plainly
+     in her face, was evident. Nevertheless, William tried to say a
+     word of hope to her: but she interrupted him. 'There's no
+     recovery for me; I am sure to die; and the time, it's to be
+     hoped, will not be long in coming, or my money will not hold
+     out.' She spoke in a matter-of-fact tone shocking to hear: and
+     before I could call up any answer, she turned to William. 'You
+     are the William Halli--I never could say the name--who was at
+     Mr. Ashley's with Cyril Dare. May I ask where you have
+     descended in Dunkerque?' 'At the Chapeau Rouge,' replied
+     William. 'Then, if I should send there to ask you to come and
+     speak with me, will you come?' she continued. 'I have something
+     that I should like to tell you before I die.' William informed
+     her that we should remain a week; and we wished her good
+     morning and moved away into another walk. Soon afterwards, we
+     saw a Sister of Charity, one of those who go about nursing the
+     sick, come up to her and lead her away. She could scarcely
+     crawl, and halted to take breath between every few steps.
+
+     "This, I have told you, was last Saturday. This evening,
+     Wednesday, just as we were rising from table, a waiter came to
+     William and called him out, saying he was wanted. It proved to
+     be the Sister of Charity that we had seen in the park; she told
+     William that Madame Varsini was near death, and had sent her
+     for him. So William went with her, and I have been writing this
+     to you since his departure. It is now ten o'clock, and he has
+     not yet returned. I shall keep this open to tell you what she
+     wanted with him. I cannot imagine.
+
+     "Past eleven. William has come in. He thinks she will not live
+     over to-morrow. And I have kept my letter open for nothing, for
+     William will not tell me. He says she has been talking to him
+     about herself and the Dares; but that the tale is more fit for
+     papa's ears than for yours or mine.
+
+     "My sincerest love to papa and Henry. We are so glad Gar is to
+     be at Deoffam!--And believe me, your ever-loving child,
+
+     "MARY HALLIBURTON."
+
+     "Excuse the smear. I had nearly put 'Mary Ashley.'"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+This meeting, described in Mary's letter, must have been one of those
+remarkable coincidences that sometimes occur during a lifetime. Chance
+encounters they are sometimes called. Chance! Had William and his wife
+not gone to Dunkerque--and they went there by accident, as may be said,
+for the original plan had been to spend their absence in Paris--they
+would not have met. Had the Italian lady not gone to Dunkerque when
+ordered change--and she chose it by accident, she said--they would not
+have met. But somehow both parties _were_ brought there, and they did
+meet. It was not chance that led them there.
+
+When William went out with the sister, she conducted him to a small
+lodging in the Rue Nationale, a street not far from the hotel. The
+accommodation appeared to consist of a small ante-room and a
+bed-chamber. Signora Varsini was in the latter, dressed in a _peignoir_,
+and sitting in an arm-chair, supported by cushions. A washed-out, faded
+_peignoir_, possibly the very one she had worn years ago, the night of
+the death of Anthony Dare. William was surprised; by the sister's
+account he had expected to find her in bed, almost in the last
+extremity. But hers was a restless spirit. She was evidently weaker, and
+her breath seemed to come irregularly. William sat down in a chair
+opposite to her: he could not see very much of her face, for the small
+lamp on the table had a green shade over it, which cast its gloom on the
+room.
+
+The sister retired to the ante-room and closed the door between with a
+caution. "Madame was not to talk much." For a few moments after the
+first greeting, she, "Madame," kept silence; then she spoke in English.
+
+"I should not have known you. I never saw much of you. But I knew Miss
+Ashley in a moment. You must have prospered well."
+
+"Yes, I am Mr. Ashley's partner."
+
+"So! That is what Cyril Dare coveted for himself. Miss Ashley also.
+'Bah, Monsieur Cyril!' said I sometimes to my mind; 'neither the one nor
+the other for thee.' Where is he?"
+
+"Cyril? He is at home. Doing no good."
+
+"He never do good," she said with bitterness. "He Herbert's own brother.
+And the other one--George?"
+
+"George is in Australia. He has a chance, I believe, of doing pretty
+well."
+
+"Are the girls married?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Not Adelaide?"
+
+"No."
+
+Something like a smile curled her dark and fevered lips. "Mademoiselle
+Adelaide was trying after that vicomte. 'Bah!' I would say to myself as
+I did by Cyril, 'there's no vicomte for her; he is only playing his
+game.' Does he go there now?"
+
+"Lord Hawkesley? Oh, no. All intimacy has ceased."
+
+"They have gone down, have they not? They are very poor?"
+
+"I fear they are poor now. Yes, they have very much gone down. May I
+inquire what it is you want with me?"
+
+"You inquire soon," she answered in resentful tones. "Do you fear I
+should contaminate you?--as you feared for your wife on Saturday?"
+
+"If I can aid you in any way I shall be happy and ready to do so," was
+William's answer, spoken soothingly. "I think you are very ill."
+
+"The doctor was here this afternoon. 'Ma chère,' said he, 'to-morrow
+will about end it. You are too weak to last longer; the inside is
+gone.'"
+
+"Did he speak to you in that way?--a medical man!"
+
+"He is aware that I know as much about my own state as he does. He might
+not be so plain with all his patients. Then I said to the sister, 'Get
+me up and make the bed, for I must see a friend.'--And I sent her for
+you. I told you I wanted you to do me a little service. Will you do it?"
+
+"If it is in my power."
+
+"It is not much. It is this," she added, drawing from beneath the
+_peignoir_ a small packet, sealed and stamped, looking like a thick
+letter. "Will you undertake to put this surely in the post after I am
+dead? I do not want it posted before."
+
+"Certainly I will," he answered, taking it from her hand, and glancing
+at the superscription. It was addressed to Herbert Dare at Dusseldorf.
+"Is he there?" asked William.
+
+"That was his address the last I heard of him. He is now here, now
+there, now elsewhere; a vagabond, as I told you, on the face of the
+earth. He is like Cain," she vehemently continued. "Cain wandered abroad
+over the earth, never finding rest. So does Herbert Dare. Who wonders?
+Cain killed his brother: what did _he_ do?"
+
+William lifted his eyes to her face; as much of it as might be
+distinguished under the dark shade cast by the lamp. That she appeared
+to be in a very demonstrative state of resentment against Herbert Dare
+was indisputable.
+
+"He did not kill his brother, at any rate," observed William. "I fear he
+is not a good man; and you may have cause to know that more conclusively
+than I; but he did not kill his brother. You were in Helstonleigh at the
+time, mademoiselle, and must remember that he was cleared," added
+William, falling into the style of address used by the Dares.
+
+"Then I say he did kill him."
+
+She spoke with slow distinctness. William could only look at her in
+amazement. Was her mind wandering? She sat glaring at him with her light
+blue eyes, so glazed, yet glistening; just the same eyes that used to
+puzzle old Anthony Dare.
+
+"What did you say?" asked William.
+
+"I say that Herbert Dare is a second Cain," she answered.
+
+"He did not kill Anthony," repeated William. "He could not have killed
+him. He was in another place at the time."
+
+"Yes. With that Puritan child in the dainty dress--fit attire only for
+your folles in--what you call the place?--Bedlam! I know he was in
+another place," she continued: and she appeared to be growing terribly
+excited, between passion and natural emotion.
+
+"Then what are you speaking of?" asked William. "It is an impossibility
+that Herbert could have killed his brother."
+
+"He caused him to be killed."
+
+William felt a nameless dread creeping over him. "What do you mean?" he
+breathed.
+
+"I send that letter, which you have taken charge of, to Herbert the bad;
+but he moves about from place to place, and it may never reach him. So I
+want to tell you in substance what is written in the letter, that you
+may repeat it to him when you come across him. He may be going back to
+Helstonleigh some day; if he not die off first, with his vagabond life.
+Was it not said there, once, that he was dead?"
+
+"Only for a day or two. It was a false report."
+
+"And when you see him--in case he has not had that packet--you will tell
+him this that I am now about to tell you."
+
+"What is its nature?" asked William.
+
+"Will you promise to tell him?"
+
+"Not until I first hear what it may be," fearlessly replied William.
+"Intrust it to me, if you will, and I will keep it sacred; but I must
+use my own judgment as to imparting it to Herbert Dare. It may be
+something that would be better left unsaid."
+
+"I do not ask you to keep it sacred," she rejoined. "You may tell it to
+the world if you please; you may tell it to your wife; you may tell it
+to all Helstonleigh. But not until I am dead. Will you give that
+promise?"
+
+"That I will readily give you."
+
+"On your honour?"
+
+William's truthful eyes smiled into hers. "On my honour--if that shall
+better satisfy you. It was not necessary."
+
+She remained silent a few moments, and then burst forth vehemently.
+"When you see him, that cochon, that vaurien----"
+
+"I beg you to be calm," interrupted William. "This excitement must be
+most injurious to one in your weak state; I cannot sit and listen to
+it."
+
+"Tell him," said she, leaning forward, and speaking in a somewhat calmer
+tone, "tell him that it was he who caused the death of his brother
+Anthony."
+
+William could only look at her. Was she wandering? "_I_ killed him," she
+went on. "Killed him in mistake for Monsieur Herbert."
+
+Barely had the words left her lips, when all that had been strange in
+that past tragedy seamed to roll away as a cloud from William's mind.
+The utter mystery there had been as to the perpetrator: the almost
+impossibility of pointing accusation to any, seemed now accounted for:
+and a conviction that she was speaking the dreadful truth fell upon him.
+Involuntarily he recoiled from her.
+
+"He used me ill; yes, he used me ill, that wicked Herbert!" she
+continued in agitation. "He told me stories; he was false to me; he
+mocked at me! He had made me care for him; I cared for him--ah, I not
+tell you how. And then he turned round to laugh at me. He had but amused
+himself--pour faire passer la temps!"
+
+Her voice had risen to a shriek; her face and lips grew ghastly, and she
+began to twitch as one falling into convulsion. William grew alarmed,
+and hastened to her support. He could not help it, much as his spirit
+revolted from her.
+
+"Y a-t-il quelque chose qu'on peut donner à madame pour la soulager?" he
+called out hastily to the sister in his fear.
+
+The woman glided in. "Mais oui, monsieur. Madame s'agite, n'est-ce pas?"
+
+"Elle s'agite beaucoup."
+
+The sister poured some drops from a phial into a wine-glass of water,
+and held it to those quivering lips. "Si vous vous agitez comme cela,
+madame, c'est pour vous tuer, savez-vous?" cried she.
+
+"I fear so too," added William in English to the invalid. "It would be
+better for me not to hear this, than for you to put yourself into this
+state."
+
+She grew calmer, and the sister quitted them. William resumed his seat
+as before; there appeared to be no help for it, and she continued her
+tale.
+
+"I not agitate myself again," she said. "I not tell you all the details,
+or what I suffered: à quoi bon? Pain at morning, pain at midday, pain at
+night; I think my heart turned dark, and it has never been right
+again----"
+
+"Hush, mademoiselle! The sister will hear you."
+
+"What matter? She not speak English."
+
+"I really cannot, for your sake, remain here, if you put yourself into
+this state," he rejoined.
+
+"You must remain; you must listen! You have promised to do it," she
+answered.
+
+"I will, if you will be calm."
+
+"I'll be calm," she rejoined, the check having driven back the rising
+passion. "The worst is told. Or rather, I do not tell you the
+worst--that mauvais Herbert! Do you wonder that my spirit was turned to
+revenge?"
+
+Perceiving somewhat of her fierce and fiery nature, William did not
+wonder at it. "I do not know what I am to understand yet?" he whispered.
+"Did _you_--_kill_--Anthony?"
+
+She leaned back on her pillow, clasping her hands before her. "Ah me! I
+did! Tell him so," she continued again passionately; "tell him that I
+killed Anthony--thinking it was _him_."
+
+"It is a dreadful story!" shuddered William.
+
+"I did not mean it to be so dreadful," she answered, speaking quite
+equably. "No, I did not; and I am telling you as true as though it were
+my confession before receiving the _bon dieu_. I only meant to wound
+him----"
+
+"Herbert?"
+
+"Herbert! Of course; who else but Herbert?" she retorted, giving signs
+of another relapse. "Had I cause of anger against that pauvre Anthony?
+No; no. Anthony was sharp with the rest sometimes, but he was always
+civil to me; I never had a mis-word with him. I not like Cyril; but I
+not dislike George and Anthony. Why, why," she continued, wringing her
+hands, "did Anthony come forth from his chamber that night and go out,
+when he said he had retired to it for good? That is where all the evil
+arose."
+
+"Not all," dissented William in low tones.
+
+"Yes, all," she sharply repeated. "I had only meant to give Mr. Herbert
+a little prick in the dark, just to repay him, to stop his pleasant
+visits to that field for a term. I never thought to kill him. I liked
+him better than that, ill as he was behaving to me. I never thought to
+kill him; I never thought much to hurt him. And it would not have hurt
+Anthony; but that he was what you call tipsy, and fell on the point of
+the----"
+
+"Scissors?" suggested William, for she had stopped. How could he, even
+with this confession before him, speak to a lady--or one who ought to
+have been a lady--of any uglier weapon?
+
+"I had something by me sharper than scissors. But never you mind what.
+That, so far, does not matter. The little hurt I had intended for
+Herbert he escaped; and poor Anthony was killed."
+
+There was a long pause. William broke it, speaking out his thoughts
+impulsively.
+
+"And yet you went to Rotterdam afterwards to make friends with Herbert!"
+
+"When he write and tell me there good teaching in the place, could I
+know it was untrue? Could I know that he would borrow all my money from
+me? Could I know that he turn out a worse----"
+
+"Mademoiselle, I pray you, be calm."
+
+"There, then. I will say no more. I have outlived it. But I wish him to
+know that that fine night's work was _his_. It was the right man who lay
+in prison for it. The letter I have given you may never reach him; and I
+ask you tell him, for his pill, should it not."
+
+"Then you have never hinted this to him?" asked William.
+
+"Never. I was afraid. Will you tell him?"
+
+"I cannot make the promise. I must use my own discretion. I think it is
+very unlikely that I shall ever see him."
+
+"You meet people that you do not look for. Until last Saturday, you
+might have said it was unlikely that you would meet me."
+
+"That is true."
+
+Now that the excitement of the disclosure was over, she lay back in a
+grievous state of exhaustion. William rose to leave, and she held out
+her hand to him. Could he shun it--guilty as she had confessed herself
+to him? No. Who was he, that he should set himself up to judge her? And
+she was dying!
+
+"Can nothing be done to alleviate your sufferings?" he inquired in a
+kindly tone.
+
+"Nothing. The sooner death comes to release me from them, the better."
+
+He lingered yet, hesitating. Then he bent closer to her, and spoke in a
+whisper.
+
+"Have you thought much of that other life? Of the necessity of
+repentance--of seeking earnestly the pardon of God?"
+
+"That is your Protestant fashion," she answered with equanimity. "I have
+made my confession to a priest and he has given me absolution. A good
+fat old man; he was very kind to me; he saw how I had been tossed and
+turned about in life. He will bring the _bon dieu_ to me the last thing,
+and cause a mass to be said for my soul."
+
+"I thought I had heard that you were a Protestant."
+
+"I was either. I said I was a Protestant to Madame Dare. But the Roman
+Catholic religion is the most convenient to take up when you are
+passing. _Your_ priests say they cannot pardon sins."
+
+The interview took longer in acting than it has in telling, and William
+returned to the hotel to find Mary tired, wondering at his absence, and
+a letter to Mrs. Ashley--with which you have been favoured--lying on the
+table, awaiting its conclusion.
+
+"You are weary, my darling. You should not have remained up."
+
+"I thought you were never coming, William. I thought you must have gone
+off by the London steamer, and left me here! The hotel omnibus took some
+passengers to it at ten o'clock."
+
+William sat down on the sofa, and drew her to him; the full tide of
+thankfulness going up from his heart that all women were not as the one
+he had just left.
+
+"And what did Mademoiselle Varsini want with you, William? Is she really
+dying?"
+
+"I think she is dying. You must not ask me what she wanted, Mary. It was
+to tell me something--to speak of things connected with herself and the
+Dares. They would not be pleasant to your ears."
+
+"But I have been writing an account of all this to mamma, and have left
+my letter open, to send word what the governess could have to say to
+you. What can I tell her?"
+
+"Tell her as I tell you, my dearest: that what I have been listening to
+is more fit for Mr. Ashley's ears than for yours or hers."
+
+Mary rose and wrote rapidly the concluding lines. William stood and
+watched her. He laughed at the "smear."
+
+"I am not familiar with my new name yet: I was signing myself 'Mary
+Ashley.'"
+
+"Would you go back to the old name, if you could?" cried he, somewhat
+saucily.
+
+"Oh, William!"
+
+Saturday came round again: the day they were to leave--just a week since
+they had come, since the encounter in the park. They were taking an
+early walk in the market, when certain low sounds, as of chanting,
+struck upon their ears. A funeral was coming along; it had just turned
+out of the great church of St. Eloi, at the other corner of the Place.
+Not a wealthy funeral--quite the other thing. On the previous day they
+had seen a grand interment, attended by its distinguishing marks; seven
+or eight banners, as many priests. Some sudden feeling prompted William
+to ask whose funeral this was, and he made inquiry of a shopkeeper, who
+was standing at her door.
+
+"Monsieur, c'est l'enterrement d'une étrangère. Une Italienne, l'on dit:
+Madame Varsini."
+
+"Oh, William! do they bury her already?" was Mary's shocked
+remonstrance. "It was only yesterday at midday the sister came to you to
+say she had died. What a shame!"
+
+"Hush, love! Many of the people here understand English. They bury
+quickly in these countries."
+
+They stood on the pavement, and the funeral came quickly on. One black
+banner borne aloft in a man's hand, two boys in surplices with lighted
+candles, and the priest chanting with his open book. Eight men, in white
+corded hats and black cloaks, bore the coffin on a bier, and there was a
+sprinkling of impromptu followers--as there always is at these foreign
+funerals. As the dead was borne past him on its way to the cemetery,
+William, following the usage of the country, lifted his hat, and
+remained uncovered until it had gone by.
+
+And that was the last of Bianca Varsini.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV.
+
+THE DOWNFALL OF THE DARES.
+
+
+It was a winter's morning, and the family party round the breakfast
+table at William Halliburton's looked a cheery one, with its adjuncts of
+a good fire and good fare. Mr. and Mrs. Ashley and Henry were guests.
+And I can tell you that in Mr. Ashley they were entertaining no less a
+personage than the high sheriff of the county.
+
+The gentlemen nominated for sheriffs, that year, for the county of
+Helstonleigh, whose names had gone up to the Queen, were as follows:--
+
+Humphrey Coldicott, Esquire, of Coldicott Grange;
+
+Sir Harry Marr, Bart., of The Lynch;
+
+Thomas Ashley, Esquire, of Deoffam Hall. And her Majesty had been
+pleased to pick the latter name.
+
+The gate of the garden swung open, and some one came hastily round the
+gravel-path to the house. Mary, who was seated at the head of the table,
+facing the window, caught a view of the visitor.
+
+"It is Mrs. Dare!" she exclaimed.
+
+"Mrs. Dare!" repeated Mr. Ashley, as a peal at the hall-bell was heard.
+"Nonsense, child!"
+
+"Papa, indeed it is."
+
+"I think you must be mistaken, Mary," said her husband. "Mrs. Dare would
+scarcely be out at this early hour."
+
+"Oh, you disbelievers all!" laughed Mary. "As if I did not know Mrs.
+Dare! She looked scared and flurried."
+
+Mrs. Dare, looking indeed scared and flurried, came into the
+breakfast-room. The servant had been showing her into another room, but
+she put him aside, and appeared amidst them.
+
+What brought her there? What had she come to tell them? Alas! of their
+unhappy downfall. How the Dares had contrived to go on so long, without
+the crash coming, they alone knew. They had promised to pay here, they
+had promised to pay there; and people, tradespeople especially, did not
+much like to begin compulsory measures with old Anthony Dare, who had so
+long held sway in Helstonleigh. His professional business had almost
+left him--perhaps because there was no efficient head to carry it on.
+Cyril was just what mademoiselle had called Herbert, a vagabond; and
+Cyril was an irretrievable one. No good to the business was he--not half
+as much good as he was to the public-houses. Mr. Dare, with white hair,
+bent form, and dim eyes, would go creeping to his office most days; but
+his memory was leaving him, and it was evident to all that he was
+relapsing into his second childhood. Latterly they had lived entirely by
+privately disposing of their portable effects--as Honey Fair used to do
+when it fell out of work. They owed money everywhere; rent, taxes,
+servants' wages, large debts, small debts--it was universal. And now the
+landlord had put in his claim after the manner of landlords, and it had
+brought on the climax. They were literally without resource; they knew
+not where to turn; they had not a penny, or the worth of it, in the wide
+world. Mrs. Dare, in the alarm occasioned by the unwelcome visitor--for
+the landlord's man had made good his entrance that morning--came flying
+off to Mr. Ashley, some extravagant hope floating in her mind that help
+might be obtained from him.
+
+"Here's trouble! Here's trouble!" she exclaimed by way of salutation,
+wringing her hands frantically.
+
+They rose in consternation, believing she must have gone wild. William
+handed her a chair.
+
+"There, don't come round me," she cried, as she flung herself into it.
+"Go on with your breakfast. I have concealed our troubles until I am
+heart-sick, and now they can be concealed no longer, and I have come for
+help to you. Don't press anything upon me, Mrs. William Halliburton; to
+attempt to eat would choke me!"
+
+She sat there and entered on her grievances. How they had long been
+without money, had lived by credit, and by pledging things out of their
+house; how they owed more than she could tell; how a "horrible man" had
+come into their house that morning, as an emissary of the landlord.
+
+"What are we to do?" she wailed. "Will you help us? Mr. Ashley, will
+you?--your wife is my husband's cousin, you know. Mr. Halliburton, will
+_you_ help us? Don't you know that I have a right to claim kindred with
+you? Your father and I were first cousins, and lived for some time under
+the same roof."
+
+William remembered the former years when she had not been so ready to
+own the relationship. He remembered the day when Mr. Dare had put a
+seizure into their house, and his mother had gone, craving grace of him.
+Mr. Ashley remembered it, and his eye met William's. How marvellously
+had the change been brought round! the right come to light!
+
+"What is it that you wish me to do?" inquired Mr. Ashley. "I do not
+understand."
+
+"Not understand!" she sharply echoed, in her grief. "I want the landlord
+paid out. You have ample means at command, Mr. Ashley, and might do this
+much for us."
+
+A modest request, certainly! The rent due was for three years:
+considerably more than two hundred pounds. Mr. Ashley replied to it
+quietly.
+
+"A moment's reflection might convince you, Mrs. Dare, that to pay this
+money would be fruitless waste. The instant this procedure gets
+wind--and in all probability it has already done so--other claims, as
+pressing, will be enforced."
+
+"Tradespeople must wait," she answered, with irritation.
+
+"Wait for what?" asked Mr. Ashley. "Do you expect to drop into a
+fortune?"
+
+Wait for what, indeed? For complete ruin? There was nothing else to wait
+for. Mrs. Dare sat beating her foot against the carpet.
+
+"Mr. Dare has grown useless," she said. "What he says one minute, he
+forgets the next; he is almost in a state of imbecility. I have no one
+to consult with, and therefore I come to you. Indeed, you must help me."
+
+"But I do not see what I can do for you," rejoined Mr. Ashley. "As to
+paying your debts, it is--it is--in fact, it is not to be thought of. I
+have my own payments to make, my expenses to keep up. I could not do it,
+Mrs. Dare."
+
+She paused again, playing nervously with her bonnet strings. "Will you
+go back with me, and see what you can make of Mr. Dare? Perhaps between
+you something may be arranged. I don't understand things."
+
+"I cannot go back with you," replied Mr. Ashley. "I must attend the
+meeting which takes place this morning at the Guildhall."
+
+
+"In your official capacity," remarked Mrs. Dare in not at all a pleasant
+tone of voice. "I forgot that you preside at it. How very grand you have
+become!"
+
+"Very grand indeed, I think, considering the lowly estimation in which
+you held the glove manufacturer, Thomas Ashley," he answered, with a
+good-humoured laugh. "I will call upon your husband in the course of the
+day, Mrs. Dare."
+
+She turned to William. "Will you return with me? I have a claim on you,"
+she reiterated eagerly.
+
+He shook his head. "I accompany Mr. Ashley to the meeting."
+
+She was obliged to be satisfied, turned abruptly, and left the room,
+William attending her to the door.
+
+"What d'you call that?" asked Henry, lifting his voice for the first
+time.
+
+"Call it?" repeated his sister.
+
+"Yes, Mrs. Mary; call it. Cheek, I should say."
+
+"Hush, Henry," said Mr. Ashley.
+
+"Very well, sir. It's cheek all the same, though."
+
+As Mr. Ashley surmised, the misfortune had already got wind, and the
+unhappy Dares were besieged that day by clamorous creditors. When Mr.
+Ashley and William arrived there, for they walked up at the conclusion
+of the public meeting, they found Mr. Dare seated alone in the
+dining-room; that sad dining-room which had witnessed the tragical end
+of Anthony. He cowered over the fire, his thin hands stretched out to
+the blaze. He was not altogether childish; but his memory failed, and he
+was apt to fall into fits of wandering. Mr. Ashley drew forward a chair
+and sat down by him.
+
+"I fear things do not look very bright," he observed. "We called in at
+your office as we came by, and found a seizure was also put in there."
+
+"There's nothing much for 'em to take but the desks," returned old
+Anthony.
+
+"Mrs. Dare wished me to come and talk matters over with you, to see
+whether anything could be done. She does not understand them, she said."
+
+"What _can_ be done, when things come to such a pass as this?" returned
+Anthony Dare, lifting his head sharply. "That's just like women--'seeing
+what's to be done!' I am beset on all sides. If the bank sent me a
+present of three or four thousand pounds, we might go on again. But it
+won't, you know. The things must go, and we must go. I suppose they'll
+not put me in prison; they'd get nothing by doing it."
+
+He leaned forward and rested his chin on his stick, which was stretched
+out before him as usual. Presently he resumed, his eyes and words alike
+wandering:
+
+"He said the money would not bring us good if we kept it. And it has
+not: it has brought a curse. I have told Julia so twenty times since
+Anthony went. Only the half of it was ours, you know, and we took the
+whole."
+
+"What money?" asked Mr. Ashley, wondering what he was saying.
+
+"Old Cooper's. We were at Birmingham when he died, I and Julia. The will
+left it all to her, but he charged us----"
+
+Mr. Dare suddenly stopped. His eye had fallen on William. In these fits
+of wandering he partially lost his memory, and mixed things and people
+together in the most inextricable confusion.
+
+"Are you Edgar Halliburton?" he went on.
+
+"I am his son. Do you not remember me, Mr. Dare?"
+
+"Ay, ay. Your son-in-law," nodding to Mr. Ashley. "But Cyril was to have
+had that place, you know. He was to have been your partner."
+
+Mr. Ashley made no reply. It might not have been understood. And Mr.
+Dare resumed, confounding William with his father.
+
+"It was hers in the will, you know, Edgar, and that's some excuse, for
+we had to prove it. There was not time to alter the will, but he said it
+was an unjust one, and charged us to divide the money; half for us, half
+for you; to divide it to the last halfpenny. And we took it all. We did
+not mean to take it, or to cheat you, but somehow the money went; our
+expenses were great, and we had heavy debts, and when you came
+afterwards to Helstonleigh and died, your share was already broken
+into, and it was too late. Ill-gotten money brings nothing but a curse,
+and that money brought it to us. Will you shake hands and forgive?"
+
+"Heartily," replied William, taking his wasted hand.
+
+"But you had to struggle, and the money would have kept struggle from
+you. It was many thousands."
+
+"Who knows whether it would or not?" cheerily answered William. "Had we
+possessed money to fall back upon, we might not have struggled with a
+will; we might not have put out all the exertion that was in us, and
+then we should never have got on as we have done."
+
+"Ay; got on. You are looked up to now; you have become gentlemen. And
+what are my boys? The money was yours."
+
+"Dismiss it entirely from your memory, Mr. Dare," was William's answer,
+given in true compassion. "I believe that our not having had it may have
+been good for us in the long-run, rather than a drawback. The utter want
+of money may have been the secret of our success."
+
+"Ay," nodded old Dare. "My boys should have been taught to work, and
+they were only taught to spend. We must have our luxuries indoors,
+forsooth, and our show without; our servants, and our carriages, and our
+confounded pride. What has it ended in?"
+
+What had it! They made no answer. Mr. Dare remained still for a while,
+and then lifted his haggard face, and spoke in a whisper, a shrinking
+dread in his face and tone.
+
+"They have been nothing but my curses. It was through Herbert that she,
+that wicked foreign woman, murdered Anthony."
+
+Did he know of _that_? How had the knowledge come to him! William had
+not betrayed it, except to Mr. Ashley and Henry. And they had buried the
+dreadful secret down deep in the archives of their breasts. Mr. Dare's
+next words disclosed the puzzle.
+
+"She died, that woman. And she wrote to Herbert on her death-bed and
+made a confession. He sent a part of it on here, lest, I suppose, we
+might doubt him still. But his conduct led to it. It is dreadful to have
+such sons as mine!"
+
+His stick fell to the ground. Mr. Ashley held him, while William picked
+it up. He was gasping for breath.
+
+"You are not well," cried Mr. Ashley.
+
+"No; I think I am going. One can't stand these repeated shocks. Did I
+see Edgar Halliburton here? I thought he was dead. Is he come for his
+money?" he continued in a shivering whisper. "We acted according to the
+will, sir: according to the will, tell him. He can see it in Doctors'
+Commons. He can't proceed against us; he has no proof. Let him go and
+look at the will."
+
+"We had better leave him, William," murmured Mr. Ashley. "Our presence
+only excites him."
+
+In the opposite room sat Mrs. Dare. Adelaide passed out of it as they
+entered. Never before had they remarked how sadly worn and faded she
+looked. Her later life had been spent in pining after the chance of
+greatness she had lost, in missing Viscount Hawkesley. Irrevocably lost
+to her; for the daughter of a neighbouring earl now called him husband.
+They sat down by Mrs. Dare, but could only condole with her: nothing but
+the most irretrievable ruin was around.
+
+"We shall be turned from here," she wailed. "How are we to find a
+home--to earn a living?"
+
+"Your daughters must do something to assist you," replied Mr. Ashley.
+"Teaching, or----"
+
+"Teaching! in this overdone place!" she interrupted.
+
+"It has been somewhat overdone in that way, certainly of late years," he
+answered. "If they cannot get teaching, they may find some other
+employment. Work of some sort."
+
+"Work!" shrieked Mrs. Dare. "My daughters _work_!"
+
+"Indeed, I don't know what else is to be done," he answered. "Their
+education has been good, and I should think they may obtain daily
+teaching: perhaps sufficient to enable you to live quietly. I will pay
+for a lodging for you, and give you a trifle towards housekeeping, until
+you can turn yourselves round."
+
+"I wish we were all dead!" was the response of Mrs. Dare.
+
+Mr. Ashley went a little nearer to her. "What is this story that your
+husband has been telling about the misappropriation of the money that
+Mr. Cooper desired should be handed to Edgar Halliburton?"
+
+She threw her hands before her face with a low cry. "Has he been
+betraying _that_? What will become of us?--what shall we do with him? If
+ever a family was beaten down by fate, it is ours."
+
+Not gratuitously by fate, thought Mr. Ashley. Its own misdoings have
+brought the evil upon it. "Where is Cyril?" he asked aloud. "He ought to
+bestir himself to help you, now."
+
+
+"Cyril!" echoed Mrs. Dare, a bitter scowl rising to her face. "_He_ help
+us! You know what Cyril is."
+
+As they went out, they met Cyril. What a contrast the two cousins
+presented, side by side!--he and William might be called such. The
+one--fine, noble, intellectual; his countenance setting forth its own
+truth, candour, honour; making the best in his walk of life, of the
+talents entrusted to him by God. The other--slouching, untidy, all but
+ragged; his offensive doings too plainly shown in his bloated face, his
+inflamed eyes: letting his talents and his days run to worse than waste;
+a burden to himself and to those around him. And yet, in their boyhood
+days, how great had been Cyril's advantages over William Halliburton's!
+
+They walked away arm-in-arm, William and Mr. Ashley. A short visit to
+the manufactory in passing, and then they continued their way home,
+taking it purposely through Honey Fair.
+
+Honey Fair! Could _that_ be Honey Fair? Honey Fair used to be an
+unsightly, inodorous place, where mud, garbage, and children ran riot
+together: a species, in short, of capacious pigsty. But look at it now.
+The paths are well kept, the road is clean and cared for. Her Majesty's
+state coach-and-eight might drive down it, and the horses would not have
+to tread gingerly. The houses are the same; small and large bear
+evidence of care, of thrift, of a respectable class of inmates. The
+windows are no longer stuffed with rags, or the palings broken. And that
+little essay--the assembling at Robert East's, and William
+Halliburton--had led to the change.
+
+Men and women had been awakened to self-respect; to the duty of striving
+to live well and to do well; to the solemn thought that there is another
+world after this, where their works, good or bad, would follow them.
+They had learned to reflect that it _might_ be possible that one phase
+of a lost soul's punishment after death, will lie in remembering the
+duties it ought to have performed in life. They knew, without any effort
+of reflection, that it is a remembrance which makes the sting of many a
+death-bed. Formerly, Honey Fair had believed (those who had thought
+about it) that their duties in this world and any duties which lay in
+preparing for the next, were as wide apart as the two poles. Of that
+they had now learned the fallacy. Honey Fair had grown serene. Children
+were taken out of the streets to be sent to school; the Messrs. Bankes
+had been discarded, for the women had grown wiser; and, for all the
+custom the "Horned Ram" obtained from Honey Fair, it might have shut
+itself up. In short, Honey Fair had been awakened, speaking from a
+moderate point of view, to enlightenment; to the social improvements of
+an advancing and a thinking age.
+
+This was a grand day with Honey Fair, as Mr. Ashley and William knew,
+when they turned to walk through it. Mr. Ashley had purchased that
+building you have heard of, for a comparative trifle, and made Honey
+Fair a present of it. It was very useful. It did for their schools,
+their night meetings, their provident clubs; and to-night a treat was to
+be held in it. The men expected that Mr. Ashley would look in, and Henry
+Ashley had sent round his chemical apparatus to give them some
+experiments, and had bought a great magic-lantern. The place was now
+called the "Ashley Institute." Some thought--Mr. Ashley for one--that
+the "Halliburton Institute" would have been more consonant with fact;
+but William had resolutely withstood it. The piece of waste land behind
+it had been converted into a sort of playground and garden. The children
+were not watched in it incessantly, and screamed at:--"You'll destroy
+those flowers!" "You'll break that window!" "You are tearing up the
+shrubs!" No: they were made to understand that they were _trusted_ not
+to do these things; and they took the trust to themselves, and were
+proud of it. You may train a child to this, if you will.
+
+As they passed the house of Charlotte East, she was turning in at her
+garden gate; and, standing at the window, dandling a baby, was Caroline
+Mason. Caroline was servant to Charlotte now, and that was Charlotte's
+baby; for Charlotte was no longer Charlotte East, but Mrs. Thorneycroft.
+She curtsied as they came up.
+
+"Good afternoon, gentlemen. I have been round to the rooms to show them
+how to arrange the evergreens. I hope they will have a pleasant
+evening!"
+
+"They!" echoed Mr. Ashley. "Are you not coming yourself?"
+
+"I think not, sir. Adam and Robert will be there, of course; but I can't
+well leave baby!"
+
+"Nonsense, Charlotte!" exclaimed William. "What harm will happen to the
+baby? Are you afraid of its running away?"
+
+"Ah, sir, you don't understand babies yet."
+
+"That has to come," laughed Mr. Ashley.
+
+"I understand enough about babies to pronounce that one a most exacting
+infant, if you can't leave it for an hour or two," persisted William.
+"You must come, Charlotte. My wife intends to be there."
+
+"Well, sir,--I know I should like it. Perhaps I can manage to run round
+for an hour, leaving Caroline to listen."
+
+"How does Caroline go on?" inquired Mr. Ashley.
+
+"Sir, never a better young woman went into a house. That was a dreadful
+lesson to her, and it has taught her what nothing else could. I believe
+that Honey Fair will respect her in time."
+
+"My opinion is, that Honey Fair would not be going far out of its way to
+respect her now," remarked William. "Once a false step is taken, it is
+very much the fashion to go tripping over others. Caroline, on the
+contrary, has been using all her poor endeavours ever since to retrieve
+that first mistake."
+
+"I could not wish for a better servant," said Charlotte. "Of course, I
+could not keep a servant for housework alone, and Caroline nearly earns
+her food helping me at the gloves. I am pleased, and she is grateful.
+Yes, sir, it is as you say--Honey Fair ought to respect her. It will
+come in time."
+
+"As most good things come, that are striven for in the right way,"
+remarked Mr. Ashley.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV.
+
+ASSIZE TIME.
+
+
+Once more, in this, the almost concluding chapter of the history, are we
+obliged to take notice of Assize Saturday. Once more had the high
+sheriff's procession gone out to receive the judges; and never had the
+cathedral bells rung out more clearly, or the streets and windows been
+so thronged.
+
+A blast, shrill and loud, from the advancing heralds, was borne on the
+air of the bright March afternoon, as the cavalcade advanced up East
+Street. The javelin-men rode next, two abreast, in the plain dark Ashley
+livery, the points of their javelins glittering in the sunshine,
+scarcely able to advance for the crowd. A feverish crowd. Little cared
+they to-day for the proud trumpets, the javelin-bearers, the various
+attractions that made their delight on other of those days; they cared
+only for that stately equipage in the rear. Not for its four prancing
+horses, its silver ornaments, its portly coachman on the hammer-cloth;
+not even for the very judges themselves; but for the master of that
+carriage, the high sheriff, Thomas Ashley.
+
+He sat in it, its only plainly attired inmate. The scarlet robes, the
+flowing wigs of the judges, were opposite to him; beside him were the
+rich black silk robes of his chaplain, the vicar of Deoffam. A crowd of
+gentlemen on horseback followed--a crowd Helstonleigh had rarely seen.
+William was one of them. The popularity of a high sheriff may be judged
+by the number of his attendants, when he goes out to meet the judges.
+Half Helstonleigh had placed itself on horseback that day, to do honour
+to Thomas Ashley.
+
+Occupying a conspicuous position in the street were the Ashley workmen.
+Clean and shaved, they had surreptitiously conveyed their best coats to
+the manufactory; and, with the first peal of the college bells, had
+rushed out, dressed--every soul--leaving the manufactory alone in its
+glory, and Samuel Lynn to take care of it. The shout they raised, as the
+sheriff's carriage drew near, deafened the street. It was out of all
+manner of etiquette or precedence to cheer the sheriff when in
+attendance on the judges; but who could be angry with them? Not Mr.
+Ashley. Their lordships looked out astonished. One of the judges you
+have met before--Sir William Leader; the other was Mr. Justice Keene.
+
+The judges gazed from the carriage, wondering what the shouts could
+mean. They saw a respectable-looking body of men--not respectable in
+dress only, but in face--gathered there, bareheaded, and cheering the
+carriage with all their might and main.
+
+"What can that be for?" cried Mr. Justice Keene.
+
+"I believe it must be meant for me," observed Mr. Ashley, taken by
+surprise as much as the judges were. "Foolish fellows! Your lordships
+must understand that they are the workmen belonging to my manufactory."
+
+But his eyes were dim, as he leaned forward and acknowledged the
+greeting. Such a shout followed upon it! The judges, used to shouting as
+they were, had rarely heard the like, so deep and heartfelt was it.
+
+"There's genuine good-feeling in that cheer," said Sir William Leader.
+"I like to hear it. It is more than lip deep."
+
+The dinner party for the judges that night was given at the deanery. Not
+a more honoured guest had it than the high sheriff. His chaplain was
+with him, and William and Frank were also guests. What did the Dares
+think of the Halliburtons now?
+
+The Dares, just then, were too much occupied with their own concerns to
+think of them at all. They were planning how to get out to Australia.
+Their daughter Julia, more dutiful than some daughters might prove
+themselves, had offered an asylum to her father and mother, if they
+would go out to Sydney. Her sisters, she wrote word, would find good
+situations there as governesses--probably in time find husbands.
+
+They were wild to go. They wanted to get away from mortifying
+Helstonleigh, and to try their fortunes in a new world. The passage
+money was the difficulty. Julia had not sent it, possibly not supposing
+they were so very badly off; she did not know yet of the last touch to
+their misfortunes. How could they scrape together even enough for a
+steerage passage? Mr. Ashley's private opinion was that he should have
+to furnish it. Ah! he was a good man. Never a better, never a more
+considerate to others than Thomas Ashley.
+
+Sunday morning rose to the ringing again of the cathedral bells--bells
+that do not condescend to ring except on rare occasions--telling that it
+was some day of note in Helstonleigh. It was a fine day, sunny, and very
+warm for March, and the glittering east window reflected its colours
+upon a crowd such as the cathedral had rarely seen assembled within its
+walls for divine service, even on those thronging days, Assize Sundays.
+
+The procession extended nearly the whole way from the grand entrance
+gates to the choir, passing through the body and the nave. The high
+sheriff's men, standing so still, their formidable javelins in rest, had
+enough to do to retain their places, from the pressure of the crowd, as
+they kept the line of way. The bishop in his robes, the clergy in their
+white garments and scarlet or black hoods, the long line of college boys
+in their surplices, the lay-clerks, yet in white. Not (as you were told
+of yesterday) on them; not on the mayor and corporation, with their
+chains and gowns; not on the grey-wigged judges, their fiery trains held
+up behind, glaring cynosure of eyes on other days, was the attention of
+that crowd fixed; but on him who walked, calm, dignified, quiet, in
+immediate attendance on the judges--their revered fellow-citizen, Thomas
+Ashley. In attendance on _him_ was his chaplain, his black gown, so
+contrasting with the glare and glitter, marking him out conspicuously.
+
+The organ had burst forth as they entered the great gates,
+simultaneously with the ceasing of the bells which had been sending
+their melody over the city. With some difficulty, places were found for
+those of note; but many a score stood that day. The bishop had gone on
+to his throne; and opposite to him, in the archdeacon's stall, the
+appointed place for the preacher on Assize Sundays, sat the sheriff's
+chaplain. Sir William Leader was shown to the dean's stall; Mr. Justice
+Keene to the sub-dean's; the dean sitting next the one, the high sheriff
+next the other. William Halliburton was in a canon's stall;
+Frank--handsome Frank!--found a place amidst many other barristers. And
+in the ladies' pew, underneath the dean, seated with the dean's wife,
+were Mrs. Ashley, her daughter, and Mrs. Halliburton.
+
+The Reverend Mr. Keating chanted the service, putting his best voice
+into it. They gave that fine anthem, "Behold, God is my salvation." Very
+good were the services and the singing that day. The dean, the
+prebendary in residence, and Mr. Keating went to the communion-table for
+the commandments, and thus the service drew to an end. As they were
+conducted back to their stall, a verger with his silver mace cleared a
+space for the sheriff's chaplain to ascend the pulpit stairs, the
+preacher of the day.
+
+How the college boys gazed at him! Only a short time before
+(comparatively speaking) he had been one of them, a college boy himself;
+some of the seniors (juniors then) had been school-fellows with him. Now
+he was the Reverend Edgar Halliburton, chief personage for the moment in
+that cathedral. To the boys' eyes he seemed to look dark; except on
+Assize Sundays, they were accustomed to see only white robes in that
+pulpit.
+
+"Too young to give us a good sermon," thought half the congregation, as
+they scanned him. Nevertheless, they liked his countenance; its grave
+earnest look. He gave out his text, a verse from Ecclesiastes:
+
+"Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might; for there is
+no work, nor device, nor knowledge, nor wisdom, in the grave, whither
+thou goest."
+
+Then he leaned a little forward on the cushion; and, after a pause,
+began his sermon, which lay before him, and worked out the text.
+
+It was an admirable discourse, clear and practical; but you will not
+care to have it recapitulated for you, as it was recapitulated in the
+local newspapers. Remembering what the bringing up of the Halliburtons
+had been, it was impossible that Gar's sermons should not be practical;
+and the congregation began to think they had been mistaken in their
+estimate of what a young man could do. He told the judges where their
+duty lay, as fearlessly as he told it to the college boys, as he told it
+to all. He told them that the golden secret of success and happiness in
+this life, lay in the faithful and earnest performance of the duties
+that crowded on their path, striving on unweariedly, whatsoever those
+duties might be, whether pleasant or painful; _joined to implicit
+reliance on, and trust in God_. A plainer sermon was never preached. In
+manner he was remarkably calm and impressive, and the tone of his voice
+was quiet and persuasive, just as if he were speaking to them. He was
+listened to with breathless interest throughout; even those gentry, the
+college boys, were for once beguiled into attending to a sermon. Jane's
+tears fell incessantly, and she had to let down her white veil to hide
+them; as on that day, years ago, when she had let down her black crape
+veil to conceal them, in the office of Anthony Dare. Different tears
+this time.
+
+The sermon lasted just half an hour, and it had seemed only a quarter of
+one. The bishop then rose and gave the blessing, and the crowds began to
+file out. As the preacher was being marshalled by a verger through the
+choir to take his place in the procession next the high sheriff, Mr.
+Keating met him and grasped his hand.
+
+
+"You are all right, Gar," he whispered, "and I am proud of having
+educated you. That sermon will tell home to some of the drones."
+
+"I knew he'd astonish 'em!" ejaculated Dobbs, who had walked all the way
+from Deoffam to see the sight, to hear her master preach to the
+cathedral, and had fought out a standing-place for herself right in
+front of the pulpit. "_His_ sermons aren't filled up with bottomless
+pits as are never full enough, like those of some preachers be."
+
+That sermon and the Rev. Edgar Halliburton were talked of much in
+Helstonleigh that day.
+
+But ere the close of another day the town was ringing with the name of
+Frank. He had led; he, Frank Halliburton! A cause of some importance was
+tried in the _Nisi Prius_ Court, in which the defendant was Mr. Glenn
+the surgeon. Mr. Glenn, who had liked Frank from the hour he first
+conversed with him that evening at his house, now so long ago--a
+conversation at which you had the pleasure of assisting--who had also
+the highest opinion of Frank's abilities in his profession, had made it
+a point that his case should be intrusted to Frank. Mr. Glenn was not
+deceived. Frank led admirably, and his eloquence quite took the
+spectators by storm. What was of more importance, it told upon Mr.
+Justice Keene and the jury, and Frank sat down in triumph and won his
+verdict.
+
+"I told you I should do it, mother," said he, quietly, when he reached
+Deoffam that night, after being nearly smothered with congratulations.
+"You will live to see me on the woolsack yet."
+
+Jane laughed. She often had laughed at the same boast. She was alone
+that evening; Gar was attending the high sheriff at an official dinner
+at Helstonleigh. "Will no lesser prize content you, Frank?" asked she,
+jestingly. "Say, for example, the Solicitor-Generalship?"
+
+"Only as a stepping-stone."
+
+"And you still get on well? Seriously speaking now. Frank."
+
+"First-rate," answered Frank. "This day's work will be the best lift for
+me, though, unless I am mistaken. I had two fresh briefs put into my
+hands as I sat down," he added, going off in a laugh. "See if I make
+this year less than a thousand!"
+
+"And the next thing, I suppose, you will be thinking of getting
+married?"
+
+The bold barrister actually blushed. "What nonsense, mother! Marry, and
+lose my fellowship!"
+
+"Frank, it is so! I see it in your face. You must tell me who it is."
+
+"Well, as yet it is no one. I must wait until my eloquence, as they
+called it to-day in court, is a more assured fact with the public, and
+then I may speak out to the judge. She means waiting for me, though, so
+it is all right."
+
+"Tell me, Frank," repeated Jane; "who is 'she'?"
+
+"Maria Leader."
+
+Jane looked at him doubtingly. "Not Sir William's daughter?"
+
+"His second daughter."
+
+"Is not that rather too aspiring for Frank Halliburton?"
+
+"Maria does not think so. I have been aspiring all my life, mother; and
+so long as I work on for it honourably and uprightly, I see no harm in
+being so."
+
+"No, Frank; good instead of harm. How did you become acquainted with
+her?"
+
+"Her brother and I are chums: have been ever since we were at Oxford.
+Bob is at the Chancery bar, but he has not much nous for it--not half
+the clever man that his father was. His chambers are next to mine, and I
+often go home with him. The girls make a great deal of us, too. That is
+how I first knew Maria."
+
+"Then I suppose you see something of the judge?"
+
+"Oh dear," laughed Frank, "the judge and I are upon intimate terms in
+private life; quite cronies. You would not think it, though, if you saw
+me bowing before my lord when he sits in his big wig. Sometimes I fancy
+he suspects."
+
+"Suspects what?"
+
+"That I and Maria would like to join cause together. But I don't mind if
+he does. I am a favourite of his. The very Sunday before we came on
+circuit he asked me to dine there. We went to church in the evening, and
+I had Maria under my wing; Sir William and Lady Leader trudging on
+before us."
+
+"Well, Frank, I wish you success. I don't think you would choose any but
+a nice girl, a good girl----"
+
+"Stop a moment, mother; you will meet the judge to-morrow night, and you
+may then draw a picture of Maria. She is as like him as two peas."
+
+"How old is she, Frank?"
+
+"Two-and-twenty. _I_ shall have her. He was not always the great Judge
+Leader, you know, mother; and he knows it. And he knows that every one
+must have a beginning, as he and my lady had it. For years after they
+were married he did not make five hundred a year, and they had to live
+upon it. He does not fear to revert to it, either; often talks of it to
+me and Bob--a sort of hint, I suppose, that folk do get on in time, by
+dint of patience. You will like Sir William Leader."
+
+Yes: Jane would meet Sir William on the following night, for that would
+be the evening of the entertainment given by the high sheriff to the
+judges at Deoffam Hall.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI.
+
+THE HIGH SHERIFF'S DINNER PARTY.
+
+
+William Halliburton drove his wife over in the pony carriage in the
+afternoon; they would dress and sleep at Deoffam. They went early, and
+in driving past Deoffam Vicarage, who should be at the gate looking out
+for them, but Anna! Not Anna Lynn now, but Anna Gurney.
+
+"William, William, there's Anna!" Mary exclaimed. "I will get out here."
+
+He assisted her down, and they remained talking with Anna. Then William
+asked what he was to do. Wait with the carriage for Mary, or drive on to
+the hall, and walk back for her?
+
+"Drive to the hall," said Mary, who wished to stay a little while with
+Anna. "But, William," she added, as he got in, "don't let my box go
+round to the stables."
+
+"With all its finery!" laughed William.
+
+"It contains my dinner dress," Mary explained to Anna. "Have you been
+here long?"
+
+"This hour, I think," replied Anna. "My husband had business a mile or
+two further on, and drove me here. What a nice garden this is! See, I
+have been picking Gar's flowers."
+
+"Where is Mrs. Halliburton?" asked Mary.
+
+"Dobbs called her in to settle some dispute in the kitchen. I know Dobbs
+is a great tyrant over that new housemaid."
+
+"But now tell me about yourself, Anna," said Mary, leading her to a
+bench. "I have scarcely seen you since you were married. How do you like
+being your own mistress?"
+
+"Oh, it's charming!" replied Anna, with all her old childish, natural
+manner. "Mary, what dost thee think? Charles lets me sit without my
+caps."
+
+Mary laughed. "To the great scandal of Patience!"
+
+"Indeed, yes. One day, Patience called when we were at dinner. I had not
+so much as a bit of net on, and Patience looked so cross; but she said
+nothing, for the servants were in waiting. When they had left the room
+she told Charles that she was surprised at his allowing it; that I was
+giddy enough and vain enough, and it would only make me worse. Charles
+smiled; he was eating walnuts: and what dost thee think he answered?
+He--but I don't like to tell thee," broke off Anna, covering her face
+with her pretty hands.
+
+"Yes, yes, Anna, you must tell me."
+
+"He told Patience that he liked to see me without the caps, and there
+was no need for my wearing them until I should have children old enough
+to set an example to."
+
+Anna took off her straw bonnet as she spoke, and her curls fell to
+shade her blushing cheeks. Mary wondered whether the "children" would
+have faces as lovely as their mother's. She had never seen Anna look so
+well. For one thing, she had rarely seen her so well dressed. She wore a
+stone-coloured corded silk, glistening with richness, and an exquisite
+white shawl that must have cost no end of money.
+
+"I should always let my curls be seen, Anna," said Mary; "there _can_ be
+no harm in it."
+
+"No, that there can't, as Charles does not think so," emphatically
+answered Anna. "Mary," dropping her voice to a whisper, "I want Charles
+not to wear those straight coats any more. He shakes his head at me and
+laughs; but I think he will listen to me."
+
+Seeing what she did of the change in Anna's dress, Mary thought so too.
+Not but that Anna's things were still cut sufficiently in the old form
+to bespeak her sect: as they, no doubt, always would be.
+
+"When art thee coming to spend the day with me, as thee promised?" asked
+Anna.
+
+"Very soon: when this assize bustle shall be over."
+
+"How gay you will be to-night!"
+
+"How formal you mean," said Mary. "To entertain judges when on circuit,
+and bishops, and deans, is more formidable than pleasant. It is a state
+dinner to-night. When I saw papa this morning, I inquired if we were to
+have the javelin-men on guard in the dining-room."
+
+Anna laughed. "Do Frank and Gar dine there?"
+
+"Of course. The high sheriff could not give a dinner party without his
+chaplain at hand to say grace," returned Mary, laughing.
+
+William came back: and they all remained for almost the rest of the
+afternoon, Jane regaling them with tea. It was scarcely over when Mr.
+Gurney drove up in his carriage: a large, open carriage, the groom's
+seat behind, the horses very fine ones. He came in for a few minutes; a
+very pleasant man of nearly forty years; a handsome man also. Then he
+took possession of Anna, carefully assisted her up, took the seat beside
+her, and the reins, and drove off.
+
+William started for the Hall with Mary, walking at a brisk pace. It was
+not ten minutes' distance, but the evening was getting on. Henry Ashley
+met them as they entered, and began upon them in his crossest tones.
+
+"Now what have you two got to say for yourselves? Here, I expect you,
+Mr. William, to pass the afternoon with me: the mother expects Mary: and
+nothing arrives but a milliner's box! And you make your appearance when
+it's pretty nearly time to go up to embellish!"
+
+"We stayed at the Vicarage, Henry; and I don't think mamma could want
+me. Anna Gurney was there."
+
+"Rubbish! Who's Anna Gurney that she should upset things? I wanted
+William, and that's enough. Do you think you are to monopolize him, Mrs.
+Mary, just because you happen to have married him?"
+
+Mary went behind her brother, and playfully put her arms round his
+neck. "I will lend him to you now and then, if you are good," she
+whispered.
+
+"You idle, inattentive girl! The mother wanted you to cut some hot-house
+flowers for the dinner-table."
+
+"Did she? I will do it now."
+
+"Listen to her! Do it now! when it has been done this hour past.
+William, I don't intend to show up to-night."
+
+"Why not?" asked William.
+
+"It is a nuisance to change one's things: and my side's not over clever
+to-day: and the ungrateful delinquency of you two has put me
+out-of-sorts altogether," answered Henry, making up his catalogue.
+"Condemning one to vain expectation, and to fretting and fuming over it!
+I shan't show up. William must represent me."
+
+"Yes, you will show up," replied William. "For you know that your not
+doing so would vex Mr. Ashley."
+
+"A nice lot _you_ are to talk about vexing! You don't care how you vex
+me."
+
+William gently took him by the arm. "Come along to your room now, and I
+will help you with your things. Once ready, you can do as you like about
+appearing."
+
+"You treat me just as a child," grumbled Henry. "I say, do the judges
+come in their wigs?"
+
+Mary broke into a laugh.
+
+"Because that case of stuffed owls had better be ordered out of the
+hall. The animals may be looked upon as personal."
+
+"I hope there's a good fire in your room, Henry."
+
+"There had better be, unless the genius that presides over the fires in
+this household would like to feel the weight of my displeasure."
+
+Mary went to find her mother; she was in her chamber, dressing.
+
+"My dear child, how late you are!"
+
+"There's plenty of time, mamma. We stayed at the parsonage. Anna Gurney
+was there. Henry says he is not very well."
+
+"He says that always when William disappoints him. He will be all right
+now you have come. Go to your room, my dear, and I will send Sarah to
+you."
+
+Mary was ready, and the maid gone, before William left Henry to come
+and dress on his own account. Mary wore white silk, with emerald
+ornaments.
+
+"Shall I do, William?" asked she, when William came in.
+
+"Do!" he answered, running his eyes over her. "No!"
+
+"Why, what's the matter with me?" she cried, turning hurriedly to the
+great glass.
+
+"This." He took her in his arms, and kissed her passionately. "My
+darling wife! You will never 'do' without that."
+
+It was not a formidable party at all, in defiance of Mary's
+anticipations. The judges, divested of their flowing wigs and flaming
+robes, looked just like other men. Jane liked Sir William Leader, as
+Frank had told her she would; and Mr. Justice Keene was an easy,
+talkative man, fond of a good joke and a good dinner. Mr. Justice Keene
+seemed excessively to admire Mary Halliburton; and--there could be no
+doubt about it, and I hope the legal bench won't look grave at the
+reflection--seemed very much inclined to get up a flirtation with her
+over the coffee. Being a judge, I think the bishop ought to have read
+him a reprimand.
+
+Standing at one end of the room, coffee-cups in hand, were Sir William
+Leader, the Dean of Helstonleigh, Mr. Ashley, and his son. They were
+talking of the Halliburtons. Sir William knew a good deal of their
+history from Frank.
+
+"It is most wonderful!" Sir William was remarking. "Self-educated,
+self-supporting, and to be what they are!"
+
+"Not altogether self-educated," dissented the dean; "for the two
+younger, the barrister and clergyman, were in the school attached to my
+cathedral; but self-educated in a great degree. The eldest, my friend's
+son-in-law, never had a lesson in the classics after his father's death,
+and there's not a more finished scholar in the county."
+
+"The father died and left them badly provided for," remarked Sir
+William.
+
+"He did not leave them provided for at all, Sir William," corrected Mr.
+Ashley. "He left nothing, literally nothing, but the furniture of the
+small house they rented; and he left some trifling debts. Poor Mrs.
+Halliburton turned to work with a will, and not only contrived to
+support them, but brought them up to be what you see them--high-minded,
+honourable, educated men."
+
+The judge turned his eyes on Jane. She was sitting on a distant sofa,
+talking with the bishop. So quiet, so lady-like, nay--so attractive--she
+looked still, in the rich pearl-grey dress warn at William's wedding;
+not in the least like one who had had to toil hard for bread.
+
+"I have heard of her--heard of her worth from Frank," he said, with
+emphasis. "She must be one in a thousand."
+
+"One in a million, Sir William," burst forth Henry Ashley. "When they
+were boys, you could not have bribed them to do a wrong thing: neither
+temptation nor anything else turned them from the right. And they would
+not be turned from the right now, if I know anything of them."
+
+The judge walked up to Jane, and took the seat beside her just vacated
+by the bishop.
+
+"Mrs. Halliburton," said he, "you must be proud of your sons."
+
+Jane smiled. "I have latterly been obliged to take myself to task for
+being so, Sir William," she answered.
+
+"To task! I wish I had three such sons to take myself to task for being
+proud of," was his answer. "Not that mine are to be found fault with;
+but they are not like these."
+
+"Do you think Frank will get on?" she asked him.
+
+"It is no longer a question of getting on. He has begun to rise in an
+unusually rapid manner. I should not be surprised if, in after-years, he
+may find the very highest honours opening to him."
+
+Again Jane smiled. "He has been in the habit of telling us that he looks
+forward to ruling England as Lord Chancellor."
+
+The judge laughed. "I never knew a newly-fledged barrister who did not
+indulge that vision," said he. "I know I did. But there are really not
+many Frank Halliburtons. So, sir," he continued, for Frank at that
+moment passed, and the judge pinned him, "I hear you cherish dreams of
+the woolsack."
+
+"To look at it from a distance is not high treason, Sir William," was
+Frank's ready answer.
+
+"Why, what do you suppose _you_ would do on the woolsack, if you got
+there?" cried Sir William.
+
+"My duty, I hope, Sir William. I would try hard for it."
+
+Sir William loosed him with an amused expression, and Frank passed on.
+Jane began to think Frank's dream--not of the woolsack, but of Maria
+Leader--not so very improbable a one.
+
+"I have heard of your early struggles," said the judge to her in low
+tones. "Frank has talked to me. How you could have borne up, and done
+long-continued battle with them, I cannot imagine!"
+
+"I never could have done it but for one thing," she answered: "my trust
+in God. Times upon times, Sir William, when the storm was beating about
+my head, I had no help or comfort in the wide world: I had nothing to
+turn to but that. I never lost my trust in God."
+
+"And therefore God stood by you," remarked the judge.
+
+"And _therefore_ God stood by me, and helped me on. I wish," she added
+earnestly, "the whole world could learn the same great lesson that I
+have learnt. I have--I humbly hope I have--been enabled to teach it to
+my boys. I have tried to do it from their very earliest years."
+
+"Frank shall have Maria," thought the judge to himself. "They are an
+admirable family. The young chaplain should have another of the girls if
+he liked her."
+
+What was William thinking of, as he stood a little apart, with his
+serene brow and his thoughtful smile? His mind was in the past. That
+long past night, following the day of his entrance to Mr. Ashley's
+manufactory, was present to him, when he had lain down in despair, and
+sobbed out his bitter grief. "Bear up, my child," were the words his
+mother had comforted him with: "only do your duty, and trust implicitly
+in God." And when she had gone down, and he could get the sobs away from
+his heart and throat, he made the resolve to do as she had told him--at
+any rate, to try and do it. And he kneeled down there and then, and
+asked to be helped to do it. And, from that hour to this, William had
+never known the trust to fail. Success? Yes, they had reaped
+success--success in no measured degree. Be very sure that it was born of
+that great trust. Oh!--as Jane had just said to Sir William Leader--if
+the world could only learn this wonderful truth!
+
+"BECAUSE HE HATH SET HIS LOVE UPON ME, THEREFORE WILL I DELIVER HIM: I
+WILL SET HIM UP, BECAUSE HE HATH KNOWN MY NAME."
+
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Mrs. Halliburton's Troubles, by Mrs. Henry Wood
+
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+
+Project Gutenberg's Mrs. Halliburton's Troubles, by Mrs. Henry Wood
+
+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: Mrs. Halliburton's Troubles
+
+Author: Mrs. Henry Wood
+
+Release Date: December 8, 2010 [EBook #34587]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MRS. HALLIBURTON'S TROUBLES ***
+
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+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
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+
+
+
+
+
+
+<h1>MRS. HALLIBURTON'S TROUBLES</h1>
+
+<h2>BY MRS. HENRY WOOD</h2>
+
+<h3>AUTHOR OF "EAST LYNNE," "THE CHANNINGS," "JOHNNY LUDLOW," ETC.</h3>
+
+
+<h3><i>TWO HUNDRED AND TENTH THOUSAND</i></h3>
+
+<h3>London<br />
+MACMILLAN AND CO., <span class="smcap">Limited</span><br />
+NEW YORK: THE MACMILLAN COMPANY<br />
+1904</h3>
+
+<h3>LONDON:<br />
+PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED,<br />
+DUKE STREET, STAMFORD STREET, S.E., AND GREAT WINDMILL STREET. W.</h3>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>CONTENTS</h2>
+<!-- Autogenerated TOC. Modify or delete as required. -->
+<p>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I. THE CLERGYMAN'S DAUGHTER.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II. THE SHADOW BECOMES SUBSTANCE.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III. THE REV. FRANCIS TAIT.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV. NEW PLANS.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V. MARGARET.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI. IN SAVILE-ROW.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII. LATER IN THE DAY.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII. SUSPENSE.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX. SEEKING A HOME.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X. A DYING BED.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI. HELSTONLEIGH.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII. ANNA LYNN.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII. ILLNESS.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV. A CHRISTMAS DREAM.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV. THE FUNERAL.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI. TROUBLE.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII. THOMAS ASHLEY.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII. HONEY FAIR.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX. MRS. REECE AND DOBBS.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX. THE GLOVE OPERATIVES.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">CHAPTER XXI. THE LADIES OF HONEY FAIR.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">CHAPTER XXII. MR. BRUMM'S SUNDAY SHIRT.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">CHAPTER XXIII. THE MESSRS. BANKES.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">CHAPTER XXIV. HARD TO BEAR.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">CHAPTER XXV. INCIPIENT VANITY.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI">CHAPTER XXVI. MR. ASHLEY'S MANUFACTORY.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII">CHAPTER XXVII. THE FORGOTTEN LETTER.</a><br /><br />
+<a href="#PART_THE_SECOND">PART THE SECOND.</a><br /><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_IB">CHAPTER I. A SUGGESTED FEAR.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_IIB">CHAPTER II. SHADOWS IN HONEY FAIR.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_IIIB">CHAPTER III. THE DARES AT HOME.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_IVB">CHAPTER IV. THROWING AT THE BATS.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_VB">CHAPTER V. CHARLOTTE EAST'S PRESENT.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_VIB">CHAPTER VI. THE FEAR GROWING GREATER.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_VIIB">CHAPTER VII. THE END.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_VIIIB">CHAPTER VIII. A WEDDING IN HONEY FAIR.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_IXB">CHAPTER IX. AN EXPLOSION FOR MRS. CROSS.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XB">CHAPTER X. A STRAY SHILLING.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XIB">CHAPTER XI. THE SCHOOLBOYS' NOTES.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XIIB">CHAPTER XII. A LESSON FOR PHILIP GLENN.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XIIIB">CHAPTER XIII. MAKING PROGRESS.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XIVB">CHAPTER XIV. WILLIAM HALLIBURTON'S GHOST.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XVB">CHAPTER XV. "NOTHING RISK, NOTHING WIN."</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XVIB">CHAPTER XVI. MRS. DARE'S GOVERNESS.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XVIIB">CHAPTER XVII. TAKING AN ITALIAN LESSON.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XVIIIB">CHAPTER XVIII. A VISION IN HONEY FAIR.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XIXB">CHAPTER XIX. THE DUPLICATE CLOAKS.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXB">CHAPTER XX. IN THE STARLIGHT.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIB">CHAPTER XXI. A PRESENT OF TEA-LEAVES.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIIB">CHAPTER XXII. HENRY ASHLEY'S OBJECT IN LIFE.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIIIB">CHAPTER XXIII. ATTERLY'S FIELD.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIVB">CHAPTER XXIV. ANNA'S EXCUSE.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVB">CHAPTER XXV. PATIENCE COME TO GRIEF.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIB">CHAPTER XXVI. THE GOVERNESS'S EXPEDITION.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIIB">CHAPTER XXVII. THE QUARREL.</a><br /><br />
+<a href="#PART_THE_THIRD">PART THE THIRD.</a><br /><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_IC">CHAPTER I. ANNA LYNN'S DILEMMA.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_IIC">CHAPTER II. COMMOTION.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_IIIC">CHAPTER III. ACCUSED.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_IVC">CHAPTER IV. COMMITTED FOR TRIAL.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_VC">CHAPTER V. A BRUISED HEART.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_VIC">CHAPTER VI. ONE DYING IN HONEY FAIR.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_VIIC">CHAPTER VII. COMING HOME TO THE DARES.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_VIIIC">CHAPTER VIII. AN UGLY VISION.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_IXC">CHAPTER IX. SERGEANT DELVES "LOOKS UP."</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XC">CHAPTER X. THE TRIAL.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XIC">CHAPTER XI. THE WITNESSES FOR THE ALIBI.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XIIC">CHAPTER XII. A COUCH OF PAIN.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XIIIC">CHAPTER XIII. A RAY OF LIGHT.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XIVC">CHAPTER XIV. MR. DELVES ON HIS BEAM ENDS.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XVC">CHAPTER XV. A LOSS FOR POMERANIAN KNOLL.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XVIC">CHAPTER XVI. AN OFFER OF MARRIAGE.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XVIIC">CHAPTER XVII. THE EXPLOSION.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XVIIIC">CHAPTER XVIII. "CALLED."</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XIXC">CHAPTER XIX. A GLIMPSE OF A BLISSFUL DREAM.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXC">CHAPTER XX. WAYS AND MEANS.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIC">CHAPTER XXI. THE DREAM REALIZED.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIIC">CHAPTER XXII. THE BISHOP'S LETTER.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIIIC">CHAPTER XXIII. A DYING CONFESSION.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIVC">CHAPTER XXIV. THE DOWNFALL OF THE DARES.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVC">CHAPTER XXV. ASSIZE TIME.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIC">CHAPTER XXVI. THE HIGH SHERIFF'S DINNER PARTY.</a><br />
+</p>
+<!-- End Autogenerated TOC. -->
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>MRS. HALLIBURTON'S TROUBLES.</h2>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE CLERGYMAN'S DAUGHTER.</h3>
+
+
+<p>In a very populous district of London, somewhat north of Temple Bar,
+there stood, many years ago, a low, ancient church amidst other
+churches&mdash;for you know that London abounds in them. The doors of this
+church were partially open one dark evening in December, and a faint,
+glimmering light might be observed inside by the passers-by.</p>
+
+<p>It was known well enough what was going on within, and why the light was
+there. The rector was giving away the weekly bread. Years ago a
+benevolent person had left a certain sum to be spent in twenty weekly
+loaves, to be given to twenty poor widows at the discretion of the
+minister. Certain curious provisos were attached to the bequest. One was
+that the bread should not be less than two days old, and should have
+been deposited in the church at least twenty-four hours before
+distribution. Another, that each recipient must attend in person.
+Failing personal attendance, no matter how unavoidable her absence, she
+lost the loaf: no friend might receive it for her, neither might it be
+sent to her. In that case, the minister was enjoined to bestow it upon
+"any stranger widow who might present herself, even as should seem
+expedient to him:" the word "stranger" being, of course, used in
+contra-distinction to the twenty poor widows who were on the books as
+the charity's recipients. Four times a year, one shilling to each widow
+was added to the loaf of bread.</p>
+
+<p>A loaf of bread is not very much. To us, sheltered in our abundant
+homes, it seems as nothing. But, to many a one, toiling and starving in
+this same city of London, a loaf may be almost the turning-point between
+death and life. The poor existed in those days as they exist in these:
+as they always will exist: therefore it was no matter of surprise that a
+crowd of widow women, most of them aged, all in poverty, should gather
+round the church doors when the bread was being given out, each hoping
+that, of the twenty poor widows, some one might fail to appear, and the
+clerk would come to the door and call out her own particular name as the
+fortunate substitute. On the days when the shilling was added to the
+loaf, this waiting and hoping crowd would be increased four-fold.</p>
+
+<p>Thursday was the afternoon for the distribution. And on the day we are
+now writing about, the rector entered the church at the usual hour: four
+o'clock. He had to make his way through an unusual number of outsiders;
+for this was one of the shilling days. He knew them all personally; was
+familiar with their names and homes; for the Rev. Francis Tait was a
+hard-working clergyman. And hard-working clergymen were more rare in
+those days than they are in these.</p>
+
+<p>Of Scottish birth, but chiefly reared in England, he had taken orders at
+the usual age, and become curate in a London parish, where the work was
+heavy and the stipend small. Not that the duties attached to the church
+itself were onerous; but it was a parish filled with poor. Those
+familiar with such parishes know what this means, when the minister is
+sympathising and conscientious. For twenty years he remained a curate,
+toiling in patience, cheerfully hoping. Twenty years! It seems little to
+write; but to live it is a great deal; and Francis Tait, in spite of his
+hopefulness, sometimes found it so. Then promotion came. The living of
+this little church that you now see open was bestowed upon him. A poor
+living as compared with some others; and a poor parish, speaking of the
+social condition of its inhabitants. But the living seemed wealth
+compared with what he had earned as a curate; and as to his flock being
+chiefly composed of the poor, he had not been accustomed to anything
+else. Then the Rev. Francis Tait married; and another twenty years went
+by.</p>
+
+<p>He stood in the church this evening; the loaves resting on the shelf
+overhead, against the door of the vestry, all near the entrance. A
+flaring tallow candle stood on the small table between him and the
+widows who clustered opposite. He was sixty-five years old now; a spare
+man of middle height, with a clear, pale skin, an intelligent
+countenance, and a thoughtful, fine grey eye. He had a pleasant word, a
+kind inquiry for all, as he put the shilling into their hands; the lame
+old clerk at the same time handing over the loaf of bread.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you all here to-night?" he asked, as the distribution went on.</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir," was the answer from several who spoke at once. "Betty King's
+away."</p>
+
+<p>"What is the matter with her?"</p>
+
+<p>"The rheumaticks have laid hold on her, sir. She couldn't get here
+nohow. She's in her bed."</p>
+
+<p>"I must go and see her," said he. "What, are you here again, Martha?" he
+continued, as a little deformed woman stepped from behind the rest,
+where she had been hidden. "I am glad to see you."</p>
+
+<p>"Six blessed weeks this day, and I've not been able to come!" exclaimed
+the woman. "But I'm restored wonderful."</p>
+
+<p>The distribution was approaching its close, when the rector spoke to his
+clerk. "Call in Eliza Turner."</p>
+
+<p>The clerk placed on the table the four or five remaining loaves, that
+each woman might help herself during his absence, and went out to the
+door.</p>
+
+<p>"'Liza Turner, his reverence has called for you."</p>
+
+<p>A sigh of delight from Eliza Turner, and a groan of disappointment from
+those surrounding her, greeted the clerk in answer. He took no
+notice&mdash;he often heard it&mdash;but turned and limped into the church again.
+Eliza Turner followed; and another woman slipped in after Eliza Turner.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, Widow Booth," cried the clerk, sharply, perceiving the intrusion,
+"what business have you here? You know it's again the rules."</p>
+
+<p>"I must see his reverence," murmured the woman, pressing on&mdash;a meek,
+half-starved woman; and she pushed her way into the vestry, and told her
+pitiful tale.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm worse off than Widow Turner," she moaned piteously, not in tones of
+complaint, but of entreaty. "She has a daughter in service as helps her;
+but me, I've my poor unfortunate daughter lying in my place weak with
+fever, sick with hunger! Oh, sir, couldn't you give the bounty this time
+to me? I've not had a bit or drop in my mouth since morning; and then it
+was but a taste o' bread and a drain o' tea, that a neighbour give me
+out o' charity."</p>
+
+<p>It was absolutely necessary to discountenance these personal
+applications. The rector's rule was, never to give the spare bounty to
+those who applied for it: otherwise the distribution might have become a
+weekly scene of squabbling and confusion. He handed the shilling and
+bread to Eliza Turner; and when she had followed the other women out, he
+turned to the Widow Booth, who was sobbing against the wall; speaking
+kindly to her.</p>
+
+<p>"You should not have come in, Mrs. Booth. You know that I do not allow
+it."</p>
+
+<p>"But I'm starving, sir," was the answer. "I thought maybe as you'd
+divide it between me and Widow Turner. Sixpence for her, sixpence for
+me, and the loaf halved."</p>
+
+<p>"I have no power to divide the gifts: to do so would be against the
+terms of the bequest. How is it you are so badly off this week? Has your
+work failed?"</p>
+
+<p>"I couldn't do it, sir, with my sick one to attend to. And I've a
+gathering come on my thimble finger, and that has hindered me. I took
+ninepence the day before yesterday, sir, but last night it was every
+farthing of it gone."</p>
+
+<p>"I will come round and see you by-and-by," said the clergyman.</p>
+
+<p>She lifted her eyes yearningly. "Oh, sir! if you could but give me
+something for a morsel of bread now! I'd be grateful for a penny loaf."</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Booth, you know that to give here would be altogether against my
+rule," he replied with unmistakable firmness. "Neither am I pleased when
+any of you attempt to ask it. Go home quietly: I have said that I will
+come to you by-and-by."</p>
+
+<p>The woman thanked him and went out. Had anything been needed to prove
+the necessity of the rule, it would have been the eagerness with which
+the crowd of women gathered round her. Not one of them had gone away.
+"Had she got anything?" To reply that she <i>had</i> something, would have
+sent the whole crowd flocking in to beg in turn of the rector.</p>
+
+<p>Widow Booth shook her head. "No, no. I knowed it before. He never will.
+He says he'll come round."</p>
+
+<p>They dispersed; some in one direction, some in another. The rector blew
+out the candle, and he and the clerk came forth; and the church was
+closed for the distribution of bread until that day week. Mr. Tait took
+the keys himself to carry them home: they were kept at his house.
+Formerly the clerk had carried them there; but since he had become old
+and lame, Mr. Tait would not give him the trouble.</p>
+
+<p>It was a fine night overhead, but the streets were sloppy; and the
+clergyman put his foot unavoidably in many a puddle. The streets through
+which his road lay were imperfectly lighted. The residence apportioned
+to the rector of this parish was adjoining a well-known square,
+fashionable in that day. It was a very good house, with a handsome
+outward appearance. If you judged by it, you would have said the living
+must be worth five hundred a year at least. It was not worth anything
+like that; and the parish treated their pastor liberally in according
+him so good a residence. A quarter of an hour's walk from the church
+brought Mr. Tait to it.</p>
+
+<p>Until recently, a gentleman had shared this house with Mr. Tait and his
+family. The curate of a neighbouring parish, the Rev. John Acton, had
+been glad to live with them as a friend, admitted to their society and
+their table. It was a little help: and but for that, Mr. and Mrs. Tait
+would scarcely have thought themselves justified in keeping two
+servants, for the educational expenses of their children ran away with a
+large portion of their income. But Mr. Acton had now been removed to a
+distance, and they hoped to receive some one or other in his place.</p>
+
+<p>On this evening, as Mr. Tait was picking his way through the puddles,
+the usual sitting-room of his house presented a cheerful appearance,
+ready to receive him. It was on the ground floor, looking upon the
+street, large and lofty, and bright with firelight. Two candles, not yet
+lighted, stood on the table behind the tea-tray, but the glow of the
+fire was sufficient for all the work that was being done in the room.</p>
+
+<p>It was no work at all: but play. A young lady was quietly whirling round
+the room with a dancing step&mdash;quietly, because her feet and movements
+were gentle; and the tune she was humming, and to which she kept time,
+was carolled in an undertone. She was moving thus in the happy innocence
+of heart and youth. A graceful girl of middle height; one whom it
+gladdened the eye to look upon. Not for her beauty, for she had no very
+great beauty to boast of; but it was one of those countenances that win
+their own way to favour. A fair, gentle face, openly candid, with the
+same earnest, honest grey eye that so pleased you in Francis Tait, and
+brown hair. She was that gentleman's eldest child, and looked about
+eighteen. In reality she was a year older, but her face and dress were
+both youthful. She wore a violet silk frock, made with a low body and
+short sleeves: girls did not keep their pretty necks and arms covered up
+then. By daylight the dress would have appeared old, but it looked very
+well by candle-light.</p>
+
+<p>The sound of the latch-key in the front door brought her dancing to an
+end. She knew who it was&mdash;no inmate of that house possessed a latch-key
+except its master&mdash;and she turned to the fire to light the candles.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Tait came into the room, removing neither overcoat nor hat. "Have
+you made tea, Jane?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, papa; it has only just struck five."</p>
+
+<p>"Then I think I'll go out again first. I have to call on one or two of
+the women, and it will be all one wetting. My feet are soaked
+already"&mdash;looking down at his buckled shoes and black gaiters. "You can
+get my slippers warmed, Jane. But"&mdash;the thought apparently striking
+him&mdash;"would your mamma care to wait?"</p>
+
+<p>"Mamma had a cup of tea half an hour ago," replied Jane. "She said it
+might do her good; if she could get some sleep after it, she might be
+able to come down for a little before bedtime. The tea can be made
+whenever you like, papa. There's only Francis at home, and he and I
+could wait until ten, if you pleased."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll go at once, then. Not until ten, Miss Jane, but until six, or
+about that time. Betty King is ill, but does not live far off. And I
+must step in to the Widow Booth's."</p>
+
+<p>"Papa," cried Jane as he was turning away, "I forgot to tell you.
+Francis says he thinks he knows of a gentleman who would like to come
+here in Mr. Acton's place."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! who is it?" asked the rector.</p>
+
+<p>"One of the masters at the school. Here's Francis coming down. He only
+went up to wash his hands."</p>
+
+<p>"It is our new mathematical master, sir," cried Francis Tait, a youth of
+eighteen, who was being brought up to the Church. "I overheard him ask
+Dr. Percy if he could recommend him to a comfortable house where he
+might board, and make one of the family: so I told him perhaps you might
+receive him here. He said he'd come down and see you."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Tait paused. "Would he be a desirable inmate, think you, Francis? Is
+he a gentleman?"</p>
+
+<p>"Quite a gentleman, I am sure," replied Francis. "And we all like what
+little we have seen of him. His name's Halliburton."</p>
+
+<p>"Is he in Orders?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. He intends to be, I think."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, of course I can say nothing about it, one way or the other,"
+concluded Mr. Tait, as he went out.</p>
+
+<p>Jane stood before the fire in thought, her fingers unconsciously
+smoothing the parting of the glossy brown hair on her well-shaped head
+as she looked at it in the pier-glass. To say that she never did such a
+thing in vanity would be wrong; no pretty girl ever lived but was
+conscious of her good looks. Jane, however, was neither thinking of
+herself nor of vanity just then. She took a very practical part in home
+duties: with her mother, a practical part amidst her father's poor: and
+at this moment her thoughts were running on the additional work it might
+bring her, should this gentleman come to reside with them.</p>
+
+<p>"What did you say his name was, Francis?" she suddenly asked of her
+brother.</p>
+
+<p>"Whose?"</p>
+
+<p>"That gentleman's. The new master at your school."</p>
+
+<p>"Halliburton. I don't know his Christian name."</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder," mused Jane aloud, "whether he will wear out his stockings as
+Mr. Acton did? There was always a dreadful amount of darning to be done
+to his. Is he an old guy, Francis?"</p>
+
+<p>"Isn't he!" responded Francis Tait. "Don't faint when you see some one
+come in old and fat, with green rims to his spectacles. I don't say he's
+<i>quite</i> old enough to be papa's father, but&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Why! he must be eighty then, at least!" uttered Jane, in dismay. "How
+could you propose it to him? We should not care to have any one older
+than Mr. Acton."</p>
+
+<p>"Acton! that young chicken!" contemptuously rejoined Francis. "Put him
+by the side of Mr. Halliburton! Acton was barely fifty."</p>
+
+<p>"He was forty-eight, I think," said Jane. "Oh, dear! how I should like
+to have gone with Margaret and Robert this evening!" she exclaimed,
+forgetting the passing topic in another.</p>
+
+<p>"They were not polite enough to invite me," said Francis. "I shall pay
+the old lady out."</p>
+
+<p>Jane laughed. "You are growing too old now, Francis, to be admitted to a
+young ladies' breaking-up party. Mrs. Chilham said so to mamma&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Jane's words were interrupted by a knock at the front door, apparently
+that of a visitor. "Jane!" cried her brother, in some trepidation, "I
+should not wonder if it's Mr. Halliburton! He did not say when he should
+come!"</p>
+
+<p>Another minute, and one of the servants ushered a gentleman into the
+room. It was not an old guy, however, as Jane saw at a glance with a
+distinct feeling of relief. A tall, gentlemanlike man of five or six and
+twenty, with thin aquiline features, dark eyes, and a clear, fresh
+complexion. A handsome man, very prepossessing.</p>
+
+<p>"You see I have soon availed myself of your permission to call," said
+he, in pleasant tones, as he took Francis Tait's hand, and glanced
+towards Jane with a slight bow.</p>
+
+<p>"My sister Jane, sir," said Francis. "Jane, this is Mr. Halliburton."</p>
+
+<p>Jane for once lost her self-possession. So surprised was she&mdash;in fact
+perplexed, for she did not know whether Francis was playing a trick upon
+her now, or whether he had previously played it; in short, whether this
+was, or was not, Mr. Halliburton&mdash;that she could only look from one to
+the other. "Are you Mr. Halliburton?" she said, in her straightforward
+simplicity.</p>
+
+<p>"I am Mr. Halliburton," he answered, bending to her politely. "Can I
+have the pleasure of seeing Mr. Tait?"</p>
+
+<p>"Will you take a seat?" said Jane. "Papa is out, but I do not think he
+will be very long."</p>
+
+<p>"Where did he go to&mdash;do you know, Jane?" cried Francis, who was
+smothering a laugh.</p>
+
+<p>"To Betty King's; and to Widow Booth's. He may have been going elsewhere
+also. I think he was."</p>
+
+<p>"At any rate, I'll just run there and see. Jane, you can tell Mr.
+Halliburton all about it whilst I am away. Explain to him exactly how he
+will be here, and how we live. And then you can decide for yourself,
+sir," concluded Francis.</p>
+
+<p>To splash through the wet streets to Betty King's or elsewhere was an
+expedition rather agreeable to Francis, in his eagerness; otherwise
+there was no particular necessity for his going.</p>
+
+<p>"I am sorry mamma is not up," said Jane. "She suffers from occasional
+sick-headaches, and they generally keep her in bed for the day. I will
+give you any information in my power."</p>
+
+<p>"Your brother Francis thought&mdash;that it might not be disagreeable to Mr.
+Tait to receive a stranger into his family," said Mr. Halliburton,
+speaking with some hesitation. But the young lady before him looked so
+lady-like, the house altogether seemed so well appointed, that he almost
+doubted whether the proposal would not offend her.</p>
+
+<p>"We wish to receive some one," said Jane. "The house is sufficiently
+large to do so, and papa would like it for the sake of society: as well
+as that it would help in our housekeeping," she added, in her candour.
+"A friend of papa's was with us&mdash;I cannot remember precisely how many
+years, but he came when I was a little girl. It was the Rev. Mr. Acton.
+He left us last October."</p>
+
+<p>"I feel sure that I should like it very much: and I should think myself
+fortunate if Mr. Tait would admit me," spoke the visitor.</p>
+
+<p>Jane remembered the suggestion of Francis, and deemed it her duty to
+speak a little to Mr. Halliburton of "how he would be there," as it had
+been expressed. She might have done so without the suggestion, for she
+could not be otherwise than straightforward and open.</p>
+
+<p>"We live very plainly," she observed. "A simple joint of meat one day;
+cold, with a pudding, the next."</p>
+
+<p>"I should consider myself fortunate to get the pudding," replied Mr.
+Halliburton, smiling. "I have been tossed about a good deal of late
+years, Miss Tait, and have not come in for too much comfort. Just now I
+am in very uncomfortable lodgings."</p>
+
+<p>"I dare say papa would like to have you," said Jane, frankly, with a
+sort of relief. She had thought he looked one who might be fastidious.</p>
+
+<p>"I have neither father nor mother, brother nor sister," he resumed. "In
+fact, I may say that I am without relatives; for almost the only one I
+have has discarded me. I often think how rich those people must be who
+possess close connections and a happy home," he added, turning his
+bright glance upon her.</p>
+
+<p>Jane dropped her work, which she had taken up. "I don't know what I
+should do without all my dear relatives," she exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you a large family?"</p>
+
+<p>"We are six. Papa and mamma, and four children. I am the eldest, and
+Margaret is the youngest; Francis and Robert are between us. It is
+breaking-up night at Margaret's school, and she has gone to it with
+Robert," continued Jane, never doubting but the stranger must take as
+much interest in "breaking-up nights" as she did. "I was to have gone;
+but mamma has been unusually ill to-day."</p>
+
+<p>"Were you disappointed?"</p>
+
+<p>Jane bent her head while she confessed the fact, as though feeling it a
+confession to be ashamed of. "It would not have been kind to leave
+mamma," she added, "and I dare say some other pleasure will arise soon.
+Mamma is asleep now."</p>
+
+<p>"What a charming girl!" thought Mr. Halliburton to himself. "How I wish
+she was my sister!"</p>
+
+<p>"Margaret is to be a governess," observed Jane, "and is being educated
+for it. She has great talent for music, and also for drawing; it is not
+often the two are united. Her tastes lie quite that way&mdash;anything
+clever; and as papa has no money to give us, it was well to make her a
+governess."</p>
+
+<p>"And you?" said Mr. Halliburton. The question might have been thought an
+impertinent one by many, but he spoke it only in his deep interest, and
+Jane Tait was of too ingenuous a disposition not to answer it as openly.</p>
+
+<p>"I am not to be a governess. I am to stay at home with mamma and help
+her. There is plenty to do. Margaret cannot bear domestic duties, or
+sewing either. Dancing excepted, I have not learnt a single
+accomplishment&mdash;unless you call French an accomplishment."</p>
+
+<p>"I am sure you have been well educated!" involuntarily spoke Mr.
+Halliburton.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; in all things solid," replied Jane. "Papa has taken care of that.
+He still directs my reading. I know a good bit&mdash;of&mdash;Latin"&mdash;she added,
+bringing out the concluding words with hesitation, as one who repents
+his sentence&mdash;"though I do not like to confess it to you."</p>
+
+<p>"Why do you not?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because I think girls who know Latin are laughed at. I did not
+regularly learn it, but I used to be in the room when papa or Mr. Acton
+was teaching Francis and Robert, and I picked it up unconsciously. Mr.
+Acton often took Francis; he had more time on his hands than papa.
+Francis is to be a clergyman."</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Jane," said a servant, entering the room, "Mrs. Tait is awake, and
+wishes to see you."</p>
+
+<p>Jane left Mr. Halliburton with a word of apology, and almost immediately
+after Mr. Tait came in. He was a little taken to when he saw the
+stranger. His imagination had run, if not upon an "old guy" in
+spectacles, certainly upon some steady, sober, middle-aged mathematical
+master. Would it be well to admit this young, good-looking man to his
+house.</p>
+
+<p>If Jane Tait had been candid in her revelations to Mr. Halliburton, that
+gentleman, in his turn, was not less candid to her father. He, Edgar
+Halliburton, was the only child of a country clergyman, the Rev. William
+Halliburton, who had died when Edgar was sixteen, leaving nothing behind
+him. Edgar&mdash;he had previously lost his mother&mdash;found a home with his
+late mother's brother, a gentleman named Cooper, who resided in
+Birmingham. Mr. Cooper was a man in extensive wholesale business, and
+wished Edgar to go into his counting-house. Edgar declined. His father
+had lived long enough to form his tastes: his greatest wish had been to
+see him enter the Church; and the wish had become Edgar's own. Mr.
+Cooper thought there was nothing in the world like business: and looked
+upon that most sacred of all callings, God's ministry, only in the light
+of a profession. He had carved out his own career, step by step,
+attaining wealth and importance, and wished his nephew to do the same.
+"Which is best, lad?" he coarsely asked: "To rule as a merchant prince,
+or starve and toil as a curate? I'm not quite a merchant prince yet, but
+you may be." "It was my father's wish," pleaded Edgar in answer, "and it
+is my own. I cannot give it up, sir." The dispute ran high&mdash;not in
+words, but in obstinacy. Edgar would not yield, and at length Mr. Cooper
+discarded him. He turned him out of doors: told him that, if he must
+become a parson, he might get some one else to pay his expenses at
+Oxford, for he never would. Edgar Halliburton proceeded to London, and
+obtained employment as an usher in a school, teaching classics and
+mathematics. From that he became a private teacher, and had so earned
+his living up to the present time: but he had never succeeded in getting
+to college. And Mr. Tait, before they had talked together five minutes,
+was charmed with his visitor, and invited him to take tea with him,
+which Jane came down to make.</p>
+
+<p>"Has your uncle never softened towards you?" Mr. Tait inquired.</p>
+
+<p>"Never. I have addressed several letters to him, but they have been
+returned to me."</p>
+
+<p>"He has no family, you say. You ought&mdash;in justice, you ought to inherit
+some of his wealth. Has he other relatives?"</p>
+
+<p>"He has one standing to him in the same relationship as I&mdash;my Cousin
+Julia. It is not likely that I shall ever inherit a shilling of it, sir.
+I do not expect it."</p>
+
+<p>"Right," said Mr. Tait, nodding his head approvingly. "There's no work
+so thriftless as that of waiting for legacies. Wearying, too. I was a
+poor curate, Mr. Halliburton, for twenty years&mdash;indeed, so far as being
+poor goes, I am not much else now&mdash;but let that pass. I had a relative
+who possessed money, and who had neither kith nor kin nearer to her than
+I was. For the best part of those twenty years I was giving covert
+hopes to that money; and when she died, and <span class="smcap">NOTHING</span> was left to me, I
+found out how foolish and wasteful my hopes had been. I tell my children
+to trust to their own honest exertions, but never to trust to other
+people's money. Allow me to urge the same upon you."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Halliburton's lips and eyes alike smiled, as he looked gratefully at
+the rector, a man so much older than himself. "I never think of it," he
+earnestly said. "It appears, for me, to be as thoroughly lost as though
+it did not exist. I should not have mentioned it, sir, but that I
+consider it right you should know all particulars respecting me; if, as
+I hope, you will admit me to your home."</p>
+
+<p>"I think we should get on very well together," frankly acknowledged Mr.
+Tait, forgetting the prudent ideas which had crossed his mind.</p>
+
+<p>"I am sure we should, sir," warmly replied Edgar Halliburton. And the
+bargain was made.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE SHADOW BECOMES SUBSTANCE.</h3>
+
+
+<p>And yet it had perhaps been well that those prudent ideas had been
+allowed to obtain weight. Mr. Halliburton took up his abode with the
+Taits; and, the more they saw of him, the more they liked him. In which
+liking Jane must be included.</p>
+
+<p>It was a possible shadow of the future, the effects the step would bring
+forth, which had whispered determent to Mr. Tait: a very brief shadow,
+which had crossed his mind imperfectly, and flitted away again. Where
+two young and attractive beings are thrown into daily companionship, the
+result too frequently is that a mutual regard arises, stronger than any
+other regard can ever be in this world. This result arrived here.</p>
+
+<p>A twelvemonth passed over from the time of Mr. Halliburton's
+entrance&mdash;how swiftly for him and for Jane Tait they alone could tell.
+Not a word had been spoken to her by Mr. Halliburton that he might not
+have spoken to her mother or her sister Margaret; not a look on Jane's
+part had been given by which he could infer that he was more to her than
+the rest of the world. And yet both were inwardly conscious of the
+feelings of the other; and when the twelvemonth had gone by it had
+seemed to them but a span, for the love they bore each other.</p>
+
+<p>One evening in December Jane stood in the dining-room waiting to make
+tea just as she had so waited that former evening. For any outward
+signs, you might have thought that not a single hour had elapsed since
+their first introduction&mdash;that it was the same evening as of old. It was
+sloppy outside, it was bright within. The candles stood on the table
+unlighted, the fire blazed, the tea-tray was placed, and only Jane was
+there. Mrs. Tait was upstairs with one of her frequent sick-headaches,
+Margaret was with her, and the others had not come in.</p>
+
+<p>Jane stood in a reverie&mdash;her elbow resting on the mantel-piece, and the
+blaze from the fire flickering on her gentle face. She was fond of these
+few minutes of idleness on a winter's evening, between the twilight hour
+and lighting the candles.</p>
+
+<p>The clock in the kitchen struck five. It did not arouse her: she heard
+it in a mechanical sort of manner, without taking note of it. Scarcely
+had the sound of the last stroke died away when there was a knock at the
+front door.</p>
+
+<p>That aroused her&mdash;for she knew it. She knew the footsteps that came in
+when it was answered, and a rich damask arose to her cheeks, and the
+pulses of her heart went on a little quicker than they had been going
+before.</p>
+
+<p>She took her elbow from the mantel-piece, and sat down quietly on a
+chair. No need to look who entered. Some one, taller by far than any in
+that house, came up to the fire, and bent to warm his hands over the
+blaze.</p>
+
+<p>"It is a cold night, Jane. We shall have a severe frost."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," she answered; "the water in the barrel is already freezing over."</p>
+
+<p>"How is your mamma now?"</p>
+
+<p>"Better, thank you. Margaret has gone up to help her to dress. She is
+coming down to tea."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Halliburton remained silent a minute, and then turned to Jane, his
+face glowing with satisfaction. "I have had a piece of preferment
+offered me to-day."</p>
+
+<p>"Have you?" she eagerly said. "What is it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Dr. Percy proposes that, from January, I shall take the Greek classes
+as well as the mathematics, and he doubles my salary. Of course I shall
+have to give closer attendance, but I can readily do that. My time is
+not fully employed."</p>
+
+<p>"I am very glad," said Jane.</p>
+
+<p>"So am I," he answered. "Taking all my sources of income together, I
+shall now be earning two hundred and eighty-three pounds a year."</p>
+
+<p>Jane laughed. "Have you been reckoning it up?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ay; I had a motive in doing so."</p>
+
+<p>His tone was peculiar, and it caused her to look at him, but her eyelids
+drooped under his gaze. He drew nearer, and laid his hand gently on her
+shoulder, bending down before her to speak.</p>
+
+<p>"Jane, you have not mistaken me. I feel that you have read what has been
+in my heart, what have been my intentions, as surely as though I had
+spoken. It is not a great income, but it is sufficient, if you can
+think it so. May I speak to Mr. Tait?"</p>
+
+<p>What Jane would have contrived to answer she never knew, but at that
+moment her mother's step was heard approaching. All she did was to
+glance shyly up at Mr. Halliburton, and he bent his head lower and
+kissed her. Then he walked rapidly to the door and opened it for Mrs.
+Tait&mdash;a pale, refined, delicate-looking lady, wrapped in a shawl. These
+violent headaches, from which she so frequently suffered, did not affect
+her permanent health, but on the days she suffered she would be utterly
+prostrated. Mr. Halliburton gave her his arm, and led her to a seat by
+the fire, his voice low and tender, his manner sympathizing. "I am
+already better," she said to him, "and shall be much better after tea.
+Sometimes I am tempted to envy those who do not know what a
+sick-headache is."</p>
+
+<p>"They may know other maladies as painful, dear Mrs. Tait."</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, indeed. None of us can expect to be free from pain of one sort or
+another in this world."</p>
+
+<p>"Shall I make the tea, mamma?" asked Jane.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, dear; I shall be glad of it, and your papa is sure to be in soon.
+There he is!" she added, as the latch-key was heard in the door. "The
+boys are late this evening."</p>
+
+<p>The rector came in, and, ere the evening was over, the news was broken
+to him by Mr. Halliburton. He wanted Jane.</p>
+
+<p>It was the imperfect, uncertain shadow of twelve months ago become
+substance. It had been a shadow of the future only, you understand&mdash;not
+a shadow of evil. To Mr. Halliburton, personally, the rector had no
+objection&mdash;he had learned to love, esteem, and respect him&mdash;but it is a
+serious thing to give away a child.</p>
+
+<p>"The income is very small to marry upon," he observed. "It is also
+uncertain."</p>
+
+<p>"Not uncertain, sir, so long as I am blessed with health and strength.
+And I have no reason to fear that these will fail."</p>
+
+<p>"I thought you were bent on taking Orders."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Halliburton's cheek slightly flushed. "It is a prospect I have
+fondly cherished," he said; "but its difficulties alarm me. The cost of
+the University is great; and were I to wait until I had saved sufficient
+money to go to college, I should be obliged, in a great degree, to give
+up my present means of living. Who would employ a tutor who must
+frequently be away for weeks? I should lose my connection, and perhaps
+never regain it. A good teaching connection is more easily lost than
+won."</p>
+
+<p>"True," observed Mr. Tait.</p>
+
+<p>"Once in Orders, I might remain for years a poor curate. I should most
+likely do so. I have neither interest nor influence. Sir, in that case
+Jane and I might be obliged to wait for years: perhaps go down to our
+graves waiting."</p>
+
+<p>The Rev. Francis Tait threw back his thoughts. How <i>he</i> had waited; how
+he was not able to marry until years were advancing upon him; how in
+four years now he should have attained threescore years and ten&mdash;the
+term allotted to the life of man&mdash;whilst his children were still growing
+up around him! No! never, never would he counsel another to wait as he
+had been obliged to wait.</p>
+
+<p>"I have not yet given up hope of eventually entering the Church,"
+continued Mr. Halliburton; "though it must be accomplished, if at all,
+slowly and patiently. I think I may be able to keep one term, or perhaps
+two terms yearly, without damage to my teaching. I shall try to do so;
+try to find the necessary means and time. My marriage will make no
+difference to that, sir."</p>
+
+<p>Many might have suggested to Edgar Halliburton that he might keep his
+terms first and marry afterwards. Mr. Tait did not: possibly the idea
+did not occur to him. If it occurred to Edgar Halliburton himself, he
+drove it from him. It would have delayed his marriage to an indefinite
+number of years; and he loved Jane too well to do that willingly. "I
+shall still get much better preferment in teaching than that which I now
+hold," he urged aloud to the rector. "It is not so very small to begin
+upon, sir, and Jane is willing to risk it."</p>
+
+<p>"I will not part you and Jane," said Mr. Tait, warmly. "If you have made
+up your minds to share life and its cares together, you shall do so.
+Still, I cannot say that I think your prospects golden."</p>
+
+<p>"Prospects that appear to have no gold at all in them sometimes turn out
+very brightly, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"I can give Jane nothing, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"I have never cast a thought to it, sir; have never imagined she would
+have a shilling," replied Mr. Halliburton, his face flushing with
+eagerness. "It is Jane herself I want; not money."</p>
+
+<p>"Beyond a twenty-pound note which I may give her to put into her purse
+on her wedding morning, that she may not leave my house absolutely
+penniless, she will have nothing," cried the rector, in his
+straightforward manner. "Far from saving, I and her mother have been
+hardly able to make both ends meet at the end of the year. I might have
+saved a few pounds yearly, had I chosen to do so; but you know what this
+parish is; and the reflection has always been upon me: how would my
+Master look upon my putting by small sums of money, when many of those
+over whom I am placed were literally starving for bread? I have given
+what I could; but I have not saved for my children."</p>
+
+<p>"You have done well, sir."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Tait sought his daughter. "Jane," he began&mdash;"Nay, child, do not
+tremble so! There is no need for trembling, or for tears, either: you
+have done nothing to displease me. Jane, I like Edgar Halliburton; I
+like him much. There is no one to whom I would rather give you. But I do
+not like his prospects. Teaching is very precarious."</p>
+
+<p>Jane raised her timid eyes. "Precarious for <i>him</i>, papa? For one learned
+and clever as he!"</p>
+
+<p>"It is badly paid. See how he toils&mdash;and he will have to toil more when
+the new year comes in&mdash;and only to earn two or three hundred a year!&mdash;in
+round numbers."</p>
+
+<p>Tears gathered in Jane's eyes. Toil as he did, badly paid as he might
+be, she would rather have him than any other in the world, though that
+other might have revelled in thousands. The rector read somewhat of this
+in her downcast face.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear, the consideration lies with you. If you choose to venture upon
+it, you shall have my consent, and I know you will have your mother's,
+for she thinks Edgar Halliburton has not his equal in the world. But it
+may bring you many troubles."</p>
+
+<p>"Papa, I am not afraid. If troubles come, they&mdash;you&mdash;told us only last
+night&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"What, child?"</p>
+
+<p>"That troubles, regarded rightly, only lead us nearer to God," whispered
+Jane, simply and timidly.</p>
+
+<p>"Right, child. And trouble must come before that great truth can be
+realized. Consider the question well, Jane&mdash;whether it may not be better
+to wait&mdash;and give your answer to-morrow. I shall tell Mr. Halliburton
+not to ask for it to-night. As you decide, so shall it be."</p>
+
+<p>Need you be told what Jane's decision was? Two hundred and eighty-three
+pounds a year seems a large sum to an inexperienced girl; quite
+sufficient to purchase everything that might be wanted for a fireside.</p>
+
+<p>And so she became Jane Halliburton.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE REV. FRANCIS TAIT.</h3>
+
+
+<p>A hot afternoon in July. Jane Halliburton was in the drawing-room with
+her mother, both sewing busily. It was a large room, with three windows,
+more pleasant than the dining-room beneath, and they were fond of
+sitting in it in summer. Jane had been married some three or four months
+now, but looked the same young, simple, placid girl that she ever did;
+and, but for the wedding-ring upon her finger, no stranger would have
+supposed her to be a wife.</p>
+
+<p>An excellent arrangement had been arrived at&mdash;that she and her husband
+should remain inmates of Mr. Tait's house; at any rate, for the
+present. When plans were being discussed, before making the necessary
+arrangements for the marriage, and Mr. Halliburton was spending all his
+superfluous minutes hunting for a suitable house near to the old home,
+and not too dear, Francis Tait had given utterance to a remark&mdash;"I
+wonder who we shall get here in Mr. Halliburton's place, if papa takes
+any one else?" and Margaret, looking up from her drawing, had added,
+"Why can't Mr. Halliburton and Jane stay on with us? It would be so much
+pleasanter."</p>
+
+<p>It was the first time the idea had been presented in any shape to the
+rector, and it seemed to go straight to his wishes. He put down a book
+he was reading, and spoke impulsively. "It would be the best thing; the
+very best thing! Would you like it, Halliburton?"</p>
+
+<p>"I should, sir; very much. But it is Jane who must be consulted, not
+me."</p>
+
+<p>Jane, her pretty cheeks covered with blushes, looked up and said she
+should like it also; she <i>had</i> thought of it, but had not liked to
+mention it, either to her mother or to Mr. Halliburton. "I have been
+quite troubled to think what mamma and the house will do without me,"
+she added, ingenuously.</p>
+
+<p>"Let Jane alone for thinking and planning, when difficulties are in the
+way," laughed Margaret. "My opinion is that we shall never get another
+pudding, or papa have his black silk Sunday hose darned, if Jane goes
+from us."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Tait burst into tears. Like Margaret she was a bad manager, and had
+mourned over Jane's departure, secretly believing she should be half
+worried to death. "Oh! Jane, dear, say you'll remain!" she cried. "It
+will be such a relief to me! Margaret's of no earthly use, and
+everything will fall on my shoulders. Edgar, I hope you will remain with
+us! It will be pleasant for all. You know the house is sufficiently
+large."</p>
+
+<p>And remain they did. The wedding took place at Easter, and Mr.
+Halliburton took Jane all the way to Dover to see the sea&mdash;a long way in
+those days&mdash;and kept her there for a week. And then they came back
+again, Jane to her old home duties, just as though she were Jane Tait
+still, and Mr. Halliburton to his teaching.</p>
+
+<p>It was July now and hot weather; and Mrs. Tait and Jane were sewing in
+the drawing-room. They were working for Margaret. Mr. Halliburton,
+through some of his teaching connections, had obtained an excellent
+situation for Margaret in a first-rate school. Margaret was to enter as
+resident pupil, and receive every advantage towards the completion of
+her own education; in return for which she was to teach the younger
+pupils music, and pay ten pounds a year. Such an arrangement was almost
+unknown then, though it has been common enough since, and Mr. and Mrs.
+Tait thought of it very highly. Margaret Tait was only sixteen; but, as
+if in contrast to Jane, who looked younger than her actual years,
+Margaret looked older. In appearance, in manners, and also in
+advancement, Margaret might have been eighteen.</p>
+
+<p>She was to enter the school, which was near Harrow, in another week, at
+the termination of the holidays, and Mrs. Tait and Jane had their hands
+full, getting her things ready.</p>
+
+<p>"Was this slip measured, mamma?" Jane suddenly asked, after attentively
+regarding the work she had on her knee.</p>
+
+<p>"I think so," replied Mrs. Tait. "Why?"</p>
+
+<p>"It looks too short for Margaret. At least it will be too short when I
+have finished this fourth tuck. It must have been measured, though, for
+here are the pins in it. Perhaps Margaret measured it herself."</p>
+
+<p>"Then of course it must be measured again. There's no trusting to
+anything Margaret does in the shape of work. And yet, how clever she is
+at music and drawing&mdash;in fact at all her studies!" added Mrs. Tait. "It
+is well, Jane, that we are not all gifted alike."</p>
+
+<p>"I think it is," acquiesced Jane. "I will go up to Margaret's room for
+one of her slips, and measure this."</p>
+
+<p>"You need not do that," said Mrs. Tait. "There's an old slip of hers
+amongst the work on the sofa."</p>
+
+<p>Jane found the slip, and measured the one in her hand by it. "Yes,
+mamma! It is just the length without the tuck. Then I must take out what
+I have done of it. It is very little."</p>
+
+<p>"Come hither, Jane. Your eyes are younger than mine. Is not that your
+papa coming towards us from the far end of the square?"</p>
+
+<p>Jane approached the window nearest to her, not the one at which Mrs.
+Tait was sitting. "Oh, yes, that's papa. You might tell him by his
+dress, if by nothing else, mamma."</p>
+
+<p>"I could tell him by himself, if I could see," said Mrs. Tait, quaintly.
+"I don't know how it is, Jane, but my sight grows very imperfect for a
+distance."</p>
+
+<p>"Never mind that, mamma, so that you can continue to see well to work
+and read," said Jane cheerily. "How fast papa is walking!"</p>
+
+<p>Very fast for the Rev. Francis Tait, who was not in general a quick
+walker. He entered his house, and came up to the drawing-room. He had
+not been well for the last few days, and threw himself into a chair,
+wearily.</p>
+
+<p>"Jane, is there any of that beef-tea left, that was made for me
+yesterday?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, papa," she said, springing up that she might get it for him. "I
+will bring it to you immediately."</p>
+
+<p>"Stay, stay, child, not so fast," he interrupted. "It is not for myself.
+I can do without it. I have been pained by a sad sight," he added,
+looking at his wife. "There's that daughter of the Widow Booth's come
+home again. I called in upon them and there she was, lying on a
+mattress, dying from famine, as I verily believe. She returned last
+night in a dreadful state of exhaustion, the mother says, and has had
+nothing within her lips since but cold water. They tried her with solid
+food, but she could not swallow it. That beef-tea will just do for her.
+Have it warmed, Jane."</p>
+
+<p>"She is a sinful, ill-doing girl, Francis," remarked Mrs. Tait, "and
+does not really deserve compassion."</p>
+
+<p>"All the more reason, wife, that she should be rescued from death," said
+the rector, almost sternly. "The good may dare to die: the evil may not.
+Don't waste time, Jane. Put it into a bottle, warm, and I'll carry it
+round."</p>
+
+<p>"Is there nothing else we can send her, papa, that may do for her
+equally well?" asked Jane. "A little wine, perhaps? There is very little
+of the beef-tea left, and it ought to be kept for you."</p>
+
+<p>"Never mind; I wish to take it to her," said the rector. "A little wine
+afterwards may do her good."</p>
+
+<p>Jane hastened to the kitchen, disturbing a servant who was doing
+something over the fire. "Susan, papa wants the remainder of the
+beef-tea warmed. Will you make haste and do it, whilst I search for a
+bottle to put it into? It is to be taken round to Charity Booth."</p>
+
+<p>"What! is <i>she</i> back again?" exclaimed the servant, slightingly, which
+betrayed that her estimation of Charity Booth was no higher than was
+that of her mistress. "It's just like the master," she continued,
+proceeding to do what was required of her. "It's not often that
+anything's made for himself; but if it is, he never gets the benefit of
+it; he's sure to drop across somebody that he fancies wants it worse
+than he does. It's not right, Miss Jane."</p>
+
+<p>Jane was searching a cupboard, and brought forth a clean green bottle,
+which held about half-a-pint. "This will be quite large enough, I
+think."</p>
+
+<p>"I should think it would!" grumbled Susan, who could not be brought to
+look upon the giving away of her master's own peculiar property as
+anything but a personal grievance. "There's barely a gill of it left,
+and he ought to have had it himself, Miss Jane."</p>
+
+<p>"Susan," she said, turning her bright face laughingly towards the woman,
+"it is a good thing that you went to church and saw me married, or I
+might think you meant to reflect upon me. How can I be 'Miss Jane,'
+with this ring on?"</p>
+
+<p>"It's of no good my trying to remember it, ma'am. All the parish knows
+you are Mrs. Halliburton, fast enough; but it don't come ready to me."</p>
+
+<p>Jane laughed pleasantly. "Where is Mary?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"In the back room, going on with some of Miss Margaret's things. It's
+cooler, sitting there, than in this hot kitchen."</p>
+
+<p>Jane carried the little bottle of beef-tea to her father, and gave it
+into his hand. He looked very pale, and rose from his chair slowly.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, papa, you do not seem well!" she involuntarily exclaimed. "Let me
+run and beat you up an egg. I will not be a minute."</p>
+
+<p>"I can't wait, child. And I question if I could eat it, were it ready
+before me. I do not feel well, as you say."</p>
+
+<p>"You ought to have taken this beef-tea yourself, papa. It was made for
+<i>you</i>."</p>
+
+<p>Jane could not help laying a stress upon the word. Mr. Tait placed his
+hand gently upon her smoothly parted hair. "Jane, child, had I thought
+of myself before others throughout life, how should I have been
+following my Master's precepts?"</p>
+
+<p>She ran down the stairs before him, opening the front door for him to
+pass through, that even that little exertion should be spared him. A
+loving, dutiful daughter was Jane; and it is probable that the thought
+of her worth especially crossed the mind of the rector at that moment.
+"God bless you, my child!" he aspirated, as he passed her.</p>
+
+<p>Jane watched him across the square. Their house, though not actually in
+the square, commanded a view of it. Then she returned upstairs to her
+mother. "Papa thinks he will not lose time," she observed. "He is
+walking fast."</p>
+
+<p>"I should call it running," responded Mrs. Tait, who had seen the speed
+from the window. "But, my dear, he'll do no good with that badly
+conducted Charity Booth."</p>
+
+<p>About an hour passed away, and it was drawing towards dinner-time. Jane
+and Mrs. Tait were busy as ever, when Mr. Halliburton's well-known knock
+was heard.</p>
+
+<p>"Edgar is home early this morning!" Jane exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>He came springing up the stairs, two at a time, in great haste, opened
+the drawing-room door, and just put in his head. Mrs. Tait, sitting with
+her back to the door and her face to the window, did not turn round, and
+consequently did not see him. Jane did; and was startled. Every vestige
+of colour had forsaken his face.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Edgar! You are ill!"</p>
+
+<p>"Ill! Not I," affecting to speak gaily. "I want you for a minute, Jane."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Tait had looked round at Jane's exclamation, but Mr. Halliburton's
+face was then withdrawn. He was standing outside the door when Jane
+went out. He did not speak; but took her hand in silence and drew her
+into the back room, which was their own bedroom, and closed the door.
+Jane's face had grown as white as his.</p>
+
+<p>"My darling, I did not mean to alarm you," he said, holding her to him.
+"I thought you had a brave heart, Jane. I thought that if I had a little
+unpleasant news to impart it would be best to tell <i>you</i>, that you may
+help me break it to the rest."</p>
+
+<p>Jane's heart was not feeling very brave. "What is it?" she asked,
+scarcely able to speak the words from her ghastly lips.</p>
+
+<p>"Jane," he said, tenderly and gravely, "before I say any more, you must
+strive for calmness."</p>
+
+<p>"It is not about yourself! You are not ill?"</p>
+
+<p>The question seemed superfluous. Mr. Halliburton was evidently not ill;
+but he was agitated. Jane was frightened and perplexed: not a glimpse of
+the real truth crossed her. "Tell me what it is at once, Edgar," she
+said, in a calmer tone. "I can bear certainty better than suspense."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, yes, I think you are becoming brave already," he answered, looking
+straight into her eyes and smiling&mdash;which was intended to reassure her.
+"I must have my wife show herself a woman to-day; not a child. See what
+a bungler I am! I thought to tell you all quietly and smoothly, without
+alarming you; and see what I have done!&mdash;startled you to terror."</p>
+
+<p>Jane smiled faintly. She knew all this was only the precursor of tidings
+that must be very ill and grievous. By a great effort she schooled
+herself to calmness. Mr. Halliburton continued:</p>
+
+<p>"One, whom you and I love very much, has&mdash;has&mdash;met with an accident,
+Jane."</p>
+
+<p>Her fears went straight to the right quarter at once. With that one
+exception by her side, there was no one she loved as she loved her
+father.</p>
+
+<p>"Papa?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. We must break it to Mrs. Tait."</p>
+
+<p>Her heart beat wildly against his hand, and the livid hue was once more
+overspreading her face. But she strove urgently for calmness: he
+whispered to her of its necessity for her own sake.</p>
+
+<p>"Edgar! is it death?"</p>
+
+<p>It was death; but he would not tell her so yet. He plunged into the
+attendant details.</p>
+
+<p>"He was hastening along with a small bottle in his hand, Jane. It
+contained something good for one of the sick poor, I am sure, for he was
+in their neighbourhood. Suddenly he was observed to fall; and the
+spectators raised him and took him to a doctor's. That doctor,
+unfortunately, was not at home, and they took him to another, so that
+time was lost. He was quite unconscious."</p>
+
+<p>"But you do not tell me!" she wailed. "Is he dead?"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Halliburton asked himself a question&mdash;What good would be done by
+delaying the truth? He thought he had performed his task very badly.
+"Jane, Jane!" he whispered, "I can only hope to help you to bear it
+better than I have broken it to you."</p>
+
+<p>She could not shed tears in that first awful moment: physically and
+mentally she leaned on him for support. "<i>How</i> can we tell my mother?"</p>
+
+<p>It was necessary that Mrs. Tait should be told, and without delay. Even
+then the body was being conveyed to the house. By a curious coincidence,
+Mr. Halliburton had been passing the last doctor's surgery at the very
+moment the crowd was round its doors. Unusual business had called him
+there; or it was a street he did not enter once in a year. "The parson
+has fallen down in a fit," said some of them, recognizing and arresting
+him.</p>
+
+<p>"The parson!" he repeated. "What! Mr. Tait?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sure enough," said they. And Mr. Halliburton pressed into the surgeon's
+house just as the examination was over.</p>
+
+<p>"The heart, no doubt, sir," said the doctor to him.</p>
+
+<p>"He surely is not dead?"</p>
+
+<p>"Quite dead. He must have died instantaneously."</p>
+
+<p>The news had been wafted to the mob outside, and they were already
+taking a shutter from its hinges. "I will go on first and prepare the
+family," said Mr. Halliburton to them. "Give me a quarter of an hour's
+start, and then come on."</p>
+
+<p>So that he had only a quarter of an hour for it all. His thoughts
+naturally turned to his wife: not simply to spare her alarm and pain, so
+far as he might, but he believed her, young as she was, to possess more
+calmness and self-control than Mrs. Tait. As he sped to the house he
+rehearsed his task; and might have accomplished it better but for his
+tell-tale face. "Jane," he whispered, "let this be your consolation
+ever: he was ready to go."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes!" she answered, bursting into a storm of most distressing tears.
+"If any one here was ever fit for heaven, it was my dear father."</p>
+
+<p>"Hark!" exclaimed Mr. Halliburton.</p>
+
+<p>Some noise had arisen downstairs&mdash;a sound of voices speaking in
+undertones. There could be no doubt that people had come to the house
+with the news, and were imparting it to the two trembling servants.</p>
+
+<p>"There's not a moment to be lost, Jane."</p>
+
+<p>How Jane dried her eyes and suppressed all temporary sign of grief and
+emotion, she could not tell. A sense of duty was strong within her, and
+she knew that the most imperative duty of the present moment was the
+support and solace of her mother. She and her husband entered the
+drawing-room together, and Mrs. Tait turned with a smile to Mr.
+Halliburton.</p>
+
+<p>"What secrets have you and Jane been talking together?" Then, catching
+sight of Jane's white and quivering lips, she broke into a cry of agony.
+"Jane! what has happened? What have you both come to tell me?"</p>
+
+<p>The tears poured from Jane's fair young face as she clasped her mother
+fondly to her, tenderly whispering: "Dearest mamma, you must lean upon
+us now! We will all love you and take care of you as we have never yet
+done."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV.</h2>
+
+<h3>NEW PLANS.</h3>
+
+
+<p>The post-mortem examination established beyond doubt the fact that the
+Rev. Francis Tait's death was caused by heart disease. In the earlier
+period of his life it had been suspected that he was subject to it, but
+of late years unfavourable symptoms had not shown themselves.</p>
+
+<p>With him died of course almost all his means; and his family, if not
+left utterly destitute, had little to boast in the way of wealth. Mrs.
+Tait enjoyed, and had for some time enjoyed, an annuity of fifty pounds
+a year; but it would cease at her death, whenever that event should take
+place. What was she to do with her children? Many a bereaved widow, far
+worse off than Mrs. Tait, has to ask the same perplexing question every
+day. Mrs. Tait's children were partially off her hands. Jane had her
+husband; Francis was earning his own living as an under-master in a
+school; with Margaret ten pounds a year must be paid; and there was
+still Robert.</p>
+
+<p>The death had occurred in July. By October they must be away from the
+house. "You will be at no loss for a home, Mrs. Tait," Mr. Halliburton
+took an opportunity of kindly saying to her. "You must allow me and Jane
+to welcome you to ours."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Edgar," was Mrs. Tait's unhesitating reply; "it will be the best
+plan. The furniture in this house will do for yours, and you shall have
+it, and you must take me and my small means into it&mdash;an incumbrance to
+you. I have pondered it all over, and I do not see anything else that
+can be done."</p>
+
+<p>"I have no right whatever to your furniture," he replied, "and Jane has
+no more right to it than have your other children. The furniture shall
+be put into my house if you please; but you must either allow me to pay
+you for it, or it shall remain your own, to be removed again at any time
+you may please."</p>
+
+<p>A house was looked for and taken. The furniture was valued, and Mr.
+Halliburton bought it&mdash;a fourth part of the sum Mrs. Tait positively
+refusing to take, for she declared that so much belonged to Jane. Then
+they quitted the old house of many years, and moved into the new one:
+Mr. and Mrs. Halliburton, Mrs. Tait, Robert, and the two servants.</p>
+
+<p>"Will it be prudent for you, my dear, to retain both the servants?" Mrs.
+Tait asked of her daughter.</p>
+
+<p>Jane blushed vividly. "We could do with one at present, mamma; but the
+time will be coming that I shall require two. And Susan and Mary are
+both so good that I do not care to part with them. You are used to them,
+too."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, child! I know that in all your plans and schemes you and Edgar
+think first of my comfort. Do you know what I was thinking of last night
+as I lay in bed?"</p>
+
+<p>"What, mamma?"</p>
+
+<p>"When Mr. Halliburton first spoke of wanting you, I and your poor papa
+felt inclined to hesitate, thinking you might have made a better match.
+But, my dear, I was wondering last night what we should have done in
+this crisis but for him."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Jane, gently. "Things that appear untoward at the time
+frequently turn out afterwards to have been the very best that could
+have happened. God directs all things, you know, mamma."</p>
+
+<p>A contention arose respecting Robert, some weeks after they had been in
+their new house&mdash;or it may be better to call it a discussion. Robert had
+never taken very kindly to what he called book-learning. Mr. Tait's wish
+had been that both his sons should enter the Church. Robert had never
+openly opposed this wish, and for the calling itself he had a liking;
+but particularly disliked the study and application necessary to fit him
+for it. Silent while his father lived, he was so no longer; but took
+every opportunity of urging the point upon his mother. He was still
+attending Dr. Percy's school daily.</p>
+
+<p>"You know, mother," dropping down one day in a chair, close to his
+mother and Jane, and catching up one leg to nurse&mdash;rather a favourite
+action of his&mdash;"I shall never earn salt at it."</p>
+
+<p>"Salt at what, Robert?" asked Mrs. Tait.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, at these rubbishing classics. <i>I</i> shall never make a tutor, as Mr.
+Halliburton and Francis do; and what on earth's to become of me? As to
+any chance of my being a parson, of course that's over: where's the
+money to come from?"</p>
+
+<p>"What <i>is</i> to become of you, then?" cried Mrs. Tait. "I'm sure I don't
+know."</p>
+
+<p>"Besides," went on Robert, lowering his voice, and calling up the most
+effectual argument he could think of, "I ought to be doing something
+for myself. I am living here upon Mr. Halliburton."</p>
+
+<p>"He is delighted to have you, Robert," interrupted Jane, quickly. "Mamma
+pays&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Be quiet, Mrs. Jane! What sort of a wife do you call yourself, pray, to
+go against your husband's interests in that manner? I heard you
+preaching up to the charity children the other day about its being
+sinful to waste time."</p>
+
+<p>"Well?" said Jane.</p>
+
+<p>"Well! what's waste of time for other people is not waste of time for
+me, I suppose?" went on Robert.</p>
+
+<p>"You are not wasting your time, Robert."</p>
+
+<p>"I am. And if you had the sense people give you credit for, Madam Jane,
+you'd see it. I shall never, I say, earn my salt at teaching; and&mdash;just
+tell me yourself whether there seems any chance now that I shall enter
+the Church."</p>
+
+<p>"At present I do not see that there is," confessed Jane.</p>
+
+<p>"There! Then is it waste of time, or not, my continuing to study for a
+career which I can never enter upon?"</p>
+
+<p>"But what else can you do, Robert?" interposed Mrs. Tait. "You cannot
+idle your time away at home, or be running about the streets all day."</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Robert, "better stop at school for ever than do that. I want
+to see the world, mother."</p>
+
+<p>"You&mdash;want&mdash;to&mdash;see&mdash;the&mdash;world!" echoed Mrs. Tait, bringing out the
+words slowly in her astonishment, whilst Jane looked up from her work,
+and fixed her eyes upon her brother.</p>
+
+<p>"It's only natural that I should," said Robert, with equanimity. "I have
+an invitation to go down into Yorkshire."</p>
+
+<p>"What to do?" cried Mrs. Tait.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, lots of things. They keep hunters, and&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, you were never on horseback in your life, Robert," laughed Jane.
+"You would come back with your neck broken."</p>
+
+<p>"I do wish you'd be quiet, Jane!" returned Robert, reddening. "I am
+talking to mamma, not to you. Winchcombe has invited me to spend the
+Christmas holidays with him down at his father's place in Yorkshire.
+And, mother, I want to go; and I want you to promise that I shall not
+return to school when the holidays are over. I will do anything else
+that you choose to put me to. I'll learn to be a man of business, or
+I'll go into an office, or I'd be apprenticed to a doctor&mdash;anything you
+like, rather than stop at these everlasting school-books. I am <i>sick</i> of
+them."</p>
+
+<p>"Robert, you take my breath away!" uttered Mrs. Tait. "I have no
+interest anywhere. I could not get you into any of these places."</p>
+
+<p>"I dare say Mr. Halliburton could. He knows lots of people. Jane, you
+talk to him: he'll do anything for you."</p>
+
+<p>There ensued, I say, much discussion about</p>
+
+<p>Robert. But it is not with Robert Tait that our story has to do; and
+only a few words need be given to him here and there. It appeared to
+them all that it would be inexpedient for him to continue at school;
+both with regard to his own wishes and to his prospects. He was allowed
+to pay the visit with his schoolfellow, and (as he came back with neck
+unbroken) Mr. Halliburton succeeded in placing him in a large wholesale
+warehouse. Robert appeared to like it very much at first, and always
+came home to spend Sunday with them.</p>
+
+<p>"He may rise in time to be one of the first mercantile men in London,"
+observed Mr. Halliburton to his wife; "one of our merchant-princes, as
+my uncle used to say by me, if only&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"If what? Why do you hesitate?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"If he will only persevere, I was going to say. But, Jane, I fear
+perseverance is a quality that Robert does not possess."</p>
+
+<p>Of course all that had to be proved. It lay in the future.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V.</h2>
+
+<h3>MARGARET.</h3>
+
+
+<p>From two to three years passed away, and the Midsummer holidays were
+approaching. Margaret was expected as usual for them, and Jane,
+delighted to receive her, went about her glad preparations. Margaret
+would not return to the school, in which she had been a paid teacher for
+the last year; but was to enter a family as governess. For one
+efficient, well-educated, accomplished governess to be met with in those
+days, scores may be counted now&mdash;or who profess to be so; and Margaret
+Tait, though barely nineteen, anticipated a salary of seventy or eighty
+guineas a year.</p>
+
+<p>A warm, bright day in June, that on which Mr. Halliburton went to
+receive Margaret. The coach brought her to its resting-place, the "Bull
+and Mouth," in St. Martin's-le-Grand, and Mr. Halliburton reached the
+inn as St. Paul's clock was striking midday. One minute more, and the
+coach drove in.</p>
+
+<p>There she was, inside; a tall, fine girl, with a handsome face: a face
+full of resolution and energy. Margaret Tait had her good qualities, and
+she had also her faults: a great one, speaking of the latter, was
+self-will. She opened the door herself and leaped out before any one
+could help her, all joy and delight.</p>
+
+<p>"And what about your boxes, Margaret?" questioned Mr. Halliburton, after
+a few words of greeting. "Have they come this time or not?"</p>
+
+<p>Margaret laughed. "Yes, they really have. I have not lost them on the
+road, as I did at Christmas. You will never forget to tell me of that, I
+am sure! But it was more the guard's fault than mine."</p>
+
+<p>A few minutes, and Mr. Halliburton, Margaret, and the boxes were
+lumbering along in one of the old glass coaches.</p>
+
+<p>"And now tell me about every one," said Margaret. "How is dear mamma?"</p>
+
+<p>"She is quite well. We are all well. Jane's famous."</p>
+
+<p>"And my precious little Willy?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," said Mr. Halliburton, quaintly, "he is a great deal too
+troublesome for anything to be the matter with him. I tell Jane she will
+have to begin the whipping system soon."</p>
+
+<p>"And much Jane will attend to you! Is it a pretty baby?"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Halliburton raised his eyebrows. "Jane thinks so. I wonder she has
+not had its likeness taken."</p>
+
+<p>"Is it christened?" continued Margaret.</p>
+
+<p>"It is baptized. Jane would not have the christening until you were at
+home."</p>
+
+<p>"And its name?"</p>
+
+<p>"Jane."</p>
+
+<p>"What a shame! Jane promised me it should be Margaret. Why did she
+decide upon her own name?"</p>
+
+<p>"I decided upon it," said Mr. Halliburton. "Yours can wait until the
+next, Margaret."</p>
+
+<p>Margaret laughed. "And how are you getting on?"</p>
+
+<p>"Very well. I have every hour of the day occupied."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think you are looking well," rejoined Margaret. "You look thin
+and fagged."</p>
+
+<p>"I am always thin, and mine is a fagging profession. Sometimes I feel
+terribly weary. But I am pretty well upon the whole, Margaret."</p>
+
+<p>"Will Francis be at home these holidays?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. He passes them at a gentleman's house in Norfolk&mdash;tutor to his
+sons. Francis is thoroughly industrious and persevering."</p>
+
+<p>"A contrast to poor Robert, I suppose?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well&mdash;yes; in that sense."</p>
+
+<p>"There has been some trouble about Robert, has there not?" asked
+Margaret, her tone becoming grave. "Did he not get discharged?"</p>
+
+<p>"He received notice of discharge. But I saw the principals and begged
+him on again. I would not talk about it to him if I were you, Margaret.
+He is sensitive upon the point. Robert's intentions are good, but his
+disposition is fickle. He has grown tired of his work and idles his time
+away; no house of business will put up with that."</p>
+
+<p>The coach arrived at Mr. Halliburton's. Margaret rushed out of it,
+giving no one time to assist her, as she had done out of the other coach
+at the "Bull and Mouth." There was a great deal of impetuosity in
+Margaret Tait's character. She was quite a contrast to Jane&mdash;as she had
+just remarked there was a contrast between Francis and Robert upon
+other points&mdash;to sensible, lady-like, self-possessed Jane, who came
+forward so calmly to greet her, a glad depth of affection in her quiet
+eyes.</p>
+
+<p>A boisterous embrace to her mother, a boisterous embrace to Jane, all in
+haste, and then Margaret caught up a little gentleman of some two years
+old, or more, who was standing holding on to Jane's dress, his great
+grey eyes, honest, loving, intelligent as were his mother's, cast up in
+a broad stare at Margaret.</p>
+
+<p>"You naughty Willy! Have you forgotten Aunt Margaret? Oh, you darling
+child! Who's this?"</p>
+
+<p>She carried the boy up to the end of the room, where stood their old
+servant Mary, nursing an infant of two months old. The baby had great
+grey eyes also, and they likewise were bent on noisy Margaret. "Oh,
+Willy, she is prettier than you! I won't nurse you any more. Mary, I'll
+shake hands with you presently. I must take that enchanting baby first."</p>
+
+<p>Dropping discarded Willy upon the ground, snatching the baby from Mary's
+arms, Margaret kissed its pretty face until she made it cry. Jane came
+to the rescue.</p>
+
+<p>"You don't understand babies, Margaret. Let Mary take her again. Come
+upstairs to your room, and make yourself ready for dinner. I think you
+must be hungry."</p>
+
+<p>"So hungry that I shall frighten you. Of course, with the thought of
+coming home, I could not touch breakfast. I hope you have something
+especially nice!"</p>
+
+<p>"Your favourite dinner," said Jane, smiling. "Loin of veal and
+broccoli."</p>
+
+<p>"How thoughtful you are, Jane!" Margaret could not help exclaiming.</p>
+
+<p>"Margaret, my dear," called out her mother, as she was leaving the room
+with Jane.</p>
+
+<p>Margaret looked back. "What, mamma?"</p>
+
+<p>"I hope you will not continue to go on with these children as you have
+begun; otherwise we shall have a quiet house turned into a noisy one."</p>
+
+<p>"Is it a quiet house?" said Margaret, laughing.</p>
+
+<p>"As if any house would not be quiet, regulated by Jane!" replied Mrs.
+Tait. And Margaret, laughing still, followed her sister.</p>
+
+<p>It is curious to remark how differently things sometimes turn out from
+what we intended. Had any one asked Mrs. Tait, the day that Margaret
+came home, what Margaret's future career was to be, she had wondered at
+the question. "A governess, certainly," would have been her answer; and
+she would have thought that no power, humanly speaking, could prevent
+it. And yet, Margaret Tait, as it proved, never did become a governess.</p>
+
+<p>The holidays were drawing to an end, and a very desirable situation, as
+was believed, had been found for Margaret by Mr. Halliburton, the
+negotiations for which were nearly completed. Mr. Halliburton gave
+private lessons in sundry well-connected families, and thus enabled to
+hear where ladies were required as governesses, he had recommended
+Margaret. The recommendation was favourably received, and a day was
+appointed for Margaret to make a personal visit at the town house of the
+people in question, when she would most probably be engaged.</p>
+
+<p>On the previous evening at twilight Mr. Halliburton came home from one
+of his numerous engagements. Jane was alone. Mrs. Tait, not very well,
+had retired to rest early, and Margaret was out with Robert. In this, a
+leisure season of the year, Robert had most of his evenings to himself,
+after eight o'clock. He generally came home, and he and Margaret would
+go out together. Mr. Halliburton sat down at one of the windows in
+silence.</p>
+
+<p>Jane went up to him, laying her hand affectionately on his shoulder.
+"You are very tired, Edgar?"</p>
+
+<p>He did not reply: only drew her hand between his, and kept it there.</p>
+
+<p>"You shall have supper at once," said Jane, glancing at the tray which
+stood ready on the table. "I am sure you must want it. And it is not
+right to indulge Margaret every night by waiting for her."</p>
+
+<p>"Scarcely, when she does not come in until ten or half-past," said Mr.
+Halliburton. "Jane," he added confidentially, "do you think it well that
+Margaret should be out so frequently in an evening?"</p>
+
+<p>"She is with Robert."</p>
+
+<p>"She may not always be with Robert alone."</p>
+
+<p>Jane felt her face flush. She knew her husband; knew that he was not one
+to speak unless he had some reason for doing so. "Edgar! why do you say
+this? Do you know anything? Have you seen Margaret?"</p>
+
+<p>"I saw her a quarter of an hour ago&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"With Robert?" interrupted Jane, more impulsively than she was in the
+habit of speaking.</p>
+
+<p>"Robert was by her side. But she was walking arm in arm with Mr.
+Murray."</p>
+
+<p>Jane did not much like the information. This Mr. Murray was in the same
+house as Robert, holding a better position. Robert had occasionally
+brought him home, and he had taken tea with them. Mrs. Halliburton felt
+surprised at Margaret: it appeared, to her well-regulated mind, very
+like a clandestine proceeding. What would she have said, or thought, had
+she known that Margaret and Mr. Murray were in the habit of thus walking
+together constantly? Robert's being with them afforded no sufficient
+excuse.</p>
+
+<p>Later they saw Margaret coming home with Robert alone. He left her at
+the door as usual, and then hastened away to his own home. Jane said
+nothing then, but she went to Margaret's room that evening.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Edgar has been bringing home tales, has he?" was Margaret's answer,
+when the ice was broken; and her defiant tone brought Jane hardly knew
+what of dismay to her ear. "I saw him staring at us."</p>
+
+<p>"Margaret!" gasped Jane, "what can have come to you? You are completely
+changed; you&mdash;you seem to speak no longer as a lady."</p>
+
+<p>"Then why do you provoke me, Jane? Is it high treason to take a
+gentleman's arm, my brother being with me?"</p>
+
+<p>"It is not right to do it in secret, Margaret. If you go out ostensibly
+to walk with Robert&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Jane, I will not listen," Margaret said, with flashing eyes. "Because
+you are Mrs. Halliburton, you assume a right to lecture me. I have
+committed no grievous wrong. When I do commit it, you may take your turn
+then."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Margaret! why will you misjudge me?" asked Jane, her voice full of
+pain. "I speak to you in love, not in anger; I would not speak at all
+but for your good. If the Chevasneys were to hear of this, they might
+think you an unsuitable mistress for their children."</p>
+
+<p>"Compose yourself," said Margaret, scoffingly. Never had she shown such
+a temper, so undesirable a disposition, as on this night; and Jane might
+well look at her in amazement, and hint that she was "changed." "I shall
+be found sufficiently suitable by the Chevasney family&mdash;when I consent
+to enter it."</p>
+
+<p>Her tone was strangely significant, and Jane Halliburton's heart beat.
+"What do you imply, Margaret?" she inquired. "You appear to have some
+peculiar meaning."</p>
+
+<p>Margaret, who had been standing before the glass all this time twisting
+her hair round her fingers, turned and looked her sister full in the
+face. "Jane, I'll tell you, if you will undertake to make things
+straight for me with mamma. I am not going to the Chevasneys&mdash;or
+anywhere else&mdash;as governess."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes,"&mdash;said Jane faintly, for she had a presentiment of what was
+coming.</p>
+
+<p>"I am going to be married instead."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Margaret!"</p>
+
+<p>"There is nothing to groan about," retorted Margaret. "Mr. Murray is
+coming to speak to mamma to-morrow, and if any of you have anything to
+say against him, you can say it to his face. He is a very respectable
+man, and has a good income; where's the objection to him?"</p>
+
+<p>Jane could not say. Personally, she did not very much like Mr. Murray;
+and certain fond visions had pictured a higher destiny for handsome,
+accomplished Margaret. "I hope and trust you will be happy, if you do
+marry him, Margaret!" was all she said.</p>
+
+<p>"I hope I shall. I must take my chance of that, as others do. Jane, I
+beg your pardon for my crossness, but you put me out of temper."</p>
+
+<p>As others do. Ay! it was all a lottery. And Margaret Tait entered upon
+her hastily-chosen married life, knowing that it was so.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI.</h2>
+
+<h3>IN SAVILE-ROW.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Several years went on; and years rarely go on without bringing changes
+with them. Jane had now four children. William, the eldest, was close
+upon thirteen; Edgar, the youngest, going on for nine; Jane and Frank
+were between them. Mrs. Tait was dead: and Francis Tait was the Reverend
+Francis Tait. By dint of hard work and perseverance, he had succeeded in
+qualifying for Orders, and was half starving upon a London curacy, as
+his father had done for so many years before him. In saying "half
+starving," I don't mean that he had not bread and cheese to eat; but
+when a clergyman's stipend is under a hundred a year, the expression
+"half starving" is justifiable. He hungers after many things that he is
+unable to obtain, and he cannot maintain his position as a gentleman.
+Francis Tait hungered. Over one want, especially, he hungered with an
+intensely ravenous hunger; and that was, the gratification of his taste
+for literature. The books he coveted to read were expensive;
+impossibilities to him; he could not purchase them, and libraries were
+then scarce. Had Francis Tait not been gifted with very great
+conscientiousness, he would have joined teaching with his ministry. But
+the wants of his parish required all his time; and he had inherited that
+large share of the monitor, conscience, from his father. "I suppose I
+shall have a living some time," he would think to himself: "when I am
+growing an old man, probably, as he was when he gained his."</p>
+
+<p>So the Reverend Francis Tait plodded on at his curacy, and was content
+to await that remote day when fortune should drop from the skies.</p>
+
+<p>Where was Margaret? Margaret had bidden adieu to old England for ever.
+Her husband, who had not been promoted in his house of business as
+rapidly as he thought he ought to have been, had thrown up his
+situation, home and home ties, and gone out to the woods of Canada to
+become a settler. Did Margaret repent her hasty marriage then? Did she
+find that her finished education, her peculiar tastes and habits, so
+unfitted for domestic life, were all lost in those wild woods? Music,
+drawing, languages, literature, of what use were <i>they</i> to her now? She
+might educate her own children, indeed, as they grew up: the only chance
+of education it appeared likely they would have. That Margaret found
+herself in a peculiarly uncongenial atmosphere, there could be no doubt;
+but, like a brave woman as she proved herself, not a hint of it, in
+writing home, ever escaped her, not a shadow of complaint could be
+gathered there. It was not often that she wrote, and her letters grew
+more rare as the years went on. Robert had accompanied them, and he
+boasted that he liked the life much; a thousand times better than that
+of the musty old warehouse.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Halliburton's teaching was excellent&mdash;his income good. He was now
+one of the professors at King's College; but had not yet succeeded in
+carrying out his dream&mdash;that of getting to Oxford or Cambridge. Edgar
+Halliburton had begun at the wrong end of the ladder: he should have
+gone to college first and married afterwards. He married first: and to
+college he never went. A man of moderate means, with a home to keep, a
+wife, children, servants, to provide for, has enough to do with his
+money and time, without spending them at college. He had quite given up
+the idea now; and perhaps had grown not to regret it very keenly: his
+home was one of refinement, comfort, and thorough happiness.</p>
+
+<p>But about this period, or indeed some time prior to it, Mr. Halliburton
+had reason to believe that he was overtaxing his strength. For a long,
+long while, almost ever since he had been in London, he was aware that
+he had not felt thoroughly well. Hot weather affected him and rendered
+him languid; the chills of winter gave him a cough; the keen winds of
+spring attacked his chest. He would throw off his ailments bravely and
+go on again, not heeding them or thinking that they might ever become
+serious. Perhaps he never gave a thought to that until one evening when,
+upon coming in after a hard day's toil, he sat down in his chair and
+quietly fainted away.</p>
+
+<p>Jane and one of the servants were standing over him when he
+recovered&mdash;Jane's face very pale and anxious.</p>
+
+<p>"Do not be alarmed," he said, smiling at her. "I suppose I dropped
+asleep; or lost consciousness in some way."</p>
+
+<p>"You fainted, Edgar."</p>
+
+<p>"Fainted, did I? How silly I must have been! The room's warm, Jane: it
+must have overpowered me."</p>
+
+<p>Jane was not deceived. She saw that he was making light of it to quiet
+her alarm, and brought him a glass of wine. He drank it, but could not
+eat anything: frequently could not eat now.</p>
+
+<p>"Edgar," she said, "you are doing too much. I have seen it for a long
+time past."</p>
+
+<p>"Seen what, Jane?"</p>
+
+<p>"That your strength is not equal to your work. You must give up a
+portion of your teaching."</p>
+
+<p>"My dear, how can I do so? Does it not take all I earn to meet expenses?
+When accounts are settled at the end of the year, have we a shilling to
+spare?"</p>
+
+<p>It was so, and Jane knew it; but her husband's health was above every
+consideration in the world. "We must reduce our expenses," she said. "We
+must cease to live as we are living now. We will move into a smaller
+house, and keep one servant, and I will turn maid-of-all-work."</p>
+
+<p>She laughed quite merrily; but Mr. Halliburton detected a serious
+meaning in her tone. He shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>"No, Jane; that time, I hope, will never come."</p>
+
+<p>He lay awake all that night buried in reflection. Do you know what this
+night-reflection is, when it comes to us in all its racking intensity?
+Surging over his brain, like the wild waves that chase each other on the
+ocean, came the thought, "What will become of my wife and children if I
+die?" Thought after thought, they all resolved themselves into that one
+focus:&mdash;"I have made no provision for my wife and children: what will
+become of them if I am taken?"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Halliburton had one good habit&mdash;it was possible that he had learnt
+it from his wife, for it was hers in no ordinary degree&mdash;the habit of
+<i>looking steadfastly into the face of trouble</i>. Not to groan and grumble
+at it&mdash;to sigh and lament that no one else's trouble ever was so great
+before&mdash;but to see how it might best be met and contended with; how the
+best could be made of it.</p>
+
+<p>The only feasible way he could see, was that of insuring his life. He
+possessed neither lands nor money. Did he attempt to put by a portion of
+his income, it would take years and years to accumulate into a sum worth
+mentioning. Why, how long would it take him to economise only a thousand
+pounds? No. There was only one way&mdash;that of life insurance. It was an
+idea that would have occurred to most of us. He did not know how much it
+would take from his yearly income to effect it. A great deal, he was
+afraid; for he was approaching what is called middle life.</p>
+
+<p>He had no secrets from his wife. He consulted her upon every point; she
+was his best friend, his confidante, his gentle counsellor, and he had
+no intention of concealing the step he was about to take. Why should he?</p>
+
+<p>"Jane," he began, when they were at breakfast the next morning, "do you
+know what I have been thinking of all night?"</p>
+
+<p>"Trouble, I am sure," she answered. "You have been very restless."</p>
+
+<p>"Not exactly trouble"&mdash;for he did not choose to acknowledge, even to
+himself, that a strange sense of trouble did seem to rest on his heart
+and to weigh it down. "I have been thinking more of precaution than
+trouble."</p>
+
+<p>"Precaution?" echoed Jane, looking at him.</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, love. And the astonishing part of the business, to myself, is that
+I never thought of the necessity for this precaution before."</p>
+
+<p>Jane divined now what he meant. Often and often had the idea occurred to
+her&mdash;"Should my husband's health or life fail, we are destitute." Not
+for herself did she so much care, but for her children.</p>
+
+<p>"That sudden attack last night has brought me reflection," he resumed.
+"Life is uncertain with the best of us. It may be no more uncertain with
+me than with others; but I feel that I must act as though it were so.
+Jane, were I taken, there would be no provision for you."</p>
+
+<p>"No," she quietly said.</p>
+
+<p>"And therefore I must set about making one without delay, as far as I
+can. I shall insure my life."</p>
+
+<p>Jane did not answer immediately. "It will take a great deal of money,
+Edgar," she presently said.</p>
+
+<p>"I fear it will: but it must be done. What's the matter, Jane? You don't
+look hopeful over it."</p>
+
+<p>"Because, were you to insure your life, to pay the yearly premium, and
+our home expenses, would necessitate your working as hard as you do
+now."</p>
+
+<p>"Well?" said he. "Of course it would."</p>
+
+<p>"In any case, our expenses shall be much reduced; of that I am
+determined," she went on somewhat dreamily, more it seemed in soliloquy
+than to her husband. "But, with this premium to pay in addition&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Jane," he interrupted, "there's not the least necessity for my relaxing
+my labours. I shall not think of doing it. I may not be very strong, but
+I am not ill. As to reducing our expenses, I see no help for that,
+inasmuch as I must draw from them for the premium."</p>
+
+<p>"If you only can keep your health, Edgar, it is certainly what ought to
+be done&mdash;to insure your life. The thought has often crossed me."</p>
+
+<p>"Why did you never suggest it?"</p>
+
+<p>"I scarcely know. I believe I did not like to do so. And I really did
+not see how the premium was to be paid. How much shall you insure it
+for?"</p>
+
+<p>"I thought of two thousand pounds. Could we afford more?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think not. What would be the yearly premium for that sum?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know. I will ascertain all particulars. What are you sighing
+about, Jane?"</p>
+
+<p>Jane was sighing heavily. A weight seemed to have fallen upon her. "To
+talk of life-insurance puts me too much in mind of death," she murmured.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, Jane, you are never going to turn goose!" he gaily said. "I have
+heard of persons who will not make a will, because it brings them a
+fancy they must be going to die. Insuring my life will not bring death
+any the quicker to me: I hope I shall be here many a year yet. Why,
+Jane, I may live to pay the insurance over and over again in annual
+premiums! Better that I had put by the money in a bank, I shall think
+then."</p>
+
+<p>"The worst of putting by money in a bank, or in any other way, is, that
+you are not <i>compelled</i> to put it," observed Jane, looking up a little
+from her depression. "What ought to be put by&mdash;what is intended to be
+put by&mdash;too often goes in present wants, and putting by ends in name
+only: whereas, in life-assurance, the premium <i>must</i> be paid. Edgar,"
+she added, passing to a different subject, "I wonder what we shall make
+of our boys?"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Halliburton's cheek flushed. "<i>They</i> shall go to college, please
+God&mdash;though I have not been able to get there myself."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I hope so! One or two of them, at any rate."</p>
+
+<p>Little difficulty did there appear to be in the plan to Mr. Halliburton.
+His boys should enter the University, although he had not done so: the
+future of our children appears hopeful and easy to most of us. William
+and Frank were in the school attached to King's College: of which you
+hear Mr. Halliburton was now a professor. Edgar&mdash;never called anything
+but "Gar"&mdash;went to a private school, but he would soon be entered at
+King's College. Remarkably well-educated boys for their years, were the
+young Halliburtons. Mr. Halliburton and Jane had taken care of that.
+Home teaching was more efficient than school: both combined had rendered
+them unusually intelligent and advanced. Naturally intellectual, gifted
+with excellent qualities of mind and heart, Mrs. Halliburton had not
+failed to do her duty by them. She spared no pains; she knew how
+children ought to be brought up, and she did her duty well. Ah, my
+friends! only lay a good foundation in their earlier years, and your
+children will grow up to bless you.</p>
+
+<p>"Jane, I wonder which office will be the best to insure in?"</p>
+
+<p>Jane began to recall the names of some that were familiar to her.</p>
+
+<p>"The Ph&oelig;nix?" suggested she.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Halliburton laughed. "I think that's only for fire, Jane. I am not
+sure, though." In truth, he knew little about insurance offices himself.</p>
+
+<p>"There's the Sun; and the Atlas; and the Argus&mdash;oh, and ever so many
+more," continued Jane.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll inquire all about it to-day," said he.</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder if the premium will take a hundred a year, Edgar?"</p>
+
+<p>He could not tell. He feared it might. "I wish Jane," he observed, "that
+I had insured my life when I first married. The premium would have been
+small then, and we might have managed to spare it."</p>
+
+<p>"Ay," she answered. "Sometimes I look back to things that I might have
+done in the past years: and I did not do them. Now, the time has gone
+by!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, it has not gone by for insuring," said Mr. Halliburton, rising
+from the breakfast-table and speaking in gay tones. "Half-past eight!"
+he cried, looking at his watch. "Good-bye, Jane," said he, bending to
+kiss her. "Wish me luck."</p>
+
+<p>"A weighty insurance and a small premium," she said, laughing. "But you
+are not going about it now?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course not. The offices would not be open. I shall take an
+opportunity of doing so in the course of the day."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Halliburton departed on his usual duties. It was a warm day in
+April. His first attendance was King's College, and there he remained
+for the morning. Then he proceeded to gain information about the various
+offices and their respective merits: finally fixed upon the one he
+should apply to, and bent his steps towards it.</p>
+
+<p>It was situated in the heart of the City, in a very busy part of it. The
+office also appeared to be busy, for several people were in it when Mr.
+Halliburton entered. A young man came forward to know his business.</p>
+
+<p>"I wish to insure my life," said Mr. Halliburton. "How must I proceed
+about it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes, sir. Mr. Procter, will you attend to this gentleman?"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Halliburton was marshalled to an inner room, where a gentlemanly man
+received him. He explained his business in detail, stated his age, and
+the sum he wished to insure for. Every information was politely afforded
+him; and a paper, with certain printed questions, was given him to fill
+up at his leisure, and then to be returned.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Halliburton glanced over it. "You require a certificate of my birth
+from the parish register where I was baptized, I perceive," he remarked.
+"Why so? In stating my age, I have stated it correctly."</p>
+
+<p>The gentleman smiled. "Of that I make no doubt," he said, "for you look
+younger than the age you have given me. Our office makes it a rule in
+most cases to require the certificate from the register. All applicants
+are not scrupulous about telling the truth, and we have been obliged to
+adopt it in self-defence. We have had cases, we have indeed, sir, where
+we have insured a life, and then found&mdash;though perhaps not until the
+actual death has taken place&mdash;that the insurer was ten years older than
+he asserted. Therefore we demand a certificate. It does occasionally
+happen that applicants can bring well-known men to testify to their
+age, and then we do not mind dispensing with it."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Halliburton sent his thoughts round in a circle. There was no one in
+London who knew his age of their own positive knowledge; so it was
+useless to think of that. "There will be no difficulty in the matter,"
+he said aloud. "I can get the certificate up from Devonshire in the
+course of two or three days by writing for it. My father was rector of
+the church where I was christened. This will be all, then? To fill up
+this paper and bring you the certificate."</p>
+
+<p>"All; with the exception of being examined by our physician."</p>
+
+<p>"What! is it necessary to be examined by a physician?" exclaimed Mr.
+Halliburton. "The paper states that I must hand in a report from my
+ordinary medical attendant. <i>He</i> will not give you a bad report of me,"
+he added, smiling, "for it is little enough I have troubled him. I
+believe the worst thing he has attended me for has been a bad cold."</p>
+
+<p>"So much the better," remarked the gentleman. "You do not look very
+strong."</p>
+
+<p>"Very strong I don't think I am. I am too hard worked; get too little
+rest and recreation. It was suspecting that I am not so strong as I
+might be that set me thinking it might be well to insure my life for the
+sake of my wife and children," he ingenuously added, in his
+straightforward manner. "If I could count upon living and working on
+until I am an old man, I should not do so."</p>
+
+<p>Again the gentleman smiled. "Looks are deceitful," he observed. "Nothing
+more so. Sometimes those who look the most delicate live the longest."</p>
+
+<p>"You cannot say I look delicate," returned Mr. Halliburton.</p>
+
+<p>"I did not say it. I consider that you do not look robust; but that is
+not saying that you look delicate. You may be a perfectly healthy man
+for all I can say to the contrary."</p>
+
+<p>He ran his eyes over Mr. Halliburton as he spoke; over his tall, fine
+form, his dark hair, amidst which not a streak of grey mingled, his
+clearly-cut features, and his complexion, bright as a woman's. Was there
+suspicion in that complexion? "A handsome man, at any rate," thought the
+gazer, "if not a robust one."</p>
+
+<p>"It will be necessary, then, that I see your physician?" asked Mr.
+Halliburton.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. It cannot be dispensed with. We would not insure without it. He
+attends here twice a week. In the intervening days, he may be seen in
+Savile-row, from three to five. It is Dr. Carrington. His days for
+coming here are Mondays and Thursdays."</p>
+
+<p>"And this is Friday," remarked Mr. Halliburton. "I shall probably go up
+to him."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Halliburton said good morning, and came away with his paper. "It's
+great nonsense, my seeing this doctor!" he said to himself as he
+hastened home to dinner, which he knew he must have kept waiting. "But I
+suppose it is necessary as a general rule; and of course they won't make
+me an exception."</p>
+
+<p>Hurrying over his dinner, in a manner that prevented its doing him any
+good&mdash;as Jane assured him&mdash;he sat down to his desk when it was over and
+wrote for the certificate of his birth. Folding and sealing the letter,
+he put on his hat to go out again.</p>
+
+<p>"Shall you go to Savile-row this afternoon?" Jane inquired.</p>
+
+<p>"If I can by any possibility get my teaching over in time," he answered.
+"Young Finchley's hour is four o'clock, but I can put him off until the
+evening. I dare say I shall get up there."</p>
+
+<p>By dint of hurrying, Mr. Halliburton contrived to reach Savile-row, and
+arrived there in much heat at half-past four. There was no necessity for
+hurrying there on this particular day, but he felt impatient to get the
+business over; as if speed now could atone for past neglect. Dr.
+Carrington was at home but engaged, and Mr. Halliburton was shown into a
+room. Three or four others were waiting there; whether ordinary
+patients, or whether mere applicants of form like himself, he could not
+tell; and it was their turn to go in before it was his.</p>
+
+<p>But his turn came at last, and he was ushered into the presence of the
+doctor&mdash;a little man, fair and reserved, with powder on his head.</p>
+
+<p>Reserved in ordinary intercourse, but certainly not reserved in asking
+questions. Mr. Halliburton had never been so rigidly questioned before.
+What disorders had he had, and what had he not had? What were his
+habits, past and present? One question came at last: "Do you feel
+thoroughly strong?&mdash;healthy, elastic?"</p>
+
+<p>"I feel languid in hot weather," replied Mr. Halliburton.</p>
+
+<p>"Um! Appetite sound and good?"</p>
+
+<p>"Generally speaking. It has not been so good of late."</p>
+
+<p>"Breathing all right?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; it is a little tight sometimes."</p>
+
+<p>"Um! Subject to a cough?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have no settled cough. A sort of hacking cough comes on at night
+occasionally. I attribute it to fatigue."</p>
+
+<p>"Um! Will you open your shirt? Just unbutton it here"&mdash;touching the
+front&mdash;"and your flannel waistcoat, if you wear one."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Halliburton bared his chest in obedience and the doctor sounded it,
+and then put down his ear. Apparently his ear did not serve him
+sufficiently, for he took a small instrument out of a drawer, placed it
+on the chest, and then put his ear to that, changing the position of the
+instrument three or four times.</p>
+
+<p>"That will do," he said at length.</p>
+
+<p>He turned to put up his stethoscope again, and Mr. Halliburton drew the
+edges of his shirt together and buttoned them.</p>
+
+<p>"Why don't you wear flannel waistcoats?" asked the doctor, with quite a
+sharp accent, his head down in the drawer.</p>
+
+<p>"I do wear them in winter; but in warm weather I leave them off. It was
+only last week that I discarded them."</p>
+
+<p>"Was ever such folly known!" ejaculated Dr. Carrington. "One would think
+people were born without common sense. Half the patients who come to me
+say they leave off their flannels in summer! Why, it is in summer they
+are most needed! And this warm weather won't last either. Go home, sir,
+and put one on at once."</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly, if you think it right," said Mr. Halliburton with a smile.
+"I thank you for telling me."</p>
+
+<p>He took up his hat and waited. The doctor appeared to wait <i>for him to
+go</i>. "I understood at the office that you would give me a paper
+testifying that you had examined me," explained Mr. Halliburton.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah&mdash;but I can't give it," said the doctor.</p>
+
+<p>"Why not, sir?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because I am not satisfied with you. I cannot recommend you as a
+healthy life."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Halliburton's pulses quickened a little. "Sir!" he repeated. "Not a
+healthy life?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not sufficiently healthy for insurance."</p>
+
+<p>"Why! what is the matter with me?" he rejoined.</p>
+
+<p>Dr. Carrington looked him full in the face for the space of a minute
+before replying. "I have had that question asked me before by parties
+whom I have felt obliged to decline as I am now declining you," he said,
+"and my answer has not always been palatable to them."</p>
+
+<p>"It will be palatable to me, sir; in so far as that I desire to be made
+acquainted with the truth. What do you find amiss with me?"</p>
+
+<p>"The lungs are diseased."</p>
+
+<p>A chill fell over Mr. Halliburton. "Not extensively, I trust? Not beyond
+hope of recovery?"</p>
+
+<p>"Were I to say not extensively, I should be deceiving you; and you tell
+me that you wish for the truth. They are extensively diseased&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>A mortal pallor overspread Mr. Halliburton's face, and he sank into a
+chair. "Not for myself," he gasped, as Dr. Carrington drew nearer to
+him. "I have a wife and children. If I die, they will want bread to
+eat."</p>
+
+<p>"But you did not hear me out," returned the doctor, proceeding with
+equanimity, as if he had not been interrupted. "They are extensively
+diseased, but not beyond a hope of recovery. I do not say it is a strong
+hope; but a hope there is, as I judge, provided you use the right means
+and take care of yourself."</p>
+
+<p>"What am I to do? What are the means?"</p>
+
+<p>"You live, I presume, in this stifling, foggy, smoky London."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Then got away from it. Go where you can have pure air and a clear
+atmosphere. That's the first and chief thing; and that's most essential.
+Not for a few weeks or months, you understand me&mdash;going out for a change
+of air, as people call it&mdash;you must leave London entirely; go away
+altogether."</p>
+
+<p>"But it will be impossible," urged Mr. Halliburton. "My work lies in
+London."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah!" said the doctor; "too many have been with me with whom it was the
+same case. But, I assure you that you must leave it; or it will be
+London <i>versus</i> life. You appear to me to be one who never ought to have
+come to London&mdash;&mdash;You were not born in it?" he abruptly added.</p>
+
+<p>"I never saw it until I was eighteen. I was born and reared in
+Devonshire."</p>
+
+<p>"Just so. I knew it. Those born and reared in London become acclimatized
+to it, generally speaking, and it does not hurt them. It does not hurt
+numbers who are strangers: they find London as healthy a spot for them
+as any on the face of the globe. But there are a few who cannot and
+ought not to live in London; and I judge you to be one of them."</p>
+
+<p>"Has this state of health been coming on long?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, for some years. Had you remained in Devonshire, you might have
+been a sound man all your life. My only advice to you is&mdash;get away from
+London. You cannot live long if you remain in it."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Halliburton thanked Dr. Carrington and went out. How things had
+changed for him! What had gone with the day's beauty?&mdash;with the blue
+sky, the bright sun? The sky was blue still, and the sun shining; but
+darkness seemed to intervene between his eyes and outward things. Dying?
+A shiver went through him as he thought of Jane and the children, and a
+sick feeling of despair settled on his spirit.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII.</h2>
+
+<h3>LATER IN THE DAY.</h3>
+
+
+<p>The man was utterly prostrated. He felt that the fiat of death had gone
+forth, and there settled an undercurrent of conviction in his mind that
+for him there would be no recovery, take what precaution he would. He
+could not shake it off. There lay the fact and the fear, as a leaden
+weight.</p>
+
+<p>He bent his steps towards home, walking the whole way; he moved along
+the streets mechanically. The crowds passed and repassed him, but <i>he</i>
+seemed far away. Once or twice he lifted his head to them with a
+yearning gesture. "Oh! that I were like you! bent on business, on
+pleasure, on social intercourse!" passed through his mind. "I am not as
+you; and for me you can do nothing. You cannot give me health; you
+cannot give me life."</p>
+
+<p>He entered his home, and was conscious of merry voices and flitting
+footsteps. A little scene of gaiety was going on: he knew of this, but
+had forgotten it until that instant. It was the birthday of his little
+girl, and a few young friends had been invited to make merry. Jane,
+looking almost as young, quite as pretty, as when she married him, sat
+at the far end of their largest room before a well-spread tea-table. She
+wore festival attire. A dress of pearl-grey silk, and a thin gold chain
+round her neck. The little girls were chiefly in white, and the boys
+were on their best behaviour. Jane was telling them that tea was ready,
+and her two servants were helping to place the little people, and to
+wait upon them.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, and here's papa, too! just in time," she cried, lifting her eyes
+gladly at her husband. "That is delightful!"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Halliburton welcomed the children. He kissed some, he talked to
+others, just as if he had not that terrible vulture, care, within him.
+<i>They</i> saw nothing amiss; neither did Jane. He took his seat, and drank
+his tea; all, as it were, mechanically. It did not seem to be himself;
+he thought it must be some one else. In the last hour, his whole
+identity appeared to have changed. Bread and butter was handed to him.
+He took a slice and left it. Jane put some cake on to his plate: he left
+that also. Eat! with that awful fiat racking his senses! No, it was not
+possible.</p>
+
+<p>Ho looked round on his children. <i>His.</i> William, a gentle boy, with his
+mother's calm, good face and her earnest eyes; Jane, a lovely child,
+with fair curls flowing and a bright colour, consciously vain this
+evening in her white birthday robes and her white ribbons; Frank, a
+slim, dark-eyed boy, always in mischief, his features handsome and
+clearly cut as were his father's; Gar, a delicate little chap, with fair
+curls like his sister Jane's. Must he <i>leave</i> those children?&mdash;abandon
+them to the mercies of a cold and cruel world?&mdash;bequeath them no place
+in it; no means of support? "Oh, God! Oh, God!" broke from his bitter
+heart, "if it be Thy will to take me, mayst Thou shelter them!"</p>
+
+<p>"Edgar!"</p>
+
+<p>He started palpably; so far in thought was he away. Yet it was only his
+wife who spoke to him.</p>
+
+<p>"Edgar, have you been up to Dr. Carrington's?" she whispered, bending
+towards him.</p>
+
+<p>In his confusion he muttered some unintelligible words, which she
+interpreted into a denial; there was a great deal of buzzing just then
+from the young voices around. Two of the gentlemen, Frank being one,
+were in hot contention touching a third gentleman's rabbits. Mrs.
+Halliburton called Frank to order, and said no more to her husband for
+the present.</p>
+
+<p>"We are to dance after tea," said Jane. "I have been learning one
+quadrille to play. It is very easy, and mamma says I play it very well."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, we don't want dancing," grumbled one of the boys. "We'd rather have
+blindman's-buff."</p>
+
+<p>Opinions were divided again. The girls wanted dancing, the boys
+blindman's-buff. Mrs. Halliburton was appealed to.</p>
+
+<p>"I think it must be dancing first and blindman's-buff afterwards," said
+she.</p>
+
+<p>Tea over, the furniture was pushed aside to clear a space for the
+dancers. Mr. Halliburton, his back against the wall, stood looking at
+them. Looking at them as was supposed; but had they been keen observers,
+they would have known that his eyes in reality saw not: they, like his
+thoughts, were far away.</p>
+
+<p>His wife did presently notice that he seemed particularly abstracted.
+She came up to him; he was standing with his arms folded, his head bent.
+"Edgar, are you well?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well? Oh yes, dear," he replied, making an effort to rouse himself.</p>
+
+<p>"I hope you have no more teaching to-night?"</p>
+
+<p>"I ought to go to young Finchley. I put him off until seven o'clock."</p>
+
+<p>"Then"&mdash;was her quick rejoinder&mdash;"if you put off young Finchley, how was
+it you could not get to Savile-row?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have been occupied all the afternoon, Jane," he said. Wanting the
+courage to say how the matter really stood, he evaded the question.</p>
+
+<p>But, to go to young Finchley or to any other pupil that night, Mr.
+Halliburton felt himself physically unequal. Teach! Explain abstruse
+Greek and Latin rules, with his mind in its present state! It seemed to
+him that it mattered little&mdash;if he was to be taken from them so
+soon&mdash;whether he ever taught again. He was in the very depths of
+depression.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly, as he stood looking on, a thought came flashing over him as a
+ray of light. As a <i>ray</i> of light? Nay, as a whole flood of it. What if
+Dr. Carrington were wrong?&mdash;if it should prove that, in reality, nothing
+was the matter with him? Doctors&mdash;and very clever ones&mdash;were, he knew,
+sometimes mistaken. Perhaps Dr. Carrington had been so!</p>
+
+<p>It was <i>scarcely</i> likely, he went on to reason, that a mortal disease
+should be upon him, and he have lived in ignorance of it! Why, he seemed
+to have had very little the matter with him; nothing to talk of,
+nothing to lie up for; comparatively speaking, he had been a healthy
+man&mdash;was in health then. Yes, the belief did present itself that Dr.
+Carrington was deceived. He, in the interests of the insurance office,
+might be unnecessarily cautious.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Halliburton left the wall, and grew cheerful and gay, and talked
+freely to the children. One little lady asked if he would dance with
+her. He laughed, and felt half inclined to do so.</p>
+
+<p>Which was the true mood&mdash;that sombre one, or this? Was there nothing
+<i>false</i> about this one&mdash;was there no secret consciousness that it did
+not accord with his mind's actual belief; that he was only forcing it?
+Be it as it would, it did not last; in the very middle of a laughing
+sentence to his own little Janey, the old agony, the fear,
+returned&mdash;returned with terrific violence, as a torrent that has burst
+its bounds.</p>
+
+<p>"I <i>cannot</i> bear this uncertainty!" he murmured to himself. And he went
+out of the room and took up his hat. Mrs. Halliburton, who at that
+moment happened to be crossing from another room, saw him open the
+hall-door.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you going to young Finchley, Edgar?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. I shall give him holiday for to-night. I shall be in soon, Jane."</p>
+
+<p>He went straight to their own family doctor; a Mr. Allen, who lived
+close by. They were personal friends.</p>
+
+<p>To the inquiry as to whether Mr. Allen was at home, the servant was
+about to usher him into the family sitting-room, but Mr. Halliburton
+stepped into the dusky surgery. He was in no mood for ladies' company.
+"I will wait here," he said. "Tell your master I wish to say a word to
+him."</p>
+
+<p>The surgeon came immediately, a lighted candle in his hand. He was a
+dark man with a thin face. "Why won't you come in?" he asked. "There's
+only Mrs. Allen and the girls there. Is anything the matter?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Allen, something is the matter," was</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Halliburton's reply. "I want a friend to-night: one who will deal
+with me candidly and openly: and I have come to you. Sit down."</p>
+
+<p>They both sat down; and Mr. Halliburton gave him the history of the past
+four and twenty hours: commencing with the fainting-fit, and ending with
+his racking doubts as to whether Dr. Carrington's opinion was borne out
+by facts, or whether he might have been deceived. "Allen," he concluded,
+"you must see what you can make out of my state: and you must report to
+me without disguise, as you would report to your own soul."</p>
+
+<p>The surgeon looked grave. "Carrington is a clever man," he said. "One
+whom it would be difficult to deceive."</p>
+
+<p>"I know his reputation. But these clever men are not infallible. Put his
+opinion out of your mind: examine me yourself, and tell me what you
+think."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Allen proceeded to do so. He first of all asked Mr. Halliburton a
+few general questions as to his present state of health, as he would
+have done by any other patient, and then he sounded his lungs.</p>
+
+<p>"Now then&mdash;the truth," said Mr. Halliburton.</p>
+
+<p>"The truth is&mdash;so far as I can judge&mdash;that you are in no present danger
+whatever."</p>
+
+<p>"Neither did Dr. Carrington say I was&mdash;in present danger," hastily
+replied Mr. Halliburton. "Are my lungs sound?"</p>
+
+<p>"They are not sound: but neither do I think they are extensively
+diseased. You may live for many years, with care."</p>
+
+<p>"Would any insurance office take me?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. I do not think it would."</p>
+
+<p>"It is just my death-knell, Allen."</p>
+
+<p>"If you look at it in that light I shall be very sorry to have given you
+my opinion," observed the surgeon. "I repeat that, by taking care of
+yourself, you may stave off disease and live many years. I would not say
+this unless I thought it."</p>
+
+<p>"And would your opinion be the same as the doctor's&mdash;that I must leave
+London for the country?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think you would have a far better chance of getting well in the
+country than you have here. You have told me over and over again, you
+know, that you were sure London air was bad for you."</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, I have," replied Mr. Halliburton. "I never have felt quite well in
+it, and that's the truth. Well, I must see what can be done. Good
+evening."</p>
+
+<p>If the edict did not appear to be so irrevocably dark as that of Dr.
+Carrington, it was yet dark enough; and Mr. Halliburton, striving to
+look it full in the face, as he was in the habit of doing by troubles
+less grave, endeavoured to set himself to think "what could be done."
+There was no possible chance of keeping it from his wife. If it was
+really necessary that their place of residence should be changed, she
+must be taken into counsel; and the sooner she was told the better. He
+went home, resolved to tell her before he slept.</p>
+
+<p>The little troop departed, the children in bed, they sat together over
+the fire; though the weather had become warm, an evening fire was
+pleasant still. He sat nervous and fidgety. Now the moment had arrived,
+he shrunk from his task.</p>
+
+<p>"Edgar, I am sure you are not well!" she exclaimed. "I have observed it
+all the evening."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Jane, I am well. Pretty well, that is. The truth is, my darling, I
+have some bad news for you, and I don't like to tell it."</p>
+
+<p>Her own family were safe and well under her roof, and her fears flew to
+Francis, to Margaret, to Robert. Mr. Halliburton stopped her.</p>
+
+<p>"It does not concern any of them, Jane. It is about myself."</p>
+
+<p>"But what can it be, about yourself?"</p>
+
+<p>"They&mdash;will&mdash;not&mdash;&mdash;Will you listen to the news with a brave heart?" he
+broke off, with a smile, and the most cheering look he could call up to
+his face.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes." She smiled too. She thought it could be nothing very bad.</p>
+
+<p>"They will not insure my life, Jane."</p>
+
+<p>Her heart stood still. "But why not?"</p>
+
+<p>"They consider it too great a risk. They fancy I am not strong."</p>
+
+<p>A sudden flush to her face; a moment's stillness; and then Jane
+Halliburton clasped her hands with a faint cry of despair. She saw that
+more remained behind.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII.</h2>
+
+<h3>SUSPENSE.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Mrs. Halliburton sat in her chair, still enough except for the wailing
+cry which had just escaped her lips. Her husband would not look at her
+in that moment. His gaze was bent on the fire, and his cheek lay in his
+hand. As she cried out, he stretched forth his other hand and let it
+fall lightly upon hers.</p>
+
+<p>"Jane, had I thought you would look at the dark side of the picture, I
+should have hesitated to tell you. Why, my dear child, the very fact of
+my telling you at all, should convince you that there's nothing very
+serious the matter," he added, in cheering tones of reasoning. Now that
+he had spoken, he deemed it well to make the very best he could of it.</p>
+
+<p>"You say they will <i>not</i> insure your life?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Jane, perhaps that expression was not a correct one. They have
+not declined as yet to do so; but Dr. Carrington says he cannot give the
+necessary certificate as to my being a thoroughly sound and healthy
+man."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you did go up to Dr. Carrington?"</p>
+
+<p>"I did. Forgive me, Jane: I could not enter upon it before all the
+children."</p>
+
+<p>She leaned over and laid her head upon his shoulder. "Tell me all about
+it, Edgar," she whispered; "as much as you know yourself."</p>
+
+<p>"I have told you nearly all, Jane. I saw Dr. Carrington, and he asked me
+a great many questions, and examined me here"&mdash;touching his chest. "He
+fancies the organs are not sound, and declined giving the certificate."</p>
+
+<p>"That your chest is not sound?" asked Jane.</p>
+
+<p>"He said the lungs."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah!" she uttered. "What else did he say?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, he said nothing about heart, or liver, or any other vital part,
+so I conclude they are all right, and that there was nothing to say,"
+replied Mr. Halliburton, attempting to be cheerful. "I could have told
+him my brain was strong enough had he asked about that, for I'm sure it
+gets its full share of work. I need not have mentioned this to you at
+all, Jane, but for a perplexing bit of advice the doctor gave me."</p>
+
+<p>Jane sat straight in her chair again, and looked at Mr. Halliburton. The
+colour was beginning to return to her face. He continued:</p>
+
+<p>"Dr. Carrington earnestly recommends me to remove from London.
+Indeed&mdash;he said&mdash;that it was necessary&mdash;if I would get well. No wonder
+that you found my manner absent," he continued very rapidly after his
+hesitation, "with that unpalatable counsel to digest."</p>
+
+<p>"Did he think you very ill?" she breathed.</p>
+
+<p>"He did not say I was 'very ill,' Jane. I am not very ill, as you may
+see for yourself. My dear, what he said was that my lungs
+were&mdash;were&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Diseased?" she put in.</p>
+
+<p>"Diseased. Yes, that was it," he truthfully replied. "It is the term
+that medical men apply when they wish to indicate delicacy. And he
+strenuously recommended me to leave London."</p>
+
+<p>"For how long? Did he say?"</p>
+
+<p>"He said for good."</p>
+
+<p>Jane felt startled. "How could it be done, Edgar?"</p>
+
+<p>"In truth I do not know. If I leave London I leave my living behind me.
+Now you see why I was so absorbed at tea-time. When you saw me go out, I
+was going round to Allen's."</p>
+
+<p>"And what does <i>he</i> say?" she eagerly interrupted.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, he seems to think it a mere nothing, compared with Dr. Carrington.
+He agreed with him on one point&mdash;that I ought to live out of London."</p>
+
+<p>"Edgar, I will tell you what I think must be done," said Jane, after a
+pause. "I have not had time to reflect much upon it: but it strikes me
+that it would be advisable for you to see another doctor, and take his
+opinion: some man who is clever in affections of the lungs. Go to him
+to-morrow, without any delay. Should he say that you must leave London,
+of course we must leave it, no matter what the sacrifice."</p>
+
+<p>The advice corresponded with Mr. Halliburton's own opinion, and he
+resolved to follow it. A conviction amounting to a certainty was upon
+him, that, go to what doctor he might, the fiat would be the same as Dr.
+Carrington's. He did not say so to Jane. On the contrary, he spoke of
+these insurance-office doctors as being over-fastidious in the interests
+of the office; and he tried to deceive his own heart with the sophistry.</p>
+
+
+<p>"Shall you apply to another office to insure your life?" Jane asked.</p>
+
+<p>"I would, if I thought it would not be useless."</p>
+
+<p>"You think it would be useless?"</p>
+
+<p>"The offices all keep their own doctors, and those doctors, it is my
+belief, are unnecessarily particular. I should call them crotchety,
+Jane."</p>
+
+<p>"I think it must amount to this," said Jane; "that if there is anything
+seriously the matter with you, no office will be found to do it; but if
+the affection is only trifling or temporary you may be accepted."</p>
+
+<p>"That is about it. Oh, Jane!" he added, with an irrepressible burst of
+anguish, "what would I not give to have insured my life before this came
+upon me! All those past years! They seem to have been allowed to run to
+waste, when I might have been using them to lay up in store for the
+children!"</p>
+
+<p>How many are there of us who, looking back, can feel that our past
+years, in some way or other, have <i>not</i> been allowed to run to waste?</p>
+
+<p>What a sleepless night that was for him! What a sleepless night for his
+wife! Both rose in the morning equally unrefreshed.</p>
+
+<p>"To what doctor will you go?" Jane inquired as she was dressing.</p>
+
+<p>"I have been thinking of Dr. Arnold of Finsbury," he replied.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, you could not go to a better. Edgar, you will let me accompany
+you?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, no, Jane. Your accompanying me would do no good. You could not go
+into the room with me."</p>
+
+<p>She saw the force of the objection. "I shall be so very anxious," she
+said, in a low tone.</p>
+
+<p>He laughed at her; he was willing to make light of it if it might ease
+her fears. "My dear, I will come home at once and report to you: I will
+borrow Jack's seven-leagued boots, that I may come to you the quicker."</p>
+
+<p>"You know that I <i>shall</i> be anxious," she repeated, feeling vexed.</p>
+
+<p>"Jane," he said, his tone changing: "I see that you are more anxious
+already than is good for you. It is not well that you should be so."</p>
+
+<p>"I wish I could be with you! I wish I could hear, as you will, Dr.
+Arnold's opinion from his own lips!" was all she answered.</p>
+
+<p>"I will faithfully repeat it to you," said Mr. Halliburton.</p>
+
+<p>"Faithfully&mdash;word for word? On your honour?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Jane, I will. You have my promise. Good news I shall be only too
+glad to tell you; and, should it be the worst, it will be necessary that
+you should know it."</p>
+
+<p>"You must be there before ten o'clock," she observed; "otherwise there
+will be little chance of seeing him."</p>
+
+<p>"I shall be there by nine, Jane. To spare time later would interfere too
+much with my day's work."</p>
+
+<p>A thought crossed Jane's mind&mdash;if the fiat were unfavourable what would
+become of his day's work then&mdash;all his days? But she did not utter it.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, papa," cried Janey at breakfast, "was it not a beautiful party! Did
+you <i>ever</i> enjoy yourself so much before?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't suppose you ever did, Janey," he replied, in kindly tones.</p>
+
+<p>"No, that I never did. Alice Harvey's birthday comes in summer, and she
+says she knows her mamma will let her give just such another!
+Mamma!"&mdash;turning to Mrs. Halliburton.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Jane?"</p>
+
+<p>"Shall you let me have a new frock for it? You know I tore mine last
+night."</p>
+
+<p>"All in good time, Janey. We don't know where we may all be then."</p>
+
+<p>No, they did not. A foreshadowing of it was already upon the spirit of
+Mrs. Halliburton. Not upon the children: they were spared it as yet.</p>
+
+<p>"Do not be surprised if you see me waiting for you when you come out of
+Dr. Arnold's," said Jane to her husband, in low tones, as he was going
+out.</p>
+
+<p>"But, Jane, why? Indeed, I think it would be foolish of you to come. My
+dear, I never knew you like this before."</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps not. But when, before, had there been cause for this
+apprehension?</p>
+
+<p>Jane watched him depart. Calm as she contrived to remain outwardly, she
+was in a terribly restless, nervous state; little accustomed as she was
+so to give way. A sick feeling was within her, a miserable sensation of
+suspense; and she could scarcely battle with it. You may have felt the
+same, in the dread approach of some great calamity. The reading over,
+Janey got her books about, as usual. Mrs. Halliburton took charge of her
+education in every branch, excepting music: for that she had a master.
+She would not send Jane to school. The child sat down to her books, and
+was surprised at seeing her mother come into the room with her things
+on.</p>
+
+<p>"Mamma! Are you going out?"</p>
+
+<p>"For a little time, Jane."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, let me go! Let me go too!"</p>
+
+<p>"Not this morning, dear. You will have plenty of work&mdash;preparing the
+lessons that you could not prepare last night."</p>
+
+<p>"So I shall," said Janey. "I thought perhaps you meant to excuse them,
+mamma."</p>
+
+<p>It was almost <i>impossible</i> for Jane to remain in the house, in her
+present state of agitation. She knew that it did appear absurdly foolish
+to go after her husband; but, walk somewhere she must: how could she
+turn a different way from that which he had taken? It was some distance
+to Finsbury; half an hour's walk at least. Should she go, or should she
+not, she asked herself as she went out of the house. She began to think
+that she might have remained at home had she exercised self-control. She
+had a great mind to turn back, and was slackening her pace, when she
+caught sight of Mr. Allen at his surgery window.</p>
+
+<p>An impulse came over her that she would go in and ask his opinion of her
+husband. She opened the door and entered. The surgeon was making up some
+pills.</p>
+
+<p>"You are out early, Mrs. Halliburton!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," she replied. "Mr. Halliburton has gone to Finsbury Square to see
+Dr. Arnold, and I&mdash;&mdash;Do you think him very ill?" she abruptly broke off.</p>
+
+<p>"I do not, myself. Carrington&mdash;&mdash;Did you know he had been to Dr.
+Carrington?" asked Mr. Allen, almost fearing he might be betraying
+secrets.</p>
+
+<p>"I know all about it. I know what the doctor said. Do you think Dr.
+Carrington was mistaken?"</p>
+
+<p>"In a measure. There's no doubt the lungs are affected, but I believe
+not to the grave extent assumed by Dr. Carrington."</p>
+
+<p>"He assumed, then, that they were affected to a grave extent?" she
+hastily repeated, her heart beating faster.</p>
+
+<p>"I thought you said you knew all about it, Mrs. Halliburton?"</p>
+
+<p>"So I do. He may possibly not have told me the very worst said by Dr.
+Carrington; but he told me quite sufficient. Mr. Allen, <i>you</i> tell
+me&mdash;do you think that there is a chance of his recovery?"</p>
+
+<p>"Most certainly I do," warmly replied the surgeon. "Every chance, Mrs.
+Halliburton. I see no reason whatever why he should not keep as well as
+he is now, and live for years, provided he takes care of himself. It
+appears that Dr. Carrington very strongly urged his removing into the
+country; he went so far as to say that it was his only chance for
+life&mdash;and in that I think he went too far again. But the country would
+undoubtedly do for him what London will not."</p>
+
+<p>"You think that he ought to remove to the country?" she inquired,
+showing no sign of the terror those incautious words brought her&mdash;"his
+only chance for life."</p>
+
+<p>"I do. If it be possible for him to manage his affairs so as to get
+away, I should say let him do so by all means."</p>
+
+<p>"It <i>must</i> be done, you know, Mr. Allen, if it is essential."</p>
+
+<p>"In my judgment it should be done. Many and many a time I have said to
+him myself, 'It's a pity but that you could be out of this heavy
+London!' Fogs affect him, and smoke affects him&mdash;the air altogether
+affects him: and I only wonder it has not told upon him before. As Dr.
+Carrington observed to him, there are some constitutions which somehow
+will not thrive here."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Halliburton rose with a sigh. "I am glad you do not think so very
+seriously of him," she breathed.</p>
+
+<p>"I do not think <i>seriously</i> of him at all," was the surgeon's answer. "I
+confess that he is not strong, and that he must have care. The pure air
+of the country, and relaxation from some of his most pressing work, may
+do wonders for him. If I might advise, I should say, Let no pecuniary
+considerations keep him here. And that is very disinterested advice,
+Mrs. Halliburton," concluded the doctor, laughing, "for, in losing you,
+I should lose both friends and patients."</p>
+
+<p>Jane went out. Those ominous words were still ringing in her ears&mdash;"his
+only chance for life."</p>
+
+<p>Forcing herself to self-control, she did <i>not</i> go to meet Mr.
+Halliburton. She returned home and took off her things, and gave what
+attention she could to Jane's lessons. But none can tell the suspense
+that was agitating her: the ever-restless glances she cast to the
+window, to see him pass. By-and-by she went and stood there.</p>
+
+<p>At last she saw him coming along in the distance. She would have liked
+to fly to meet him&mdash;to say, What is the news? but she did not. More
+patience, and then, when he came in at the front door, she left the room
+she was in, and went with him into the drawing-room, her face white as
+death.</p>
+
+<p>He saw how agitated she was, strive as she would for calmness. He stood
+looking at her with a smile.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Jane, it is not so very formidable, after all."</p>
+
+<p>Her face grew hot, and her heart bounded on. "What does Dr. Arnold say?
+You know, Edgar, you promised me the truth without disguise."</p>
+
+<p>"You shall have it, Jane. Dr. Arnold's opinion of me is not
+unfavourable. That the lungs are to a certain extent affected, is
+indisputable, and he thinks they have been so for some time. But he sees
+nothing to indicate present danger to life. He believes that I may grow
+into an old man yet."</p>
+
+<p>Jane breathed freely. A word of earnest thanks went up from her heart.</p>
+
+<p>"With proper diet&mdash;he has given me certain rules for living&mdash;and pure
+air and sunshine, he considers that I have really little to fear. I told
+you, Jane, those insurance doctors make the worst of things."</p>
+
+<p>"Dr. Arnold, then, recommends the country?" observed Jane, paying no
+attention to the last remark.</p>
+
+<p>"Very strongly. Almost as strongly as Dr. Carrington."</p>
+
+<p>Jane lifted her eyes to her husband's face. "Dr. Carrington said, you
+know, that it was your only chance of life."</p>
+
+<p>"Not quite as bad as that, Jane," he returned, never supposing but he
+must himself have let the remark slip, and wondering how he came to do
+so. "What Dr. Carrington said was, that it was London <i>versus</i> life."</p>
+
+<p>"It is the same thing, Edgar. And now, what is to be done? Of course we
+have no alternative; into the country we must go. The question is,
+where?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, that is the question," he answered. "Not only where, but what to
+do? I cannot drop down into a fresh place, and expect teaching to
+surround me at once, as if it had been waiting for me. But I have not
+time to talk now. Only fancy! it is half-past ten."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Halliburton went out and Jane remained, fastened as it were to her
+chair. A hundred perplexing plans and schemes were already working in
+her brain.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX.</h2>
+
+<h3>SEEKING A HOME.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Plans and schemes continued to work in Mrs. Halliburton's brain for days
+and days to come. Many and many an anxious consultation did she and her
+husband hold together&mdash;where should they go? What should they do? That
+it was necessary to do something, and speedily, events proved,
+independently of what had been said by the doctors. Before another month
+had passed over his head, Mr. Halliburton had become so much worse that
+he had to resign his post at King's College. But, to the hopeful minds
+of himself and Jane, the country change was to bring its remedy for all
+ills. They had grown to anticipate it with enthusiasm.</p>
+
+<p>His thoughts naturally ran upon teaching, as his continued occupation.
+He knew nothing of any other. All England was before him; and he
+supposed he might obtain a living at it, wherever he might go. Such
+testimonials as his were not met with every day. His cousin Julia had
+married a man of some local influence (as Mr. Halliburton had
+understood) in the city in which they resided, the chief town of one of
+the midland counties: and a thought crossed his mind more than once,
+whether it might not be well to choose that same town to settle in.</p>
+
+<p>"They might be able to recommend me, you see, Jane," he observed to his
+wife, one evening as they were sitting together, after the children were
+in bed. "Not that I should much like to ask any favour of Julia."</p>
+
+<p>"Why not?" said Jane.</p>
+
+<p>"Because she is not a pleasant person to ask a favour of: it is many
+years since I saw her, but I well remember that. Another reason why I
+feel inclined to that place is that it is a cathedral town. Cathedral
+towns have many of the higher order of the clergy in them; learning is
+sure to be considered there, should it not be anywhere else.
+Consequently there would be an opening for classical teaching."</p>
+
+<p>Jane thought the argument had weight.</p>
+
+<p>"And there's yet another thing," continued Mr. Halliburton. "You
+remember Peach?"</p>
+
+<p>"Peach?&mdash;Peach?" repeated Jane, as if unable to recall the name.</p>
+
+<p>"The young fellow I had so much trouble with, a few years ago&mdash;drilling
+him between his terms at Oxford. But for me, he never would have passed
+either his great or his little go. He did get plucked the first time he
+went up. You must remember him, Jane: he has often taken tea with us
+here."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes&mdash;yes! I remember him now. Charley Peach."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, he has recently been appointed to a minor canonry in that same
+cathedral," resumed Mr. Halliburton. "Dr. Jacobs told me of it the other
+day. Now I am quite sure that Peach would be delighted to say a word for
+me, or to put anything in my way. That is another reason why I am
+inclined to go there."</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose the town is a healthy one?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, that it is; and it is seated in one of the most charming of our
+counties. There'll be no London fogs or smoke there."</p>
+
+<p>"Then, Edgar, let us decide upon it."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I think so&mdash;unless we should hear of an opening elsewhere that may
+promise better. We must be away by Midsummer, if we can, or soon after.
+It will be sharp work, though."</p>
+
+<p>"What trouble it will be to pack the furniture!" she exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>"Pack what furniture, Jane? We must sell the furniture."</p>
+
+<p>"Sell the furniture!" she uttered, aghast.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear, it would never do to take the furniture down. It would cost
+almost as much as it is worth. There's no knowing, either, how long it
+might be upon the road, or what damage it might receive. I expect it
+would have to go principally by water."</p>
+
+<p>"By water!" cried Mrs. Halliburton.</p>
+
+<p>"I fancy so&mdash;by barge, I mean. Waggons would not take it, except by
+paying heavily. A great deal of the country traffic is done by water.
+This furniture is old, Jane, most of it, and will not bear rough
+travelling. Consider how many years your father and mother had it in
+use."</p>
+
+<p>"Then what should we do for furniture when we get there?" asked Jane.</p>
+
+<p>"Buy new with the money we receive from the sale of this. I have been
+reflecting upon it a good deal, Jane, and fancy it will be the better
+plan. However, if you care for this old furniture, we must take it."</p>
+
+<p>Jane looked round upon it. She did care for the time-used furniture; but
+she knew how old it was, and was willing to do whatever might be best. A
+vision came into her mind of fresh, bright furniture, and it looked
+pleasant in imagination. "It would certainly be a great deal to pack and
+carry," she acknowledged. "And some of it is not worth it."</p>
+
+<p>"And it would be more than we should want," resumed Mr. Halliburton.
+"Wherever we go we must be content with a small house; at any rate at
+first. But it will be time enough to go into these details, Jane, when
+we have finally decided upon our destination."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Edgar! I shall be so sorry to take the boys from King's College."</p>
+
+<p>"Jane," he said, a flash of pain crossing his face as he spoke, "there
+are so many things connected with it altogether that cause me sorrow,
+that my only resource is not to think upon them. I might be tempted to
+repine to ask in a spirit of rebellion why this affliction should have
+come upon us. It is God's decree, and it is my duty to submit as
+patiently as I can."</p>
+
+<p>It was her duty also: and she knew it as she laid her hand upon her
+weary brow. A weary, weary brow from henceforth, that of Jane
+Halliburton!</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X.</h2>
+
+<h3>A DYING BED.</h3>
+
+
+<p>In a handsome chamber of a handsome house in Birmingham, an old man lay
+dying. For most of his life he had been engaged in a large wholesale
+business&mdash;had achieved local position, had accumulated moderate wealth.
+But neither wealth nor position can ensure peace to a death-bed; and the
+old man lay on his, groaning over the past.</p>
+
+<p>The season was that of mid-winter. Not the winter following the intended
+removal of Mr. Halliburton from London, as spoken of in the last
+chapter, but the winter preceding it&mdash;for it is necessary to go back a
+little. A hard, sharp, white day in January: and the fire was piled high
+in the sick room, and the large flakes of snow piled themselves outside
+on the window frames and beat against the glass. The room was fitted up
+with every comfort the most fastidious invalid could desire; and yet, I
+say, nothing seemed to bring comfort to the invalid lying there. His
+hands were clenched as in mortal agony; his eyes were apparently
+watching the falling snow. The eyes saw it not: in reality they were
+cast back to where his mind was&mdash;the past.</p>
+
+<p>What could be troubling him? Was it that loss, only two years ago, by
+which one-half of his savings had been engulfed? Scarcely. A man
+dying&mdash;as he knew he was&mdash;would be unlikely to care about that now.
+Ample competence had remained to him, and he had neither son nor
+daughter to inherit. Hark! what is it that he is murmuring between his
+parched lips, to the accompaniment of his clenched hands?</p>
+
+<p>"I see it all now; I see it all! While we are buoyed up with health and
+strength, we continue hard, selfish, obstinate in our wickedness. But
+when death comes, we awake to our error; and death has come to me, and I
+have awakened to mine. Why did I turn him out like a dog? He had neither
+kith nor kin, and I sent him adrift on the world, to fight with it or to
+starve! He was the only child of my sister, and she was gone. She and I
+were of the same father and mother; we shared the same meals in
+childhood, the same home, the same play, the same hopes. She wrote to me
+when she was dying, as I am dying now: 'Richard, should my poor boy be
+left fatherless&mdash;for my husband's health seems to be failing&mdash;be his
+friend and protector for Helen's sake, and may Heaven bless you for it!'
+And I scoffed at the injunction when the boy offended me, and turned him
+out. <i>Shall I have to answer for it?</i>"</p>
+
+<p>The last anxious doubt was uttered more audibly than the rest; it
+escaped from his lips with a groan. A woman who was dozing over the fire
+started up.</p>
+
+<p>"Did you call, sir?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. Go out and leave me."</p>
+
+<p>"But&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Go out and leave me," he repeated, with anger little fitted to his
+position. And the woman was speeding from the room, when he caught at
+the curtain and recalled her.</p>
+
+<p>"Are they not come?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not yet, sir. But, with this heavy fall, it's not to be wondered at.
+The highways must be almost impassable. With good roads they might have
+been here hours ago."</p>
+
+<p>She went out. He lay back on his pillow: his eyes wide open, but wearing
+the same dreamy look. You may be wondering who he is; though you
+probably guess, for you have heard of him once before as Mr. Cooper, the
+uncle who discarded Edgar Halliburton.</p>
+
+<p>I must give you a few words of retrospect. Richard Cooper was the eldest
+of three children; the others were a brother and a sister: Richard,
+Alfred, and Helen. Alfred and Helen both married; Richard never did
+marry. It was somewhat singular that the brother and sister should both
+die, each leaving an orphan; and that the orphans should find a home in
+the house of their Uncle Richard. Julia Cooper, the brother's orphan,
+was the first to come to it, a long time before Edgar Halliburton came.
+Helen had married the Rev. William Halliburton, and she died at his
+rectory in Devonshire&mdash;sending that earnest prayer to her brother
+Richard which you have just heard him utter. A little while, and her
+husband, the rector, also died; and then it was that Edgar went up to
+his Uncle Richard's. Fortunate for these two orphan children, it
+appeared to be, that their uncle had not married and could give them a
+good home.</p>
+
+<p>A good home he did give them. Julia left it first to become the wife of
+Anthony Dare, a solicitor in large practice in a distant city. She
+married him very soon after her cousin Edgar came to his uncle's. And it
+was after the marriage of Julia that Edgar was discarded and turned
+adrift. Years, many years, had gone by since then; and here lay Richard
+Cooper, stricken for death and repenting of the harshness, which he had
+not repented of or sought to atone for all through those long years. Ah,
+my friends! whatsoever may lie upon our consciences, however we may have
+contrived to ignore it during our busy lives, be assured that it will
+find us out on our death-bed!</p>
+
+<p>Richard Cooper lay back on his pillow, his eyes wide open with their
+inward tribulation. "Who knows but there would be time yet?" he suddenly
+murmured. And the thought appeared to rouse his mind and flush his
+cheek, and he lifted his hand and grasped the bell-rope, ringing it so
+loudly as to bring two servants to the room.</p>
+
+<p>"Go up, one of you, to Lawyer Weston's," he uttered. "Bring him back
+with you. Tell him I want to alter my will, and that there may yet be
+time. Don't send&mdash;one of <i>you</i> go," he repeated in tones of agonising
+entreaty. "Bring him; bring him back with you!"</p>
+
+<p>As the echo of his voice died away there came a loud summons at the
+street door, as of a hasty arrival. "Sir," cried one of the maids,
+"they're come at last! I thought I heard a carriage drawing up in the
+snow."</p>
+
+<p>"Who's come?" he asked in some confusion of mind. "Weston?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not him, sir; Mr. and Mrs. Dare," replied the servant as she hurried
+out.</p>
+
+<p>A lady and gentleman were getting out of a coach at the door. A tall,
+very tall man, with handsome features, but an unpleasantly free
+expression. The lady was tall also, stout and fair, with an imperious
+look in her little turned-up nose. "Are we in time?" the latter asked of
+the servants.</p>
+
+<p>"It's nearly as much as can be said, ma'am," was the answer. "But he has
+roused up in the last hour, and is growing excited. The doctors thought
+it might be so: that he'd not continue in the lethargy to the last."</p>
+
+<p>They went on at once to the sick chamber. Every sense of the dying man
+appeared to be on the alert. His hands were holding back the curtain,
+his eyes were strained on the door. "Why have you been so long?" he
+cried in a voice of strength they were surprised to hear.</p>
+
+<p>"Dear uncle," said Mrs. Dare, bending over the bed and clasping the
+feeble hands, "we started the very moment the letter came. But we could
+not get along&mdash;the roads are dreadfully heavy."</p>
+
+<p>"Sir," whispered a servant in the invalid's ear, "are we to go now for
+Lawyer Weston?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, there's no need," was the prompt answer. "Anthony Dare, you are a
+lawyer," continued Mr. Cooper; "you'll do what I want done as well as
+another. Will you do it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Anything you please, sir," was Mr. Dare's reply.</p>
+
+<p>"Sit down, then; Julia, sit down. You may be hungry and thirsty after
+your journey; but you must wait. Life's not ebbing out of you, as it is
+out of me. We'll get this matter over, that my mind may be so far at
+rest; and then you can eat and drink of the best that my house affords.
+I am in mortal pain, Anthony Dare."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Dare was silently removing some of her outer wrappings, and
+whispering with the servant at the extremity of the roomy chamber; but
+Mr. Dare, who had taken off his great-coat and hat in the hall,
+continued to stand by the sick bed.</p>
+
+<p>"I am sorry to hear it, sir," he said, in reply to Mr. Cooper's
+concluding sentence. "Can the medical men afford you no relief?"</p>
+
+<p>"It is pain of mind, Anthony Dare, not pain of body. <i>That</i> pain has
+passed from me. I would have sent for you and Julia before, but I did
+not think until yesterday that the end was so near. Never let a man be
+guilty of injustice!" broke forth Mr. Cooper, vehemently. "Or let him
+know that it will come home to him to trouble his dying bed."</p>
+
+<p>"What can I do for you, sir?" questioned Mr. Dare.</p>
+
+<p>"If you will open that bureau, you'll find pen, ink, and paper. Julia,
+come here: and see that we are alone."</p>
+
+<p>The servant left the room, and Mrs. Dare came forward, divested of her
+cloaks. She wore a handsome dark-blue satin dress (much the fashion at
+that time) with a good deal of rich white lace about it, a heavy gold
+chain, and some very showy amethysts set in gold. The jewellery was
+real, however, not sham; but altogether her attire looked somewhat out
+of place for a death-chamber.</p>
+
+<p>The afternoon was drawing to a close. What with that and the dense
+atmosphere outside, the chamber had grown dim. Mr. Dare disposed the
+writing materials on a small round table at the invalid's elbow, and
+then looked towards the distant window.</p>
+
+<p>"I fear I cannot see, sir, without a light."</p>
+
+<p>"Call for it, Julia," said the invalid.</p>
+
+<p>A lamp was brought in and placed on the table, so that its rays should
+not affect those eyes so soon to close to all earthly light. And Mr.
+Dare waited, pen in hand.</p>
+
+<p>"I have been hard and wilful," began Mr. Cooper, putting up his
+trembling hands. "I have been obdurate, and selfish, and unjust; and now
+it is keeping peace from me&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But in what way, dear uncle?" softly put in Mrs. Dare; and it may as
+well be remarked that whenever Mrs. Dare attempted to speak softly and
+kindly it seemed to bear an unnatural sound to others' ears.</p>
+
+<p>"In what way?&mdash;why, with regard to Edgar Halliburton," said Mr. Cooper,
+the dew breaking out upon his brow. "In seeking to follow the calling
+marked out for him by his father, he only did his duty; and I should
+have seen it in that light but for my own obstinate pride and self-will.
+I did wrong to discard him: I have done wrong ever since in keeping him
+from me, in refusing to be reconciled. Are you listening, Anthony Dare?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly, sir. I hear."</p>
+
+<p>"Julia, I say that there was no reason for my turning him away. There
+has been no reason for my keeping him away. I have refused to be
+reconciled: I have sent back his letters unopened; I have held him at
+contemptuous defiance. When I heard that he had married, I cast harsh
+words to him because he had not asked my consent, though I was aware all
+the time, that I had given him no opportunity to ask it&mdash;I had harshly
+refused all overtures, all intercourse. I cast harsh words to his wife,
+knowing her not. But I see my error now. Do you see it, Julia? Do you
+see it, Anthony Dare?"</p>
+
+<p>"Would you like to have him sent for, sir?" suggested Mr. Dare.</p>
+
+<p>"It is too late. He could not be here in time. I don't know, either,
+where he lives in London, or what his address may be. Do you?"&mdash;looking
+at his niece.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh dear, no," she replied, with a slightly contemptuous gesture of the
+shoulders. As much as to imply that to know the address of her cousin
+Edgar was quite beneath her.</p>
+
+<p>"No, he could not get here," repeated the dying man, whilst Mrs. Dare
+wiped the dews that had gathered on his pallid and wrinkled brow.
+"Julia! Anthony! Anthony Dare!"</p>
+
+<p>"Sir, what is it?"</p>
+
+<p>"I wish you both to listen to me. I cannot die with this injustice
+unrepaired. I have made my will in Julia's favour. It is all left to
+her, except a few trifles to my servants. When the property comes to be
+realised, there will be at least sixteen thousand pounds, and but for
+that late mad speculation I entered into there would have been nearly
+forty thousand."</p>
+
+<p>He paused. But neither Mr. nor Mrs. Dare answered.</p>
+
+<p>"You are a lawyer, Anthony, and could draw up a fresh will. But there's
+no time, I say. What is darkening the room?" he abruptly broke off to
+ask.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dare looked hastily up. Nothing was darkening the room, except the
+gradually increasing gloom of evening.</p>
+
+<p>"My sight is growing dim, then," said the invalid. "Listen to me, both
+of you. I charge you, Anthony and Julia Dare, that you divide this money
+with Edgar Halliburton. Give him his full share; the half, even to a
+farthing. Will you do so, Anthony Dare?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I will, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Be it so. I charge you both solemnly&mdash;do not fail. If you would lay up
+peace for the time when you shall come to be where I am&mdash;do not fail.
+There's no time legally to do what is right; I feel that there is not.
+Ere the deed could be drawn up I should be gone, and could not sign it.
+But I leave the charge upon you; the solemn charge. The half of my money
+belongs of right to Edgar Halliburton: Julia has claim only to the other
+half. Be careful how you divide it: you are sole executor, Anthony Dare.
+Have you your paper ready?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Then dot down a few words, as I dictate, and I will sign them. 'I,
+Richard Cooper, do repent of my injustice to my dear nephew, Edgar
+Halliburton. And I desire, by this my last act on my death-bed, to
+bequeath to him the half of the money and property I shall die possessed
+of; and I charge Anthony Dare, the executor of my will, to carry out
+this act and wish as strictly as though it were a formal and legal one.
+I desire that whatever I shall die possessed of, save the bequests to my
+servants, may be equally divided between my nephew Edgar and my niece
+Julia.'"</p>
+
+<p>The dying man paused. "I think that's all that need be said," he
+observed. "Have you finished writing it, Anthony Dare?"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dare wrote fast and quickly, and was concluding the last words. "It
+is written, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Read it."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dare proceeded to do so. Short as the time was which it took to
+accomplish this, the old man had fallen into a doze ere it was
+concluded; a doze or a partial stupor. They could not tell which; but,
+in leaning over him, he woke up with a start.</p>
+
+<p>"I can't die with this injustice unrepaired!" he cried, his memory
+evidently ignoring what had just been done. "Anthony Dare, your wife has
+no right to all my money. I shall leave half of it to Edgar. I want you
+to write it down."</p>
+
+<p>"It is done, sir. This is the paper."</p>
+
+<p>"Where? where? Why don't you get light into the room? It's dark&mdash;dark.
+This? Is this it?"&mdash;as Mr. Dare put it into his hand. "Now, mind!" he
+added, his tone changing to one of solemn enjoinder; "mind you act upon
+it. Julia has no right to more than her half share; she must not take
+more: money kept by wrong, acquired by injustice, never prospers. It
+would not bring you good, it would not bring a blessing. Give Edgar his
+legal half; and give him his old uncle's love and contrition. Tell him,
+if the past could come over again there should be no estrangement
+between us."</p>
+
+<p>He lay panting for a few minutes, and then spoke again, the paper having
+fallen unnoticed from his hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Julia, when you see Edgar's wife&mdash;Did I sign that paper?" he broke off.</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir," said Mr. Dare. "Will you sign it now?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ay. But, signed or not signed, you'll equally act upon it. I don't put
+it forth as a legal document; I suppose it would not, in this informal
+state, stand good in law. It is only a reminder to you, Anthony Dare,
+that you may not forget my wishes. Hold me up in bed, and have lights
+brought in."</p>
+
+<p>Anthony Dare drew the curtain back, and the rays of the lamp flashed
+upon the dying man. Mr. Dare looked round for a book on which to place
+the paper while it was signed.</p>
+
+<p>"I want a light," came again from the bed, in a pleading tone. "Julia,
+why don't you tell them to bring in the lamp?"</p>
+
+<p>"The lamp is here, uncle. It is close to you."</p>
+
+<p>"Then there's no oil in it," he cried. "Julia, I <i>will</i> have lights
+here. Tell them to bring up the dining-room lamps. Don't ring; go and
+see that they are brought."</p>
+
+<p>Unwilling to oppose him, and doubting lest his sight should really have
+gone, Mrs. Dare went out, and returned with one of the servants and more
+light. Mr. Cooper was then lying back on his pillow, dozing and
+unconscious.</p>
+
+<p>"Has he signed the paper?" Mrs. Dare whispered to her husband.</p>
+
+<p>He shook his head negatively, and pointed to it. It was lying on the
+bed, just as Mrs. Dare had left it. Mrs. Dare caught it up from any
+prying eyes that might be about, folded it, and held it securely in her
+hand.</p>
+
+<p>"He will wake up again presently, and can sign it then," observed Mr.
+Dare, just as a gentle ring was heard at the house door.</p>
+
+<p>"It's the doctor," said the servant; "I know his ring."</p>
+
+<p>But the old man never did sign the paper, and never woke up again. He
+lay in a state of lethargy throughout the night. Mr. and Mrs. Dare
+watched by his bedside; the servants watched; and the doctors came in at
+intervals. But there was no change in his state; until the last great
+change. It occurred at daybreak; and when the neighbours opened their
+windows to the cold and the snow, the house of Richard Cooper remained
+closed. Death was within it.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI.</h2>
+
+<h3>HELSTONLEIGH.</h3>
+
+
+<p>I believe that most of the readers of "The Channings" will not like this
+story less because its scene is laid in the same place, Helstonleigh.</p>
+
+<p>I narrate to you, as you may have already discovered, a great deal of
+truth: of events that have actually happened, combined with fiction. I
+can only do this from my own personal experience, by taking you to the
+scenes and places where I have lived. Of this same town, Helstonleigh, I
+could relate to you volumes. No place in the world holds so green a spot
+in my memory. Do you remember Longfellow's poem&mdash;"My Lost Youth"?</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Often I think of the beautiful town,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">That is seated by the sea;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Often in thought go up and down<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The pleasant streets of that dear old town,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And my youth comes back to me.<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">And a verse of a Lapland song<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Is haunting my memory still:<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">'A boy's will is the wind's will,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.'<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"I remember the gleams and glooms that dart<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Across the schoolboy's brain;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The song and the silence in the heart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That in part are prophecies, and in part<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Are longings wild and vain.<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">And the voice of that fitful song<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Sings on, and is never still:<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">'A boy's will is the wind's will,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.'<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"There are things of which I may not speak;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">There are dreams that cannot die;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There are thoughts that make the strong heart weak,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And bring a pallor into the cheek,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And a mist before the eye.<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">And the words of that fatal song<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Come over me like a chill:<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">'A boy's will is the wind's will,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.'<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Strange to me now are the forms I meet<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">When I visit the dear old town;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But the native air is pure and sweet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the trees that o'ershadow each well-known street,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">As they balance up and down,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Are singing the beautiful song,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Are sighing and whispering still:<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">'A boy's will is the wind's will,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.'<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"And Deering's woods are fresh and fair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And with joy that is almost pain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My heart goes back to wander there,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And among the dreams of the days that were<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">I find my lost youth again.<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">And the music of that old song<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Throbs in my memory still:<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">'A boy's will is the wind's will,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.'"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>Those are some of its verses, and what "Deering" is to Longfellow,
+"Helstonleigh" is to me.</p>
+
+<p>The Birmingham stage-coach came into Helstonleigh one summer's night,
+and stopped at its destination, the Star-and-Garter Hotel, bringing with
+it some London passengers. The direct line of rail to Helstonleigh from
+London was not then opened; and this may serve to tell you how long it
+is ago. A lady and a little girl stepped from the inside of the coach,
+and a gentleman and three boys got down from the outside. The latter
+were soaking. Almost immediately after leaving Birmingham, to which
+place the rail had conveyed them, the rain had commenced to pour in
+torrents, and those outside received its full benefit. The coach was
+crammed, inside and out, but with the other passengers we have nothing
+to do. We have with these; they were the Halliburtons.</p>
+
+<p>For the town which Mr. Halliburton had been desirous to remove to, the
+one in which his cousin, Mrs. Dare, resided, was no other than
+Helstonleigh.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Halliburton drew a long face when she set eyes on her husband's
+condition. "Edgar! you must be wet through and through!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I am. There was no help for it."</p>
+
+<p>"You should have come inside when I wanted you to do so," she cried, in
+a voice of distress. "You should indeed."</p>
+
+<p>"And have suffered you to take my place outside? Nonsense, Jane!"</p>
+
+<p>Jane looked at the hotel. "We had better remain here for the night. What
+do you think?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I think so," he replied. "It is too wet to go about looking after
+anything that might be less expensive. Inquire if we can have rooms,
+Jane, whilst I see after the luggage."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Halliburton went in, leading Janey, and was confronted by the
+barmaid, a smart young woman in a smart cap. "Can we sleep here
+to-night?" she inquired.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, certainly. How many beds?"</p>
+
+<p>"I will go up with you and see," said Mrs. Halliburton. "Be so kind as
+not to put us in your more expensive rooms," she added, in a lower tone.</p>
+
+<p>The barmaid looked at her from top to toe, as it is much in the habit of
+barmaids to do when such a request is preferred. She saw a lady in a
+black silk dress, a cashmere shawl, and a plain straw bonnet, trimmed
+with white. Simple as the attire was, quiet as was the demeanour, there
+was that about Mrs. Halliburton, in her voice, her accent, her bearing
+altogether, which proclaimed her the gentlewoman; and the barmaid
+condescended to be civil.</p>
+
+<p>"I have nothing to do with the rooms," she said; "I'll call the
+chambermaid. My goodness! You had better get those wet things off, sir,
+unless you want to be laid up with cold."</p>
+
+<p>The words were uttered in surprise, as her eyes encountered Mr.
+Halliburton. He looked taller, and thinner, and handsomer than ever; but
+he had a hollow cough now, and his cheek was hectic, and he was
+certainly wet through.</p>
+
+<p>The chambermaid allotted them rooms. Mr. Halliburton, after rubbing
+himself dry with towels, got into a warmed bed, and had warm drink
+supplied to him. Jane, after unpacking what would be wanted for the
+night, returned to the sitting-room, to which her children had been
+shown. A good-natured maid, seeing the boys' clothes were damp, had
+lighted a fire, and they were kneeling round it, having been provided
+with bread and butter and milk. Intelligent, truthful, good-looking boys
+they were, with clear skins and bright, honest eyes, and open
+countenances. Janey had fallen asleep on a chair, her flaxen curls
+making her a pillow on its elbow. The boys crowded to one side of the
+fireplace when their mother came in, leaving the larger space for her;
+and William rose and gave her a chair. Mrs. Halliburton sat down, having
+laid on the table a Book of Common Prayer, which she had brought in her
+hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Mamma, I hope papa will not be ill!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, William, I fear it. Such a terrible wetting! And to be so long in
+it! How is it that he was so much worse than you are?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because he sat at the end, and the gentleman next him did not hold the
+umbrella over him at all. When it came on to rain, some of the
+passengers had umbrellas and some had not, so they were divided for the
+best. We three had one between us, and we were wedged in between two fat
+old men, who helped to keep us dry. What a pity there was not a place
+for papa inside!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; or if he would only have taken mine!" cried Mrs. Halliburton. "A
+wetting would not have hurt me, as it may hurt him. What place did they
+call that, William, where I got out to ask him to change?"</p>
+
+<p>"Bromsgrove Lickey. Mamma, you have had no tea!"</p>
+
+<p>"I do not care for any," she sighed. Hers was a hopeful nature; but
+something within her, this evening, seemed to whisper of trial for the
+future. She turned to the table, where stood the remains of the
+children's meal, cut a piece of bread from the loaf, and slowly spread
+it with butter. Then she poured out a little milk.</p>
+
+<p>"Dear mamma, do have some tea!" cried William; "that's nothing but our
+milk and water."</p>
+
+<p>She shook her head and took the milk. Tea would only be an additional
+expense, and she was too completely dispirited to care what she drank.</p>
+
+<p>"I will read now," she said, taking up the Prayer-book. "And afterwards,
+I think, you had better say your prayers here, near the fire, as you
+have been so wet."</p>
+
+<p>She chose a short psalm, and read it aloud. Then the children knelt
+down, each at a separate chair, to say their prayers in silence. Not as
+children's prayers are sometimes hurried over, knelt they; but with
+lowly reverence, their heads bowed, their young hearts lifted, never
+doubting but they were heard by God. They had been trained in a good
+school.</p>
+
+<p>Did you ever have a sale of old things? Goods and chattels which may
+have served your purpose and looked well in their places, seem so old
+when they come to be exhibited that you feel half-ashamed of them? And
+as to the sum they realise&mdash;you will not have much trouble in hoarding
+it. Had Mr. Halliburton known the small sum that would be the result of
+his sale; had Jane dreamt that they would go for an "old song," they had
+never consented to part with them. Better have been at the cost of
+carrying them to Helstonleigh. Their bedding, blankets, etc., they did
+take: and it was well they did so.</p>
+
+<p>I feel almost afraid to tell you how very little money they had in hand
+when they arrived. All their worldly wealth was little more than a
+hundred and twenty pounds. Debts had to be paid before leaving London;
+and it cost money to give up their house without notice, for their
+landlord was severe.</p>
+
+<p>One hundred and twenty pounds! And with this they had to buy fresh
+furniture, and to live until teaching came in. A forlorn prospect on
+which to recommence the world! No wonder that Jane shunned even tea at
+the inn, or any other expense that might lessen their funds! But hope is
+buoyant in the human heart: and unless it were so, half the world might
+lay themselves down to die.</p>
+
+<p>Morning came: a bright, sunny, beautiful morning after the rain. Not,
+apparently, had Mr. Halliburton suffered. His limbs felt a little stiff,
+but that would go off before the day closed. Their plans were to take a
+small house, as cheap a one as they could find, in accordance with&mdash;you
+really must for once excuse the word&mdash;gentility. That&mdash;a tolerably fair
+appearance&mdash;was necessary to Mr. Halliburton's success as a teacher.</p>
+
+<p>"A dry, healthy spot, a little way out of the town," mused the landlord
+of the "Star," to whom they communicated their desire. "The London Road
+would be the place then. And you probably will find there such a house
+as you require."</p>
+
+<p>They found their way to the London Road&mdash;a healthy suburb of the town;
+and there discovered a house they thought might suit them: a
+semi-detached house of good appearance, inclosed by iron railings, and
+standing a little back from the road. A sitting-room was on either side
+the entrance, a kitchen at the back. Three bedrooms were above; and
+above these again was a garret. A small garden was behind the house; and
+beyond that was a field, which did not belong to them. The adjoining
+house was similar to this one; but that possessed a large and productive
+garden. An inmate of that house showed them over this one, dressed as a
+Quakeress. Her features were plain, but her complexion was fair and
+delicate, and she had calm blue eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"The rent of the house is thirty-two pounds per annum," she said, in
+reply to Mrs. Halliburton's question. "It belongs to Thomas Ashley; but
+thee must not apply to him. I will furnish thee with the address of the
+agent, who has the letting of Friend Ashley's houses. It is Anthony
+Dare. You will find the house pleasant and healthy, if you decide upon
+it," she added, speaking to both of them.</p>
+
+<p>The latter name had struck upon Mr. Halliburton's ear. "Jane!" he
+whispered to his wife, "that must be the Mr. Dare who married my cousin,
+Julia Cooper. His name was Anthony Dare."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Halliburton proceeded alone to the office of Mr. Dare, the gentleman
+you met at Mr. Cooper's; Mrs. Halliburton returning to her children at
+the hotel. They had decided to take the house. Mr. Dare was not at home.
+"In London, with his wife," the head clerk said. But the clerk had power
+to let the house. Mr. Halliburton gave him some particulars with regard
+to himself, and they were considered satisfactory; but he did not
+mention that he was related to Mrs. Dare.</p>
+
+<p>The next thing was about furniture. The clerk directed Mr. Halliburton
+to a warehouse where both new and second-hand things might be obtained,
+and he proceeded to it, calling in at the "Star" for his wife. She knew
+a great deal more about furniture than he. They did the best they could,
+spending about fifty pounds. A Kidderminster carpet was bought for the
+best sitting-room. The other room, which was to be Mr. Halliburton's
+study, and the bedrooms, went for the present without any. "We will buy
+all those things when we have succeeded a bit," said Mr. Halliburton.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII.</h2>
+
+<h3>ANNA LYNN.</h3>
+
+
+<p>They slept that night again at the "Star," and the following morning
+early, they and their furniture took possession together of the house. A
+busy day they found it, arranging things. Jane&mdash;who had determined, as
+the saying runs, "to put her shoulder to the wheel," not only on this
+day, but on future days&mdash;did not intend to engage a regular servant.
+That, like the carpets, might be indulged in as they succeeded; but in
+the mean time she thought a young girl might be found who would come in
+for a few hours daily, and do what they wanted done.</p>
+
+<p>In the course of the morning, the fair, pleasant face of the Quakeress
+was seen approaching the back door from the garden. She wore a lilac
+print gown, a net kerchief crossed under it on her neck, and the
+peculiar net cap, with its high caul and neat little border.</p>
+
+<p>"I have stepped in to ask if I can help thee with thy work," she began.
+"Thee hast plenty to do, setting things straight, and thy husband does
+not look strong. I will aid if thee pleasest."</p>
+
+<p>"You are very kind to be so thoughtful for a stranger," replied Jane,
+charmed with the straightforward frankness of the Quakeress. "I hope you
+will first tell me to whom I am indebted."</p>
+
+<p>"Thee can call me Patience," was the ready reply. "I live next door,
+with Samuel Lynn and his daughter Anna. His wife died soon after the
+child was born. I was related to Anna Lynn; and when she was departing
+she sent for me, and begged me not to leave her child, unless Samuel
+should take unto himself another wife. But that appears to be far from
+his thoughts. He loves the child much; she is as the apple of his eye."</p>
+
+<p>"Is Mr. Lynn in business?" asked Jane.</p>
+
+<p>"Not on his own account now. He was a glove manufacturer, as a young
+man, but he had not a large capital; and when the British ports were
+opened for the admission of gloves from the French, it ruined him&mdash;as it
+did many others in the city. Only the rich masters could stand that.
+Numbers went then."</p>
+
+<p>"Went!" echoed Jane. "Went where?"</p>
+
+<p>"To ruin. Ah! I remember it: though it is a long time ago now. It was, I
+think, in the year 1825. I cannot describe to thee the distress and
+destruction it brought upon this city, until then so flourishing. The
+manufacturers had to close their works, and the men went about the
+streets starving."</p>
+
+<p>"Did the distress continue long?"</p>
+
+<p>"For weeks, and months, and years. The town will never be again, in that
+respect, what it has been. Samuel Lynn was a man of integrity, and he
+gave up business while he could pay everyone, and accepted the post of
+manager in the manufactory of Thomas Ashley. Thomas Ashley is one of the
+first manufacturers in the city, as his father was before him. When thee
+shall know the place and the people better, thee will find that there is
+not a name more respected throughout Helstonleigh than that of Thomas
+Ashley."</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose he is a rich man?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, he is rich," replied Patience, who was as busy with her hands as
+she was in talking. "His household is expensive, and he keeps his open
+and his close carriages; but for all that he must be putting by money.
+It is not for his riches that Thomas Ashley is respected, but for his
+high character. There is not a more just man living than Thomas Ashley;
+there is not a manufacturer in the town who is so considerate and kind
+to his workmen. His rate of wages is on the highest scale, and he is
+incapable of oppression. He has a son and daughter. He, the boy, causes
+him much uneasiness and cost."</p>
+
+<p>"Is he&mdash;not steady?" hastily asked Jane.</p>
+
+<p>"Bless thee, it is not that!" was the laughing answer of Patience. "He
+is but a young boy yet. When he was fourteen months old, the nurse let
+him fall from her arms, from the first landing to the hall below. At
+first they thought he was not hurt: Margaret Ashley herself thought it;
+the doctors thought it. But in a little time injury grew apparent. It
+lay in one of the hips; he is often in great pain, and will be lame for
+life. Abscess after abscess forms in the hip. They take him to the
+sea-side; to doctors in London; but nothing cures him. A beautiful boy
+as you ever saw; but his hurt renders him peevish. He is fond of books;
+and David Byrne, who is a Latin and Greek scholar, goes daily to
+instruct him; but the boy is thrown back by his fits of illness. It is a
+great grief to Thomas and Margaret Ashley. They&mdash;&mdash;Why, Anna, is it
+thee? What dost thou do here?"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Halliburton turned from the kitchen cupboard, where she and
+Patience were arranging crockery, to behold a little girl who was no
+doubt Anna Lynn. Dark blue eyes were deeply set beneath their long
+lashes, which lay on a damask and dimpled cheek; her pretty teeth shone
+like pearls between her smiling lips, and her chestnut hair fell in a
+mass of careless curls upon her neck. Never, Mrs. Halliburton thought,
+had she seen a face so lovely. Jane was a pretty child; but Jane faded
+into nothing in comparison with the vision standing there.</p>
+
+<p>"Thee has thy cap off again, Anna!" cried the Quakeress, with some
+asperity of tone. "Art thee not ashamed to be so bold?&mdash;going about with
+thy head uncovered!"</p>
+
+<p>"The cap came off, Patience," gently responded Anna. She had a sweetly
+timid manner; a modest expression.</p>
+
+<p>"Thee need not tell me what is untrue. When the cap is tied on, it will
+not come off, unless purposely removed. Go home and put it on. Thee may
+come back again. Perhaps Friend Halliburton will permit thee to stay
+awhile with her children, who are arranging their books in the study. Is
+thy French lesson learnt?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not quite," replied Anna, running away.</p>
+
+<p>She returned with a pretty little white net cap on, the model of that
+worn by Patience. Her luxuriant curls were pushed under it, and the
+crimped border rested on the fair forehead.</p>
+
+<p>"Nay, there is no call to put all thy hair out of sight, child," said
+Patience. "Where are thy combs."</p>
+
+<p>"In my hair, Patience."</p>
+
+<p>Patience took off the cap, formed two flat curls, by means of the combs,
+on either side the temples, put the cap on again, and tucked the rest of
+the hair smoothly under it. Mrs. Halliburton then took Anna's hand, and
+led her to her own children.</p>
+
+<p>"What a pity it is to hide her hair!" she said afterwards to Patience.</p>
+
+<p>"Dost thee think so? It is the custom with our people. Anna's hair is
+fine, and of a curly nature. Brush it as I will, it curls; and she has
+acquired a habit of taking her cap off when I am not watching. Her
+father, I grieve to say, will let her sit by the hour together, her hair
+down, as thee saw it now, and her cap anywhere. I believe he thinks
+nothing she does is wrong. I talk to him much."</p>
+
+<p>"I never saw a more beautiful child!" said Jane, warmly.</p>
+
+<p>"I grant thee that she is fair; but she is eleven years old now, and her
+vanity should be checked. She is sometimes invited to the Ashleys',
+where she sees the mode in which Mary Ashley is dressed, according to
+the fashion of the world, and it sets her longing. Samuel Lynn will not
+listen to me. He is pleased that his child should be received there as
+Mary Ashley's equal; he cannot forget the time when he was in a good
+position himself."</p>
+
+<p>"Who teaches Anna?"</p>
+
+<p>"She attends a small school for Friends, kept by Ruth Darby. It is the
+holidays now. Her father educates her well. She learns French and
+drawing, and other branches of study suitable for girls. Take care! let
+me help thee with that heavy table."</p>
+
+<p>Presently they went to see how things were getting on in the study. Jane
+could not keep her eyes from the face of that lovely child. It partly
+hindered her work, which there was little need of on that busy day; a
+day so busy that they were all glad when it was over, and they were at
+liberty to retire to rest.</p>
+
+<p>Rarely had Jane witnessed so beautiful a view as that which met her
+sight the following morning, when she drew up her blind. The previous
+day had been hazy&mdash;nothing was to be seen; now the atmosphere had
+cleared. The great extent of scenery spread around, the green fields,
+the growing corn, the sparkling rivulets, the woods with their darker
+and their brighter trees, the undulating slopes&mdash;all were charming. But
+beyond all, and far more charming, bounding the landscape in the distant
+horizon, stretched the long chain of the far-famed Malvern Hills. As
+the sun cast upon them its light and shade, their outline so clearly
+depicted against the sky, and their white villas peeping out from the
+trees at their base&mdash;Jane felt that she could have gazed for ever. A
+wondrous picture is that of Malvern, as seen from Helstonleigh in the
+freshness of the early morning.</p>
+
+<p>"Edgar!" she impulsively exclaimed, turning to the bed&mdash;for Mr.
+Halliburton had not risen&mdash;"you never saw anything more beautiful than
+the view from this window. I am sure half the Londoners never dreamt of
+anything like it."</p>
+
+<p>There was no reply. "Perhaps he may be still asleep," she thought. But
+upon approaching the bed, she saw that his eyes were open.</p>
+
+<p>"Jane," he gasped, "I am ill."</p>
+
+<p>"Ill!" she repeated, a spasm darting through her heart.</p>
+
+<p>"Every limb is paining me. My head aches, and I am burning with fever. I
+have felt it coming on all night."</p>
+
+<p>She bent down; she felt his hands and his hot face&mdash;all burning, as he
+said, with fever.</p>
+
+<p>"We must call in a doctor," she quietly said, suppressing every sign of
+dismay, that it might not agitate him. "I will ask Patience to recommend
+one."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; better have a doctor at once. What will become of us? If I should
+be going to have an illness&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Stay, Edgar; do not give way to sad anticipations," she gently said. "A
+brave mind, you know, goes half way towards a cure. It is the effect of
+that wetting; the cold must have been smouldering within you."</p>
+
+<p>Smouldering only to burst out the fiercer for delay. Patience spoke in
+favour of their own medical man, a Mr. Parry, who lived near them and
+had a large practice. He came; and pronounced the malady to be rheumatic
+fever.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII.</h2>
+
+<h3>ILLNESS.</h3>
+
+
+<p>For nine weeks Mr. Halliburton never left his bed. His wife was worn to
+a shadow; what with waiting upon him, and battling with her anxiety. Her
+body was weary, her heart was sick. Do <i>you</i> know the cost of illness?
+Jane knew it then.</p>
+
+<p>In two weeks more he could leave his easy-chair and crawl about the
+room; and by that time he was all eagerness to commence his operations
+for the future.</p>
+
+<p>"I must have some cards printed, Jane," he cried, one morning. "'Mr.
+Halliburton, Professor of Classics and Mathematics, late of King's
+Col&mdash;'&mdash;or should it be simply 'Edgar Halliburton?'" he broke off, to
+deliberate. "I wonder what the custom may be, down here?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think you should wait until you are stronger, before you order your
+cards," was Jane's reply.</p>
+
+<p>"But I can be getting things in train, Jane. I have been&mdash;how many weeks
+is it now?"</p>
+
+<p>"Eleven."</p>
+
+<p>"To be sure. It was June when we came; it is now September. I have been
+obliged to neglect the boys' lessons, too!"</p>
+
+<p>"They have been very good and quiet; have gone on with their lessons
+themselves. If we have trouble in other ways, we have a blessing in our
+children, Edgar. They are thoroughly loving and dutiful."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know the ordinary terms of the neighbourhood," he resumed,
+after an interval of silence. "And&mdash;I wonder if people will want
+references? Jane"&mdash;after another silence&mdash;"you must put your things on,
+and go to Mrs. Dare's."</p>
+
+<p>"To Mrs. Dare's!" she echoed. "Now? I don't know her."</p>
+
+<p>"Never mind about not knowing her," he eagerly continued. "She is my
+cousin. You must ask whether they will allow themselves to be referred
+to. Peach will allow it also, I am quite certain. Do go, Jane."</p>
+
+<p>Invalids in the weak state of Mr. Halliburton are apt to be restlessly
+impatient when the mind is set upon any plan or project. Jane found that
+it would vex him much if she declined to go to Mrs. Dare, and she
+prepared for the visit. Patience directed her to their residence.</p>
+
+<p>It was situated at the opposite end of Helstonleigh. A handsome house,
+inclosed in a high wall, and bearing the imposing title of "Pomeranian
+Knoll." Jane entered the iron gates, walked round the carriage drive
+that inclosed the lawn, and rang the house bell. A showy footman in
+light blue livery, with a bunch of cords on his shoulder, answered it.</p>
+
+<p>"Can I see Mrs. Dare?"</p>
+
+<p>"What name, ma'am?"</p>
+
+<p>Jane gave in one of her visiting cards, wondering whether that was not
+too grand a proceeding, considering the errand upon which she had come.
+She was shown into an elegant room, to the presence of Mrs. Dare. That
+lady was in a costly morning dress, with chains, rings, bracelets, and
+other glittering jewellery about her: as she had worn the evening you
+saw her beside Mr. Cooper's death-bed.</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Halliburton?" she was repeating in doubt, when Jane entered, her
+eyes strained on the card. "What Mrs. Halliburton?" she added, not very
+civilly, turning her eyes upon Jane.</p>
+
+<p>Jane explained. The wife of Edgar Halliburton, Mrs. Dare's cousin.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Dare's presence of mind wholly forsook her. She grew deathly
+white; she caught at a chair for support; she was utterly unable to
+speak or to conceal her agitation. Jane could only look at her in
+amazement, wondering whether she was seized with sudden illness.</p>
+
+<p>A few moments and she recovered herself. She took a seat, motioned Jane
+to another, and asked, as she might have asked of any stranger, what her
+business might be. Jane explained it, somewhat at length.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Dare's surprise was great. She could not or would not understand;
+and her face flushed a deep red, and again grew deadly pale. "Edgar
+Halliburton come to live in Helstonleigh!" she repeated. "And you say
+you are his wife?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am his wife," was the reply of Jane, spoken with quiet dignity.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>What</i> is it that you say he has in view, in coming here?"</p>
+
+<p>"I beg your pardon; I thought I had explained." And Jane went over the
+ground again&mdash;why he had been obliged to leave London, and his reasons
+for settling in Helstonleigh.</p>
+
+<p>"You could not have come to a worse place," said Mrs. Dare, who appeared
+to be annoyed almost beyond repression. "Masters of all sorts are so
+plentiful here that they tread on each other's heels."</p>
+
+<p>Discouraging news! And Jane's heart beat fast on hearing it. "My husband
+thought you and Mr. Dare would kindly interest yourselves for him. He
+knows that Mr. Peach will&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"No," interrupted Mrs. Dare, in decisive tones. "For Edgar Halliburton's
+own sake I must decline to recommend him; or, indeed, to interfere at
+all. It would only encourage fallacious hopes. Masters are here in
+abundance&mdash;I speak of private masters; they don't find half enough to
+do. Schools are also plentiful. The best thing will be to go to some
+place where there is a better opening, and not to settle himself here at
+all!"</p>
+
+<p>"But we have already settled here," replied Jane.</p>
+
+<p>A thought suddenly struck Mrs. Dare. "It can never be Edgar who has
+taken Mr. Ashley's cottage in the London Road? I remember the name was
+said to be Halliburton."</p>
+
+<p>"The same. It was let to us by Mr. Dare's clerk."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Dare sat biting her lips. That she was grievously annoyed was
+evident, but in deference to good manners, which were partially
+returning to her, she strove to repress its signs. "I presume your
+husband is poor, Mrs. Halliburton?"</p>
+
+<p>"We are very poor."</p>
+
+<p>"It is generally the case with teachers, as I have observed. Well, I
+can only give one answer to your application&mdash;that we must decline all
+interference. I hope Edgar will not think of applying again to us upon
+the subject."</p>
+
+<p>Jane rose. Mrs. Dare remained seated. And yet she prided herself upon
+her good breeding!</p>
+
+<p>"I had forgotten a question which my husband particularly desired me to
+ask," Jane said, turning back, as she was moving to the door. "Edgar saw
+by the papers that his uncle, Mr. Cooper, died the beginning of the
+year. Did he remember him on his death-bed, so far as to send a message
+of reconciliation?"</p>
+
+<p>Strange to say, the countenance of Mrs. Dare again changed; now to a
+burning heat, now to a livid pallor. She hesitated in her answer.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," she said at length. "Mr. Cooper so far relented as to send him
+his forgiveness. 'Tell my nephew Edgar, if you ever see him, that I am
+sorry for my harshness; that I would treat him differently were the time
+to come over again.' I do not remember the precise words; but they were
+to that effect. There is no doubt that he would have wished to be
+reconciled; but time did not allow it. I should have written to Edgar of
+this, had I been acquainted with his address."</p>
+
+<p>"A letter addressed to King's College would always have found him. But
+he will be glad to hear this. He also bade me ask how Mr. Cooper's money
+was left&mdash;if you would kindly give him the information."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Dare bent her head. She was busy playing with her bracelet. "The
+will was proved in Doctors' Commons. Edgar Halliburton may see it by
+paying a shilling there."</p>
+
+<p>It was not a gracious answer, and Jane paused. "He cannot go to Doctors'
+Commons; he is not in London," she gently said.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Dare raised her head. A look, speaking plainly of defiance, had
+settled itself on her features. "It was left to me; the whole of it,
+except a few trifling legacies to his servants. What could Edgar
+Halliburton expect?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am sure that he did not expect anything," observed Jane. "Though I
+believe a hope has sometimes crossed his mind that Mr. Cooper might at
+the last relent, and remember him."</p>
+
+<p>"Nay," said Mrs. Dare, "he had behaved too disobediently for that.
+First, in opposing his uncle's wishes that he should enter into
+business; secondly, in his marriage."</p>
+
+<p>"In his marriage!" echoed Jane, a flush rising to her own face.</p>
+
+<p>"It was so. Mr. Cooper was exceedingly exasperated when he heard that
+Edgar had married. He looked upon the marriage, I believe, as
+undesirable for him in a pecuniary point of view. You must pardon my
+speaking of this to you personally. You appear to wish for the truth."</p>
+
+<p>The flush on Jane's face deepened to crimson.</p>
+
+<p>"It is true that I had no money," she said. "But I am the daughter of a
+clergyman, and was reared a gentlewoman!"</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose my uncle thought Edgar Halliburton should have married a
+fortune. However all that is past and gone, and it will do no good to
+recall it. I am sorry that you should have been so ill-advised for your
+own interests as to fix on this place to come to."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Dare rose. She had sat all this time; Jane had stood. "Tell Edgar,
+from me, that I am sorry to hear of his illness. Tell him there is no
+possible chance of success for him in Helstonleigh; no opening whatever!
+When I say that I hope he will speedily remove to some place less
+overdone with masters, I speak only in his own interest!"</p>
+
+<p>She rang the bell as she spoke, and gave Jane the tips of two of her
+fingers. The footman held open the hall door, and bowed her out. Jane
+went down the gravel sweep, determined never again to trouble Mrs. Dare.</p>
+
+<p>"Joseph!" cried Mrs. Dare, sharply.</p>
+
+<p>"Ma'am?"</p>
+
+<p>"Should that lady ever call again, I am not at home, remember!"</p>
+
+<p>"Very well, ma'am," was the man's reply.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Dare did not stay to hear it. She had flown upstairs to her room in
+trepidation. There she attired herself hastily and went out, bending her
+steps towards Mr. Dare's office. It was situated at the end of the town;
+and the door displayed a brass plate: "Mr. Dare, Solicitor."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Dare entered the outer room. "Is Mr. Dare alone?" she asked of the
+clerks.</p>
+
+<p>"No, ma'am. Mr. Ashley is with him."</p>
+
+<p>Chafing at the answer, for she was in a mood of great impatience, of
+inward tremor, Mrs. Dare waited for a few minutes. Mr. Ashley came out.
+A man of nearly forty years, rather above the middle height, with a
+fresh complexion, dark eyes, and well-formed features. A
+benevolent-looking, good man. His wife was a cousin of Mr. Dare's.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dare was seated at his table in his own room when his wife came in.
+She had turned again of an ashy paleness, and she dropped into a chair
+near to him.</p>
+
+<p>"What is the matter?" he asked in astonishment. "Are you ill?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think I shall die," she gasped. "I have had a mortal fright,
+Anthony."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dare rose. He was about to get her some water, or to call for it,
+but she caught his arm. "Stay, and hear me! Stay! Anthony, those
+Halliburtons have come to Helstonleigh. Come to live here!"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dare's mouth opened. "What Halliburtons?" he presently asked.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>They.</i> He has come here to settle. He wants to teach; and his wife has
+been with me, asking us to be referees. Of course I put the stopper upon
+that. The idea of <i>our</i> having poor relations in the town who get their
+living by teaching!"</p>
+
+<p>A very disagreeable idea indeed; for those who were playing first
+fiddle in the place, and expected to play it still. But not for that did
+the man and wife stand gazing at each other; and the naturally bold look
+on Mr. Dare's face had faded considerably just then.</p>
+
+<p>"She asked about the will," said Mrs. Dare, dropping her voice to a
+whisper, and looking round with a shiver. "I thought I should have died
+with fear."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dare rallied his courage. Any little reminiscence that may have
+momentarily disturbed his equanimity he shook off, and was his own bold
+self again.</p>
+
+<p>"Nonsense, Julia! What is there to fear? The will is proved and acted
+upon. Whatever the old man may have uttered to us in his death ramblings
+was heard by ourselves alone. If any one <i>had</i> heard it, I should not
+much care. A will's a will all the world over; and to act against it
+would be illegal."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Dare sat wiping her brow and gathering up <i>her</i> courage. It came
+back by slow degrees.</p>
+
+<p>"Anthony, we must get them out of Helstonleigh. For more reasons than
+one we must get them out. They are in that house of Mr. Ashley's."</p>
+
+<p>He looked surprised. "They! Ay, to be sure: the name in the books is
+Halliburton. It never occurred to me that it could be they. I wonder if
+they are poor?"</p>
+
+<p>"Very poor, the wife said."</p>
+
+<p>"Just so," said Mr. Dare, with a pleasant smile. "I'll not ask for the
+rent this quarter, but let it go on a bit. We may get them out, Mrs.
+Dare."</p>
+
+<p>You need not be told that Anthony Dare and his wife had omitted to act
+upon Mr. Cooper's dying injunction. At the time they did really intend
+to fulfil it; they were not thieves or forgers. But Edgar Halliburton
+was not present to remind them of his claims: and, when the money came
+to be realised, to be in their own hands, there it was suffered to
+remain. Waiting for him, of course; they did not know precisely where to
+find him, and did not take any trouble to inquire. Very tempting and
+useful they found the money. A large portion of their own share went in
+paying back debts, for they lived at an extravagant rate; and&mdash;and in
+short they had intrenched upon that other share, and could not now have
+paid it over had they been ever so willing to do so. No wonder that Mrs.
+Dare had felt as one in mortal fear when she met Jane Halliburton face
+to face!</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV.</h2>
+
+<h3>A CHRISTMAS DREAM.</h3>
+
+
+
+<p>Winter had come to Helstonleigh: frost hovered in the air and rested on
+the ground. How was Mr. Halliburton? He had never once been out since
+his illness, and he sat by the fire when he did not lie in bed, and his
+cough was racking him. He might, and probably would, have recovered
+health under more favourable auspices, but anxiety of mind was killing
+him. Their money was dwindling to a close, and delicacies they dared not
+get for him. Mr. Halliburton would say he did not require them; could
+not eat them if they were procured. Poor man! he craved for them in his
+inmost heart. Strange to say, he did not see his own danger. Or, rather,
+it would have been strange but that similar cases are met with every
+day. "When this cold weather has passed, and spring is in, then I shall
+get up my strength," was his constant cry. "Then I shall set about my
+work in earnest, and make my arrival and my plans known to Peach. It has
+been of no use troubling him beforehand." False, false hopes! fond,
+delusive hopes!</p>
+
+<p>Dr. Carrington had said that if he <i>took care</i> of himself, he might live
+and be well. The other doctors had said the same. And there was no
+reason to doubt their judgment. But they had not bargained for an attack
+of rheumatic fever, or for the increased injury to the lungs which the
+same cause, that past soaking, had induced.</p>
+
+<p>On Christmas Eve, he and Jane were sitting over the fire in the
+twilight. He could come downstairs now; indeed, he did not appear to be
+so ill as he really was. The surgeon who attended him in the fever had
+been discharged long ago. "There's nothing the matter with me now but
+debility; and, only time will bring me out of that," Mr. Halliburton
+said, when he dismissed him. Jane was hopeful; more hopeful by fits and
+starts than continuously so; but she did really believe he might get
+well when winter had passed. They were sitting beside the fire, when a
+great bustle interrupted them. All the children trooped in at once, with
+the noise it is the delight of children not to stir without. Frank, who
+had been out, had entered the house with his arms full of holly and ivy,
+his bright face glowing with excitement. The others were attending him
+to show off the prize.</p>
+
+<p>"Look at all this Christmas, mamma!" cried he. "I have bought it."</p>
+
+<p>"Bought it?" repeated Jane. "My dear Frank, did I not tell you we must
+do without Christmas this year?"</p>
+
+<p>"But it cost nothing, mamma. Only a penny!"</p>
+
+<p>Jane sighed. She did not say to the children that even a penny was no
+longer "nothing."</p>
+
+<p>"You know that penny I have kept in my pocket a long while," went on
+Frank in excitement, addressing the assemblage. "Well, I thought if
+mamma would not buy some Christmas, I would."</p>
+
+<p>"But you did not buy all that for a penny, Frank? We should pay sixpence
+for it in London."</p>
+
+<p>"I did, though, mamma. I had it of that old man who lives in the cottage
+higher up the road, with the big garden to it. He was going to cut me
+more, but I told him this was plenty. You should have seen the heaps he
+gave a woman for twopence: she wanted a wheelbarrow to carry it away."</p>
+
+<p>Janey clapped her hands, and began to dance. "I shall help you to dress
+the rooms! We must have a merry Christmas!"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Halliburton drew her to him. "Yes, we must have a merry Christmas,
+must we not, Janey? Jane"&mdash;turning to his wife&mdash;"can you manage to have
+a nice dinner for us? Christmas only comes once a year."</p>
+
+<p>He looked up with his haggard face: very much as though he were longing
+for a nice dinner then.</p>
+
+<p>"I will see what I can do," said Jane in reply, smothering down another
+sigh. "I am going out presently to the butcher's. A joint of beef will
+be best; and though the pudding's a plain one, I hope it will be good.
+Yes, we must keep Christmas."</p>
+
+<p>Christmas-day dawned, and in due time they assembled as usual. Jane
+intended to go to church that day. During her husband's illness she had
+been obliged to send the children alone. They had been trained to know
+what church meant, and did not require some one with them to keep them
+in order there. A good thing if the same could be said of all children!</p>
+
+<p>It was a clear, bright morning, cold and frosty. Mr. Halliburton came
+down just as they were starting.</p>
+
+<p>"I feel so much better to-day!" he exclaimed. "I could almost go with
+you myself. Jane"&mdash;smiling at her look of consternation&mdash;"you need not
+be startled: I do not intend to attempt it. William, you are not ready."</p>
+
+<p>"Mamma said I was to stay with you, papa."</p>
+
+<p>"Stay with me! There's not the least necessity for that. I tell you all
+I am feeling better to-day&mdash;quite well. You can go with the rest,
+William."</p>
+
+<p>William looked at his mother, and for a moment Jane hesitated. Only for
+a moment. "I would rather he remained, Edgar," she said. "Betsy will be
+gone by twelve o'clock. Indeed, I should not feel comfortable at the
+thought of your being alone."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, very well," replied Mr. Halliburton, quite gaily. "I suppose you
+must remain, William, or we shall have mamma leaving when the service is
+only half over to see whether I have not fallen into the fire."</p>
+
+<p>Jane had all the household care upon her shoulders now, and a great
+portion of the household work. Though an active domestic manager, she
+had known nothing practically of the more menial work of a house; she
+knew it only too well now. The old saying is a very true one: "Necessity
+makes us acquainted with strange bedfellows." This young girl, Betsy,
+who came in part of each day to assist, was almost as much trouble as
+profit. She had said to Jane on Christmas Eve: "If you please, mother
+says I am to be at home to-morrow, if it's convenient." I am! However,
+Jane and the young lady came to a compromise. She was to go home at
+twelve and come back later to wash up the dishes. Of course it entailed
+upon Jane all the trouble of preparing dinner.</p>
+
+<p>Have you ever known one of these cases yourself? Where a lady&mdash;a lady,
+mind you, as Jane was&mdash;has had to put aside her habits of refinement,
+pin up her gown, and turn to and cook; roast the meat and boil potatoes,
+and all the ether essential items? Many a one is doing it now in real
+life. Jane Halliburton was not a solitary example. The pudding had been
+made the day before and partly boiled: it was now on the fire, boiling
+again, and the rest of the dinner she would do on her return from
+church.</p>
+
+<p>It was something wonderful, the improvement in Mr. Halliburton's health
+that day. He took his part with William in reading the psalms and
+lessons while the rest were at church: it was what he had been unable to
+do for a long time in consequence of his cough and laboured breathing.
+The duty over, he lay back in his chair; in thought apparently, not
+exhaustion.</p>
+
+<p>"Peace on earth, and good will towards men!" he repeated presently, in a
+fervent, but somewhat absent tone. "William, my boy, I think peace must
+be coming to me at last. I do feel so well."</p>
+
+<p>"What peace, papa?" asked William, puzzled.</p>
+
+<p>"The peace of renewed health, of hope; freedom from worry. The Christmas
+season and the bright day have taken away all my despondency. Let me go
+on like this, and in another month I shall be out and at work."</p>
+
+<p>William's eyes sparkled. He fully believed it all. Boys are sanguine.</p>
+
+<p>They were to dine at three o'clock, and Jane did her best to prepare it.
+During the process, Patience appeared at the back door with a plate of
+oranges. "Will thee accept of these for thy children?" asked she.</p>
+
+<p>"How kind you are!" exclaimed Jane, in a grateful impulse, as she
+thought of her children. Of such little treats they had latterly enjoyed
+a scanty share. "Patience, I hope you did not buy them purposely?"</p>
+
+<p>"Had I had to buy them, thee would not have seen them," returned the
+candid Quakeress. "A friend of Samuel Lynn's, who lives at Bristol,
+sends us a small case every winter. When I was unpacking it this morning
+I said to him, 'The young ones at the next door would be pleased with a
+few of these'; but he did not answer. Thee must not think him selfish;
+he is not a selfish man; but he cannot bear to see anything go beside
+the child. Anna looked at him eagerly; she would have been pleased to
+send half the box: and he saw it. 'Take in a few, Patience,' he cried."</p>
+
+<p>"I am much obliged to him, and to you also," repeated Jane. "Patience,
+Mr. Halliburton is so much better to-day! Go in, and see him."</p>
+
+<p>Patience went into the parlour, carrying the oranges with her. When she
+came out again there was a grave expression on her serene face.</p>
+
+<p>"Thee will do well not to count upon this apparent improvement in thy
+husband."</p>
+
+<p>Jane's heart went down considerably. "I do not exactly count upon it,
+Patience," she confessed; "but he does seem to have changed so much for
+the better that I feel in greater spirits than I have felt this many a
+day. His cough seems almost well."</p>
+
+<p>"I do not wish to throw a damp upon thee; still, were I thee, I would
+not reckon upon it. These sudden improvements sometimes turn out to have
+been deceitful. Fare thee well!"</p>
+
+<p>Jane went into the parlour. The children were gathered round the plate
+of oranges. "Mamma, do look!" cried Janey. "Are they not good? There
+are six: one apiece for us all. I wonder if papa could eat one? Gar, you
+are not to touch. Papa, could you eat an orange?"</p>
+
+<p>Unseen by the children, Mr. Halliburton had been straining his eager
+gaze upon the oranges. His mouth parched with inward fever, his throat
+dry, they appeared, coming thus unexpectedly before him, what the
+long-wished-for spring of water is to the fainting traveller in the
+desert. Jane caught the look, and handed the plate to him. "You would
+like one, Edgar?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am thirsty," he said, in tones savouring of apology, for the oranges
+seemed to belong to the children rather than to him. "I think I must eat
+mine before dinner. Cut it into four, will you?"</p>
+
+<p>He took up one of the quarters. "It is delicious!" he exclaimed. "It is
+so refreshing!"</p>
+
+<p>The children stood around and watched him. They enjoyed oranges, but
+scarcely with a zest so intense as that.</p>
+
+<p>When Jane returned to the kitchen, she found a helpmate. The maid from
+next door, Grace, a young Quakeress, fair and demure, was standing
+there. She had been sent by Patience to do what she could for half an
+hour. "How considerate she is!" thought grateful Jane.</p>
+
+<p>They dined in comfort, Grace waiting on them. Afterwards the oranges
+were placed upon the table. Master Gar caught up the plate, and
+presented it to his mother. "Papa has had his," quoth he.</p>
+
+<p>"Not for me, Gar," said Jane. "I do not eat oranges. I will give mine to
+papa."</p>
+
+<p>The three younger children speedily attacked theirs. William did not. He
+left his by the side of the one rejected by his mother, and set the
+plate by Mr. Halliburton.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you intend these for me, William?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, papa."</p>
+
+<p>Frank looked surprised. "William, you don't mean to say you are not
+going to eat your orange? Why, you were as glad as any of us when they
+came."</p>
+
+<p>"I eat oranges when I want them," observed William, with an affectation
+of carelessness, which betrayed a delicacy of feeling that might have
+done honour to one older than he. "I have had too good a dinner to care
+about oranges."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Halliburton drew William towards him, and looked steadfastly into
+his face with a meaning smile. "Thank you, my darling," he whispered:
+and William coloured excessively as he sat down.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Halliburton ate the oranges, and appeared as if he could have eaten
+as many more. Then he leaned his head back on the pillow which was
+placed over his chair, and presently fell asleep.</p>
+
+<p>"Be very still, dear children," whispered Jane.</p>
+
+<p>They looked round, saw why they were to be still, and hushed their busy
+voices. William pulled a stool to his mother's feet, and took his seat
+on it, holding her hand between his.</p>
+
+<p>"Papa will soon be well again now," he softly said. "Don't you think so,
+mamma?"</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed I hope he will," she answered.</p>
+
+<p>"But don't you <i>think</i> it?" he persisted; and Jane detected an anxiety
+in his tone. Could there have been a shadow of fear upon the boy's own
+heart? "He said mamma, whilst you were at church, that in another month
+he should be strong again."</p>
+
+<p>"Not quite so soon as that, I fear, William. He has been so much
+reduced, you know. Later: if he goes on as well as he appears to be
+going on now."</p>
+
+<p>Jane set the children to that renowned game. "Cross questions and
+crooked answers." You may have had the pleasure of playing it: if so,
+you will remember that it consists chiefly of whispering. It is
+difficult to keep children quiet long together.</p>
+
+<p>"Where am I?" cried a sudden voice, startling the children in the midst
+of their silent whispers.</p>
+
+<p>It came from Mr. Halliburton. He had slept about half an hour, and was
+now looking round in bewilderment, his head starting away from the
+pillow. "Where am I?" he repeated.</p>
+
+<p>"You have been asleep, papa," cried Frank.</p>
+
+<p>"Asleep! Oh, yes! I remember. You are all here, and it is Christmas
+Day. I have been dreaming."</p>
+
+<p>"What about, papa?"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Halliburton let his head fall back on the pillow again. He fixed his
+eyes on vacancy, and there ensued a silence. The children looked at him.</p>
+
+<p>"Singular things are dreams," he presently exclaimed. "I thought I was
+on a broad, wide road&mdash;an immense road, and it was crowded with people.
+We were all going one way, stumbling and tripping along&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"What made you stumble, papa?" interrupted Janey, whose busy tongue was
+ever ready to talk.</p>
+
+<p>"The road was full of impediments," continued Mr. Halliburton, in a
+dreamy tone, as if his mental vision were buried in the scene and he was
+relating what had actually occurred. "Stones, and hillocks, and
+brambles, and pools of shallow water, and long grass that got entangled
+round our feet: nothing but difficulties and hindrances. At the end, in
+the horizon, as far as the eye could reach&mdash;very, very far away
+indeed&mdash;a hundred times as far away as the Malvern Hills appear to be
+from us&mdash;there shone a brilliant light. So brilliant! You have never
+seen anything like it in life, for the naked eye could not bear such
+light. And yet we seemed to look at it, and our sight was not dazzled!"</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps it was fireworks?" interrupted Gar. Mr. Halliburton went on
+without heeding him.</p>
+
+<p>"We were all pressing on to get to the light, though the distant journey
+seemed as if it could never end. So long as we kept our eyes fixed on
+the light, we could see how we walked, and we passed over the rough
+places without fear. Not without difficulty. But still we did pass them,
+and advanced. But the moment we took our eyes from the light, then we
+were stopped; some fell; some wandered aside, and would not try to go
+forward; some were torn by the brambles; some fell into the water; some
+stuck in the mud; in short, they could not get on any way. And yet they
+knew&mdash;at least, it seemed that they knew&mdash;that if they would only lift
+their eyes to the light, and keep them steadfastly on it, they were
+certain to be helped, and to make progress. The few who did keep their
+eyes on it&mdash;very few they were!&mdash;steadily bore onwards. The same
+hindrances, the same difficulties were in their path, so that at times
+they also felt tempted to despair&mdash;to fear they could not get on. But
+their fears were groundless. So long as they did not take their eyes
+from the light, it guided them in certainty and safety over the rough
+places. It was a helper that could not fail; and it was ready to guide
+every one&mdash;all those millions and millions of travellers. To guide them
+throughout the whole of the way until they had gained it."</p>
+
+<p>The children had become interested and were listening with hushed lips.
+"Why did they not all let it guide them?" breathlessly asked William.
+"Nothing can be more easy than to keep our eyes on a light that does
+not dazzle. What did you do, papa?"</p>
+
+<p>"It seemed that the light would only shine on one step at a time,"
+continued Mr. Halliburton, not in answer to William, but evidently
+absorbed in his own thoughts. "We could not see further than the one
+step, but that was sufficient; for the moment we had taken it, then the
+light shone upon another. And so we passed on, progressing to the end,
+the light seeming brighter and brighter as we drew near to it."</p>
+
+<p>"Did you get to it, papa?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am trying to recollect, William. I seemed to be quite close to it. I
+suppose I awoke then."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Halliburton paused, still in thought: but he said no more. Presently
+he turned to his wife. "Is it nearly tea-time, Jane? I cannot think what
+makes me so thirsty."</p>
+
+<p>"We can have tea now, if you like," she replied. "I will go and see
+about it."</p>
+
+<p>She left the room, and Janey ran after her. In the kitchen, making a
+great show and parade of being at work amidst plates and dishes, was a
+damsel of fifteen, her hair curiously twisted about her head, and her
+round, green eyes wide open. It was Betsy.</p>
+
+<p>"That was good pudding," cried she, turning her face to Mrs.
+Halliburton. "Better than mother's."</p>
+
+<p>She alluded to a slice which had been given her. Jane smiled. "We want
+tea, Betsy."</p>
+
+<p>"Have it in directly, mum," was Miss Betsy's acquiescent response.</p>
+
+<p>Scarcely were the words spoken, when a commotion was heard in the
+sitting-room. The door was flung open, and the boys called out, the tone
+of their voices one of utter alarm. Jane, the child, and the maid, made
+but one step to the room. All Jane's fears had flown to "fire."</p>
+
+<p>Fire had been almost less startling. Mr. Halliburton was lying back on
+the pillow with a ghastly face, his mouth, and shirt-front stained with
+blood. He could not speak, but he asked assistance with his imploring
+eyes. In coughing he had broken a blood-vessel.</p>
+
+<p>Jane did not faint; did not scream. Her whole heart turned sick, and she
+felt that the end had come. Janey sank down on the floor with a faint
+cry, and hid her face on the sofa. One glimpse was sufficient for Betsy.
+The moment she had taken it, she subsided into a succession of shrieks;
+flew out of the house and burst into that of Mr. Lynn. There she
+terrified the sober family by announcing that Mr. Halliburton was lying
+with his throat cut.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Lynn and Patience hurried in, ordering Anna to remain where she was.
+They saw what was the matter, and placed him in a better position:
+Patience helping Mrs. Halliburton to sponge his face.</p>
+
+<p>"Shall I get the doctor for thee, friend?" asked the Quaker of Jane. "I
+shall bring him quicker, maybe, than one of thy lads would."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! yes, yes!"</p>
+
+<p>"I warned thee not to be sanguine," whispered Patience, when Mr. Lynn
+had gone. "I feared it might be only the deceitfulness of the ending."</p>
+
+<p>The ending! what a confirmation of Jane's own fears! She turned her eyes
+despairingly on Patience.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Halliburton opened his trembling lips, as though he would have
+spoken. Patience stopped him.</p>
+
+<p>"Thee must not talk, friend. If thee hast need of anything, can thee not
+make a sign?"</p>
+
+<p>He gave them to understand that he wanted water. This was given to him,
+and he appeared to be more composed.</p>
+
+<p>"There is nothing else that I can do just now," observed Patience. "I
+will go back and take thy little girl with me. See her, hiding there!"</p>
+
+<p>Patience did so. Betsy cowered over the fire in the kitchen, and the
+three boys and their mother stood round the dying man.</p>
+
+<p>"Children!" he gasped.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Edgar! do not speak!" interrupted Jane.</p>
+
+<p>He smiled as he looked at her, very much as though he knew that it did
+not matter whether he spoke or remained silent. "I am at the journey's
+end, Jane; close to the light. Children," he panted at slow intervals,
+"when I told you my dream, I little thought it was only a type of the
+present reality. I think it was sent to me that I might tell it you, for
+I now see its meaning. You are travelling on to that light, as I thought
+I was&mdash;as I have been. You will have the same stumbling-blocks to walk
+over; none are exempt from them; trials, and temptations, and sorrows,
+and drawbacks. But the light is there, ever shining to guide you, for it
+is Heaven. Will you always look up to it?"</p>
+
+<p>He gathered their hands together, and held them between his. The boys,
+awe-struck, bewildered with terror and grief, could only gaze in silence
+and listen.</p>
+
+<p>"The light is God, my children. He is above you, and below you, and
+round about you everywhere. He is ready to help you at every step and
+turn. Make Him your guide; put your whole dependence upon Him,
+implicitly trust to Him to lighten your path, so that you may see to
+walk in it. He cannot fail. Look up to Him, and you will be unerringly
+guided, though it may be&mdash;though it probably will be&mdash;only step by step.
+Never lose your trust in God, and then rest assured He will conduct you
+to His own bright ending. Jane, let them take it to their hearts! May
+God bless you, my dear ones! and bring you to me hereafter!"</p>
+
+<p>He ceased, and lay exhausted; his eyes fondly seeking Jane's, her hand
+clasped in his. Jane's own eyes were dry and burning, and she appeared
+to be unnaturally calm. Gradually the fading eyes closed. In a very
+short time the knock of Samuel Lynn was heard at the door. He had
+brought the doctor. William, passing his handkerchief over his wet face,
+went to open it.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Parry stepped into the room, and Jane moved from beside her husband
+to give place to him. "He sighed heavily a minute or two ago," she
+whispered.</p>
+
+<p>The surgeon looked at him. He bent his ear to the open mouth, and then
+gently unbuttoned the waistcoat, and listened for the beating of the
+heart. "His life passed away in that sigh," murmured the doctor to Jane.</p>
+
+<p>It was even so. Edgar Halliburton had gone into the light.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE FUNERAL.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Jane looked around her&mdash;looked at all the terrors of her situation. The
+first burst of grief over, and a day or two gone on, she could only look
+at it. She did not know which way to turn or what to do. It is true she
+placed implicit trust in God&mdash;in the LIGHT spoken of by her husband when
+he was passing away. Throughout her life she had borne an ever-present,
+lively trust in God's unchanging care; and she had incessantly striven
+to implant the same trust in the minds of her children. But in this
+season of dread anxiety, of hopeless bereavement, you will not think
+less well of her for hearing that she did give way to despondency,
+almost to despair.</p>
+
+<p>From tears for him who had been the dear partner of her life, to anxiety
+for the future of his children&mdash;from anxiety for them, to pecuniary
+distress and embarrassment&mdash;so passed on her hours from Christmas night.
+Calm she had contrived to be in the presence of others; but it was the
+calm of an aching heart. She dreaded her own reflections. When she rose
+in the morning she said, "How shall I bear up through the day?" and when
+she went to her bed, it would be, "How shall I drag through the right?"
+Tossing, turning, moaning; walking the room in the darkness when no eye
+was upon her; kneeling, almost without hope, to pour forth her
+tribulations to God&mdash;who would believe that, in the daytime, before
+others, she could be so apparently serene? Only once did she give way,
+and that was the day before the funeral.</p>
+
+<p>Patience sympathised with her in a reasoning sort of way. It had been
+next to impossible for Jane to keep her pecuniary anxiety from Patience,
+who advised and assisted her in making the various arrangements. It was
+necessary to go to work in the most sparing manner possible; and it
+ended in Jane's taking Patience into her full confidence.</p>
+
+<p>"If thee can but keep a house over thy head, so as to retain thy
+children with thee, thee wilt get along. Do not be cast down."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Patience, that is what I have been thinking about&mdash;how am I to keep
+the house together. I do not see that I can do it."</p>
+
+<p>"The furniture is thine," observed Patience. "Thee might let two or
+three of thy rooms, so as to cover the rent."</p>
+
+<p>"I have thought all that over and over again to myself," sighed Jane.
+"But, Patience&mdash;allowing that the rent were made in that way&mdash;how are we
+to live?"</p>
+
+<p>"Thee must occupy thy time in some way. Thee can sew! Dost thee know
+dress-making?"</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;only sufficient of it to make my own plain gowns and Jane's frocks.
+As to plain sewing, I could never earn food at it&mdash;it is so badly paid.
+And there will be the education of my boys, and their clothing."</p>
+
+<p>"Thee hast anxiety before thee&mdash;I see it," said Patience, in a grave
+tone. "Still, I would not have thee be cast down. Thee will make thyself
+ill, and that will not be the way to mend thy condition."</p>
+
+<p>Jane sat down, her hands clasped on her knees, her mind viewing her dark
+troubles. "If I were but clear, I should have better hope," she said,
+lifting her face in its sad sorrow. "Patience, we owe half a year's
+rent; and there will be the funeral expenses besides."</p>
+
+<p>"Hast thee no kindred that would aid thee in thy strait?"</p>
+
+<p>Jane shook her head. The only "kindred" she possessed in the whole world
+was one who had barely enough for his own poor wants&mdash;her brother
+Francis.</p>
+
+<p>"Hast thee no little property to dispose of?" continued Patience.
+"Watches, or things of that kind?"</p>
+
+<p>There was her husband's watch. But Jane's pale face crimsoned at the
+idea of parting with it in that manner. It was a good watch, and had
+long ago been promised to William.</p>
+
+<p>"I can understand thy flush of aversion," said Patience, kindly. "I
+would not be the one to suggest aught to hurt thy feelings; but thy
+necessities may leave no alternative."</p>
+
+<p>A conviction that they would leave none was already stealing over Jane.
+She possessed a few trinkets herself, not of much value, and a little
+silver. All might have to go, not excepting the watch. "Would there be a
+difficulty in disposing of them, Patience?" she asked aloud.</p>
+
+<p>"None at all: there is the pawn-shop," said the plain-speaking
+Quakeress. "I do not know what many would do without it. I can tell thee
+that some of the great ones of this city send their plate to it on
+occasion. Thee would not like to go to such a place thyself, but thy
+servant's mother, Elizabeth Carter, is a discreet woman: she would
+render thee this little service. As I tell thee, if thee can only
+surmount present difficulties, so as to secure a start, thee may get
+on."</p>
+
+<p>Surmount present difficulties! It seemed to Jane next door to an
+impossibility. She had the merest trifle of money left, was in debt, and
+without means, so far as she saw, of earning even food. She paid her
+last night visit to the room which contained the coffin, and went thence
+up to her bed, to toss the night through on her wet pillow, with a
+burning brow and an aching heart.</p>
+
+<p>It was a sad funeral to see, and one of the plainest of the plain. The
+clerk of the church, who had condescended to come up to escort it&mdash;a
+condescension he did not often vouchsafe to poor funerals, for they
+afforded nothing good to eat and drink&mdash;walked first, without a hatband.
+Then came the coffin, covered with a pall, and William and Frank behind
+it. Jane had not sent Gar, poor little fellow! She thought he might be
+better away. That was all; there were no attendants: the clerk, the two
+boys, the coffin, and the men who bore it.</p>
+
+<p>It was sad to see. The people stopped to look as it went along the
+streets, following with their eyes the poor fatherless children. One
+young man stood aside, raised his hat, and held it in his hand until the
+coffin had passed. But the young man had lived in foreign countries,
+where it is the custom to remain uncovered whilst a funeral goes by.</p>
+
+<p>He was buried at St. Martin's Church; and, singular to say, the
+officiating minister was the Rev. Mr. Peach. Mr. Peach did not know who
+he was interring: he had taken the service for St. Martin's rector.
+William heard his name: how many times had he heard his poor father
+mention the name in connection with his hopeful prospects! He burst into
+wailing sobs at the thought. Mr. Peach glanced off his book to look
+compassionately at the sobbing boy.</p>
+
+<p>The funeral was over, the last word of the service spoken, the first
+shovel of earth flung rattling on to the coffin. The clerk did not pay
+the compliment of his escort back again; indeed, there was nothing to
+escort but the two boys. They walked alone, with no company but their
+hatbands.</p>
+
+<p>In the evening, at dusk, they were gathered together&mdash;Jane and all the
+children. Tears seemed to have a respite: they had been shed of late all
+too plentifully.</p>
+
+<p>"I must speak to you, children," said Jane, lifting her head, and
+breaking the silence. "I may as well speak now, as let the days go on
+first. You are young, but you are old enough to understand me. Do you
+know, my darlings, how very sad our position is?"</p>
+
+<p>"In losing papa?" said Janey, catching her breath.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, yes, in losing him," wailed Jane. "For that includes more than you
+suspect. But I wish to allude more particularly to the future. My dears,
+I do not see what is to become of us. We have no money; and we have no
+one to give us any or to lend us any; no one in the wide world."</p>
+
+<p>The children did not interrupt; only William moved his chair nearer to
+hers. She looked so young in her widow's cap: nearly as young as when,
+years ago, she had married him who had that day been put out of her
+sight for ever.</p>
+
+<p>"If we can only keep a roof over our heads," continued Jane, speaking
+very softly from the effort to subdue her threatening emotion, "we may
+perhaps struggle on. Perhaps. But it will be <i>struggling</i>; and you do
+not know half that the word implies. We may not have enough to eat. We
+may be cold and hungry&mdash;not once, but constantly; and we shall certainly
+have to encounter and endure the slights and humiliations attendant on
+extreme poverty. I do not know that we can retain a home; for we may, in
+a week or two, be turned from this."</p>
+
+<p>"But why be turned from this, mamma?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because there is rent owing, and I have not the means to pay it," she
+answered. "I have written to your uncle Francis, but I do not believe he
+will be able to help me. He&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Why can't we go back to London to live?" eagerly interrupted little
+Gar. "It was so nice there! It was a better home than this."</p>
+
+<p>"You forget, Gar, that&mdash;that&mdash;&mdash;" here she almost broke down, and had to
+pause a minute&mdash;"that our income there was earned by papa. He would not
+be there to earn it now. No, my dear ones; I have thought the future
+over in every way&mdash;thought until my brain has become confused&mdash;and the
+only possible chance that I can see, of our surmounting difficulties, so
+as to enable us to exist, is by endeavouring to keep this home. Patience
+suggests that I should let part of it. I had already thought of that;
+and I shall endeavour to do so. It may cover the rent and taxes. And I
+must try and do something else that will find us food."</p>
+
+<p>The children looked perfectly thunderstruck, especially the two elder
+ones, William and Jane. "Do something to find food!" they uttered,
+aghast. "Mamma, what do you mean?"</p>
+
+<p>It is so difficult to make children understand these unhappy
+things&mdash;those who have been brought up in comfort. Jane sighed, and
+explained further. Little desolate hearts they were who listened to her.</p>
+
+
+<p>"William," she resumed, "your poor papa's watch was to have been yours;
+but&mdash;I scarcely like to tell you&mdash;I fear I shall be obliged to dispose
+of it to help our necessities."</p>
+
+<p>A spasm shot across William's face. But, brave-hearted boy that he was,
+he would not let his mother see his disappointment, and looked
+cheerfully at her.</p>
+
+<p>"There is one thought that weighs more heavily on my mind than all&mdash;your
+education. How I shall manage to continue it I do not know. My darlings,
+I look upon this only in a degree less essential to you than food: you
+know that learning is better than house and land. I do not yet see my
+way clear in any way: it is very dark&mdash;almost as dark as it can be; and
+but for one Friend, I should despair."</p>
+
+<p>"What friend is that, mamma? Do you mean Patience?"</p>
+
+<p>"I mean God," replied Jane. "I know that He is a sure refuge to those
+who trust in Him. In my saddest moments, when I think how certain that
+refuge is, a ray of light flashes over me, bright as that glorious light
+in your papa's dream. Oh, my dear children! Perhaps we shall be helped
+to struggle on!"</p>
+
+<p>"Who will buy us new clothes?" cried Frank, dropping upon another phase
+of the difficulty. Jane sighed: it was all terribly indistinct.</p>
+
+<p>"In all the tribulation that will probably come upon us, the
+humiliations, the necessities, we must strive for patience to bear them.
+You do not yet understand the meaning of the term, <i>to bear</i>; but you
+will learn it all too soon. You must bear not only for your own sakes,
+because it is your lot, and you cannot go from it; not only for mine,
+but chiefly because it is the will of God. This affliction could not
+have come upon us unless God had permitted it, and I am quite sure,
+therefore, that it is in some way sent for our good. We shall not be
+utterly miserable if we can keep together in our house. You will aid me
+in it, will you not?"</p>
+
+<p>"In what way, mamma?" they eagerly asked, as if wishing to begin
+something then. "What can we do?"</p>
+
+<p>"You can aid me by being dutiful and obedient; by giving me no
+unnecessary anxiety or trouble; by cheerfully making the best of our
+privations; and you can strive to retain what you have already learnt by
+going diligently over your lessons together. All this will aid and
+comfort me."</p>
+
+<p>William's tears burst forth, and he laid his head on his mother's lap.
+"Oh, mamma dear, I will try and do for you all I can," he sobbed. "I
+will indeed."</p>
+
+<p>"Take comfort, my boy," she whispered, leaning tenderly over him.
+"Remember that your last act to your father was a loving sacrifice, in
+giving to him the orange that you would have enjoyed. I marked it,
+William. My darling children, let us all strive to bear on steadfastly
+to that far-off light, ever looking unto God."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI.</h2>
+
+<h3>TROUBLE.</h3>
+
+
+<p>A week elapsed, after the burial of Mr. Halliburton. By that time Jane
+had looked fully into the best and worst of her condition, and had, so
+to say, organised her plans. By the disposal of the watch, with what
+little silver they possessed, and ornaments of her own, she had been
+enabled to discharge the expenses of the funeral and other small debts,
+and to retain a trifle in hand for present wants.</p>
+
+<p>On the last day of the week, Saturday, she received an application for
+the rent. A stylish-looking stripling of some nineteen years, with light
+eyes and fair hair, called from Mr. Dare to demand it. Jane told him she
+could not pay him then, but would write and explain to Mr. Dare. Upon
+which the gentleman, whose manners were haughtily condescending, turned
+on his heel and left the house, not deigning to say good morning. As he
+was swinging out at the gate, Patience, coming home from market with a
+basket in her hand, met him. "How dost thee?" said she in salutation.
+But there was no response from the other, except that his head went a
+shade higher.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know who that is?" inquired Jane, afterwards.</p>
+
+<p>"Of a surety. It is young Anthony Dare."</p>
+
+<p>"He has not pleasing manners."</p>
+
+<p>"Not to us. There is not a more arrogant youth in the town. But his
+private character is not well spoken of."</p>
+
+<p>Jane sat down to write to Mr. Dare. Her brother Francis, to whom she had
+explained her situation, had promised her the rent for the half-year
+due, sixteen pounds, by the middle of February. He could not let her
+have it before that period, he said, but she might positively count upon
+it then. She begged Mr. Dare to accord her the favour of waiting until
+then. Sealing her note, she sent it to him.</p>
+
+<p>On the Monday following, all was in readiness to <i>let</i>; and Jane was
+full of hope, looking for the advent of lodgers. The best parlour and
+the two best bedrooms had been vacated, and were in order. Jane slept
+now with her little girl, and the boys had mattresses laid down for them
+on the floor at the top of the house. They were to make the study their
+sitting-room from henceforth; and a card in the window displayed the
+announcement "Lodgings." The more modern word "apartments" had not then
+come into fashion at Helstonleigh.</p>
+
+<p>Patience came in after breakfast with a piece of grey merino in her
+hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Would thee like to make a frock for Anna?" asked she of Mrs.
+Halliburton. "Sarah Locke does them for her mostly, for it is work that
+I am not clever at; but Sarah sends me word she is too full of work this
+week to undertake it. I heard thee say thee made Janey's frocks. If thee
+can do this, and earn half-a-crown, thee art welcome. It is what I
+should pay Sarah."</p>
+
+<p>Jane took the merino in thankfulness. It was as a ray of hope, come to
+light up her heart. Only the instant before Patience entered she was
+wishing that something could arrive for her to do, never supposing that
+it would arrive. And now it had come!&mdash;and would bring her in
+two-and-sixpence! "Two-and-sixpence!" we may feel inclined to echo, in
+undisguised contempt for the trifle. Ay! but we may never have known the
+yearning want of two-and-sixpence, or of ten-and-sixpence either!</p>
+
+<p>Jane cut out the skirt by a pattern frock, and sat down to make it, her
+mind ruminating on the future. The children were at their lessons, round
+the table. "I have just two pounds seventeen and sixpence left,"
+deliberated Jane. "This half-crown will make it three pounds. I wonder
+how long we can live upon that? We have good clothes, and for the
+present the boys' boots are good. If I can let the rooms we shall have
+the rent, so that food is the chief thing to look to. We must spin the
+money out; must live upon bread and potatoes and a little milk, until
+something comes in. I wonder if five shillings a week would pay for bare
+food, and for coals? I fear&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Jane's dreams were interrupted. The front gate was swung open, and two
+people, men or gentlemen, approached the house door and knocked. Their
+movements were so quick that Jane caught only a glimpse of them. "See
+who it is, will you, William?"</p>
+
+<p>She heard them walk in and ask if she was at home. Putting down her
+work, she shook the threads from her black dress and went out to them,
+William returning to his lessons.</p>
+
+<p>The visitors were standing in the passage&mdash;one well-dressed man and one
+shabby one. The former made a civil demand for the half-year's rent due.
+Jane replied that she had written to Mr. Dare on the previous Saturday,
+explaining things to him, and asking him to wait a short time.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Dare cannot wait," was the rejoinder of the applicant, still
+speaking civilly. "You must allow me to remark, ma'am, that you are
+strangers to the town, that you have paid no rent since you entered the
+house&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"We believed it was the custom to pay half-yearly, as Mr. Dare did not
+apply for it at the Michaelmas quarter," interrupted Jane. "We should
+have paid then, had he asked for it."</p>
+
+<p>"At any rate, it is not paid," was the reply. "And&mdash;I am sorry, ma'am,
+to be under the necessity of leaving this man in possession until you do
+pay!"</p>
+
+<p>They walked deliberately into the best parlour; and Jane, amidst a
+rushing feeling of despair that turned her heart to sickness, knew that
+a seizure had been put into the house.</p>
+
+<p>As she stood in her bewilderment, Patience entered by the back door, the
+way she always did enter, and caught a glimpse of the shabby man. She
+drew Jane into the kitchen.</p>
+
+<p>"What does that man do here?" she inquired.</p>
+
+<p>For answer Jane sank into a chair and burst into sobs so violent as to
+surprise the calm Quakeress. She turned and shut the door.</p>
+
+<p>"Hush thee! Now hush thee! Thy children will hear and be terrified. Art
+thee behind with thy taxes?"</p>
+
+<p>For some minutes Jane could not reply. "Not for taxes," she said; "they
+are paid. Mr. Dare has put him in for the rent."</p>
+
+<p>Patience revolved the news in considerable astonishment. "Nay, but I
+think thee must be in error. Thomas Ashley would not do such a thing."</p>
+
+<p>"He has done it," sobbed Jane.</p>
+
+<p>"It is not in accordance with his character. He is a humane and
+considerate man. Verily I grieve for thee! That man is not an agreeable
+inmate of a house. We had him in ours last year!"</p>
+
+<p>"You!" uttered Jane, surprise penetrating even to her own grief. "You!"</p>
+
+<p>"They force us to pay church-rates," explained Patience. "We have a
+scruple to do so, believing the call unjust. For years Samuel Lynn had
+paid the claim to avert consequences; but last year he and many more
+Friends stood out against it. The result was, that that man, now in thy
+parlour, was put into our house. The amount claimed was one pound nine
+shillings; and they took out of our house, and sold, goods which had
+cost us eleven pounds, and which were equal to new."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Patience, tell me what I had better do!" implored Jane, reverting
+to her own trouble. "If we are turned out and our things sold, we must
+go to the workhouse. We cannot be in the streets."</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed, I feel incompetent to advise thee. Had thee not better see
+Anthony Dare, and try thy persuasion that he would remove the seizure
+and wait?"</p>
+
+<p>"I will go to him at once," feverishly returned Jane. "You will allow
+Janey to remain with you, Patience, while I do so?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of a surety I will. She&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>At that moment the children burst into the kitchen, one after the other.
+"Mamma, who is that shabby-looking man come into the study? He has
+seated himself right in front of the fire, and is knocking it about. And
+the other is looking at the tables and chairs."</p>
+
+<p>It was Frank who spoke; impetuous</p>
+
+<p>Frank. Mrs. Halliburton cast a despairing look around her, and Patience
+drew their attention.</p>
+
+<p>"That man is here on business," she said to them. "You must not be rude
+to him, or he will be ten times more rude to you. The other will soon be
+gone. Your mother is going abroad for an hour; perhaps when she returns
+she will rid the house of him. Jane, child, thee can come with me and
+take thy dinner with Anna."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Halliburton waited until the better-looking of the two men was
+gone, and then started. It was a raw, cold day&mdash;what some people call a
+black frost. Black and gloomy it all looked to her, outwardly and
+inwardly, as she traversed the streets to the office of Mr. Dare.
+Patience had directed her, and the plate on the door, "Mr. Dare,
+Solicitor," showed her the right house. She stepped inside that door,
+which stood open, and knocked at one to the right of the passage.
+"Clerks' Room" was inscribed upon it.</p>
+
+<p>"Come in."</p>
+
+<p>Three or four clerks were in it. In one of them she recognized him who
+had just left her house. The other clerks appeared to defer to him, and
+called him "Mr. Stubbs." Jane, giving her name, said she wished to see
+Mr. Dare, and the request was conveyed to an inner room. It brought
+forth young Anthony.</p>
+
+<p>"My father is busy and cannot see you," was his salutation. "I can hear
+anything you may have to say. It will be the same thing."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you," replied Jane, in courteous tones, very different from his.
+"But I would prefer to see Mr. Dare."</p>
+
+<p>"He is engaged, I say," sharply repeated Anthony.</p>
+
+<p>"I will wait, then. I must see him."</p>
+
+<p>Anthony Dare stalked back again. Jane, seeing a bench against the wall,
+sat down. It was about half-past twelve when she arrived there, and when
+the clock struck two, there she was still. Several clients, during that
+time, had come and gone; <i>they</i> were admitted to Mr. Dare, but she sat
+on, neglected. At two o'clock Anthony came through the room with his hat
+on. He appeared to be going out.</p>
+
+<p>"What! are you here still?" he exclaimed, in genuine or affected
+surprise; never, in his ill-manners, removing his hat&mdash;he of whom it was
+his delight to hear it said that he was the most complete gentleman in
+Helstonleigh. "I assure you it is not of the least use your waiting. Mr.
+Dare will not be able to see you."</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Dare can surely spare me a minute when he has done with others."</p>
+
+<p>"He cannot to-day. Can you not say to me what you want to say?"</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed I must see Mr. Dare himself. I will wait on, if you will allow
+me, hoping to do so."</p>
+
+<p>Anthony Dare vouchsafed no reply, and went out. One or two of the clerks
+looked round. They appeared not to understand why she sat on so
+persistently, or why Mr. Dare refused to see her.</p>
+
+<p>In about an hour's time the inner door opened. A tall man, with a bold,
+free countenance, looked into the room. Supposing it to be Mr. Dare,
+Jane rose and approached him. "Will you allow me a few minutes'
+conversation?" she asked. "I presume you are Mr. Dare?"</p>
+
+<p>He put up his hands as if to fence her off. "I have no time, I have no
+time," he reiterated, and shut the door in her face. Jane sat down again
+on the bench. "Stubbs, I want you," came forth from Mr. Dare's voice, as
+he opened the door an inch to speak it.</p>
+
+<p>Stubbs went in, remained a few minutes, and then returned, put on his
+hat, and walked out. His departure was the signal for considerable
+relaxation in the office duties. "When the cat's away&mdash;" you know the
+rest. Yawning, stretching, whispering, and laughing supervened. One of
+the clerks took from his pocket a paper of the biscuits called "Union"
+in Helstonleigh, and began eating them. Another pulled out a bottle, and
+solaced himself with some of its contents&mdash;whatever they might be.
+Suddenly the man with the biscuits got off his stool, and offered them
+to Mrs. Halliburton. Her pale, sad face may have prompted his good
+nature to the act.</p>
+
+<p>"You have waited a good while, ma'am, and perhaps have lost your dinner
+through it," he said.</p>
+
+<p>Jane took one of them. "You are very kind. Thank you," she faintly said.</p>
+
+<p>But not a crumb of it could she swallow. She had taken a slice of dry
+toast for her breakfast that morning, with half a cup of milk; and it
+was long since she had had a sufficiency of food at any meal. She felt
+weak, sick, faint; but anxiety and suspense were at work within,
+parching her throat, destroying her appetite. She held the biscuit in
+her fingers, resting on her lap, and, in spite of her efforts, the
+rebellious tears forced themselves to her eyes. Raising her hand, she
+quietly let fall her widow's veil.</p>
+
+<p>A poor-looking man came in, and counted out eight shillings, laying them
+upon the desk. "I couldn't make up the other two this week; I couldn't,
+indeed," he said, with trembling eagerness. "I'll bring twelve next
+week, please to say."</p>
+
+<p>"Mind you do," responded one of the clerks; "or you know what will be in
+store for you."</p>
+
+<p>The man shook his head. He probably did know; and, in going out, was
+nearly knocked over by a handsome lad of seventeen, who was running in.
+Very handsome were his features; but they were marred by the free
+expression which characterized Mr. Dare's.</p>
+
+<p>"I say, is the governor in?" cried he, out of breath.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir. Lord Hawkesley's with him."</p>
+
+<p>"The deuce take Lord Hawkesley, then!" returned the young gentleman.
+"Where's Stubbs? I want my week's money, and I can't wait. Walker, I
+say, where's Stubbs?"</p>
+
+<p>"Stubbs is gone out, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"What a bother! Halloa! Here's some money! What is this?" continued the
+speaker, catching up the eight shillings.</p>
+
+<p>"It is some that has just been paid in, Master Herbert."</p>
+
+<p>"That's all right then," said he, slipping five of them into his jacket
+pocket. "Tell Stubbs to put it down as my week's money."</p>
+
+<p>He tore off. Jane sat on, wondering what she was to do. There appeared
+to be little probability that she would be admitted to Mr. Dare; and
+yet, how could she go home as she came&mdash;hopeless&mdash;to the presence of
+that man? No; she must wait still; wait until the last. She might catch
+a word with Mr. Dare as he was leaving. Jane could not help thinking his
+behaviour very bad in refusing to see her.</p>
+
+<p>The office was being lighted when Mr. Stubbs returned. One of the clerks
+pointed to the three shillings with his pen. "Kinnersley has brought
+eight shillings. He will make it twelve next week. Couldn't manage the
+ten this, he says."</p>
+
+<p>"Where are the eight shillings?" asked Stubbs. "I see only three."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Master Herbert came in, and took off five. He said you were to put
+it down as his week's money."</p>
+
+<p>"He'll take a little too much some day, if he's not checked," was the
+cynical reply of the senior clerk. "However, it's no business of mine."</p>
+
+<p>He put the three shillings into his own desk, and made an entry in a
+book. After that he went in to Mr. Dare, who was now alone. A large
+room, handsomely fitted up. Mr. Dare's table was near one of the
+windows: a desk, at which Anthony sometimes sat, was at the other. Mr.
+Dare looked up.</p>
+
+<p>"I could not do anything, sir," said Stubbs. "The other party will
+listen to no proposal at all. They say they'll throw it into Chancery
+first. An awful rage they are in."</p>
+
+<p>"Tush!" said Mr. Dare. "Chancery, indeed! They'll tell another tale in a
+day or two. Has Kinnersley been in?"</p>
+
+<p>"Kinnersley has brought eight shillings, and promises to bring twelve
+next Monday. Master Herbert carried off five of them, and left word it
+was for his week's money."</p>
+
+<p>"A smart blade!" cried Mr. Dare, apostrophizing his son with personal
+pride. "'Take it when I can,' is his motto. He'll make a good lawyer,
+Stubbs."</p>
+
+<p>"Very good," acquiesced Stubbs.</p>
+
+<p>"Is that woman gone yet?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir. My opinion is, she means to wait until she sees you."</p>
+
+<p>"Then send her in at once, and let's get it over," thundered Mr. Dare.</p>
+
+<p>In what lay his objection to seeing her? A dread lest she should put
+forth their relationship as a plea for his clemency? If so, he was
+destined to be agreeably disappointed. Jane did not allude to it; would
+not allude to it. After that interview held with Mrs. Dare, some three
+or four months before, she had dropped all remembrance of the
+connection: even the children did not know of it. She only solicited Mr.
+Dare's leniency now, as any other stranger might have solicited it.
+Little chance was there of Mr. Dare's acceding to her prayer: he and his
+wife both wanted Helstonleigh to be free of the Halliburtons.</p>
+
+<p>"It will be utter ruin," she urged. "It will turn us, beggars, into the
+streets. Mr. Dare, I <i>promise</i> you the rent by the middle of February.
+Unless it were certain, my brother would not have promised it to me.
+Surely you may accord me this short time."</p>
+
+<p>"Ma'am, I cannot&mdash;that is, Mr. Ashley cannot. It was a reprehensible
+piece of carelessness on my part to suffer the rent to go on for half a
+year, considering that you were strangers. Mr. Ashley will look to me to
+see him well out of it."</p>
+
+<p>"There is sufficient furniture in my house, new furniture, to pay what
+is owing three times over."</p>
+
+<p>"May be, as it stands in it. Things worth forty pounds in a house, won't
+fetch ten at a sale."</p>
+
+<p>"That is an additional reason why I&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Now, my good lady," interrupted Mr. Dare, with imperative civility,
+"one word is as good as a thousand; and that word I have said. I cannot
+withdraw the seizure, except on receipt of the rent and costs. Pay them,
+and I shall be most happy to do it. If you stop here all night I can
+give you no other answer; and my time is valuable."</p>
+
+<p>He glanced at the door as he spoke. Jane took the hint, and passed out
+of it. As much by the tone, as by the words, she gathered that there was
+no hope whatever.</p>
+
+<p>The streets were bright with gas as she hurried along, her head bent,
+her veil over her face, her tears falling silently. But when she left
+the town behind her, and approached a lonely part of the road where no
+eye was on her, no ear near her, then the sobs burst forth uncontrolled.</p>
+
+<p>"No eye on her? no ear near her?" Ay, but there was! There was one Eye,
+one Ear, which never closes. And as Jane's dreadful trouble resolved
+itself into a cry for help to Him who ever listens, there seemed to
+come a feeling of peace, of <i>trust</i>, into her soul.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII.</h2>
+
+<h3>THOMAS ASHLEY.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Frank met her as she went in. It was dark; but she kept her veil down.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, mamma, that's the most horrible man!" he began, in a whisper. "You
+know the cheese you brought in on Saturday, that we might not eat our
+bread quite dry; well, he has eaten it up, every morsel, and half a loaf
+of bread! And he has burnt the whole scuttleful of coal! And he swore
+because there was no meat; and he swore at us because we would not go to
+the public-house and buy him some beer. He said we were to buy it and
+pay for it."</p>
+
+<p>"I said you would not allow us to go, mamma," interrupted William, who
+now came up. "I told him that if he wanted beer he must go and get it
+for himself. I spoke civilly, you know, not rudely. He went into such a
+passion, and said such things! It is a good thing Jane was out."</p>
+
+<p>"Where is Gar?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Gar was frightened at the man, and the tobacco-smoke made him sick, and
+he cried; and then he lay down on the floor, and went to sleep."</p>
+
+<p><i>She</i> felt sick. She drew her two boys into the parlour&mdash;dark there,
+except for the lamp in the road, which shone in. Pressing them in her
+arms, completely subdued by the miseries of her situation, she leaned
+her forehead upon William's shoulder, and burst once more into a most
+distressing flood of tears.</p>
+
+<p>They were alarmed. They cried with her. "Oh, mamma! what is it? Why
+don't you order the man to go away?"</p>
+
+<p>"My boys, I must tell you; I cannot keep it from you," she sobbed. "That
+man is put here to remain, until I can pay the rent. If I cannot pay it,
+our things will be taken and sold."</p>
+
+<p>William's pulses and heart alike beat, but he was silent, Frank spoke.
+"Whatever shall we do, mamma?"</p>
+
+<p>"I do not know," she wailed. "Perhaps God will help us. There is no one
+else to do it."</p>
+
+<p>Patience came in, for about the sixth time, to see whether Jane had
+returned, and how the mission had sped. They called her into the cold,
+dark room. Jane gave her the history of the whole day, and Patience
+listened in astonishment.</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot but believe that Thomas Ashley must have been mis-informed,"
+said she, presently. "But that you are strangers in the place, I should
+say you had an enemy who may have gone to him with a tale that thee can
+pay, but will not. Still, even in that case, it would be unlike Thomas
+Ashley. He is a kind and a good man; not a harsh one."</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Dare told me he was expressly acting for Mr. Ashley."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I say that I cannot understand it," repeated Patience. "It is not
+like Thomas Ashley. I will give thee an instance of his disposition and
+general character. There was a baker rented under him, living in a house
+of Thomas Ashley's. The baker got behind with his rent; other bakers
+were more favoured than he; but he kept on at his trade, hoping times
+would mend. Year by year he failed in his rent&mdash;Thomas Ashley, mark
+thee, still paying him regularly for the bread supplied to his family.
+'Why do you not stop his bread-money?' asked one, who knew of this, of
+Thomas Ashley. 'Because he is poor, and looks to my weekly money, with
+that of others, to buy his flour,' was Thomas Ashley's answer. Well,
+when he owed several years' rent, the baker died, and the widow was
+going to move. Anthony Dare hastened to Thomas Ashley. 'Which day shall
+I levy a distress upon the goods?' asked he. 'Not at all,' replied
+Thomas Ashley. And he went to the widow, and told her the rent was
+forgiven, and the goods were her own, to take with her when she left.
+That is Thomas Ashley."</p>
+
+<p>Jane bent her head in thought. "Is Mr. Lynn at home?" she asked. "I
+should like to speak to him."</p>
+
+<p>"He has had his tea and gone back to the manufactory, but he will be
+home soon after eight. I will keep Jane till bedtime. She and Anna are
+happy over their puzzles."</p>
+
+<p>"Patience, am I obliged to find that man in food?"</p>
+
+<p>"That thee art. It is the law."</p>
+
+<p>The noise made by Patience in going away, brought the man forth from the
+study, a candle in his hand. "When is that mother of yours coming back?"
+he roared out to the boys. Jane advanced. "Oh, you are here!" he
+uttered, wrathfully. "What are you going to give me to eat and drink? A
+pretty thing this is, to have an officer in, and starve him!"</p>
+
+<p>"You shall have tea directly. You shall have what we have," she
+answered, in a low tone.</p>
+
+<p>The kettle was boiling on the study fire. Jane lighted a fire in the
+parlour, and sent Frank out for butter. The man smoked over the study
+fire, as he had done all the afternoon, and Gar slept beside him on the
+floor, but William went now and brought the child away. Jane sent the
+man his tea in, and the loaf and butter.</p>
+
+<p>The fare did not please him. He came to the parlour and said he must
+have meat; he had had none for his dinner.</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot give it you," replied Jane. "We are eating dry toast and
+bread, as you may see. I sent butter to you."</p>
+
+<p>He stood there for some minutes, giving vent to his feelings in rather
+strong language; and then he went back to revenge himself upon the
+butter for the want of meat. Jane laid her hand upon her beating throat:
+beating with its tribulation.</p>
+
+<p>Between eight and nine Jane went to the next door. Samuel Lynn had come
+home for the evening, and was sitting at the table in his parlour,
+helping the two little girls with a geographical puzzle, which had
+baffled their skill. He was a little man, quiet in movement, pale and
+sedate in feature, dry and unsympathising in manner.</p>
+
+<p>"Thee art in trouble, friend, I hear," he said, placing a chair for
+Jane, whilst Patience came and called the children away. "It is sad for
+thee."</p>
+
+<p>"In great trouble," answered Jane. "I came in to ask if you would serve
+me in my trouble. I fancy perhaps you can do so if you will."</p>
+
+<p>"In what way, friend?"</p>
+
+<p>"Would you interest yourself for me with Mr. Ashley? He might listen to
+you. Were he assured that the money would be forthcoming in February, I
+think he might agree to give me time."</p>
+
+<p>"Friend, I cannot do this," was the reply of the Quaker. "My relations
+with Thomas Ashley are confined to business matters, and I cannot
+overstep them. To interfere with his private affairs would not be
+seemly; neither might he deem it so. I am but his servant, remember."</p>
+
+<p>The words fell upon her heart as ice. She believed it her only
+chance&mdash;some one interceding for her with Mr. Ashley. She said so.</p>
+
+<p>"Why not go to him thyself, friend?"</p>
+
+<p>"Would he hear me?" hastily asked Jane. "I am a stranger to him."</p>
+
+<p>"Thee art his tenant. As to hearing thee, that he certainly would.
+Thomas Ashley is of a courteous nature. The poorest workman in our
+manufactory, going to the master with a grievance, is sure of a patient
+hearing. But if thee ask me would he grant thy petition, there I cannot
+inform thee. Patience opines that thee, or thy intentions, may have been
+falsely represented to him. I never knew him resort to harsh measures
+before."</p>
+
+<p>"When would be the best time to see him? Is it too late to-night?"</p>
+
+<p>"To-night would not be a likely time, friend, to trouble him. He has not
+long returned from a day's journey, and is, no doubt, cold and tired. I
+met James Meeking driving down as I came home; he had left the master at
+his house. They have been out on business connected with the
+manufactory. Thee might see him in the morning, at his breakfast hour."</p>
+
+<p>Jane rose and thanked the Quaker. "I will certainly go," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"There is no need to say to him that I suggested it to thee, friend. Go
+as of thy own accord."</p>
+
+<p>Jane went home with her little girl. Their undesirable visitor looked
+out at the study door, and began a battle about supper. It ought to
+comprise, in his opinion, meat and beer. He <i>insisted</i> that one of the
+boys should go out for beer. Jane steadily refused. She was tempted to
+tell him that the children of a gentleman were not despatched to
+public-houses on such errands. She offered him the money to go and get
+some for himself.</p>
+
+<p>It aroused his anger. He accused her of wanting to get him out of the
+house by stratagem, that she might lock him out; and he flung the pence
+back amongst them. Janey screamed, and Gar burst out crying. As Patience
+had said, he was not a pleasant inmate. Jane ran upstairs, and the
+children followed her.</p>
+
+<p>"Where is he to sleep?" inquired William.</p>
+
+<p>It is a positive fact that, until that moment, Jane had forgotten all
+about the sleeping. Of course he must sleep there, though she had not
+thought of it. Amidst the poor in her father's parish in London, Jane
+had seen many phases of distress; but with this particular annoyance she
+had never been brought into contact. However, it had to be done.</p>
+
+<p>What a night that was for her! She paced her room nearly throughout it,
+with quiet movement, Janey sleeping placidly&mdash;now giving way to all the
+dark appearances of her position, to uncontrollable despondency; now
+kneeling and crying for help in her heartfelt anguish.</p>
+
+<p>Morning came; the black frost had gone, and the sun shone. After
+breakfast Jane put on her shawl and bonnet.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Ashley's residence was very near to them&mdash;only a little higher up
+the road. It was a large house, almost a mansion, surrounded by a
+beautiful garden. Jane had passed it two or three times, and thought
+what a nice place it was. She repeatedly saw Mr. Ashley walk past her
+house as he went to or came from the manufactory: she was not a bad
+reader of countenances, and she judged him to be a thorough gentleman.
+His face was a refined one, his manner pleasant.</p>
+
+<p>She found that she had gone at an untoward time. Standing before the
+hall door was Mr. Ashley's open carriage, the groom standing at the
+horse's head. Even as Jane ascended the steps the door opened, and Mr.
+and Mrs. Ashley were coming forth. Feeling terribly distressed and
+disappointed, she scarcely defined why, Jane accosted the former, and
+requested a few minutes' interview.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Ashley looked at her. A fair young widow, evidently a lady. He did
+not recognise her. He had seen her before, but she was in a different
+style of dress now.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Ashley raised his hat as he replied to her. "Is your business with
+me pressing? I was just going out."</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed it is pressing," she said; "or I would not think of asking to
+detain you."</p>
+
+<p>"Then walk in," he returned. "A little delay will not make much
+difference."</p>
+
+<p>Opening the door of a small sitting-room, apparently his own, he invited
+her to a seat near the fire. As she took it, Jane untied the crape
+strings of her bonnet and threw back her heavy veil. She was as white as
+a sheet, and felt choking.</p>
+
+<p>"I fear you are ill," Mr. Ashley remarked. "Can I get you anything?"</p>
+
+<p>"I shall be better in a minute, thank you," she panted. "Perhaps you do
+not know me, sir. I live in your house, a little lower down. I am Mrs.
+Halliburton."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I beg your pardon, madam; I did not remember you at first. I have
+seen you in passing."</p>
+
+<p>His manner was perfectly kind and open. Not in the least like that of a
+landlord who had just put a distress into his tenant's house.</p>
+
+<p>"I have come here to beseech your mercy," she began in agitation. "I
+have not the rent now, but if you will consent to wait until the middle
+of February, it will be ready. Oh, Mr. Ashley, do not oppress me for it!
+Think of my situation."</p>
+
+<p>"I never oppressed any one in my life," was the quiet rejoinder of Mr.
+Ashley, spoken, however, in a somewhat surprised tone.</p>
+
+<p>"Sir, it is oppression. I beg your pardon for saying so. I promise that
+the rent shall be paid to you in a few weeks: to force my furniture from
+me now, is oppression."</p>
+
+<p>"I do not understand you," returned Mr. Ashley.</p>
+
+<p>"To sell my furniture under the distress will be utter ruin to me and my
+children," she continued. "We have no resource, no home; we shall have
+to lie in the streets, or die. Oh, sir, do not take it!"</p>
+
+<p>"But you are agitating yourself unnecessarily, Mrs. Halliburton. I have
+no intention of taking your furniture."</p>
+
+<p>"No intention, sir!" she echoed. "You have put in a distress."</p>
+
+<p>"Put in a what?" cried he, in unbounded surprise.</p>
+
+<p>"A distress. The man has been in since yesterday morning."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Ashley looked at her a few moments in silence. "Did the man tell you
+where he came from?"</p>
+
+<p>"It was Mr. Dare who put him in&mdash;acting for you. I went to Mr. Dare, and
+he kept me waiting nearly five hours in his outer office before he would
+see me. When he did see me, he declined to hear me. All he would say
+was, that I must pay the rent or he should take the furniture: acting
+for Mr. Ashley."</p>
+
+<p>A strangely severe expression darkened Mr. Ashley's face. "First of all,
+my dear lady, let me assure you that I knew nothing of this, or it
+should never have been done. I am surprised at Mr. Dare."</p>
+
+<p>Could she fail to trust that open countenance&mdash;that benevolent eye? Her
+hopes rose high within her. "Sir, will you withdraw the man, and give me
+time?"</p>
+
+<p>"I will."</p>
+
+<p>The revulsion of feeling, from despair and grief, was too great. She
+burst into tears, having struggled against them in vain. Mr. Ashley rose
+and looked from the window; and presently she grew calmer. When he sat
+down again she gave him the outline of her situation; of her present
+dilemma; of her hopes&mdash;poor hopes that they were!&mdash;of getting a scanty
+living through letting her rooms and doing some sewing, or by other
+employment. "Were I to lose my furniture, it would take from me this
+only chance," she concluded.</p>
+
+<p>"You shall not lose it through me," warmly spoke Mr. Ashley. "The man
+shall be dismissed from your house in half an hour's time."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, thank you, thank you!" she breathed, rising to leave. "I have not
+been able to supply him with great things in the shape of food, and he
+uses very bad language in the hearing of my children. Thank you, Mr.
+Ashley."</p>
+
+<p>He shook hands with her cordially, and attended her to the hall door.
+Mrs. Ashley, a pretty, lady-like woman, somewhat stately in general,
+stood there still. Well wrapped in velvet and furs, she did not care to
+return to the warm rooms. Jane said a few words of apology for detaining
+her, and passed on.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Ashley turned back to his room, drew his desk towards him, and began
+to write. His wife followed him. "Who was that, Thomas?"</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Halliburton: our widowed tenant, next door to Samuel Lynn's. You
+remember I told you of meeting the funeral. Two little boys were
+following alone."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, poor little things! yes. What did she want?"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Ashley made no reply: he was writing rapidly. The note, when
+finished, was sealed and directed to Mr. Dare. He then helped his wife
+into the carriage, took the reins, and sat down beside her. The groom
+took his place in the seat behind, and Mr. Ashley drove round the gravel
+drive, out at the gate, and turned towards Helstonleigh.</p>
+
+<p>"Thomas, you are going the wrong way!" said Mrs. Ashley, in
+consternation. "What are you thinking of?"</p>
+
+<p>"I shall turn directly," he answered. There was a severe look upon his
+face, and he drove very fast, by which signs Mrs. Ashley knew something
+had put him out. She inquired, and he gave her the outline of what he
+had just heard.</p>
+
+<p>"How could Anthony Dare act so?" involuntarily exclaimed Mrs. Ashley.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know. I shall give him a piece of my mind to-morrow more
+plainly than he will like. This is not the first time he has attempted a
+rascally action under cover of my name."</p>
+
+<p>"Shall you lose the rent?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think not, Margaret. She said not, and she carries sincerity in her
+face. I am sure I shall not lose it if she can help it. If I do, I must,
+that's all. I never yet added to the trouble of those in distress, and I
+never will."</p>
+
+<p>He pulled up at Mrs. Halliburton's house, which she had just reached
+also. The groom came to the horse, and Mr. Ashley entered. The "man" was
+comfortably stretched before the study fire, smoking his short pipe. Up
+he jumped when he saw Mr. Ashley, and smuggled his pipe into his pocket.
+His offensive manner had changed to humble servility.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know me?" shortly inquired Mr. Ashley.</p>
+
+<p>The man pulled his hair in token of respect. "Certainly, sir. Mr.
+Ashley."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well. Carry this note to Mr. Dare."</p>
+
+<p>The man received the note in his hand, and held it there, apparently, in
+some perplexity. "May I leave, sir, without the authority of Mr. Dare?"</p>
+
+<p>"I thought you said you knew me," was Mr. Ashley's reply, haughty
+displeasure in his tone.</p>
+
+<p>"I beg pardon, sir," replied the man, pulling his hair again, and making
+a movement of departure. "I suppose I bain't a-coming back, sir?"</p>
+
+<p>"You are not."</p>
+
+<p>He took up a small bundle tied in a blue handkerchief, which he had
+brought with him and appeared excessively careful of, caught at his
+battered hat, ducked his head to Mr. Ashley, and left the house, the
+note held between his fingers. Would you like to see what it contained?</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>"Dear Sir,&mdash;I find that you have levied a distress on Mrs.
+Halliburton's goods for rent due to me. That you should have
+done so without my authority astonishes me much; that you
+should have done so at all, knowing what you do of my
+principles, astonishes me more. I send the man back to you. The
+costs of this procedure you will either set down to me, or pay
+out of your own pocket, whichever you may deem the more just;
+but you will <i>not</i> charge them to Mrs. Halliburton. Have the
+goodness to call upon me to-morrow morning in East Street.</p>
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">Thomas Ashley.</span>"</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>"He will not trouble you again, Mrs. Halliburton," observed Mr. Ashley,
+with a pleasant smile, as he went out to his carriage.</p>
+
+<p>Jane stood at her window. She watched the man go towards Helstonleigh
+with the note; she watched Mr. Ashley step into his seat, turn his
+horse, and drive up the road. But all things were looking misty to her,
+for her eyes were dim.</p>
+
+<p>"God did hear me," was her earnest thought.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII.</h2>
+
+<h3>HONEY FAIR.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Helstonleigh abounded with glove manufactories. It was a trade that
+might be said to be a blessing to the localities where it was carried
+on, since it was one of the very few employments that furnished to the
+poor female population easy, clean, and profitable work <i>at their own
+homes</i>. The evils arising to women who go out to work in factories have
+been rehearsed over and over again; and the chief evil&mdash;we will put
+others out of sight&mdash;is, that it takes the married woman from her home
+and her family. Her young children drag themselves up in her absence,
+for worse or for better; alone they must do it, for she has to be away,
+toiling for daily bread. There is no home privacy, no home comfort, no
+home happiness; the factory is their life, and other interests give way
+to it. But with glove-making the case was different. Whilst the husbands
+were at the manufactories pursuing their day's work, the wives and elder
+daughters were earning money easily and pleasantly at home. The work was
+clean and profitable; all that was necessary for its accomplishment
+being common skill as a seamstress.</p>
+
+<p>Not five minutes' walk from Mrs. Halliburton's house, and nearer to
+Helstonleigh, a turning out of the main road led you to quite a colony
+of workwomen&mdash;gloveresses, as they were termed in the local phraseology.
+It was a long, wide lane; the houses, some larger, some smaller, built
+on either side of it. A road quite wide enough for health if the
+inhabitants had only kept it as it ought to have been kept: but they did
+not do so. The highway was made a common receptacle for refuse. It was
+so much easier to open the kitchen door (most of the houses were entered
+at once by the kitchen), and to "chuck" things out, <i>pêle-mêle</i>, rather
+than be at the trouble of conveying them to the proper receptacle, the
+dust-bin at the back. Occasionally a solitary policeman would come,
+picking his way through the dirt and dust, and order it to be removed;
+upon which some slight improvement would be visible for a day or two.
+The name of this charming place was Honey Fair; though, in truth, it was
+redolent of nothing so pleasant as honey.</p>
+
+<p>Of the occupants of these houses, the husbands and elder sons were all
+glove operatives; several of them in the manufactory of Mr. Ashley. The
+wives sewed the gloves at home. Many a similar colony to Honey Fair was
+there in Helstonleigh, but in hearing of one you hear of all. The trade
+was extensively pursued. A very few of the manufactories were of the
+extent that was Mr. Ashley's; and they gradually descended in size,
+until some comprised not half a score workmen, all told; but whose
+masters alike dignified themselves by the title of "manufacturer."</p>
+
+<p>There flourished a shop in the general line in Honey Fair kept by a Mrs.
+Buffle, a great gossip. Her husband, a well-meaning, steady little man,
+mincing in his speech and gait, scrupulously neat and clean in his
+attire, and thence called "the dandy," was chief workman at one of the
+smallest of the establishments. He had three men and two boys under him;
+and so he styled himself the "foreman." No one knew half so much of the
+affairs of their neighbours as did Mrs. Buffle; no one could tell of the
+ill-doings and shortcomings of Honey Fair as she could. Many a gloveress
+girl, running in at dusk for a halfpenny candle, did not receive it
+until she had first submitted to a lecture from Mrs. Buffle. Not that
+her custom was all of this ignoble description: some of the gentlemen's
+houses in the neighbourhood would deal with her in a chance way, when
+out of articles at home. Her wares were good; her home-cured bacon was
+particularly good. Amidst other olfactory treats indigenous to Honey
+Fair was that of pigs and pig-sties, kept by Mrs. Buffle.</p>
+
+<p>Occasionally Mrs. Halliburton would go to this shop; it was nearer to
+her house than any other; and, in her small way, had been extensively
+patronised by her. Of all her customers, Mrs. Halliburton was the one
+who most puzzled Mrs. Buffle. In the first place, she never gossiped; in
+the second, though evidently a lady, she would carry her purchases home
+herself. The very servants from the very large houses, coming flaunting
+in their smart caps, would loftily order their pound of bacon or
+shillingsworth of eggs sent home for them. Mrs. Halliburton took hers
+away in her own hand; and this puzzled Mrs. Buffle. "But her pays ready
+money," observed that lady, when relating this to another customer, "so
+'tain't my place to grumble."</p>
+
+<p>During the summer weather, whenever Jane had occasion to walk through
+Honey Fair, on her way to this shop, she would linger to admire the
+women at their open doors and windows, busy over their nice clean work.
+Rocking the cradle with one foot, or jogging the baby on their knees, to
+a tune of their own composing, their hands would be ever active at their
+employment. Some made the gloves; that is, seamed the fingers together
+and put in the thumbs, and these were called "makers." Some welted, or
+hemmed the gloves round at the edge of the wrist; these were called
+"welters." Some worked the three ornamental lines on the back; and these
+were called "pointers." Some of the work was done in what was called a
+patent machine, whereby the stitches were rendered perfectly equal. And
+some of the stouter gloves were stitched together, instead of being
+sewn: stitching so beautifully regular and neat, that a stranger would
+look at it in admiration. In short, there were different branches in the
+making and sewing of gloves, as there are in most trades.</p>
+
+<p>It now struck Jane that she might find employment at this work until
+better times should come round. True, she had never worked at it; but
+she was expert with her needle, and it was easily acquired. She
+possessed a dry, cool hand, too; a great thing where sewing-silk,
+sometimes floss silk, has to be used. What cared she for lowering
+herself to the employment only dealt out to the poor? Was she not poor
+herself? And who knew her in Helstonleigh?</p>
+
+<p>The day that Mr. Ashley removed the dreaded visitor from her house, Jane
+had occasion to speak to Elizabeth Carter, her young servant's mother.
+At dusk, putting aside the frock she was making for Anna, Jane proceeded
+to Honey Fair, in which perfumed locality Mrs. Carter lived. An
+agreement had been entered into that Betsy should still go to Mrs.
+Halliburton's to do the washing (after her own fashion, but Jane could
+not afford to be fastidious now), and also what was wanted in the way of
+scouring&mdash;Betsy being paid a trifle in return, and instructed in the
+mysteries of reading and writing.</p>
+
+<p>"'Taint no profit," observed Mrs. Carter to a crony, "but 'taint no
+loss. Her won't do nothing at home, let me cry after her as I will. Out
+her goes, gampusing to this house, gampusing to that; but not a bit of
+work'll her stick to at home. If these new folks can keep her to work a
+bit, so much the better; it'll be getting her hand in; and better still,
+if they teaches her to read and write. Her wouldn't learn nothing from
+the school-missis."</p>
+
+<p>Not a very favourable description of Miss Betsy. But, what the girl
+chiefly wanted was a firm hand over her. Her temper and disposition were
+good; but she was an only child, and her mother, though possessing a
+firm hand, and a firm tongue, too, in general&mdash;none more so in Honey
+Fair&mdash;had spoilt and indulged Miss Betsy until her authority was gone.</p>
+
+<p>After her business was over this evening with Mrs. Carter, Jane, who
+wanted some darning cotton, turned into Mrs. Buffle's shop. That
+priestess was in her accustomed place behind the counter. She curtseyed
+twice, and spoke in a low, subdued tone, in deference to the widow's cap
+and bonnet&mdash;to the deep mourning altogether, which Mrs. Buffle's
+curiosity had not had the gratification of beholding before.</p>
+
+<p>"Would you like it fine or coarse, mum? Here's both. 'Taint a great
+assortment, but it's the best quality. I don't have much call for
+darning cotton, mum; the folks round about is always at their gloving
+work."</p>
+
+<p>"But they must mend their stockings," observed Jane.</p>
+
+<p>"Not they," returned Mrs. Buffle. "They'd go in naked heels, mum, afore
+they'd take a needle and darn 'em up. They have took to wear them untidy
+boots to cover the holes, and away they go with 'em unlaced; tongue
+hanging, and tag trailing half a mile behind 'em. Great big slatterns,
+they be!"</p>
+
+<p>"They seem always at work," remarked Jane.</p>
+
+<p>"Always at work!" repeated Mrs. Buffle. "You don't know much of 'em,
+mum, or you'd not say it. They'll play one day, and work the next;
+that's their work. It's only a few of the steady ones that'll work
+regular, all the week through."</p>
+
+<p>"What could a good, steady workwoman earn a week at the glove-making?"</p>
+
+<p>"That depends, mum, upon how close she stuck to it," responded Mrs.
+Buffle.</p>
+
+<p>"I mean, sitting closely."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, well," debated Mrs. Buffle carelessly, "she might earn ten
+shillings a week, and do it comfortable."</p>
+
+<p>Ten shillings a week! Jane's heart beat hopefully. Upon ten shillings a
+week she might manage to exist, to keep her children from starvation,
+until better days arose. <i>She</i>, impelled by necessity, could sit longer
+and closer, too, than perhaps those women did. Mrs. Buffle continued,
+full of inward gratulation that her silent customer had come round to
+gossip at last.</p>
+
+<p>"They be the improvidentest things in the world, mum, these gloveress
+girls. Sundays they be dressed up as grand as queens, flowers inside
+their bonnets, and ribbuns out, a-setting the churches and chapels
+alight with their finery; and then off for walks with their sweethearts,
+all the afternoon and evening. Mondays is mostly spent in waste,
+gathering of themselves at each other's houses, talking and laughing,
+or, may be, off to the fields again&mdash;anything for idleness. Tuesdays is
+often the same, and then the rest of the week they has to scout over
+their work, to get it in on the Saturday. Ah! you don't know 'em, mum."</p>
+
+<p>Jane paid for her darning cotton and came away, much to Mrs. Buffle's
+regret. "Ten shillings a week," kept ringing in her ears.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX.</h2>
+
+<h3>MRS. REECE AND DOBBS.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Jane was busy that evening; but the following morning she went into
+Samuel Lynn's. Patience was in the kitchen, washing currants for a
+pudding; the maid upstairs at her work. Jane held the body of Anna's
+frock in her hand. She wished to try it on.</p>
+
+<p>"Anna is not at home," was the reply of Patience. "She is gone to spend
+the day with Mary Ashley."</p>
+
+<p>Jane felt sorry; she had been in hopes of finishing it that day.
+"Patience," said she, "I want to ask your advice. I have been thinking
+that I might get employment at sewing gloves. It seems easy work to
+learn."</p>
+
+<p>"Would thee like the work?" asked Patience. "Ladies have a prejudice
+against it, because it is the work supplied to the poor. Not but that
+some ladies in this town, willing to eke out their means, do work at it
+in private. They get the work brought out to them and taken in."</p>
+
+<p>"That would be the worst for me," observed Jane: "taking in the work. I
+do fear I should not like it."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course not. Thee could not go to the manufactory and stand amid the
+crowd of women for thy turn to be served as one of them. Wait thee an
+instant."</p>
+
+<p>Patience dried her hands upon the roller-towel, and took Jane into the
+best parlour, the one less frequently used. Opening a closet, she
+reached from it a small, peculiar-looking machine, and some unmade
+gloves: the latter were in a basket, covered over with a white cloth.</p>
+
+<p>"This is different work from what the women do," said she. "It is what
+is called the French point, and is confined to a few of the chief
+manufacturers. It is not allowed to be done publicly, lest all should
+get hold of the stitch. Those who employ the point have it done in
+private."</p>
+
+<p>"Who does it here?" exclaimed Jane.</p>
+
+<p>"I do," said Patience, laughing. "Did thee think I should be like the
+fine ladies, ashamed to put my hand to it? I and James Meeking's wife do
+all that is at present being done for the Ashley manufactory. But now,
+look thee. Samuel Lynn was saying only last night, that they must search
+out for some other hand who would be trustworthy, for they want more of
+the work done. It is easy to learn, and I know they would give it thee.
+It is a little better paid than the other work, too. Sit thee down and
+try it."</p>
+
+<p>Patience fixed the back of the glove in the pretty little square
+machine, took the needle&mdash;a peculiar one&mdash;and showed how it was to be
+done. Jane, in a glow of delight, accomplished some stitches readily.</p>
+
+<p>"I see thee would be handy at it," said Patience. "Thee can take the
+machine indoors to-day and practise. I will give thee a piece of old
+leather to exercise upon. In two or three days thee may be quite
+perfect. I do not work very much at it myself, at which Samuel Lynn
+grumbles. It is all my own profit, what I earn, so that he has no
+selfish motive in urging me to work, except that they want more of it
+done. But I have my household matters to attend to, and Anna takes up my
+time. I get enough for my clothes, and that is all I care for."</p>
+
+<p>"I know I could do it! I could do it well, Patience."</p>
+
+<p>"Then I am sure thee may have it to do. They will supply thee with a
+machine, and Samuel Lynn will bring thy work home and take it back
+again, as he does mine. He&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>William was bursting in upon them with a beaming face. "Mamma, make
+haste home. Two ladies are asking to see the rooms."</p>
+
+<p>Jane hurried in. In the parlour sat a pleasant-looking old lady in a
+large black silk bonnet. The other, smarter, younger (but <i>she</i> must
+have been forty at least), and very cross-looking, wore a Leghorn bonnet
+with green and scarlet bows. She was the old lady's companion,
+housekeeper, servant, all combined in one, as Jane found afterwards.</p>
+
+<p>"You have lodgings to let, ma'am," said the old lady. "Can we see them?"</p>
+
+<p>"This is the sitting-room," Jane was beginning; but she was interrupted
+by the smart one in a snappish tone.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>This</i> the sitting-room! Do you call this furnished?"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't be hasty, Dobbs," rebuked her mistress. "Hear what the lady has
+to say."</p>
+
+<p>"The furniture is homely, certainly," acknowledged Jane. "But it is new
+and clean. That is a most comfortable sofa. The bedrooms are above."</p>
+
+<p>The old lady said she would see them, and they proceeded upstairs. Dobbs
+put her head into one room, and withdrew it with a shriek. "This room
+has no bedside carpets."</p>
+
+<p>"I am sorry to say that I have no bedside carpets at present," said
+Jane, feeling all the discouragement of the avowal. "I will get some as
+soon as I possibly can, if any one taking the rooms will kindly do
+without them for a little while."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps we might, Dobbs," suggested the old lady, who appeared to be of
+an accommodating, easy nature; readily satisfied.</p>
+
+<p>"Begging your pardon, ma'am, you'll do nothing of the sort," returned
+Dobbs. "We should have you doubled up with cramp, if you clapped your
+feet on to a cold floor. <i>I</i> am not going to do it."</p>
+
+<p>"I never do have cramp, Dobbs."</p>
+
+<p>"Which is no reason, ma'am, why you never should," authoritatively
+returned Dobbs.</p>
+
+<p>"What a lovely view from these back windows!" exclaimed the old lady.
+"Dobbs, do you see the Malvern Hills?"</p>
+
+<p>"We don't eat and drink views," testily responded Dobbs.</p>
+
+<p>"They are pleasant to look at though," said her mistress. "I like these
+rooms. Is there a closet, ma'am, or small apartment that we could have
+for our trunks, if we came?"</p>
+
+<p>"We are not coming," interrupted Dobbs, before Jane could answer.
+"Carpetless floors won't suit us, ma'am."</p>
+
+<p>"There is a closet here, over the entrance," said Jane to the old lady,
+as she opened the door. "Our own boxes are in it now, but I can have
+them moved upstairs."</p>
+
+<p>"So there's a cock-loft, is there?" put in Dobbs.</p>
+
+<p>"A what?" cried Jane, who had never heard the word. "There is nothing
+upstairs but an attic. A garret, as it is called here."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," burst forth Dobbs, "it is called a garret by them that want to be
+fine. Cock-loft is good enough for us decent folk: we've never called it
+anything else. Who sleeps up there?" she summarily demanded.</p>
+
+<p>"My little boys. This was their room, but I have put them upstairs that
+I may let this one."</p>
+
+<p>"There ma'am!" said Dobbs, triumphantly, as she turned to her mistress.
+"You'll believe me another time, I hope! I told you I knew there was a
+pack of children. One of 'em opened the door to us."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps they are quiet children," said the old lady, who had been so
+long used to the grumbling and domineering of Dobbs, that she took it as
+a matter of course.</p>
+
+<p>"They are, indeed," said Jane, "quiet, good children. I will answer for
+it that they will not disturb you in any way."</p>
+
+<p>"I should like to see the kitchen, ma'am," said the old lady.</p>
+
+<p>"We only want the use of it," snapped Dobbs. "Our kitchen fire goes out
+after dinner, and I boil the kettle for tea in the parlour."</p>
+
+<p>"Would attendance be required?" asked Jane of the old lady.</p>
+
+<p>"No, it wouldn't," answered Dobbs, in the same tart tone. "I wait upon
+my missis, and I wait upon myself, and we have a woman in to do the
+cleaning, and the washing goes out."</p>
+
+<p>The answer gave Jane great relief. <i>Attending</i> upon lodgers had been a
+dubious prospect in more respects than one.</p>
+
+<p>"It's a very good kitchen," said the old lady, as they went in, and she
+turned round in it.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll be bound it smokes," said Dobbs.</p>
+
+<p>"No, it does not," replied Jane.</p>
+
+<p>"Where's the coalhouse?" asked Dobbs. "Is there two?"</p>
+
+<p>"Only one," said Jane. "It is at the back of the kitchen."</p>
+
+<p>"Then&mdash;if we did come&mdash;where could our coal be put?" fiercely demanded
+Dobbs. "I must have my coalhouse to myself, with a lock and key. I don't
+want the house's fires supplied from my missis's coal."</p>
+
+<p>Jane's cheeks flushed as she turned to the old lady. "Allow me to assure
+you that your property&mdash;of whatever nature it may be&mdash;will be perfectly
+sacred in this house. Whether locked up or not, it will be left
+untouched by me and mine."</p>
+
+<p>"To be sure, ma'am," pleasantly returned the old lady. "I'm not afraid.
+You must not mind what Dobbs says: she means nothing."</p>
+
+<p>"And our safe for meat and butter," proceeded that undaunted
+functionary. "Is there a key to it?"</p>
+
+<p>"And now about the rent?" said the old lady, giving Jane no time to
+answer that there was a key.</p>
+
+<p>Jane hesitated. And then, with a flush, asked twenty shillings a week.</p>
+
+<p>"My conscience!" uttered Dobbs. "Twenty shillings a week. And us finding
+spoons and linen!"</p>
+
+<p>"Dobbs," said the old lady. "I don't see that it is so very out of the
+way. A parlour, two bedrooms, a closet, and the kitchen, all
+furnished&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"The closet's an empty, dark hole, and the kitchen's only the use of it,
+and the bedrooms are carpetless," reiterated Dobbs, drowning her
+mistress's voice. "But, if anybody asked you for your head, ma'am, you'd
+just cut it off and give it, if I wasn't at hand to stop you."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Dobbs, we have seen nothing else to suit us up here. And you know
+I want to settle myself at this end of the town, on account of it being
+high and dry. Parry says I must."</p>
+
+<p>"We have not half looked yet," said Dobbs.</p>
+
+<p>"A pound a-week is a good price, ma'am; and we have not paid quite so
+much where we are: but I don't know that it's unreasonable," continued
+the old lady to Jane. "What shall we do, Dobbs?"</p>
+
+<p>"Do, ma'am! Why, of course you'll come out, and try higher up. To take
+these rooms without looking out for others, would be as bad as buying a
+pig in a poke. Come along, ma'am. Bedrooms without carpets won't do for
+us at any price," she added to Jane by way of a party salutation.</p>
+
+<p>They left the house, the lady with a cordial good morning, Dobbs with
+none at all; and went quarrelling up the road. That is, the old lady
+reasoning, and Dobbs disputing. The former proposed, if they saw nothing
+to suit them better, to purchase bedside carpeting: upon which Dobbs
+accused her of wanting to bring herself to the workhouse.</p>
+
+<p>Patience, who had watched them away, from her parlour window, came in to
+learn the success. She brought in with her the machine, a plain piece of
+leather, the size of the back of a glove, neatly fixed in it. Jane's
+tears were falling.</p>
+
+<p>"I think they would have taken them had there been bedside carpets,"
+sighed she. "Oh, Patience, what a help it would been! I asked a pound a
+week."</p>
+
+<p>"Did thee? That was a good price, considering thee would not have to
+give attendance."</p>
+
+<p>"How do you know I should not?" asked Jane.</p>
+
+<p>"Because I know Hannah Dobbs waits upon her mistress," replied Patience.
+"She is the widow of Joseph Reece, and he left her well off. I heard
+they were coming to live up this way. Did they quite decline them?
+Because, I can tell thee what. We have some strips of bedside carpet not
+being used, and I would not mind lending them till thee can buy others.
+It is a pity thee should lose the letting for the sake of a bit of
+carpet."</p>
+
+<p>Jane looked up gratefully. "What should I have done without you,
+Patience?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nay, it is not much: thee art welcome. I would not risk the carpet with
+unknown people, but Hannah Dobbs is cleanly and careful."</p>
+
+<p>"She has a very repelling manner," observed Jane.</p>
+
+<p>"It is not agreeable," assented Patience, with a smile; "but she is
+attached to her mistress, and serves her faithfully."</p>
+
+<p>Jane sat down to practise upon the leather, watching the road at the
+same time. In about an hour she saw Mrs. Reece and Dobbs returning.
+William went out, and asked if they would step in.</p>
+
+<p>They were already coming. They had seen nothing they liked so well. Jane
+said she believed she could promise them bedside carpets.</p>
+
+<p>"Then, I think we will decide, ma'am," said the old lady. "We saw one
+set of rooms, very nice ones; and they asked only seventeen shillings
+a-week: but they have a young man lodger, a pupil at the infirmary, and
+he comes home at all hours of the night. Dobbs questioned them till they
+confessed that it was so."</p>
+
+<p>"I know what them infirmary pupils is," indignantly put in Dobbs. "I am
+not going to suffer my missis to come in contact with their habits.
+There ain't one of 'em as thinks anything of stopping out till morning
+light. And before the sun's up they'll have a pipe in their mouths,
+filling the house with smoke! It's said, too, that there's mysterious
+big boxes brought to 'em, for what they call the 'furtherance of
+science': perhaps some of the churchyard sextons could tell what's in
+'em!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Dobbs. I think we may take this good lady's rooms. I'm sure we
+shan't get better suited elsewhere."</p>
+
+<p>Dobbs only grunted. She was tired with her walk, and had really no
+objection to the rooms; except as to price: that, she persisted in
+disputing as outrageous.</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose you would not take less?" said the old lady to Jane.</p>
+
+<p>Jane hesitated; but it was impossible for her to be otherwise than
+candid and truthful. "I would take a trifle less, sooner than not let
+you the rooms; but I am very poor, and every shilling is a consideration
+to me."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I will take them at the price," concluded the good-natured old
+lady. "And Dobbs, if you grumble, I can't help it. Can we come in&mdash;let
+me see?&mdash;this is Wednesday&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I won't come in on a Friday for anybody," interrupted Dobbs fiercely.</p>
+
+<p>"We will come in on Tuesday next, ma'am," decided the old lady. "Before
+that, I'll send in a trolley of coal, if you'll be so kind as to receive
+it."</p>
+
+<p>"And to lock it up," snapped Dobbs.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE GLOVE OPERATIVES.</h3>
+
+
+<p>At the hours of going to and leaving work, the Helstonleigh streets were
+alive with glove operatives, some being in one branch of the trade, some
+in another. There were parers, grounders, leather-sorters, dyers,
+cutters, makers-up, and so on: all being necessary, besides the sewing,
+to turn out one pair of gloves; though, I dare say, you did not think
+it. The wages varied according to the particular work, or the men's
+ability and industry, from fifteen shillings a week to twenty-five: but
+all could earn a good living. If a man gained more than twenty-five, he
+had a stated salary; as was the case with the foremen. These wages,
+joined to what was earned by the women, were sufficient to maintain a
+comfortable home, and to bring up children decently. Unfortunately the
+same drawbacks prevailed in Helstonleigh that are but too common
+elsewhere; and they may be classed under one general head&mdash;improvidence.
+The men were given to idling away at the public-houses more time than
+was good for them: the women to scold and to quarrel. Some were
+slatterns; and a great many gave their husbands the welcome of a home of
+discomfort, ill-management, and dirt: which, of course, had the effect
+of sending them out all the more surely.</p>
+
+<p>Just about this period, the men had their especial grievance&mdash;or thought
+they had: and that was, a low rate of wages and not full employment. Had
+they paid a visit to other places and compared their wages with some
+earned by operatives of a different class, they had found less cause to
+complain. The men were rather given to comparing present wages with
+those they had earned before the dark crisis (dark as far as
+Helstonleigh's trade was concerned) when the British ports were opened
+to foreign gloves. But few, comparatively speaking, of the manufacturers
+had weathered that storm. Years have elapsed since then: but the
+employment remained scarce, and the wages (I have quoted them to you)
+low. Altogether, the men were, many of them, dissatisfied. They even
+went so far as to talk of a "strike"; strikes being less common in those
+days than they are in these.</p>
+
+<p>It was Saturday night, and the streets were crowded. The hands were
+pouring out of the different manufactories; clean-looking, respectable
+workmen, as a whole: for the branches of glove-making are for the most
+part of a cleanly nature. Some wore their white aprons; some had rolled
+them up round their waists. A few&mdash;very few, it must be owned&mdash;were
+going to their homes, but the greater portion were bound for the
+public-house.</p>
+
+<p>One of the most extensively patronised of the public-houses was The
+Cutters' Arms. On a Saturday night, when the men's pockets were lined,
+this would be crowded. The men flocked into it now and filled it,
+although its room for entertainment was very large. The order from most
+of them was a pint of mild ale and some tobacco.</p>
+
+<p>"Any news, Joe Fisher?" asked a man, when the pipes were set going.</p>
+
+<p>Joe Fisher tossed his head and growled. He was a tall, dark man; clothes
+and condition both dilapidated. The questioner took a few whiffs, and
+repeated his question. Joe growled again, but did not speak.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you might give a chap a civil answer, Fisher."</p>
+
+<p>"What's the matter, you two?" cried a third.</p>
+
+<p>"Ben Wilks asks me is there any news!" called out Fisher, indignantly.
+"I thought he might ha' heered on't without asking. Our pay was docked
+again to-night; that's the news."</p>
+
+<p>"No!" uttered Wilks.</p>
+
+<p>"It were," said Fisher savagely. "A shilling a week less, good. Who's
+a-going to stand it?"</p>
+
+<p>"There ain't no help for standing it," interposed a quiet-looking man
+named Wheeler. "I suppose the masters is forced to lower. They say so."</p>
+
+<p>"Have your master forced hisself to it?" angrily retorted Fisher.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Fisher, you know I'm fortunate. As all is that gets in to work at
+Ashley's."</p>
+
+<p>"And precious good care they take to stop in!" cried Fisher, much
+aggravated. "No danger that Ashley's hands'll give way and afford
+outsiders a chance."</p>
+
+<p>"Why should they give way?" sensibly asked Wheeler. "<i>You</i> need never
+think to get in at Ashley's, Fisher, so there's no cause for you to
+grumble."</p>
+
+<p>A titter went round at Fisher's expense. He did not like it. "I might
+stand my chance with others, if there was room. Who says I couldn't?
+Come, now!"</p>
+
+<p>A man laughed. "You had better ask Samuel Lynn that question, Fisher.
+Why, he wouldn't look at you! You are not steady enough for him."</p>
+
+<p>"Samuel Lynn may go along for a ill-natured broadbrim!" was Fisher's
+retort. "There'd not be half the difficulty in getting in with Mr.
+Ashley hisself."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, there would," said Wheeler, quietly. "Mr. Ashley pays first wages,
+and he'll have first hands. Quaker Lynn knows what he's about."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't dispute about nothing, Fisher," interrupted a voice, borne
+through the clouds of smoke from the far end of the room. "To lose a
+shilling a week is bad, but not so bad as losing all. I have heard ill
+news this evening."</p>
+
+<p>Fisher stretched up his long neck. "Who's that a-talking? Is it Mr.
+Crouch?"</p>
+
+<p>It was Stephen Crouch; the foreman in a large firm, and a respectable,
+intelligent man. "Do you remember, any of you, that a report arose some
+time ago about Wilson and King? A report that died away again?"</p>
+
+<p>"That they were on their last legs," replied several voices. "Well?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, they are off them now," continued Stephen Crouch.</p>
+
+<p>Up rose a man, his voice shaking with emotion. "It's not true, Mr.
+Crouch, sure&mdash;ly!"</p>
+
+<p>"It is, Vincent. Wilson and King are going to wind up. It will be
+announced next week."</p>
+
+<p>"Mercy help us! There'll be forty more hands throwed out! What's to
+become of us all?"</p>
+
+<p>A dead silence fell on the room. Vincent broke it. Hope is strong in the
+human heart. "Mr. Crouch, I don't think it can be true. Our wages was
+all paid up to-night. And we have not heard a breath on't."</p>
+
+<p>"I know all that," said Stephen Crouch. "I know where the money came
+from to pay them. It came from Mr. Ashley."</p>
+
+<p>The assertion astonished the room. "From Mr. Ashley! Did he tell it
+abroad?"</p>
+
+<p>"<i>He</i> tell it!" indignantly returned Stephen Crouch. "Mr. Ashley is an
+honourable man. No. Wilson and King have a tattler too near to them;
+that's how it came out. Not but what it would have been known all over
+Helstonleigh on Monday, all particulars. Every sixpence, pretty near,
+that Wilson and King have, is locked up in their stock. They expected
+remittances by the London mail this morning, and they did not come. They
+went to the bank. The bank was shy, and would not make advances; and
+they had nothing in hand for wages. They went to Mr. Ashley and told him
+their perplexity, and he drew a cheque. The bank cashed that, with a
+bow. And if it had not been for Mr. Ashley, Ned Vincent, you and the
+rest of their hands would have gone home to-night with empty pockets."</p>
+
+<p>"Will Mr. Ashley lose the money?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not he. He knew there was no danger of that, when he lent it. Nobody
+will lose by Wilson and King. They have more than enough to pay
+everybody in full; only their money's locked up."</p>
+
+<p>"Why are they giving up?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because they can't keep on. They have been losing a long while. What do
+you ask&mdash;what will they do? They must do as others have done before
+them, who have been unable to keep on. If Wilson and King had given up
+ten years ago, they had then each a nice little bit of property to
+retire upon. But it has been sunk since. There are too many others in
+this city in the same ease."</p>
+
+<p>"And what's to become of us hands that's throwed out?" asked Vincent,
+returning to his own personal grievance.</p>
+
+<p>"You must try and get taken on somewhere else, Vincent," observed
+Stephen Crouch.</p>
+
+<p>"There ain't a better cutter than Ned Vincent going," cried another
+voice. "He won't wait long."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know about that," returned Vincent gloomily. "The masters is
+overdone with hands."</p>
+
+<p>"Of all the bad luck as ever fell upon a town, the opening of the ports
+to them foreign French was the worst for Helstonleigh," broke in the
+intemperate voice of Fisher.</p>
+
+<p>"Hold th' tongue, Fisher!" exclaimed a sensible voice. "We won't get
+into them discussions again. Didn't we go over 'em, night after night,
+and year after year, till we were heart-sick?&mdash;and what did they ever
+bring us but ill-feeling? It's done, and it can't be undone. The ports
+be open, and they'll never be closed again."</p>
+
+<p>"Did the opening of 'em ruin the trade of Helstonleigh, or didn't it?
+Answer me that," said Fisher.</p>
+
+<p>"It did. We know it to our cost," was the sad answer. "But there's no
+help for it."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," returned Fisher ironically. "I thought you were going to hold out
+that the opening of 'em was a boon to the place, and the keeping 'em
+open a blessing. That 'ud be a new dodge. <i>Why</i> do they keep 'em open?"</p>
+
+<p>"Just hark at Fisher!" said Mr. Buffle in a mincing tone. "He wants to
+know why Government keeps open the British ports. Don't every dozen of
+gloves that comes into the country pay a heavy duty? Is it likely
+Government would give up that, Fisher?"</p>
+
+<p>"What did they do afore they had it?" roared Fisher. "If they did
+without the duty then, they could do without it now."</p>
+
+<p>"I have heered of some gents as never tasted sugar," returned Mr.
+Buffle; "but I never heered of one, who had the liking for it, as was
+willing to forego the use of it. It's a case in pint; the Government
+have tasted the sweets of the glove-duty, and they stick to it."</p>
+
+<p>"Avaricious wolves!" growled Fisher. "But you are a fool, dandy, for all
+that. What's a bit of paltry duty, alongside of our wants? If a few of
+them great Government lords had to go on empty stomachs for a month,
+they'd know what the opening of ports means."</p>
+
+<p>"In all political changes, such as this, certain localities must
+suffer," broke in the quiet voice of Stephen Crouch. "It will be the
+means of increasing commerce wonderfully; and we, that the measure
+crushed, must be content to suffer for the general good. The effects to
+us can never be undone. I know what you say, Fisher," he continued,
+silencing Fisher by a gesture. "I know that the ports might be re-closed
+to-morrow, if Government so willed it. But it could not undo for us what
+has been done. It could not repair the ruin that was wrought on
+Helstonleigh. It could not reinstate firms in business; or refund to the
+masters their wasted capital; or collect the hands it scattered over the
+country, to find a bit of work, to beg, or to starve; or bring the dead
+back to life. It could not do any of this. Neither would it restore a
+flourishing trade to those of us who are left."</p>
+
+<p>"What's that last, Crouch?"</p>
+
+<p>"It never would," emphatically repeated Stephen Crouch. "A shattered
+trade cannot be brought together again. It is like a shattered glass:
+you may mourn over the pieces, but you cannot put them together. Believe
+me, or not, as you please, my friends, but the only thing remaining is,
+to make the best of what is left to us. There are other trades a deal
+worse off than we are."</p>
+
+<p>"I have talked to ye about that there move&mdash;a strike," resumed Fisher,
+after a pause. "We shall get no good till we try it&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Fisher, don't you be a fool and show it," was the imperative
+interruption of Stephen Crouch. "I have explained to you till I am
+tired, what would be the effects of a strike. It would just finish you
+bad workmen up, and send you and your children into the nearest dry
+ditch for a floor, with the open skies above you for a roof."</p>
+
+<p>"We have never tried a strike in Helstonleigh," answered Fisher, holding
+to his own opinion.</p>
+
+<p>"And I trust we never shall," returned the intelligent foreman. "Other
+trades may have their strikes if they choose, and it's not our business
+to find fault with them for it; but the glove trade has hitherto kept
+itself aloof from strikes, and it's to be hoped it always will. You
+cannot understand how a strike works, Joe Fisher, or you'd not let your
+head be running on it."</p>
+
+<p>"Others' heads be running on it as well as mine, Master Crouch," said
+Fisher, nodding significantly.</p>
+
+<p>"It is not improbable," was the equable rejoinder of Stephen Crouch. "Go
+and strike next week, half a dozen of you. I mean the operatives of half
+a dozen firms."</p>
+
+<p>"Every firm in the place must strike," interrupted Fisher hastily. "A
+few on us doing it would only make bad worse."</p>
+
+<p>Stephen Crouch smiled. "Exactly. But the difficulty, Fisher, will be,
+that all the firms <i>won't</i> strike. Ask the men in our firm to strike;
+ask those in Ashley's; ask others that we could name&mdash;and what would
+their answer be? Why, that they know when they are well off. Suppose,
+for argument's sake, that we did all strike; suppose all the hands in
+Helstonleigh struck next Monday morning, and the manufactories had to be
+closed? Who would have the worst of it?&mdash;we or the masters?"</p>
+
+<p>"The masters," returned Fisher in an obstinate tone.</p>
+
+<p>"No. The masters have good houses over their heads, and their bankers'
+books to supply their wants while they are waiting&mdash;and their orders are
+not so great that they need fear much pressure on that score. The London
+houses would dispatch a few extra orders to Paris and Grenoble, and the
+masters here might enjoy a nice little trip to the sea-side while our
+senses were coming back to us. But where should we be? Out at elbows,
+out at pocket, out at heart; some starving, some in the workhouse. If
+you want to avoid those contingencies, Joe Fisher, you'll keep from
+strikes."</p>
+
+<p>Fisher answered by an ironical cheer. "Here, missis," said he to the
+landlady, who was then passing him, "let's have another pint, after
+that."</p>
+
+<p>"That'll make nine pints you owe for since Monday night, Joe Fisher,"
+responded the landlady.</p>
+
+<p>"What if I do?" grunted Fisher irascibly. "I am able to pay. <i>I</i> ain't
+out of work."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE LADIES OF HONEY FAIR.</h3>
+
+
+<p>It was Saturday night in Honey Fair. A night when the ladies were at
+leisure to abandon themselves to their private pursuits. The work of the
+past week had gone into the warehouses; and the fresh work brought out
+would not be begun until Monday morning. Some of them, as Mrs. Buffle
+has informed us, did not begin it then. The women chiefly cleaned their
+houses and mended their clothes; some washed and ironed&mdash;Honey Fair was
+not famous for its management&mdash;not going to bed till Sunday morning;
+some did their marketing; and a few, careless and lazy, spent it in
+running from house to house, or congregated in the road to gossip.</p>
+
+<p>About half-past eight, one of the latter suddenly lifted the latch of a
+house door and thrust in her head. It was Joe Fisher's wife. Her face
+was red, and her cap in tatters.</p>
+
+<p>"Is our Becky in here, Mrs. Carter?"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Carter was busy. She was the maternal parent of Miss Betsy. Her
+kitchen fire was out, her furniture was heaped one thing upon another; a
+pail of water stood ready to wash the brick floor, when she should have
+finished rubbing up the grate, and her hands and face were as grimy as
+the black-lead.</p>
+
+<p>"There's no Becky here," snapped she.</p>
+
+<p>"I can't find her," returned Mrs. Fisher. "I thought her might be along
+of your Betsy. I say, here's your husband coming round the corner.
+There's Mark Mason and Robert East and Dale along of him. And&mdash;my! what
+has that young 'un of East's been doing to hisself? He's black from head
+to foot. Come and look."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Carter disdained the invitation. She was a hard-working, thrifty
+woman, but a cross one. Priding herself upon her cleanliness, she
+perpetually returned loud thanks that she was not as the dirty ones
+around her. She was the Pharisee amidst many publicans.</p>
+
+<p>"If I passed my time staring and gossiping as some does, where 'ud my
+work be?" was her rebuke. "Shut the door, Suke Fisher."</p>
+
+<p>Suke Fisher did as she was bid. She turned her wrists back upon her
+hips, and walked to meet the advancing party, having discerned their
+approach by the light of the gas-lamps. "Be you going to be sold for a
+blackamoor?" demanded she of the boy.</p>
+
+<p>The boy laughed. His head, face, shoulders, hands, were ornamented with
+a thick, black liquid, not unlike blacking. He appeared to enjoy the
+treat, as if he had been anointed with some fragrant oil.</p>
+
+<p>"He is not a bad spectacle, is he, Dame Fisher?" remarked the young man,
+whom she had called Robert East.</p>
+
+<p>"What's a-done it?" questioned she.</p>
+
+<p>"Him and Jacky Brumm got larking, and upset the dye-pot upon themselves.
+We rubbed 'em down with the leather shreds, but it keeps on dripping
+from their hair."</p>
+
+<p>"Won't Charlotte warm his back for him!" apostrophised Mrs. Fisher.</p>
+
+<p>The boy threw a disdainful look at her, in return for the remark.
+"Charlotte's not so fond of warming backs. She never even scolds for an
+accident."</p>
+
+<p>The boy and Robert East were half-brothers. They entered one of the
+cottages. Robert East and his sister were between twenty and thirty, and
+the boy was ten. Their mother had died early, and the young boy's
+mother, their father's second wife, died when the child was born. The
+father also died. How Robert and his sister, the one then seventeen, the
+other fourteen, had struggled to make a living for themselves, and to
+bring up the baby, they alone knew. The manner in which they had
+succeeded was a marvel to many; none were more respectable now than they
+were in all Honey Fair.</p>
+
+<p>Charlotte, neat and nice, sat by her bright kitchen fire, a savoury stew
+cooking on the hob beside it. It was her custom to have something good
+for supper on a Saturday night. Did she make home attractive on that
+night to draw her brother from the seductions of the public-house? Most
+likely. And she had her reward: for Robert never failed to come. The
+cloth was laid, the red bricks of the floor were clean, and Charlotte's
+face, as she looked up from her stocking-mending, was bright. It
+darkened to consternation, however, when she cast her eyes on the boy.</p>
+
+<p>"Tom, what <i>have</i> you been doing?"</p>
+
+<p>"Jacky Brumm threw a pot of dye over me, Charlotte."</p>
+
+<p>"There's not much real damage, Charlotte," interposed her brother. "It
+looks worse than it is. I'll get it out of his hair presently, and put
+his clothes into a pail of water. What have you got to-night? It smells
+good."</p>
+
+<p>He alluded to supper, and took off the lid of the saucepan to peep in.
+She had some stewed beef, with carrots, and the savoury steam ascended
+to Robert's pleased face.</p>
+
+<p>Very few in Honey Fair managed as did Charlotte East. How she did her
+housework no one knew. Not a woman, married or single, got through more
+glove-sewing than Charlotte. Not one kept her house in better order: and
+her clothes and her brother's were neat and respectable, week-days as
+well as Sundays. Her work was taken into the warehouse on Saturday
+mornings, and her marketing was done. In the afternoon she cleaned her
+house, and by four o'clock was ready to sit down to her mending. No one
+ever saw her in a bustle, and yet all her work was done; and well done.
+Perhaps one great secret of it was that she rose very early in the
+morning, winter and summer.</p>
+
+<p>"Look, Robert, here is a nice book I have bought," said she, putting a
+periodical into his hands. "It comes out weekly. I shall take it in."</p>
+
+<p>Robert turned over the leaves. "It seems very interesting," he said
+presently. "Here's a paper that tells all about the Holy Land. And
+another that tells us how glass is made; I have often wondered."</p>
+
+<p>"You can read it to us of an evening while I work," said she. "It will
+be quite a help to our getting on Tom: almost as good as sending him to
+school. I gave&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>The words were interrupted. The door was violently burst open, and a
+woman entered the kitchen; knocking at doors before entering was not the
+fashion in Honey Fair. The intruder was Mrs. Brumm.</p>
+
+<p>"I say, Robert East, did you see anything of my husband?"</p>
+
+<p>"I saw him go into the Horned Ram."</p>
+
+<p>"Then I wish the Horned Ram was into him!" wrathfully retorted Mrs.
+Brumm. "He vowed faithfully he'd come home with his wages the first
+thing after leaving work. He knows I have not a thing in the place for
+to-morrow&mdash;and Dame Buffle looking out for her money. I have a good mind
+to go down to the Horned Ram, and be on to him!"</p>
+
+<p>Robert East offered no opinion upon this delicate point. He remembered
+the last time Mrs. Brumm had gone to the Horned Ram to be "on" to her
+husband, and what it had produced. A midnight quarrel that disturbed the
+slumbers of Honey Fair.</p>
+
+<p>"Who was along of him?" pursued she.</p>
+
+<p>"Three or four of them. Hubbard and Jones, I saw go in: and Adam
+Thorneycroft."</p>
+
+<p>A quick rising of the head, as if startled, and a faint accession of
+colour, told that one of those names had struck, perhaps unpleasantly,
+on the ear of Charlotte East. "Where are your own earnings?" she asked
+of Mrs. Brumm.</p>
+
+<p>"I have had to take them to Bankes's," was the rueful reply. "It's a
+good deal now, and they're in a regular tantrum this week, and wouldn't
+even wait till Monday. They threatened to tell Brumm, and it frightened
+me out of my seventeen senses. And now, for him to go into that dratted
+Horned Ram with his wages! and me without a pennypiece! It's not more
+for the necessaries I want to get in, than for the things that is in
+pawn. I can't iron nothing: the irons is there."</p>
+
+<p>Charlotte, busy still, turned round. "I would not put in irons, and such
+things, that I wanted to use."</p>
+
+<p>"I dare say you wouldn't!" tartly responded Mrs. Brumm. "One has to put
+in what one's got, and the things our husbands won't miss the sight of.
+It's fine to be you, Charlotte East, setting yourself up for a lady, and
+never putting your foot inside the pawn-shop, with your clean hands and
+your clean kitchen on a Saturday night, sitting down to a hot supper,
+while the rest of us is a-scrubbing!"</p>
+
+<p>Charlotte laughed good-humouredly. "If I tried to set myself up for a
+lady, I could not be one. I work as hard as anybody; only I get it done
+betimes."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Brumm sniffed&mdash;having no ready answer at hand. And at that moment
+Tom East, encased in black, peeped out of the brewhouse, where he had
+been sent by Charlotte to wash the dye off his hands. "Sakes alive!"
+uttered Mrs. Brumm, aghast at the sight.</p>
+
+<p>"Jacky's worse than me," responded Tom, rather proud of having to say
+so much. Robert explained to her how it had happened.</p>
+
+<p>"And our Jacky's as bad as that!" she cried. "Won't I wring it out of
+him!"</p>
+
+<p>"Nonsense," said Robert; "it was an accident. Boys will be boys."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, they will: and it's not the men that have to wash for 'em and keep
+'em clean!" retorted Mrs. Brumm, terribly wrathful. "And me at a
+standstill for my irons! And that beast of a Brumm stopping out."</p>
+
+<p>"I will lend you my irons," said Charlotte.</p>
+
+<p>"I won't take 'em," was the ungracious reply. "If I don't get my own, I
+won't borrow none. Brumm, he'll be looking out for his Sunday clean
+shirt to-morrow, and he won't get it; and that'll punish him more than
+anything else. There's not a man in Honey Fair as likes to go sprucer on
+a Sunday than Brumm."</p>
+
+<p>"So much the better," said Charlotte. "When men lose pride in their
+appearance, they are apt to lose it in their conduct."</p>
+
+<p>"You must always put in your word for folks, Charlotte East, let 'em be
+ever so bad," was Mrs. Brumm's parting salutation, as she went off and
+shut the door with a bang.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile Timothy Carter, Mrs. Carter's husband, had turned into his own
+dwelling, after leaving Robert East. The first thing to greet him was
+the pail of water. Mrs. Carter had completed her grate, and was dashing
+her water on to the floor. Timothy received it on his legs.</p>
+
+<p>"What's that for?" demanded Timothy, who was a meek and timid little
+man.</p>
+
+<p>"Why do you brush in so sharp, then?" cried she. "Who was to know you
+was a-coming?"</p>
+
+<p>Timothy had not "brushed in sharp;" he had gone in quietly. He stood
+ruefully shaking the wet from his legs, first one, then the other, and
+afterwards began to pick his way on tiptoe towards the fireplace.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, it's of no use your attempting to sit down yet," rebuked his wife,
+in her usual cross accents. "There ain't no room for you at the fire,
+and there ain't no warmth in it; it's but this blessed minute lighted.
+Sit yourself on that table, again the wall, and then your legs'll be in
+the dry."</p>
+
+<p>"And there I may sit for an hour, for you'll be all that time before you
+have finished, by the looks on't," he ventured to remonstrate.</p>
+
+<p>"And half another hour to the end of it," answered she. "There's Betsy,
+as ought to be helping, gadding out somewhere ever since she came home
+at seven o'clock."</p>
+
+<p>"You says to me, says you, 'You come home to-night, Tim, as soon as
+work's over, and don't go drinking!' You know you did," repeated Timothy
+in an injured tone.</p>
+
+<p>"And it's a good thing as you have come, or you'd have heard my tongue
+in a way you wouldn't like!" was Mrs. Carter's reply.</p>
+
+<p>Timothy sighed. That tongue was the two-edged sword of his life: how
+dreaded, none but himself could tell. He had mounted the table in
+obedience to orders, but he now got off again.</p>
+
+<p>"What are you after now?" shrilly demanded Mrs. Carter, who was on her
+knees, scouring the bricks.</p>
+
+<p>"I want my pipe and 'baccy."</p>
+
+<p>"You stop where you are," was the imperative answer, "and wait till I
+have time to get it;" and Timothy humbly sat down again.</p>
+
+<p>"You might get this done afore night, 'Lizabeth, as I've said over and
+over again," cried he, plucking up a little spirit. "When a man comes
+home tired, even if there ain't a bit o' supper for him, he expects a
+morsel o' fire to sit down to, so as he can smoke his pipe in quiet. It
+cows him, you see, to find his place in this ruck, where there ain't a
+dry spot to put the sole of his foot on, and nothing but a table with
+unekal legs to sit upon, and&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I might get it done afore?" shrieked Mrs. Carter. "Afore! When, through
+that Betsy's laziness, leaving everything on my shoulders, I couldn't
+get in my gloving till four o'clock this afternoon! Every earthly thing
+have I had to do since then. I raked out my fire&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"What's the good of raking out the fire?" interposed Timothy.</p>
+
+<p>"Goodness help the simpleton! Wanting to know the good of raking out the
+fire&mdash;as if he was born yesterday! Can a grate be black-leaded while
+it's hot, pray?"</p>
+
+<p>"It might be black-leaded at some other time," debated he. "In a
+morning, perhaps."</p>
+
+<p>"I dare say it might, if I had not my gloving to do," she answered,
+trembling with wrath. "When folks takes out shop work, they has to get
+on with that&mdash;and is glad to do it. Where would you be if I earned
+nothing? It isn't much of a roof we should have over our heads, with
+your paltry fifteen or sixteen shillings a-week. You be nothing but a
+parer, remember."</p>
+
+<p>"There's no need to disparage of me, 'Lizabeth," he rejoined, with a
+meek little cough. "You knowed I was a parer before you ventured on me."</p>
+
+<p>"Just take your legs up higher, or you'll be knocking my cap with your
+dirty boots," said Mrs. Carter, who was nearing the table in her
+scrubbing.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll stand outside the door a bit, I think," he answered. "I am in your
+way everywhere."</p>
+
+<p>"Sit where you are, and lift up your legs," was the reiterated command.
+And Timothy obeyed.</p>
+
+<p>Cold and dreary, on he sat, watching the cleaning of the kitchen. The
+fire gave out no heat, and the squares of bricks did not dry. He took
+some silver from his pocket, and laid it in a stack on the table beside
+him, for his wife to take up at her leisure. She allowed him no chance
+of squandering <i>his</i> wages.</p>
+
+<p>A few minutes, and Mrs. Carter rose from her knees and went into the
+yard for a fresh supply of water. Timothy did not wait for a second
+ducking. He slipped off the table, took a shilling from the heap, and
+stole from the house.</p>
+
+<p>Back came Mrs. Carter, her pail brimming. "You go over to Dame Buffle's,
+Tim, and&mdash;&mdash;Why, where's he gone?"</p>
+
+<p>He was not in the kitchen, that was certain; and she opened the
+staircase door, and elevated her voice shrilly. "Are you gone tramping
+up my stairs, with your dirty boots? Tim Carter, I say, are you
+upstairs?"</p>
+
+<p>Of course Tim Carter was not upstairs: or he had never dared to leave
+that voice unanswered.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, if he has gone off to any of them sotting publics, he shan't hear
+the last of it," she exclaimed, opening the door and gazing as far as
+the nearest gas-light would permit. But Timothy was beyond her eye and
+reach, and she caught up the money and counted it. Fourteen shillings.
+One shilling of it gone.</p>
+
+<p>She knew what it meant, and dashed the silver into a wide-necked
+canister on the high mantelshelf, which contained also her own earnings
+for the week. It would have been as much as meek Tim Carter's life was
+worth to touch that canister, and she kept it openly on the
+mantel-piece. Many unfortunate wives in Honey Fair could not keep their
+money from their husbands even under lock and key. As she was putting
+the canister in its place again, Betsy came in. Mrs. Carter turned
+sharply upon her.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, miss! where have you been?"</p>
+
+<p>"Law, mother, how you fly out! I have only been to Cross's."</p>
+
+<p>"You ungrateful piece of brass, when you know there's so much to be done
+on a Satur-night that I can't turn myself round! You shan't go gadding
+about half your time. I'll put you from home entire, to a good tight
+service."</p>
+
+<p>Betsy had heard the same threat so often that its effect was gone. Had
+her mother only kept her in one-tenth of the subjection that she did her
+husband, it might have been better for the young lady. "I was only in at
+Cross's," she repeated.</p>
+
+<p>"What's the good of telling me that falsehood? I went to Cross's after
+you, but you wasn't there, and hadn't been there. You want a good sound
+shaking, miss."</p>
+
+<p>"If I wasn't at Cross's, I was at Mason's," was the imperturbable reply
+of Miss Betsy. "I was at Mason's first. Mark Mason came home and turned
+as sour as a wasp, because the place was in a mess. She was washing her
+children, and she's got the kitchen to do, and he began blowing up. I
+left 'em then, and went in to Cross's. Mason went back down the hill;
+so he'll come home tipsy."</p>
+
+<p>"Why can't she get her children washed afore he comes home?" retorted
+Mrs. Carter, who could see plenty of motes in her neighbours' eyes,
+though utterly blind to the beam in her own. "Such wretched management!
+Children ought to be packed out of the way by seven o'clock."</p>
+
+<p>"You don't get your cleaning over, any more than she does," remarked
+Miss Betsy boldly.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Carter turned an angry gaze upon her; a torrent of words breaking
+from her lips. "I get my cleaning over! I, who am at work every moment
+of my day, from early morning till late at night! You'd liken me to that
+good-for-nothing Het Mason, who hardly makes a dozen o' gloves in a
+week, and keeps her house like a pigsty! Where would you and your father
+be, if I didn't work to keep you, and slave to make the place sweet and
+comfortable? Be off to Dame Buffle's and buy me a besom, you ungrateful
+monkey: and then you turn to and dust these chairs."</p>
+
+<p>Betsy did not wait for a second bidding. She preferred going for besoms,
+or for anything else, to her mother's kitchen and her mother's scolding.
+Her coming back was another affair; she would be just as likely to
+propel the besom into the kitchen and make off herself, as to enter.</p>
+
+<p>She suddenly stopped now, door in hand, to relate some news.</p>
+
+<p>"I say, mother, there's going to be a party at the Alhambra
+tea-gardens."</p>
+
+<p>"A party at the Alhambra tea-gardens, with frost and snow on the
+ground!" ironically repeated Mrs. Carter. "Be off, and don't be an oaf."</p>
+
+<p>"It's true," said Betsy. "All Honey Fair's going to it. I shall go too.
+'Melia and Mary Ann Cross is going to have new things for it, and&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Will you go along and get that besom?" cried angry Mrs. Carter. "No
+child of mine shall go off to their Alhambras, catching their death on
+the wet grass."</p>
+
+<p>"Wet grass!" echoed Betsy. "Why, you're never such a gaby as to think
+they'd have a party on the grass! It is to be in the big room, and
+there's to be a fiddle and a tam&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"&mdash;&mdash;bourine" never came. Mrs. Carter sent the wet mop flying after Miss
+Betsy, and the young lady, dexterously evading it, flung-to the door and
+departed.</p>
+
+<p>A couple of hours later, Timothy Carter was escorted home, his own
+walking none of the steadiest. The men with him had taken more than
+Timothy; but it was that weak man's misfortune to be overcome by a
+little. You will allow, however, that he had taken enough, having spent
+his shilling and gone into debt besides. Mrs. Carter received
+him&mdash;&mdash;Well, I am rather at a loss to describe it. She did not actually
+beat him, but her shrill voice might be heard all over Honey Fair,
+lavishing hard names upon helpless Tim. First of all, she turned out
+his pockets. The shilling was all gone. "And how much more tacked on to
+it?" asked she, wise by experience. And Timothy was just able to
+understand and answer. He felt himself as a lamb in the fangs of a wolf.
+"Eightpence halfpenny."</p>
+
+<p>"A shilling and eightpence halfpenny chucked away in drink in one
+night!" repeated Mrs. Carter. She gave him a short, emphatic shake, and
+propelled him up the stairs; leaving him without a light, to get to bed
+as he could. She had still some hours' work downstairs, in the shape of
+mending clothes.</p>
+
+<p>But it never once occurred to Mrs. Carter that she had herself to thank
+for his misdoings. With a tidy room and a cheerful fire to receive him,
+on returning from his day's work, Timothy Carter would no more have
+thought of the public-houses than you or I should. And if, as did
+Charlotte East, she had welcomed him with a good supper and a pleasant
+tongue, poor Tim in his gratitude had forsworn public-houses for ever.</p>
+
+<p>Neither, when Mark Mason staggered home, and <i>his</i> wife raved at and
+quarrelled with him, to the further edification of Honey Fair, did it
+strike that lady that she could be in fault. As Mrs. Carter had said,
+Henrietta Mason did not overburden herself with work of any sort; but
+she did make a pretence of washing her four children in a bucket on a
+Saturday night, and her kitchen afterwards. The ceremony was delayed
+through idleness and bad management to the least propitious part of the
+evening. So sure as she had the bucket before the fire, and the children
+collected round it; one in, one just out roaring to be dried, and the
+two others waiting their turn for the water, all of them stark
+naked&mdash;for Mrs. Mason made a point of undressing them at once to save
+trouble&mdash;so sure, I say, as these ablutions were in progress, the
+children frantically crying, Mrs. Mason boxing, storming, and rubbing,
+and the kitchen swimming, in would walk the father. Words invariably
+ensued: a short, sharp quarrel; and he would turn out again for the
+nearest public-house, where he was welcomed by a sociable room and a
+glowing fire. Can any one be surprised that it should be so?</p>
+
+<p>You must not think these cases overdrawn; you must not think them
+exceptional cases. They are neither the one nor the other. They are
+truthful pictures, taken from what Honey Fair was then. I very much fear
+the same pictures might be taken from some places still.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII.</h2>
+
+<h3>MR. BRUMM'S SUNDAY SHIRT.</h3>
+
+
+<p>But there's something to say yet of Mrs. Brumm. You saw her turning away
+from Robert East's door, saying that her husband, Andrew, had promised
+to come home that night and to bring his wages. Mrs. Brumm, a bad
+manager, as were many of the rest, would probably have received him with
+a sloppy kitchen, buckets, and besoms. Andrew had had experience of
+this, and, disloyal knight that he was, allowed himself to be seduced
+into the Horned Ram. He'd just take one pint and a pipe, he said to his
+conscience, and be home in time for his wife to get what she wanted. A
+little private matter of his own would call him away early. Pressed for
+a sum of money in the week which was owing to his club, and not
+possessing it, he had put his Sunday coat in pledge: and this he wanted
+to get out. However, a comrade sitting in the next chair to him at the
+Horned Ram had to get <i>his</i> coat out of the same accommodating
+receptacle. Nothing more easy than for him to bring out Andrew's at the
+same time; which was done. The coat on the back of his chair, his pipe
+in his mouth, and a pint of good ale before him, the outer world was as
+nothing to Andrew Brumm.</p>
+
+<p>At ten o'clock, the landlord came in. "Andrew Brumm, here's your wife
+wanting to see you."</p>
+
+<p>Now Andrew was not a bad sort of man by any means, but he had a great
+antipathy to being looked after. A joke went round at Andrew's expense;
+for if there was one thing the men in general hated more than another,
+it was that their wives should come in quest of them to the
+public-houses. Mrs. Brumm received a sharp reprimand; but she saw that
+he was, as she expressed it, "getting on," so she got some money from
+him and kept her scolding for another opportunity.</p>
+
+<p>She did not go near the pawnbroker's to get her irons out. She bought a
+bit of meat and what else she wanted, and returned to Honey Fair. Robert
+East was closing his door for the night as she passed it. "Has Brumm
+come home?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Not he, the toper! He is stuck fast at the Horned Ram, getting in for
+it nicely. I have been after him for some money."</p>
+
+<p>"Have you got your irons out?" inquired Charlotte, coming to the door.</p>
+
+<p>"No, nor nothing else; and there's pretty near half the kitchen in. It's
+him that'll suffer. He has been getting out his own coat, but he can't
+put it on. Leastways, he won't without a clean collar and shirt; and let
+him fish for <i>them</i>. Wait till to-morrow comes, Mr. 'Drew Brumm!"</p>
+
+<p>"Was <i>his</i> coat in?" returned Charlotte, surprised.</p>
+
+<p>"That it was. Him as goes on so when I puts a thing or two in! He owed
+some money at his club, and he went and put his coat in for four
+shillings, and Adam Thorneycroft has been and fetched it out for him."</p>
+
+<p>"Adam Thorneycroft!" involuntarily returned Charlotte.</p>
+
+<p>"Thorneycroft's coat was in too, and he went for it just now, and Brumm
+gave him the ticket to get out his. Smith's daughter told me that. She
+was serving with her mother in the bar."</p>
+
+<p>"Is Adam Thorneycroft at the Horned Ram still?"</p>
+
+<p>"That he is: side by side with Brumm. A nice pair of 'em! Charlotte
+East, take my advice; don't you have anything to say to Thorneycroft. A
+woman had better climb up to the top of her topmost chimbley and pitch
+herself off, head foremost, than marry a man given to drink."</p>
+
+<p>Charlotte East felt vexed at the allusion&mdash;vexed that her name should be
+coupled openly with that of Adam Thorneycroft by the busy tongues of
+Honey Fair. That an attachment existed between herself and Adam
+Thorneycroft was true; but she did not wish the fact to become too
+apparent to others. Latterly she had been schooling her heart to forget
+him, for he was taking to frequent public-houses.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Brumm went home, and was soon followed by her husband. He was not
+much the worse for what he had taken: he was a little. Mrs. Brumm
+reproached him with it, and a wordy war ensued.</p>
+
+<p>They arose peaceably in the morning. Andrew was a civil, well-conducted
+man, and but for Horned Rams would have been a pattern to three parts of
+Honey Fair. He liked to be dressed well on Sunday and to attend the
+cathedral with his two children: he was very fond of listening to the
+chanting Mrs. Brumm&mdash;as was the custom generally with the wives of Honey
+Fair&mdash;stayed at home to cook the dinner. Andrew was accustomed to do
+many odd jobs on the Sunday morning, to save his wife trouble. He
+cleaned the boots and shoes, brushed his clothes, filled the coal-box,
+and made himself useful in sundry other ways. All this done, they sat
+down to breakfast with the two children, the unfortunate Jacky less
+black than he had been the previous night.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, Jacky," said Brumm, when the meal was over, "get yourself ready;
+it has gone ten. Polly too."</p>
+
+<p>"It's a'most too cold for Polly this morning," said Mrs. Brumm.</p>
+
+<p>"Not a bit on't. The walk'll do her good, and give her an appetite for
+dinner. What is for dinner, Bell? I asked you before, but you didn't
+answer."</p>
+
+<p>"It ain't much thanks to you as there's anything," retorted Mrs. Brumm,
+who rejoiced in the aristocratic name of Arabella. "You plant yourself
+again at the Horned Ram, and see if I worries myself to come after you
+for money. I'll starve on the Sunday first."</p>
+
+<p>"I can't think what goes of your money," returned Andrew. "There had not
+used to be this fuss if I stopped out for half an hour on the Saturday
+night, with my wages in my pocket. Where does yours go to?"</p>
+
+<p>"It goes in necessaries," shortly answered Mrs. Brumm. But not caring
+for reasons of her own to pursue this particular topic, she turned to
+that of the dinner. "I have half a shoulder of mutton, and I'm going to
+take it to the bake'us with a batter pudden under it, and to boil the
+taters at home."</p>
+
+<p>"That's capital!" returned Andrew, gently rubbing his hands. "There's
+nothing nicer than baked mutton and a batter pudden. Jacky, brush your
+hair well: it's as rough as bristles."</p>
+
+<p>"I had to use a handful of soda to get the dye out," said Mrs. Brumm.
+"Soda's awful stuff for making the hair rough."</p>
+
+<p>Andrew slipped out to the Honey Fair barber, who did an extensive
+business on Sunday morning, to be shaved. When he returned he went up to
+wash and dress, and finally uncovered a deal box where he was accustomed
+to find his clean shirt. With all Mrs. Brumm's faults she had neat ways.
+The shirt was not there.</p>
+
+<p>"Bell, where's my clean shirt?" he called out from the top of the
+stairs.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Bell Brumm had been listening for the words and received them with
+satisfaction. She nodded, winked, and went through a little pantomime of
+ecstasy, to the intense delight of the children, who were in the secret,
+and nodded and winked with her. "Clean shirt?" she called back again, as
+if not understanding.</p>
+
+<p>"My Sunday shirt ain't here."</p>
+
+<p>"You haven't got no Sunday shirt to-day."</p>
+
+<p>Andrew Brumm descended the stairs in consternation. "No Sunday shirt!"
+he repeated.</p>
+
+<p>"No shirt, nor no collar, nor no handkercher," coolly affirmed Mrs.
+Brumm. "There ain't none ironed. They be all in the wet and the rough,
+wrapped up in an old towel. Jacky and Polly haven't nothing either."</p>
+
+<p>Brumm stared considerably. "Why, what's the meaning of that?"</p>
+
+<p>"The irons are in pawn," shortly answered Mrs. Brumm. "You know you
+never came home with the money, so I couldn't get 'em out."</p>
+
+<p>Another wordy war. Andrew protested she had no "call" to put the irons
+in any such place. She impudently retorted that she should put the house
+in if she liked.</p>
+
+<p>A hundred such little episodes could be related of the domestic life of
+Honey Fair.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE MESSRS. BANKES.</h3>
+
+
+<p>On the Monday morning, a troop of the gloveress girls flocked into
+Charlotte East's. They were taking holiday, as was usual with them on
+Mondays. Charlotte was a favourite. It is true, she "bothered" them, as
+they called it, with good advice, but they liked her in spite of it.
+Charlotte's kitchen was always tidy and peaceful, with a bright fire
+burning in it: other kitchens would be full of bustle and dirt.
+Charlotte never let them hinder her; she worked away at her gloves all
+the time. Charlotte was a glove-maker; that is, she sewed the fingers
+together, and put in the thumbs, forgits, and quirks. Look at your own
+gloves, English made. The long strips running up inside the fingers are
+the forgits; and the little pieces between, where the fingers open, are
+the quirks. The gloves Charlotte was occupied with now were of a very
+dark green colour, almost black, called corbeau in the trade, and they
+were sewn with white silk. Charlotte's stitches were as beautifully
+regular as though she had used a patent machine. The white silk and the
+fellow glove to the one she was making, lay inside a clean white
+handkerchief doubled upon her lap; other gloves, equally well covered,
+were in a basket at her side.</p>
+
+<p>The girls had come in noisily, with flushed cheeks and eager eyes.
+Charlotte saw that something was exciting them. They liked to tell her
+of their little difficulties and pleasures. Betsy Carter had informed
+her mother that there was going to be a "party at the Alhambra
+tea-gardens," if you remember; and this was the point of interest
+to-day. These "Alhambra tea-gardens," however formidable and perhaps
+suggestive the name, were very innocent in reality. They belonged to a
+quiet roadside inn, half a mile from the town, and comprised a large
+garden and extensive lawn. The view from them was beautiful; and many a
+party from Helstonleigh, far higher in the scale of society than these
+girls, would go there in summer to take tea and enjoy the view. A young,
+tall, handsome girl of eighteen had drawn her chair close to
+Charlotte's. She was the half-sister of Mark Mason, and had her home
+with him and his wife; supporting herself after a fashion by her work.
+But she was always in debt to them, and she and Mrs. Mark did not get
+along well together. She wore a new shawl, and straw bonnet trimmed with
+blue ribbons: and her dark hair fell in glossy ringlets&mdash;as was the
+fashion then. Two other girls perched themselves on a table. They were
+sisters&mdash;Amelia and Mary Ann Cross; others placed themselves where they
+could. Somewhat light were they in manner, these girls; free in speech.
+Nothing farther. If an unhappy girl did, by mischance, turn out badly,
+or, as the expressive phrase had it, "went wrong," she was forthwith
+shunned, and shunned for ever. Whatever may have been the faults and
+failings prevailing in Honey Fair, this sort of wrong-doing was not
+common amongst them.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Caroline, that is new!" exclaimed Charlotte East, alluding to the
+shawl.</p>
+
+<p>Caroline Mason laughed. "Is it not a beauty?" cried she. And it may be
+remarked that in speech and accent she was superior to some of the
+girls.</p>
+
+<p>Charlotte took a corner of it in her hand. "It must have cost a pound at
+least," she said. "Is it paid for?"</p>
+
+<p>Again Caroline laughed. "Never you mind whether it's paid for or not,
+Charlotte. You won't be called upon for the money for it. As I told my
+sister-in-law yesterday."</p>
+
+<p>"You did not want it, Caroline; and I am quite sure you could not afford
+it. Your winter cloak was good yet. It is so bad a plan, getting goods
+on credit. I wish those Bankeses had never come near the place!"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you run down Bankes's, Charlotte East," interposed Eliza Tyrrett,
+a very plain girl, with an ill-natured expression of face. "We should
+never get along at all if it wasn't for Bankes's."</p>
+
+<p>"You would get along all the better," returned Charlotte. "How much are
+they going to charge you for this shawl, Caroline?"</p>
+
+<p>Caroline and Eliza Tyrrett exchanged peculiar glances. There appeared to
+be some secret between them, connected with the shawl. "Oh, a pound or
+so," replied Caroline. "What was it, Eliza?"</p>
+
+<p>Eliza Tyrrett burst into a loud laugh, and Caroline echoed it. Charlotte
+East did not press for the answer. But she did press the matter against
+dealing with Bankes's; as she had pressed it many a time before.</p>
+
+<p>A twelvemonth ago, some strangers had opened a linen-draper's shop in a
+back street of Helstonleigh; brothers of the name of Bankes. They
+professed to do business upon credit, and to wait upon people at their
+own homes, after the fashion of hawkers. Every Monday would one of them
+appear in Honey Fair, a great pack of goods on his back, which would be
+opened for inspection at each house. Caps, shawls, gown-pieces, calico,
+flannel, and finery, would be displayed in all their fascinations. Now,
+you who are reading this, only reflect on the temptation! The women of
+Honey Fair went into debt; and it was three parts the work of their
+lives to keep the finery, and the system, from the knowledge of their
+husbands.</p>
+
+<p>"Pay us so much weekly," Bankes's would say. And the women did so: it
+seemed like getting a gown for nothing. But Bankes's were found to be
+strict in collecting the instalments; and how these weekly payments told
+upon the wages, I will leave you to judge. Some would have many
+shillings to pay weekly. Charlotte East and a few more prudent ones
+spoke against this system; but they made no impression. The temptation
+was too great. Charlotte assumed that this was how Caroline Mason's
+shawl had been obtained. In that, however, she was mistaken.</p>
+
+<p>"Charlotte, we are going down to Bankes's. There'll be a better choice
+in his shop than in his pack. You have heard of the party at the
+Alhambra. Well, it is to be next Monday, and we want to ask you what we
+shall wear. What would you advise us to get for it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Get nothing," replied Charlotte. "Don't go to Bankes's, and don't go to
+the Alhambra."</p>
+
+<p>The whole assembly sat in wonder, with open eyes. "Not go to the party!"
+echoed pert Amelia Cross. "What next, Charlotte East?"</p>
+
+<p>"I told you what it would be, if you came into Charlotte East's," said
+Eliza Tyrrett, a sneer on her countenance.</p>
+
+<p>"I am not against proper amusement, though I don't much care for it
+myself," said Charlotte. "But when you speak of going to a party at the
+Alhambra, somehow it does not sound respectable."</p>
+
+<p>The girls opened their eyes wider. "Why, Charlotte, what harm do you
+suppose will come to us? We can take care of ourselves, I hope?"</p>
+
+<p>"It is not that," said Charlotte. "Of course you can. Still it does not
+sound nice. It is like going to a public-house&mdash;you can't call the
+Alhambra anything else. It is quite different, this, from going there to
+have tea in the summer. But that's not it, I say. If you go to it, you
+would be running into debt for all sorts of things at Bankes's, and get
+into trouble."</p>
+
+<p>"My sister-in-law says you are a croaker, Charlotte; and she's right,"
+cried Caroline Mason, with good-humour.</p>
+
+<p>"Charlotte, it is not a bit of use your talking," broke in Mary Ann
+Cross vehemently. "We shall go to the party, and we shall buy new things
+for it. Bankes's have some lovely sarcenets, cross-barred; green, and
+pink, and lilac; and me and 'Melia mean to have a dress apiece off 'em.
+With a pink bow in front, and a white collar&mdash;my! wouldn't folks stare
+at us!&mdash;Twelve yards each it would take, and they are one-and-eightpence
+a yard."</p>
+
+<p>"Mary Ann, it would be just madness! There'd be the making, the lining,
+and the ribbon: five or six-and-twenty shillings each, they would cost
+you. Pray don't!"</p>
+
+<p>"How you do reckon things up, Charlotte! We should pay off weekly: we
+have time afore us."</p>
+
+<p>"What would your father say?"</p>
+
+<p>"Charlotte, just hold your noise about father," quickly returned Amelia
+Cross, in a hushed and altered tone. "You know we don't tell him about
+Bankes's."</p>
+
+<p>Charlotte found she might as well have talked to the winds. The girls
+were bent upon the evening's pleasure, and also upon the smart things
+they deemed necessary for it. A few minutes more and they left her; and
+trooped down to the shop of the Messrs. Bankes.</p>
+
+<p>Charlotte was coming home that evening from an errand to the town, when
+she met Adam Thorneycroft. He was somewhat above the common run of
+workmen.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, is it you, Charlotte?" he exclaimed, stopping her. "I say, how is
+it that you'll never have anything to say to me now?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have told you why, Adam," she replied.</p>
+
+<p>"You have told me a pack of nonsense. I wouldn't lose you, Charlotte, to
+be made king of England. When once we are married, you shall see how
+steady I'll be. I will not enter a public-house."</p>
+
+<p>"You have been saying that you will not for these twelve months past,
+Adam," she sadly rejoined; and, had her face been visible in the dark
+night, he would have seen that it was working with agitation.</p>
+
+<p>"What does it hurt a man, to go out and take a quiet pipe and a glass
+after his work's over? Everybody does it."</p>
+
+<p>"Everybody does not. But I do not wish to contend. It seems to bring you
+no conviction. Half the miseries around us in Honey Fair arise from so
+much of the wages being wasted at the public-houses. I know what you
+would say&mdash;that the wives are in fault as well. So they are. I do not
+believe people were sent into the world to live as so many of us live:
+nothing but scuffle and discomfort, and&mdash;I may almost say
+it&mdash;sinfulness. One of these wretched households shall never be mine."</p>
+
+<p>"My goodness, Charlotte! How seriously you speak!"</p>
+
+<p>"It is a serious subject. I want to try to live so as to do my duty by
+myself and by those around me; to pass my days in peace with the world
+and with my conscience. A woman beaten down, cowed by all sorts of ills,
+could not do so; and, where the husband is unsteady, she must be beaten
+down. Adam, you know it is not with a willing heart I give you up, but I
+am forced to it."</p>
+
+<p>"How can you bring yourself to say this to me?" he rejoined.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't deny that it is hard," she faintly said, suppressing with
+difficulty her emotion. "This many a week I and duty have been having a
+conflict with each other: but duty has gained the mastery. I knew it
+would from the first&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Duty be smothered!" interrupted Adam Thorneycroft. "I shall think you a
+born natural presently, Charlotte."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I know. I can't help it. Adam, we should never pull together, you
+see. Good-bye! We can be friends in future, if you like; nothing more."</p>
+
+<p>She held out her hand to him for a parting salutation. Adam, hurt and
+angry, flung it from him, and turned towards Helstonleigh: and Charlotte
+continued her way home, her tears dropping in the dusky night.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV.</h2>
+
+<h3>HARD TO BEAR.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Mrs. Halliburton struggled on. A struggle, my reader, that it is to be
+hoped, for your comfort's sake, you have never experienced, and never
+will. She had learnt the stitch for the back of the gloves, and Mr. Lynn
+supplied her with a machine and with work. But she could not do it
+quickly as yet; though it was a hopeful day for her when she found that
+her weekly earnings amounted to six shillings.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Reece paid her twenty shillings a week. Or rather, Dobbs: for Dobbs
+was paymaster-general. Of that, Jane could use (she had made a close
+calculation) six shillings, putting by fourteen for rent and taxes. Her
+taxes were very light, part of them being paid by the landlord, as was
+the custom with some houses in Helstonleigh. But for this, the rent
+would have been less. Sorely tempted as she was, by hunger, by cold,
+almost by starvation, Jane was resolute in leaving the fourteen
+shillings intact. She had suffered too much from non-payment of the last
+rent, not to be prepared with the next. But&mdash;the endurance and
+deprivation!&mdash;how great they were! And she suffered far more for her
+children than for herself.</p>
+
+<p>One night, towards the middle of February, she felt very downhearted:
+almost as if she could not struggle on much longer. With her own
+earnings and the six shillings taken from Mrs. Reece's money she could
+count little more than twelve shillings weekly, and everything had to be
+found out of it. Coals, candles, washing&mdash;that is, the soap, firing,
+etc., necessary for Miss Betsy Carter to do it with; the boys'
+shoe-mending and other trifles, besides food. You will not, therefore,
+be surprised to hear that on this night they had literally nothing in
+the house but part of a loaf of bread. Jane was resolute in one
+thing&mdash;not to go into debt. Mrs. Buffle would have given credit,
+probably other shops also; but Jane believed that her sole chance of
+surmounting the struggle eventually was by keeping debt, even trifling
+debt, away. They had this morning eaten bread for breakfast; they had
+eaten potatoes and salt for dinner; and now, tea-time, there was bread
+again. All Jane had in her pocket was twopence, which must be kept for
+milk for the following morning; so they were drinking water now.</p>
+
+<p>They were round the fire; two of the boys kneeling on the ground to get
+the better blaze, thankful they had a fire at all. Their lessons were
+over for the day. William had been thoroughly well brought on by his
+father, in Greek, Latin, Euclid, and in English generally&mdash;in short, in
+the branches necessary to a good education. Frank and Gar were forward
+also; indeed, Frank, for his age, was a very good Latin scholar. But how
+could they do much good or make much progress by themselves? William
+helped his brothers as well as he could, but it was somewhat profitless
+work; and Jane was all too conscious that they needed to be at school.
+Altogether, her heart was sore within her.</p>
+
+<p>Another thing was beginning to worry her&mdash;a fear lest her brother should
+not be able to send the rent. She had fully counted upon it; but, now
+that the time of its promised receipt was at hand, fears and doubts
+arose. She was dwelling on it now&mdash;now, as she sat there at her work, in
+the twilight of the early spring evening. If the money did not come, all
+she could do would be to go to Mr. Ashley, tell him of her ill luck, and
+that he must take the things at last. They must turn out, wanderers on
+the wide earth; no&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>A plaintive cry interrupted her dream and recalled her to reality. It
+came from Jane, who was seated on a stool, her head leaning against the
+side of the mantel-piece.</p>
+
+<p>"She is crying, mamma," cried quick Frank; and Janey whispered something
+into Frank's ear, the cry deepening into sobs.</p>
+
+<p>"Mamma, she's crying because she's hungry."</p>
+
+<p>"Janey, dear, I have nothing but bread. You know it. Could you eat a
+bit?"</p>
+
+<p>"I want something else," sobbed Janey. "Some meat, or some pudding. It
+is such a long time since we had any. I am tired of bread; I am very
+hungry."</p>
+
+<p>There came an echoing cry from the other side of the fireplace. Gar had
+laid his head down on the floor, and he now broke out, sobbing also.</p>
+
+<p>"I am hungry too. I don't like bread any more than Janey does. When
+shall we have something nice?"</p>
+
+<p>Jane gathered them to her, one in each arm, soothing them with soft
+caresses, her heart aching, her own sobs choked down, one single comfort
+present to her&mdash;that God knew what she had to bear.</p>
+
+<p>Almost she began to fear for her own health. Would the intense anxiety,
+combined with the want of sufficient food, tell upon her? Would her
+sleepless nights tell upon her? Would her grief for the loss of her
+husband&mdash;a grief not the less keenly felt because she did not parade
+it&mdash;tell upon her? All <i>that</i> lay in the future.</p>
+
+<p>She rose the next morning early to her work; she always had to rise
+early&mdash;the boys and Jane setting the breakfast. Breakfast! Putting the
+bread upon the table and taking in the milk. For twopence they had a
+quart of skimmed milk, and were glad to get it. Her head was heavy, her
+frame hot, the result of inward fever, her limbs were tired before the
+day began; worse than all, there was that utter weariness of mind which
+predisposes a sufferer from it to lie down and die. "This will never
+do," thought Jane; "I <i>must</i> bear up."</p>
+
+<p>A dispute between Frank and Gar! They were good, affectionate boys; but
+little tempers must break out now and then. In trying to settle it, Jane
+burst into tears. It put an end to the fray more effectually than
+anything else could have done. The boys looked blank with consternation,
+and Janey burst into hysterical sobs.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't, Jane, don't," said the poor mother; "I am not well; but do not
+<i>you</i> cry."</p>
+
+<p>"I am not well, either," sobbed Janey. "It hurts me here, and here." She
+put her hand to her head and chest, and Jane knew that she was weak from
+long-continued insufficiency of food. There was no remedy for it. Jane
+only wished she could bear for them all.</p>
+
+<p>Some time after breakfast there came the postman's knock at the door. A
+thickish letter&mdash;twopence to pay. The penny postal system had come in,
+but letters were not so universally prepaid then as they are now.</p>
+
+<p>Jane glanced over it with a beating heart. Yes, it was her brother's
+handwriting. Could the promised rent have really arrived? She felt sick
+with agitation.</p>
+
+<p>"I have no money at all, Frank. Ask Dobbs if she will lend you
+twopence."</p>
+
+<p>Away went Frank, in his quick and not very ceremonious manner,
+penetrating to the kitchen, where Dobbs happened to be. "Dobbs, will you
+please to lend mamma twopence? It is for a letter."</p>
+
+<p>"Dobbs, indeed! Who's 'Dobbs'?" retorted that functionary in wrath. "I
+am Mrs. Dobbs, if you please. Take yourself out of my sight till you can
+learn manners."</p>
+
+<p>"Won't you lend it? The postman's waiting."</p>
+
+<p>"No, I won't," returned Dobbs.</p>
+
+<p>Back ran Frank. "She won't lend it, mamma. She says I was rude to her,
+and called her Dobbs."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Frank!" But the postman was impatient, demanding whether he was to
+be kept there all day. Jane was fain to apply to Dobbs herself, and
+procured the loan. Then she ran upstairs with the letter, and her
+trembling fingers broke the seal. Two banknotes, for 10£. each, fell out
+of it. The promised loan had been sixteen pounds. The Rev. Francis Tait
+had contrived to spare four pounds more.</p>
+
+<p>Before Jane had recovered from her excitement&mdash;almost before a breath of
+thanks had gone up from her heart&mdash;she saw Mr. Ashley on the opposite
+side of the road, going towards Helstonleigh. Being in no state to weigh
+her actions, only conscious that the two notes lay in her hand&mdash;actual
+realities&mdash;she threw on her bonnet and shawl, and went across the road
+to Mr. Ashley. In her agitation, she scarcely knew what she did or said.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, sir&mdash;I beg your pardon&mdash;but I have at this moment received the
+money for the back rent. May I give it to you now?"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Ashley looked at her in surprise. A scarlet spot shone on her thin
+cheeks&mdash;a happy excitement was spread over her face of care. He read the
+indications plainly&mdash;that she was an eager payer, but no willing debtor.
+The open letter in her hand, and the postman opposite, told the tale.</p>
+
+<p>"There is no such hurry, Mrs. Halliburton," he said, smiling. "I cannot
+give you a receipt here."</p>
+
+<p>"You can send it to me," she said. "I would rather pay you than Mr.
+Dare."</p>
+
+<p>She held out the notes to him. He felt in his pocket whether he had
+sufficient change, found he had, and handed it to her. "That is it,
+madam&mdash;four sovereigns. Thank you."</p>
+
+<p>She took them hesitatingly, but did not close her hand. "Was there not
+some expense incurred when&mdash;when that man was put in?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not for you to pay, Mrs. Halliburton," he pointedly returned. "I hope
+you are getting pretty well through your troubles?"</p>
+
+<p>The tears came into her eyes, and she turned them away. Getting pretty
+well through her troubles! "Thank you for inquiring," she meekly said.
+"I shall, I believe, have the quarter's rent ready in March, when it
+falls due."</p>
+
+<p>"Do not put yourself out of the way to pay it," he replied. "If it would
+be more convenient to you to let it go on to the half-year, it would be
+the same to me."</p>
+
+<p>Her heart rose to the kindness. "Thank you, Mr. Ashley, thank you very
+much for your consideration; but I must pay as I go on, if I possibly
+can."</p>
+
+<p>Patience stood at her gate, smiling as she recrossed the road. She had
+seen what had passed.</p>
+
+<p>"Thee hast good news, I see. But thee wert in a hurry, to pay thy rent
+in the road."</p>
+
+<p>"My brother has sent me the rent and four pounds over. Patience, I can
+buy bedside carpets now."</p>
+
+<p>Patience looked pleased. "With all thy riches thee will scarcely thank
+me for this poor three and sixpence," holding out the silver to her.
+"Samuel Lynn left it; it is owing thee for thy work."</p>
+
+<p>Jane smiled sadly as she took it. Her riches! "How is Anna?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"She is nicely, thank thee, and is gone to school. But she was wilful
+over her lessons this morning. Farewell. I am glad thee art so far out
+of thy perplexities."</p>
+
+<p>Very far, indeed; and a great relief it was. Can you realize these
+troubles of Mrs. Halliburton's? Not, I think, as she realized them. We
+pity the trials and endurance of the poor; but, believe me, they are as
+nothing compared with the bitter lot of reduced gentlepeople. Jane had
+not been brought up to poverty, to scanty and hard fare, to labour, to
+humiliations, to the pain of debt. But for hope&mdash;and some of us know how
+strong that is in the human heart&mdash;and for that better hope, <i>trust</i>,
+Jane never could have gone through her trials. Her physical privations
+alone were almost too hard to bear. Can you wonder that an unexpected
+present of four pounds seemed as a mine of wealth?</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV"></a>CHAPTER XXV.</h2>
+
+<h3>INCIPIENT VANITY.</h3>
+
+
+<p>But four pounds, however large a sum to look at, dwindles down sadly in
+the spending; especially when bedside carpets, and boys' boots&mdash;new ones
+and the mending of old ones&mdash;have to be deducted from it at the
+commencement. An idea had for some time been looming in Jane's mind;
+looming ominously, for she did not like to speak of it. It was, that
+William must go out and enter upon some employment, by which a little
+weekly money might be added to their stock. He was eager enough;
+indulging, no doubt, boy-like, peculiar visions of his own, great and
+grand. But these Jane had to dispel; to explain that for young boys,
+such as he, earning money implied hard work.</p>
+
+<p>His face flushed scarlet. Jane drew him to her and pressed her cheek
+upon his.</p>
+
+<p>"There would be no real disgrace in it, my darling. No work in itself
+brings disgrace; be it carrying out parcels or sweeping out a shop. So
+long as we retain our refinement of tone, of manner, our courteous
+conduct one to the other, we shall still be gentlepeople, let us work at
+what we may. William, I think it is your <i>duty</i> to help in our need."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I see, mamma," he answered. "I will try and do it; anything that
+may turn up."</p>
+
+<p>Jane had not much faith in things "turning up." She believed that they
+must be sought for. That same evening she went into Mr. Lynn's, with the
+view to asking his counsel. There she found Anna in trouble. The cause
+was as follows.</p>
+
+<p>Patience, leaving Anna alone at her lessons, had gone into the kitchen
+to give some directions to Grace. Anna seized the opportunity to take a
+little recreation: not that it was greatly needed, for&mdash;spoilt child
+that she was!&mdash;she had merely looked at her books with vacant eyes, not
+having in reality learned a single word. First of all, off went her cap.
+Next, she drew from her pocket a small mirror, about the size of a
+five-shilling piece. Propping this against her books on the table before
+her, so that the rays of the lamp might fall upon it, she proceeded to
+admire herself, and twist her flowing hair round her pretty fingers to
+make a shower of ringlets. Sad vanity for a little born Quakeress! But
+it must be owned that never did mirror, small or large, give back a more
+lovely image than that child's. She had just arranged her curls, and was
+contemplating their effect to her entire satisfaction, when back came
+Patience sooner than she was expected, and caught the young lady at her
+impromptu toilette. What with the curls and what with the mirror, Anna
+did not know which to hurry away first.</p>
+
+<p>"Thee naughty child! Thee naughty, naughty child! What is to become of
+thee? Where did thee get this?"</p>
+
+<p>Anna burst into tears. In her perplexity she said she had "found" the
+mirror.</p>
+
+<p>"That thee did not," said Patience calmly. "I ask thee where thee got it
+from?"</p>
+
+<p>Of a remarkably pliant nature, wavering and timid, Anna never withstood
+long the persistent questioning of Patience. Amid many tears the truth
+came out. Lucy Dixon had brought it to school in her workbox. It was a
+doll's mirror, and she, Anna, had given her sixpence for it.</p>
+
+<p>"The sixpence that thy father bestowed upon thee yesterday for being a
+good girl," retorted Patience. "I told him thee would likely not make a
+profitable use of it. Come up to bed with thee! I will talk to thee
+after thee are in it."</p>
+
+<p>Of all things, Anna disliked to be sent to bed before her time. She
+sobbed, expostulated, and promised all sorts of amendment for the
+future. Patience, firm and quiet, would have carried her point, but for
+the entrance of Samuel Lynn. The fault was related to him by Patience,
+and the mirror exhibited. Anna clung around him in a storm of sobs.</p>
+
+<p>"Dear father! Dear, dear father, don't thee let me go to bed! Let me sit
+by thee while thee hast thy supper. Patience may keep the glass, but
+don't thee let me go."</p>
+
+<p>It was quite a picture&mdash;the child clinging there with her crimsoned
+cheeks, her wet eyelashes, and her soft flowing hair. Samuel Lynn,
+albeit a man not given to demonstration, strained her to him with a
+loving movement. Perhaps the crime of looking into a doll's glass and
+toying with her hair appeared to him more venial than it did to
+Patience; but then, she was his beloved child.</p>
+
+<p>"Will thee transgress again, Anna?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I never will," sobbed Anna.</p>
+
+<p>"Then Patience will suffer thee to sit up this once. But thee must be
+careful."</p>
+
+<p>He placed her in a chair close to him. Patience, disapproving very much
+but saying nothing, left the room. Grace appeared with the supper-tray,
+and a message that Patience would take her supper in the kitchen. It was
+at this juncture that Mrs. Halliburton came in. She told the Quaker that
+she had come to consult him about William; and mentioned her intentions.</p>
+
+<p>"To tell thee the truth, friend, I have marvelled much that thee did
+not, under thy circumstances, seek to place out thy eldest son," was the
+answer. "He might be helping thee."</p>
+
+<p>"He is young to earn anything, Mr. Lynn. Do you see a chance of my
+getting him a place?"</p>
+
+<p>"That depends, friend, upon the sort of place he may wish for. I could
+help him to a place to-morrow. But it is one that may not accord with
+thy notions."</p>
+
+<p>"What is it?" eagerly asked Jane.</p>
+
+<p>"It is in Thomas Ashley's manufactory. We are in want of another boy,
+and the master told me to-day I had better inquire for one."</p>
+
+<p>"What would he have to do?" asked Jane. "And what would he earn?"</p>
+
+<p>"He would have to do anything he may be directed to do. Thy son is older
+than are our boys who come to us ordinarily, and he has been differently
+brought up; therefore I might put him to somewhat better employment. He
+might also be paid a trifle more. They sweep and dust, go on outdoor
+errands, carry messages indoors, black the gloves, get in coal; and they
+earn, if they are sharp, half-a-crown a week."</p>
+
+<p>Jane's heart sank within her.</p>
+
+<p>"But thy son, I say, might be treated somewhat differently. Not that he
+must be above doing any of these duties, should he be put to them. I can
+assure thee, friend, that some of the first manufacturers of this town
+have thus begun their career. A thoroughly practical knowledge of the
+business is only to be acquired by beginning at the first step of the
+ladder, and working upwards."</p>
+
+<p>"Did Mr. Ashley so begin?" She could scarcely tell why she asked the
+question. Unless it was that a feeling came over her that if Mr. Ashley
+had done these things, she would not mind William's doing them.</p>
+
+<p>"No, friend. Thomas Ashley's father was a man of means, and Thomas was
+bred up a classical scholar and a gentleman. He has never taken a
+practical part in the working of the business: I do that for him. His
+labours are chiefly confined to the correspondence and the keeping of
+the books. His father wished him to embrace a profession rather than be
+a glove manufacturer: but Thomas preferred to succeed his father. If
+thee would like thy son to enter our manufactory, I will try him."</p>
+
+<p>Jane was dubious. She felt quite sure that William would not like it.
+"He has been thinking of a counting-house, or a lawyer's or
+conveyancer's office," she said aloud. "He would like to employ his time
+in writing. Would there be difficulty in getting him into one?"</p>
+
+<p>"I do not opine a lawyer would take a boy of his size. They require
+their writing to be well and correctly done. About that, I cannot tell
+thee much, for I have nothing to do with lawyers. He can inquire."</p>
+
+<p>Jane rose. She stood by the table, unconsciously stroking Anna's flowing
+curls&mdash;for the cap had never been replaced, and Samuel Lynn found no
+fault with the omission. "I will speak candidly," said Jane. "I fear
+that the place you have kindly offered me would not be liked by William.
+Other employments, writing for example, would be more palatable.
+Nevertheless, were he unable to obtain anything else I should be glad to
+accept this. Will you give me three or four days for consideration?"</p>
+
+<p>"To oblige thee, I will, friend. When Thomas Ashley gives orders, he is
+prompt in having them attended to; and he spoke, as I have informed
+thee, about a fresh boy to-day. Would it not be a help to thee, friend,
+if thee got thy other two boys into the school attached to the
+cathedral?"</p>
+
+<p>"But I have no interest," said Jane. "I hear that education there is
+free; but I do not possess the slightest chance."</p>
+
+<p>"Thee may get a chance, friend. There's nothing like trying. I must tell
+thee that the school is not thought highly of, in consequence of the
+instruction being confined exclusively to Latin and Greek. In the old
+days this was thought enough; but people are now getting more
+enlightened. Thomas Ashley was educated there; but he had a private
+tutor at home for the branches not taught at the college; he had also
+masters for what are called accomplishments. He is one of the most
+accomplished men of the day. Few are so thoroughly and comprehensively
+educated as Thomas Ashley. I have heard say thy sons have begun Latin.
+It might be a help to them if they could get in."</p>
+
+<p>"I should desire nothing better," Jane breathlessly rejoined, a new hope
+penetrating her heart. "I have heard of the collegiate school here; but,
+until very recently I supposed it to be an expensive institution."</p>
+
+<p>"No, friend; it is free. The best way to get a boy in is by making
+interest with the head-master of the school, or with some of the
+cathedral clergy."</p>
+
+<p>A recollection of Mr. Peach flashed into Jane's mind as a ray of light.
+She bade good-night to Samuel Lynn and Anna, and to Patience as she
+passed the kitchen. Patience had been crying.</p>
+
+<p>"I am grieved about Anna," she explained. "I love the child dearly, but
+Samuel Lynn is blind to her faults; and it argues badly for the future.
+Thee cannot imagine half her vanity; I fear me, too, she is deceitful. I
+wish her father could see it! I wish he would indulge her less and
+correct her more! Good night to thee."</p>
+
+<p>Before concluding the chapter, it may as well be mentioned that a piece
+of good fortune about this time befell Janey. She found favour with
+Dobbs! How it came about perhaps Dobbs could not herself have told.
+Certainly no one else could.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Reece had got into the habit of asking Jane into her parlour to
+tea. She was a kind-hearted old lady and liked the child. Dobbs would
+afterwards be at work, generally some patching and mending to her own
+clothes; and Dobbs, though she would not acknowledge it to herself or to
+any one else, could not see to thread her needle. Needle in one hand and
+thread in the other, she would poke the two together for five minutes,
+no result supervening. Janey hit upon the plan of threading her a needle
+in silence, whilst Dobbs used the one; and from that time Jane kept her
+in threaded needles. Whether this conciliated Dobbs must remain a
+mystery, but she took a liking for Jane; and the liking grew into love.
+Henceforth Janey wanted for nothing. While the others starved, she lived
+on the fat of the land. Meat and pudding, fowls and pastry, whatever
+dinner in the parlour might consist of, Janey had her share of it, and a
+full share too. At first Mrs. Halliburton, from motives of delicacy,
+would not allow Jane to go in; upon which Dobbs would enter, boiling
+over with indignation, red with the exertion of cooking, and
+triumphantly bear her off. Jane spoke seriously to Mrs. Reece about it,
+but the old lady declared she was as glad to have the child as Dobbs
+was.</p>
+
+<p>Once, Janey came to a standstill over some apple pudding, which had
+followed upon veal cutlets and bacon. "I am quite full," said she, more
+plainly than politely: "I can't eat a bit more. May I give this piece
+upon my plate to Gar?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, you may not," snapped Dobbs, drowning Mrs. Reece's words, that she
+might give it and welcome. "How dare you, Janey? You know that boys is
+the loadstones of my life."</p>
+
+<p>Dobbs probably used the word loadstones to indicate a heavy weight. She
+seized the plate of pudding and finished it herself, lest it should find
+its way to the suggested quarter&mdash;a self-sacrifice which served to show
+her earnestness in the cause. Nothing gave Dobbs indigestion like apple
+pudding, and she knew she should be a martyr for four-and-twenty hours
+afterwards.</p>
+
+<p>Thus Jane, at least, suffered from henceforth no privations, and for
+this Mrs. Halliburton was very thankful. The time was to come, however,
+when she would have reason to be more so.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXVI.</h2>
+
+<h3>MR. ASHLEY'S MANUFACTORY.</h3>
+
+
+<p>The happy thought, suggested by Samuel Lynn, Jane carried out. She
+applied in person to Mr. Peach, and he obtained an immediate entrance
+for Frank to the college school, with a promise for Gar to enter at
+quarter-day, the 25th of March. He was perfectly thunderstruck when he
+found that his old friend and tutor, Mr. Halliburton, was dead; had died
+in Helstonleigh; and that he&mdash;<i>he!</i>&mdash;had buried him. There was no need
+to ask him twice, after that, to exert his interest for the fatherless
+children. The school (I have told you what it was many years ago) was
+not held in the highest repute, from the reason spoken of by Samuel
+Lynn; vacancies often occurred, and admission was easy. It was one great
+weight off Jane's mind.</p>
+
+<p>William was not so fortunate. He was at that period very short for his
+age, timid in manner, and no office could be persuaded to take him.
+Nothing in the least congenial to him presented itself or could be
+found; and the result was that he resigned himself to Samuel Lynn, who
+introduced him to Mr. Ashley's extensive manufactory&mdash;to be initiated by
+degrees into all the mysteries necessary to convert a skin into a glove.
+And although his interest and curiosity were excited by what he saw, he
+pronounced it a "hateful" business.</p>
+
+<p>When the skins came in from the leather-dressers they were washed in a
+tub of cold water. The next day warm water, mixed with yolks of eggs,
+was poured on them, and a couple of men, bare-legged to the knee, got
+into the tub, and danced upon them, skins, eggs, and water, for two
+hours. Then they were spread in a field to dry, till they were as hard
+as lantern horn; then they were "staked," as it was called&mdash;a long
+process, to smooth and soften them. To the stainers next, to be stained
+black or coloured; next to the parers, to have the loose flesh pared
+from the inside, and to be smoothed again with pumice-stone&mdash;all this
+being done on the outside premises. Then they came inside, to the hands
+of one of the foremen, who sorted and marked them for the cutters. The
+cutters cut the skins into tranks (the shape of the hand in outline)
+with the separate thumbs and forgits, and sent them in to the slitters.
+The slitters slit the four fingers, and <i>shaped</i> the thumbs and forgits:
+after that, they were ready for the women&mdash;three different women, you
+may remember, being necessary to turn out each glove, so far as the
+sewing went; for one woman rarely worked at more than her own peculiar
+branch, or was capable of working at it. This done, and back in the
+manufactory again, they had to be pulled straight, and "padded," or
+rubbed, a process by which they were brightened. If black gloves, the
+seams were washed over with a black dye, or else glazed; then they were
+hung up to dry. This done, they went into Samuel Lynn's room, a large
+room next to Mr. Ashley's private room, and here they were sorted into
+firsts, seconds, or thirds; the sorting being always done by Samuel
+Lynn, or by James Meeking the head foreman. It was called "making-up."
+Next they were banded round with a paper in dozens, labelled, and placed
+in small boxes, ready for the warehouses in London. A great deal, you
+see, before one pair of gloves could be turned out.</p>
+
+<p>The first morning that William went at six o'clock with Samuel Lynn, he
+was ordered to light the fire in Mr. Ashley's room, sweep it out, and
+dust it, first of all sprinkling the floor with water from a
+watering-pot. And this was to be part of his work every morning at
+present; Samuel Lynn giving him strict charge never to disturb anything
+on Mr. Ashley's desk. If he moved things to dust the desk, he was to lay
+them down again in the same places and in the same position. The duster
+consisted of some leather shreds tied up into a knot, the ends loose. He
+found he should have to wait on Mr. Ashley and Samuel Lynn, bring things
+they wanted, carry messages to the men, and go out when sent. A pair of
+shears, which he could not manage, was put into his hand, and he had to
+cut a damaged skin, useless for gloves, into narrow strips, standing at
+one of the counters in Samuel Lynn's room. William wondered whether they
+were to make another duster, but he found they were used in the
+manufactory in place of string. That done, a round, polished stick was
+handed to him, tapered at either end, which he had to pass over and over
+some small gloves to make them smooth, after the manner of a cook
+rolling out paste for a pie. He looked with dismay at the two young
+errand boys of the establishment, who were black with dye. But Samuel
+Lynn had distinctly told him that he would not be expected to place
+himself on their level. The rooms were for the most part very light, one
+or two sides being entirely of glass.</p>
+
+<p>On the evening of this first day, William, after he got home, sat there
+in sad heaviness. His mother asked how he liked his employment, and he
+returned an evasive answer. Presently he rose to go to bed, saying he
+had a headache. Up he went to the garret, and flung himself down on the
+mattress, sobbing as if his heart would break. Jane, suspecting
+something of this, followed him up. She caught him in her arms.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, my darling, don't give way! Things may grow brighter after a time."</p>
+
+<p>"It is such a dreadful change!&mdash;from my books, my Latin and Greek, to go
+there and sweep out places like those two black boys!" he said
+hysterically, all his reticence gone.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear boy! my darling boy! I know not how to reconcile you, how to
+lessen your cares. Your experience of the sorrow of life is beginning
+early. You are hungry, too."</p>
+
+<p>"I am always hungry," answered William, quite unable to affect
+concealment in that hour of grief. "I heard one of those black boys say
+he had boiled pork and greens for dinner. I did so envy him."</p>
+
+<p>Jane checked her tears; they were rising rebelliously. "William, darling
+your lot seems just now very dark and painful, but it might be worse."</p>
+
+<p>"Worse!" he echoed in surprise. "How could it be worse? Mamma, I am no
+better than an errand-boy there."</p>
+
+<p>"It would be worse, William, if you were one of those poor black boys.
+Unenlightened; no wish for higher things; content to remain as they are
+for ever."</p>
+
+<p>"But that could never be," he urged. "To be content with such a life is
+impossible."</p>
+
+<p>"They are content, William."</p>
+
+<p>He saw the drift of the argument. "Yes, mamma," he acknowledged; "I did
+not reflect. It would be worse if I were quite as they are."</p>
+
+<p>"William, we can only bear our difficulties, and make the best of them,
+trusting to surmount them in the end. You and I must both do this. Trust
+is different from hope. If we only hope, we may lose courage; but if we
+fully and freely <i>trust</i>, we cannot. Patience and perseverance,
+endurance and trust, they will in the end triumph; never fear. If I
+feared, William, I should go into the grave with despair. I never lose
+my trust. I never lose my conviction, firm and certain, that God is
+watching over me, that He is permitting these trials for some wise
+purpose, and that in His own good time we shall be brought through
+them."</p>
+
+<p>William's sobs were growing lighter.</p>
+
+<p>"The time may come when we shall be at ease again," continued Jane;
+"when we shall look back on this time of trial, and be thankful that we
+did bear up and surmount it, instead of fainting under the burden. God
+will take care that the battle is not too hot for us, if we only resign
+ourselves, in all trust, to do the best. The future is grievously dim
+and indistinct. As the guiding light in your father's dream shone only
+on one step at a time, so can I see only one step before me."</p>
+
+<p>"What step is that?" he asked somewhat eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>"The one obvious step before me is to persevere, as I am now doing, to
+try and retain this home for you, my children; to work as I can, so as
+to keep you around me. I must strive to keep you together, and you must
+help me. Bear up bravely, William. Make the best of this unpleasant
+employment and its mortifications, and strive to overcome your
+repugnance to it. Be resolute, my boy, in doing your duty in it, because
+it is your duty, and because, William&mdash;because it is helping your
+mother."</p>
+
+<p>A shadow of the trust, so firm in his mother's heart, began to dawn in
+his. "Yes, it is my duty," he resolutely said. "I will try to do it&mdash;to
+hope and trust."</p>
+
+<p>Jane strained him to her. "Were you and I to give way now, darling, our
+past troubles would have been borne for nothing. Let us, I repeat, look
+forward to the time when we may say, 'We did not faint; we battled on,
+and overcame.' It <i>will</i> come, William. Only trust to God."</p>
+
+<p>She quitted him, leaving him to reflection and resolve scarcely
+befitting his young years.</p>
+
+<p>The week wore on to its close. On the Saturday night, William, his face
+flushed, held out four shillings to his mother. "My week's wages,
+mamma."</p>
+
+<p>Jane's face flushed also. "It is more than I expected, William," she
+said. "I fancied you would have three."</p>
+
+<p>"I think the master fixed the sum," said William.</p>
+
+<p>"The master? Do you mean Mr. Ashley?"</p>
+
+<p>"We never say 'Mr. Ashley' in the manufactory; we say 'the master.' Mr.
+Lynn was paying the wages to-night. I heard them say that sometimes Mr.
+Lynn paid them, and sometimes James Meeking. Those two black boys have
+half-a-crown apiece. He left me to the last, and when the rest were
+gone, he looked at me and took up three shillings. Then he seemed to
+hesitate, and suddenly he locked the desk, went into the master's room,
+and spoke with him. He came back in a minute, unlocked the desk, and
+gave me four shillings. 'Thee hast not earned it,' he said, 'but I think
+thee has done thy best. Thee will have the same each week, so long as
+thee does so.'"</p>
+
+<p>Jane held the four shillings, and felt that she was growing quite rich.
+The rest crowded round to look. "Can't we have a nice dinner to-morrow
+with it?" said one.</p>
+
+<p>"I think we must," said Jane cheerily. "A nice dinner for once in a way.
+What shall it be?"</p>
+
+<p>"Roast beef," called out Frank.</p>
+
+<p>"Pork with crackling," suggested Janey. "That of Mrs. Reece's yesterday
+was so good."</p>
+
+<p>"Couldn't we have fowls and a jam pudding?" asked Gar.</p>
+
+<p>Jane smiled and kissed him. All the suggestions were beyond her purse.
+"We will have a meat pudding," she said; "that's best." And the children
+cheerfully acquiesced. They had implicit faith in their mother; they
+knew that what she said was best, would be best.</p>
+
+<p>On this same Saturday night Charlotte East was returning home from
+Helstonleigh, an errand having taken her thither after dark. Almost
+opposite to the turning to Honey Fair, a lane branched off, leading to
+some farm-houses; a lane, green and pleasant in summer, but bare and
+uninviting now. Two people turned into it as Charlotte looked across.
+She caught only a glance; but something in the aspect of both struck
+upon her as familiar. A gas-lamp at the corner shed a light upon the
+spot, and Charlotte suddenly halted, and stood endeavouring to peer
+further. But they were soon out of view. A feeling of dismay had stolen
+over Charlotte. She hoped she was mistaken; that the parties were not
+those she had fancied; and she slowly continued her way. A few paces
+more, she turned up the road leading to Honey Fair and found herself
+nearly knocked over by one who came running against her, apparently in
+some excitement and in a great hurry.</p>
+
+<p>"Who's this?" cried the voice of Eliza Tyrrett. "Charlotte East, I
+declare! I say, have you seen anything of Caroline Mason?"</p>
+
+<p>Charlotte hesitated. She hoped she had not seen her; though the
+misgiving was upon her that she had. "Did you think I might have seen
+her?" she returned. "Has she come this way?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I expect she has come this way, and I want to find her," returned
+Eliza Tyrrett vehemently. "I saw her making off out of Honey Fair, and I
+saw who was waiting for her round the corner. I knew my company wasn't
+wanted then, and turned into Dame Buffle's for a talk; and there I found
+that Madam Carry has been telling falsehoods about me. Let me set on to
+her, that's all! I shall say what she won't like."</p>
+
+<p>"Who do you mean was waiting for her?" inquired Charlotte East.</p>
+
+<p>Eliza Tyrrett laughed. She was beginning to recover her temper. "You'd
+like to know, wouldn't you?" said she pertly. "But I'm not going to tell
+tales out of school."</p>
+
+<p>"I think I do know," returned Charlotte quietly. "I fear I do."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you? I thought nobody knew nothing about it but me. It has been
+going on this ten weeks. Did you see her, though, Charlotte?"</p>
+
+<p>"I thought I saw her, but I could not believe my eyes. She was
+with&mdash;with&mdash;some one she has no business to be with."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, as to business, I don't know about that," carelessly answered Eliza
+Tyrrett. "We have a right to walk with anybody we like."</p>
+
+<p>"Whether it is good or bad for you?" returned Charlotte.</p>
+
+<p>"There's no 'bad' in it," cried Eliza Tyrrett indignantly. "I never saw
+such an old maid as you are, Charlotte East, never! Carry Mason's not a
+child, to be led into mischief."</p>
+
+<p>"Carry's very foolish," was Charlotte's comment.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, of course <i>you</i> think so, or it wouldn't be you. You'll go and tell
+upon her at home, I suppose, now."</p>
+
+<p>"I shall tell <i>her</i>," said Charlotte. "Folks should choose their
+acquaintances in their own class of life, if they want things to turn
+out pleasantly."</p>
+
+<p>"Were you not all took in about that shawl!" uttered Eliza Tyrrett, with
+a laugh. "You thought she went in debt for it at Bankes's, and her
+people at home thought so. Het Mason shrieked on at her like anything,
+for spending money on her back while she owed it for her board. <i>He</i>
+gave her that."</p>
+
+<p>"Eliza!"</p>
+
+<p>"He did. Law, where's the harm? He is rich enough to give all us girls
+in Honey Fair one apiece, and who'd be the worse for it? Only his
+pocket; and that can afford it. I wish he would!"</p>
+
+<p>"I wish you would not talk so, Eliza. She is not a fit companion for
+him, even though it is but to take a walk; and she ought to remember
+that she is not."</p>
+
+<p>"He wants her for a longer companion than that," observed Eliza Tyrrett;
+"that is, if he tells true. He wants her to marry him."</p>
+
+<p>"He&mdash;wants her to marry him!" repeated Charlotte, speaking the words in
+sheer amazement. "Who says so?"</p>
+
+<p>"He does. I should hardly think he can be in earnest, though."</p>
+
+<p>"Eliza Tyrrett, we cannot be speaking of the same person," cried
+Charlotte, feeling bewildered. "To whom have you been alluding?"</p>
+
+<p>"To the same that you have, I expect. Young Anthony Dare."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXVII.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE FORGOTTEN LETTER.</h3>
+
+
+<p>It was the last day of March, and five o'clock in the afternoon. The
+great bell had rung in Mr. Ashley's manufactory, the signal for the men
+to go to their tea. Scuffling feet echoed to it from all parts, and
+clattered down the stairs on their way out. The ground floor was not
+used for the indoor purposes of the manufactory, the business being
+carried on in the first and second floors. The first flight of stairs
+opened into what was called the serving-room, a very large apartment;
+through this, on the right, branched off Mr. Ashley's room and Samuel
+Lynn's. On the left, various passages led to other rooms, and the upper
+flight of stairs was opposite to the entrance-stairs. The
+serving-counter, running completely across the room, formed a barrier
+between the serving-room and the entrance staircase.</p>
+
+<p>The men flocked into the serving-room, passed it, and rattled down the
+stairs. Samuel Lynn was changing his coat to follow, and William
+Halliburton was waiting for him, his cap on, for he walked to and fro
+with the Quaker, when Mr. Ashley's voice was heard from his room: the
+counting-house, as it was frequently called.</p>
+
+<p>"William!" It was usual to distinguish the boys by their Christian name
+only; the men by both their Christian and surnames. Samuel Lynn was "Mr.
+Lynn."</p>
+
+<p>"Did thee not hear the master calling to thee?"</p>
+
+<p>William had certainly heard Mr. Ashley's voice; but it was so unusual to
+be called by it, that he had paid no attention. He had very little
+communication with Mr. Ashley; in the three or four weeks he had now
+been at the manufactory Mr. Ashley had not spoken to him a dozen words.
+He hastened into the counting-house, taking off his cap in the presence
+of Mr. Ashley.</p>
+
+<p>"Have the men gone to tea?" inquired Mr. Ashley, who was sealing a
+letter.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir," replied William.</p>
+
+<p>"Is George Dance gone?" George Dance was an apprentice, and it was his
+business to take the letters to the post.</p>
+
+<p>"They are all gone, sir, except Mr. Lynn; and James Meeking, who is
+waiting to lock up."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know the post-office?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes, sir. It is in West Street, at the other end of the town."</p>
+
+<p>"Take this letter, and put it carefully in."</p>
+
+<p>William received the letter from Mr. Ashley, and dropped it into his
+jacket pocket. It was addressed to Bristol; the London mail-bags were
+already made up. Mr. Ashley put on his hat and departed, followed by
+Samuel Lynn and William. James Meeking locked up, as it was his
+invariable business to do, and carried the keys into his own house. He
+inhabited part of the ground floor of the premises.</p>
+
+<p>"Are thee not coming home with me this evening?" inquired Samuel Lynn of
+William, who was turning off the opposite way.</p>
+
+<p>"No; the master has given me a letter to post. I have also an errand to
+do for my mother."</p>
+
+<p>It happened (things do happen in a curious sort of way in this world)
+that Mrs. Halliburton had desired William to bring her in some candles
+and soap at tea-time, and to purchase them at Lockett's shop. Lockett's
+shop was rather far off; there were others nearer; but Lockett's goods
+were of the best quality, and his extensive trade enabled him to sell a
+halfpenny a pound cheaper. A halfpenny was a halfpenny with Jane then.
+William went on his way, walking fast.</p>
+
+<p>As he was passing the cathedral, he came into contact with the college
+boys, then just let out of school. It was the first day that Gar had
+joined; he had received his appointment, according to promise. Very
+thankful was Jane; in spite of the drawback of having to provide them
+with linen surplices. William halted to see if he could discern Gar
+amidst the throng: it was not unnatural that he should look for him.</p>
+
+<p>One of the boys caught sight of William standing there. It was Cyril
+Dare, the third son of Mr. Dare, a boy older and considerably bigger
+than William.</p>
+
+<p>"If there's not another of that Halliburton lot posted there!" cried he,
+to a knot of those around. "Perhaps he will be coming amongst us
+next&mdash;because we have not enough with the two! Look at the fellow,
+staring at us! He is a common errand-boy at Ashley's."</p>
+
+<p>Frank Halliburton, who, little as he was, wanted neither for spirit nor
+pluck, heard the words and confronted Cyril Dare. "That is my brother,"
+said he. "What have you to say against him?"</p>
+
+<p>Cyril Dare cast a glance of scorn on Frank, regarding him from top to
+toe. "You audacious young puppy! I say he is a snob. There!"</p>
+
+<p>"Then I say he is not," retorted Frank. "You are one yourself, for
+saying it."</p>
+
+<p>Cyril Dare, big enough to have crushed Frank to death, speedily had him
+on the ground, and treated him not very mercifully when there. William,
+a witness to this, but not understanding it, pushed his way through the
+crowd to protect Frank. All he saw was that Frank was down, and two big
+boys were kicking him.</p>
+
+<p>"Let him alone!" cried he. "How can you be so cowardly as to attack a
+little fellow? And two of you! Shame!"</p>
+
+<p>Now, if there was one earthly thing that the college boys would not
+brook, it was being interfered with by a stranger. William suffered.
+Frank's treatment had been nothing to what he had to submit to. He was
+knocked down, trampled on, kicked, buffeted, abused; Cyril Dare being
+the chief and primary aggressor. At that moment the under-master came in
+view, and the boys made off&mdash;all except Cyril Dare.</p>
+
+<p>Reined in against the wall, at a few yards' distance, was a lad on a
+pony. He had delicately expressive features, large soft brown eyes, a
+complexion too bright for health, and wavy dark hair. The face was
+beautiful; but two upright lines were indented in the white forehead, as
+if worn there by pain, and the one ungloved hand was white and thin. He
+was as old as William within a year; but, slight and fragile, would be
+taken to be much younger. Seeing and hearing&mdash;though not very
+clearly&mdash;what had passed, he touched his pony, and rode up to Cyril
+Dare. The latter was beginning to walk away leisurely, in the wake of
+his companions; the upper boys were rather fond of ignoring the presence
+of the under-master. Cyril turned at hearing himself called.</p>
+
+<p>"What! Is it you, Henry Ashley? Where did you spring from?"</p>
+
+<p>"Cyril Dare," was the answer, "you are a wretched coward."</p>
+
+<p>Cyril Dare was feeling anger yet, and the words did not lessen it. "Of
+course <i>you</i> can say so!" he cried. "You know that you can say what you
+like with impunity. One can't chastise a cripple like you."</p>
+
+<p>The brilliant, painful colour flushed into the face of Henry Ashley. To
+allude openly to infirmity such as this is as iron entering into the
+soul. Upon a sensitive, timid, refined nature (and those suffering from
+this sort of affliction are nearly sure to possess that nature), it
+falls with a bitterness that can neither be conceived by others nor
+spoken of by themselves. Henry Ashley braved it out.</p>
+
+<p>"A coward, and a double coward!" he repeated, looking Cyril Dare full in
+the face, whilst the transparent flush grew hotter on his own. "You
+struck a young boy down, and then kicked him; and for nothing but that
+he stood up like a trump at your abuse of his brother."</p>
+
+<p>"You couldn't hear," returned Cyril Dare roughly.</p>
+
+<p>"I heard enough. I say that you are a coward."</p>
+
+<p>"Chut! They are snobs out-and-out."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't care if they are chimney-sweeps. It does not make you less a
+coward. And you'll be one as long as you live. If I had my strength, I'd
+serve you out as you served them out."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, but you have not your strength, you know!" mocked Cyril. "And as
+you seem to be going into one of your heroic fits, I shall make a start,
+for I have no time to waste on them."</p>
+
+<p>He tore away. Henry Ashley turned his pony and addressed William. Both
+boys had spoken rapidly, so that scarcely a minute had passed, and
+William had only just risen from the ground. He leaned against the wall,
+giddy, as he wiped the blood from his face. "Are you much hurt?" asked
+Henry, kindly, his large dark eyes full of sympathy.</p>
+
+<p>"No, thank you; it is nothing," replied William. "He is a great coward,
+though, whoever he is."</p>
+
+<p>"It is Cyril Dare," called out Frank.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, it is Cyril Dare," continued Henry Ashley. "I have been telling
+him what a coward he is. I am ashamed of him: he is my cousin, in a
+remote degree. I am glad you are not hurt."</p>
+
+<p>Henry Ashley rode away towards his home. Frank followed in the same
+direction; as did Gar, who now came in view. William proceeded up the
+town. He was a little hurt, although he had disowned it to Henry Ashley.
+His head felt light, his arms ached; perhaps the sensation of giddiness
+was as much from the want of food as anything. He purchased what was
+required for his mother; and then made the best of his way home again.
+Mr. Ashley's letter had gone clean out of his head.</p>
+
+<p>Frank, in the manner usual with boys, carried home so exaggerated a
+story of William's damages, that Jane expected to see him arrive
+half-killed. Samuel Lynn heard of it, and said William might stop at
+home that evening. It has never been mentioned that his hours were from
+six till eight in the morning, from nine till one, from two till five,
+and from six till eight. These were Mr. Lynn's hours, and William was
+allowed to keep the same; the men had half-an-hour less allowed for
+breakfast and tea.</p>
+
+<p>William was glad of the rest, after his battle, and the evening passed
+on. It was growing late, almost bedtime, when suddenly there flashed
+into his memory Mr. Ashley's letter. He put his hand into his
+jacket-pocket. There it lay, snug and safe. With a few words of
+explanation to his mother, so hasty and incoherent that she did not
+understand a syllable, he snatched his cap, and flew away in the
+direction of the town.</p>
+
+<p>Boys have good legs and lungs; and William scarcely slackened speed
+until he gained the post-office, not far short of a mile. Dropping the
+letter into the box, he stood against the wall to recover breath. A
+clerk was standing at the door whistling; and at that moment a
+gentleman, apparently a stranger, came out of a neighbouring hotel, a
+letter in hand.</p>
+
+<p>"This is the head post-office, I believe?" said he to the clerk.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Am I in time to post a letter for Bristol?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir. The bags for the Bristol mail are made up. It will be through
+the town directly."</p>
+
+<p>William heard this with consternation. If it was too late for this
+gentleman's letter, it was too late for Mr. Ashley's.</p>
+
+<p>He said nothing to any one that night; but he lay awake thinking over
+what might be the consequences of his forgetfulness. The letter might be
+one of importance; Mr. Ashley might discharge him for his neglect&mdash;and
+the weekly four shillings had grown into an absolute necessity. William
+possessed a large share of conscientiousness, and the fault disturbed
+him much.</p>
+
+<p>When he came down at six, he found his mother up and at work. He gave
+her the history of what had happened. "What can be done?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Nay, William, put that question to yourself. What ought you to do?
+Reflect a moment."</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose I ought to tell Mr. Ashley."</p>
+
+<p>"Do not say 'I suppose,' my dear. You must tell him."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I know I must," he acknowledged. "I have been thinking about it
+all night. But I don't like to."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, child! we have many things to do that we 'don't like.' But the
+first trouble is always the worst. Look it fully in the face, and it
+will melt away. There is no help for it in this matter, William; your
+duty is plain. There's Mr. Lynn looking out for you."</p>
+
+<p>William went out, heavy with the thought of the task he should have to
+accomplish after breakfast. He knew that he must do it. It was a duty,
+as his mother had said; and she had fully impressed upon them all, from
+their infancy, the necessity of looking out for their duty and doing it,
+whether in great things or in small.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Ashley entered the manufactory that morning at his usual hour,
+half-past nine. He opened and read his letters, and then was engaged for
+some time with Samuel Lynn. By ten o'clock the counting-house was clear.
+Mr. Ashley was alone in it, and William knew that his time was come. He
+went in, and approached Mr. Ashley's desk.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Ashley, who was writing, looked up. "What is it?"</p>
+
+<p>William's face grew red and white by turns. He was of a remarkably
+sensitive nature; and these sensitive natures cannot help betraying
+their inward emotion. Try as he would, he could not get a word out. Mr.
+Ashley was surprised. "What is the matter?" he wonderingly asked.</p>
+
+<p>"If you please, sir&mdash;I am very sorry&mdash;it is about the letter," he
+stammered, and was unable to get any further.</p>
+
+<p>"The letter!" repeated Mr. Ashley. "What letter? Not the letter I gave
+you to post?"</p>
+
+<p>"I forgot it, sir,"&mdash;and William's own voice sounded to his ear
+painfully clear.</p>
+
+<p>"Forgot to post it! That was unpardonably careless. Where is the
+letter?"</p>
+
+<p>"I forgot it, sir, until night, and then I ran to the post-office and
+put it in. Afterwards I heard the clerk say that the Bristol bags were
+made up, so of course it would not go. I am very sorry, sir," he
+repeated, after a pause.</p>
+
+<p>"How came you to forget it? You ought to have gone direct from here, and
+posted it."</p>
+
+<p>"So I did go, sir. That is I was going, but&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But what?" returned Mr. Ashley, for William had made a dead standstill.</p>
+
+<p>"The college boys set on me, sir. They were ill-using my brother, and I
+interfered; and then they turned upon me. It made me forget the letter."</p>
+
+
+<p>"It was you who got into an affray with the college boys, was it?" cried
+Mr. Ashley. He had heard his son's version of the affair, without
+suspecting that it related to William.</p>
+
+<p>William waited by the desk. "If you please, sir, was it of great
+consequence?"</p>
+
+<p>"It might have been. Do not be guilty of such carelessness again."</p>
+
+<p>"I will try not, sir."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Ashley looked down at his writing. William waited. He did not
+suppose it was over, and he wanted to know the worst. "Why do you stay?"
+asked Mr. Ashley.</p>
+
+<p>"I hope you will not turn me away for it, sir," he said, his colour
+changing again.</p>
+
+<p>"Well&mdash;not this time," replied Mr. Ashley, smiling to himself. "But I'll
+tell you what I should have felt inclined to turn you away for," he
+added&mdash;"concealing the fact from me. Whatever fault, omission, or
+accident you may commit, always acknowledge it at once; it is the best
+plan, and the easiest. You may go back to your work now."</p>
+
+<p>William left the room with a lighter step. Mr. Ashley looked after him.
+"That's an honest lad," thought he. "He might just as well have kept it
+from me; calculating on the chances of its not coming out: many boys
+would have done so. He has been brought up in a good school."</p>
+
+<p>Before the day was over, William came again into contact with Mr.
+Ashley. That gentleman sometimes made his appearance in the manufactory
+in an evening&mdash;not always. He did not on this one. When Samuel Lynn and
+William entered it on their return from tea, a gentleman was waiting in
+the counting-house on business. Samuel Lynn, who was, on such occasions,
+Mr. Ashley's <i>alter ego</i>, came out of the counting-house presently, with
+a note in his hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Thee put on thy cap, and take this to the master's house. Ask to see
+him, and say that I wait for an answer."</p>
+
+<p>William ran off with the note: no fear of his forgetting this time. It
+was addressed in the plain form used by the Quakers, "Thomas Ashley;"
+and could William have looked inside, he would have seen, instead of the
+complimentary "Sir," that the commencement was, "Respected Friend." He
+observed his mother sitting close at her window, to catch what remained
+of the declining light, and nodded to her as he passed.</p>
+
+<p>"Can I see Mr. Ashley?" he inquired, when he reached the house.</p>
+
+<p>The servant replied that he could. He left William in the hall, and
+opened the door of the dining-room; a handsome room, of lofty
+proportions. Mr. Ashley was slowly pacing it to and fro, whilst Henry
+sat at a table, preparing his Latin exercise for his tutor. It was Mr.
+Ashley's custom to help Henry with his Latin, easing difficulties to him
+by explanation. Henry was very backward with his classics; he had not
+yet begun Greek: his own private hope was, that he never should begin
+it. His sufferings rendered learning always irksome, sometimes
+unbearable. The same cause frequently made him irritable&mdash;an irritation
+that could not be checked, as it would have been in a more healthy boy.
+The servant told his master he was wanted, and Mr. Ashley looked into
+the hall.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, is it you, William?" he said. "Come in."</p>
+
+<p>William advanced. "Mr. Lynn said I was to see yourself, sir, and to say
+that he waited for an answer."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Ashley opened the note, and read it by the lamp on Henry's table. It
+was not dark outside, and the chandelier was not lighted, but Henry's
+lamp was. "Sit down," said Mr. Ashley to William, and left the room,
+note in hand.</p>
+
+<p>William felt it was something, Mr. Ashley's recognizing a difference
+between him and those black boys in the manufactory: they would scarcely
+have been told to sit in the hall. William sat down on the first chair
+at hand. Henry Ashley looked at him, and he recognized him as the boy
+who had been maltreated by the college boys on the previous day; but
+Henry was in no mood to be sociable, or even condescending&mdash;he never
+was, when over his lessons. His hip was giving him pain, and his
+exercise was making him fractious.</p>
+
+<p>"There! it's always the case! Another five minutes, and I should have
+finished this horrid exercise. Papa is sure to go away, or be called
+away, when he's helping me! It's a shame."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Ashley opened the door at this juncture, and looked into the room.
+"I thought your papa was here, Henry."</p>
+
+<p>"No, he is not here. He has gone to his study, and I am stuck fast. Some
+blessed note has come, which he has to attend to: and I don't know
+whether this word should be put in the ablative or the dative! I'll run
+the pen through it!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Henry, Henry! Do not be so impatient."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Ashley shut the door again; and Henry continued to worry himself,
+making no progress, except in fretfulness. At length William approached
+him. "Will you let me help you?"</p>
+
+<p>Surprise brought Henry's grumbling to a standstill. "You!" he exclaimed.
+"Do you know anything of Latin?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am very much farther in it than what you are doing. My brother Gar is
+as far as that. Shall I help you? You have put that wrong; it ought to
+be in the accusative."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, if you can help me, you may, for I want to get it over," said
+Henry, with a doubting stress upon the "can." "You can sit down, if you
+wish to," he patronizingly added.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, I don't care about sitting down," replied William, beginning
+at once upon his task.</p>
+
+<p>The two boys were soon deep in the exercise, William not doing it, but
+rendering it easy to Henry; in the same manner that Mr. Halliburton,
+when he was at that stage, used to make it clear to him.</p>
+
+<p>"I say," cried Henry, "who taught you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Papa. He gave a great deal of time to me, and that got me on. I can see
+a wrong word there," added William, casting his eyes to the top of the
+page. "It ought to be in the vocative, and you have put it in the
+dative."</p>
+
+<p>"You are mistaken, then. Papa told me that: and he is not likely to be
+wrong. Papa is one of the best classical scholars of the day&mdash;although
+he is a manufacturer," added Henry, who, through his relatives, the
+Dares, had been infected with a contempt for business.</p>
+
+<p>"It should be in the vocative," repeated William.</p>
+
+<p>"I shan't alter it. The idea of your finding fault with Mr. Ashley's
+Latin! Let us get on. What case is this?"</p>
+
+<p>The last word of the exercise was being written, when Mr. Ashley opened
+the door and called to William. He gave him a note for Mr. Lynn, and
+William departed. Mr. Ashley returned to complete the interrupted
+exercise.</p>
+
+<p>"I say, papa, that fellow knows Latin," began Henry.</p>
+
+<p>"What fellow?" returned Mr. Ashley.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, that chap of yours who has been here. He has helped me through my
+exercise. Not doing it for me: you need not be afraid; but explaining to
+me how to do it. He made it easier to me than you do, papa."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Ashley took the book in his hand, and saw that it was correct. He
+knew Henry could not, or would not, have made it so himself. Henry
+continued:</p>
+
+<p>"He said his papa used to explain it to him. Fancy one of your
+manufactory errand-boys saying 'papa.'"</p>
+
+<p>"You must not class him with the ordinary errand-boys, Henry. The boy
+has been as well brought up as you have."</p>
+
+<p>"I thought so; for he has impudence about him," was Master Henry's
+retort.</p>
+
+<p>"Was he impudent to you?"</p>
+
+<p>"To me? Oh no. He is as civil a fellow as ever I spoke to. Indeed, but
+for remembering who he was, I should call him a gentlemanly fellow.
+Whilst he was telling me, I forgot who he was, and talked to him as an
+equal, and <i>he</i> talked to me as one. I call him impudent, because he
+found fault with your Latin."</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed!" returned Mr. Ashley, an amused smile parting his lips.</p>
+
+<p>"He says this word's wrong. That it ought to be in the vocative case."</p>
+
+<p>"So it ought to be," assented Mr. Ashley, casting his eyes on the word
+to which Henry pointed.</p>
+
+<p>"You told me the dative, papa."</p>
+
+<p>"That I certainly did not, Henry. The mistake must have been your own."</p>
+
+<p>"He persisted that it was wrong, although I told him it was your Latin.
+Papa, it is the same boy who had the row yesterday with Cyril Dare. What
+a pity it is, though, that a fellow so well up in his Latin should be
+shut up in a manufactory!"</p>
+
+<p>"The only 'pity' is, that he is in it too early," was the response of
+Mr. Ashley. "His Latin would not be any detriment to his being in a
+manufactory, or the manufactory to his Latin. I am a manufacturer
+myself, Henry. You appear to ignore that sometimes."</p>
+
+<p>"The Dares go on so. They din it into my ears that a manufacturer cannot
+be a gentleman."</p>
+
+<p>"I shall cause you to drop the acquaintance of the Dares, if you allow
+yourself to listen to all the false and foolish notions they may give
+utterance to. Cyril Dare will probably go into a manufactory himself."</p>
+
+<p>Henry looked up curiously. "I don't think so, papa."</p>
+
+<p>"I do," returned Mr. Ashley, in a significant tone. Henry was surprised
+at the news. He knew his father never advanced a decided opinion unless
+he had good grounds for it. He burst into a laugh. The notion of Cyril
+Dare's going into a manufactory tickled his fancy amazingly.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="PART_THE_SECOND" id="PART_THE_SECOND"></a>PART THE SECOND.</h2>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IB" id="CHAPTER_IB"></a>CHAPTER I.</h2>
+
+<h3>A SUGGESTED FEAR.</h3>
+
+
+<p>One morning, towards the middle of April, Mrs. Halliburton went up to
+Mr. Ashley's. She had brought him the quarter's rent.</p>
+
+<p>"Will you allow me to pay it to yourself, sir&mdash;now, and in future?" she
+asked. "I feel an unconquerable aversion to having further dealings with
+Mr. Dare."</p>
+
+<p>"I can understand that you should have," said Mr. Ashley. "Yes, you can
+pay it to me, Mrs. Halliburton. Always remembering you know, that I am
+in no hurry for it," he added with a smile.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you. You are very kind. But I must pay as I go on."</p>
+
+<p>He wrote the receipt, and handed it to her. "I hope you are satisfied
+with William?" she said, as she folded it up.</p>
+
+<p>"Quite so. I believe he gives satisfaction to Mr. Lynn. I have little to
+do with him myself. Mr. Lynn tells me that he finds him a remarkably
+truthful, open-natured boy."</p>
+
+<p>"You will always find him that," said Jane. "He is getting more
+reconciled to the manufactory than he was at first."</p>
+
+<p>"Did he not like it at first?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, he did not. He was disappointed altogether. He had hoped to find
+some employment more suited to the way in which he had been brought up.
+He cannot divest himself of the idea that he is looked upon as on a
+level with the poor errand-boys of your establishment, and therefore has
+lost caste. He had wished also to be in some office&mdash;a lawyer's, for
+instance&mdash;where the hours for leaving are early, so that he might have
+had the evening for his studies. But he is growing more reconciled to
+the inevitable."</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose he wished to continue his studies?"</p>
+
+<p>"He did so naturally. The foundation of an advanced education has been
+laid, and he expected it was to go on to completion. His brothers are
+now in the college school, occupied all day long with their studies, and
+of course William feels the difference. He gets to his books for an hour
+when he returns home in an evening; but he is weary, and does not do
+much good."</p>
+
+<p>"He appears to be a more persevering, thoughtful boy than are some,"
+remarked Mr. Ashley.</p>
+
+<p>"Very thoughtful&mdash;very persevering. It has been the labour of my life,
+Mr. Ashley, to foster good seed in my children; to reason with them, to
+make them my companions. They have been endowed, I am thankful to say,
+with admirable qualities of head and heart, and I have striven
+unweariedly to nourish the good in them. It is not often that boys are
+brought into contact with sorrow so early as they. Their father's death
+and my adverse circumstances have been real trials."</p>
+
+<p>"They must have been," rejoined Mr. Ashley.</p>
+
+<p>"While others of their age think only of play," she continued, "my boys
+have been obliged to learn the sad experiences of life; and it has given
+them a thought, a care, beyond their years. There is no necessity to
+<i>make</i> Frank and Edgar apply to their lessons unremittingly; they do it
+of their own accord, with their whole abilities, knowing that education
+is the only advantage they can possess&mdash;the one chance of their getting
+on in the world. Had William been a boy of a different disposition, less
+tractable, less reflective, less conscientious, I might have found some
+difficulty in inducing him to work as he is doing."</p>
+
+<p>"Does he complain?" inquired Mr. Ashley.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no, sir! He feels that it is his duty to work, to assist as far as
+he can, and he does it without complaining. I see that he cannot help
+feeling it. He would like to be in the college with his brothers; but I
+cheer him up, and tell him it may all turn out for the best. Perhaps it
+will."</p>
+
+<p>She rose as she spoke. Mr. Ashley shook hands with her, and attended her
+through the hall. "Your sons deserve to get on, Mrs. Halliburton, and I
+hope they will do so. It is an admirable promise for the future man when
+a boy displays thought and self-reliance."</p>
+
+<p>"Mamma!" suddenly exclaimed Janey, as they sat at breakfast the morning
+after this, "do you remember what to-day is? It is my birthday."</p>
+
+<p>Jane had remembered it. She had been almost in hopes that the child
+would not remember it. One year ago that day the first glimpse of the
+shadow so soon to fall upon them had shown itself. What a change! The
+contrast between last year and this was almost incredible. Then they had
+been in possession of a good home, were living in prosperity, in
+apparent security. Now&mdash;Jane's heart turned sick at the thought. Only
+one short year!</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Janey dear," she replied in sadly subdued tones. "I did not forget
+it. I&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>A double knock at the door interrupted what she would have further said.
+They heard Dobbs answer it: visitors were chiefly for Mrs. Reece.</p>
+
+<p>Who should be standing there but Samuel Lynn! He did not choose the
+familiar back way, as Patience did, had he occasion to call, but knocked
+at the front.</p>
+
+<p>"Is Jane Halliburton within?"</p>
+
+<p>"You can go and see," said crusty, disappointed Dobbs, flourishing her
+hand towards the study door. "It's not often that she's out."</p>
+
+<p>Jane rose at his entrance; but he declined to sit, standing while he
+delivered the message with which he had been charged.</p>
+
+<p>"Friend, thee need not send thy son to the manufactory again in an
+evening, except on Saturdays. On the other evenings he may remain at
+home from tea-time and pursue his studies. His wages will not be
+lessened."</p>
+
+<p>And Jane knew that the considerate kindness emanated from Thomas Ashley.</p>
+
+<p>She managed better with her work as the months went on. By summer she
+could do it quickly; the days were long then, and, by dint of sitting
+closely to it, she could earn twelve shillings a week. With William's
+earnings, and the six shillings taken from Mrs. Reece's payments, that
+made twenty-two. It was quite a fortune compared with what had been. But
+like most good fortunes it had its drawbacks. In the first place, she
+could not always earn it; she was compelled to steal unwilling time to
+mend her own and the children's clothes. In the second place, a large
+portion of it had to be devoted to buying their clothes, besides other
+incidental expenses; so that in the matter of housekeeping they were not
+much better off than before. Still, Jane did begin to think that she
+should see her way clearer. But there was sorrow of a different nature
+looming in the distance.</p>
+
+<p>One afternoon, which Jane was obliged to devote to plain sewing, she was
+sitting alone in the study when there came a hard short thump at it,
+which was Dobbs's way of making known her presence there.</p>
+
+<p>"Come in!"</p>
+
+<p>Dobbs came in and sat herself down opposite Jane. It was summer weather,
+and the August dust blew in at the open window. "I want to know what's
+the matter with Janey," began she, without circumlocution.</p>
+
+<p>"With Janey?" repeated Mrs. Halliburton. "What should be the matter with
+her? I know of nothing."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course not," sarcastically answered Dobbs. "Eyes appear to be given
+to some folks only to blind 'em&mdash;more's the pity! You can't see it; my
+missis can't see it; but I say that the child is ill."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Dobbs! I think you must be mistaken."</p>
+
+<p>"Now I'd thank you to be civil, if you please, Mrs. Halliburton,"
+retorted Dobbs. "You don't take me for a common servant, I hope. Who's
+'Dobbs'?"</p>
+
+<p>"I had no wish to be uncivil," said Jane. "I am so accustomed to hearing
+Mrs. Reece call you Dobbs, that&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"My missis is one case, and other folks is another," burst forth Dobbs,
+by way of interruption. "I have a handle to my name, I hope, which is
+Mrs. Dobbs, and I'd be obleeged to you not to forget it again. What's
+the reason that Janey's always tired now, I ask&mdash;don't want to
+stir&mdash;gets a bright pink in the cheeks and inside the hands?"</p>
+
+<p>"It is only the effect of the hot weather."</p>
+
+<p>The opinion did not please Dobbs. "There's not a earthly thing happens
+but it's laid to the weather," she angrily cried. "The weather, indeed!
+If Janey is not going off after her pa, it's an odd thing to me."</p>
+
+<p>Jane's heart-pulse stood still.</p>
+
+<p>"Does she have night-perspirations, or does she not?" demanded Dobbs.
+"She tells me she's hot and damp; so I conclude it is so."</p>
+
+<p>"Only from the heat&mdash;only from the heat," panted Jane eagerly. She dared
+not admit the fear.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, the first time I go down to the town, I shall take her to Parry.
+It won't be at your cost," she hastened to add in ungracious tones, for
+Jane was about to interrupt. "If she wants to know what she is took to
+the doctor for, I shall tell her it is to have her teeth looked at. She
+has a nasty cough upon her: perhaps you haven't noticed that! Some can't
+see a child decaying under their very nose, while strangers can see it
+palpable."</p>
+
+<p>"She has coughed since last week, the day of the rain, when she went
+with Anna Lynn into the field at the back, and they got their feet wet.
+Oh, I am sure there is nothing seriously the matter with her," added
+Jane, resolutely endeavouring to put the suggested fear from her. "I
+want her in: she must help me with my sewing."</p>
+
+<p>"Then she's not a-going to help," resolutely returned Dobbs. "She has
+had a good dinner of roast lamb, sparrow-grass and kidney potatoes, and
+she's sitting back in my easy chair, opposite to my missis in hers. Her
+wanting always to rest might have told some folks that she was ailing.
+When children are in health, their legs and wings and tongue are on the
+go from morning till night. You never need pervide 'em with a seat but
+for their meals; and, give 'em their way, they'd eat <i>them</i> standing.
+Jane's always wanting to rest now, and she shall rest."</p>
+
+<p>"But, indeed she must help me to-day," urged Jane. "She can sew straight
+seams, and hem. Look at this heap of mending! and it must be finished
+to-night. I cannot afford to be about it to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>"What sewing is it you want done?" questioned Dobbs, lifting up the work
+with a jerk. "I'll do it myself sooner than the child shall be
+bothered."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no, thank you. I should not like to trouble you with it."</p>
+
+<p>"Now, I make the offer to do the work," crossly responded Dobbs; "and if
+I didn't mean to do it, I shouldn't make it. You'd do well to give it
+me, if you want it done. Janey shan't work this afternoon."</p>
+
+<p>Taking her at her word, and indeed glad to do so, Jane showed Dobbs a
+task, and Dobbs swung off with it. Jane called after her that she had
+not taken a needle and cotton. Dobbs retorted that she had needles and
+cotton of her own, she hoped, and needn't be beholden to anybody else
+for 'em.</p>
+
+<p>Jane sat on, anxious, all the afternoon. Janey remained in Mrs. Reece's
+parlour, and revelled in an early tea and pikelets. Jane was disturbed
+from her thoughts by the boisterous entrance of Frank and Gar; more
+boisterous than usual. Frank was a most excitable boy, and had been told
+that evening by the head master of the college school, the Reverend Mr.
+Keating, that he might be one of the candidates for the vacant place in
+the choir. This was enough to set Frank off for a week. "You know what a
+nice voice you say I have, mamma; what a good ear for music!" he
+reiterated. "As good, you tell us, as Aunt Margaret's used to be. I
+shall be sure to gain the post if you will let me try. We have to be at
+college for an hour morning and afternoon daily, but we can easily get
+that up if we are industrious. Some of the best Helstonleigh scholars
+who have shone at Oxford and Cambridge were choristers. And I should
+have about ten pounds a-year paid to me."</p>
+
+<p>Ten pounds a-year! Jane listened with a beating heart. It would more
+than keep him in clothes. She inquired more fully into particulars.</p>
+
+<p>The result was that Frank had permission to try for the vacant
+choristership, and gained it. His voice was the best of those tried. He
+went home in a glow. "Now, mamma, the sooner you set about a new
+surplice for me the better."</p>
+
+<p>"A new surplice, Frank!" Ah, it was not all profit.</p>
+
+<p>"A chorister must have two surplices, mamma. King's scholars can do with
+one, having them washed between the Sundays: choristers can't. We must
+have them always in wear, you know, except in Lent, and on the day of
+King Charles the Martyr."</p>
+
+<p>Jane smiled; he talked so fast. "What is that you are running on about?"</p>
+
+<p>"Goodness, mamma, don't you understand? All the six weeks of Lent, and
+on the 30th of January, the cathedral is hung with black, and the
+choristers have to wear black cloth surplices. They don't find the black
+ones: the college does that."</p>
+
+<p>Frank's success in gaining the place did not give universal pleasure to
+the college school. Since the day of the disturbance in the spring, in
+which William was mixed up, the two young Halliburtons had been at a
+discount with the desk at which Cyril Dare sat; and this desk pretty
+well ruled the school.</p>
+
+<p>"It's coming to a fine pass!" exclaimed Cyril Dare, when the result of
+the trial was carried into the school. "Here's the town clerk's own son
+passed over as nobody, and that snob of a Halliburton put in! Somebody
+ought to have told the dean what snobs they are."</p>
+
+<p>"What would the dean have cared?" grumbled another, whose young brother
+had been amongst the rejected ones. "To get good voices in the choir is
+all he cares for in the matter."</p>
+
+<p>"I say, where do they live&mdash;that set?"</p>
+
+<p>"In a house of Ashley's, in the London Road," answered Cyril Dare. "They
+couldn't pay the rent, and my father put a bum in."</p>
+
+<p>"Bosh, Dare!"</p>
+
+<p>"It's true," said Cyril Dare. "My father manages Ashley's rents, you
+know. They'd have had every stick and stone sold, only Ashley&mdash;he is a
+regular soft over some things&mdash;took and gave them time. Oh, they are a
+horrid lot! They don't keep a servant!"</p>
+
+<p>The blank astonishment this last item of intelligence caused at the
+desk, can't be described. Again Cyril's word was disputed.</p>
+
+<p>"They don't, I tell you," he repeated. "I taxed Halliburton senior with
+it one day, and he told me to my face they could not afford one. He
+possesses brass enough to set up a foundry, does that fellow. The eldest
+one is at Ashley's manufactory, errand-boy. Errand-boy! And here's this
+one promoted to the choir, over gentlemen's heads! He ought to be
+pitched into, ought Halliburton senior."</p>
+
+<p>In the school, Frank was Halliburton senior; Gar, Halliburton junior.
+"How is it that he says he was at King's College before he came here? I
+heard him tell Keating so," asked a boy.</p>
+
+<p>At this moment Mr. Keating's voice was heard. "Silence!" Cyril Dare let
+a minute elapse, and then began again.</p>
+
+<p>"Such a low thing, you know, not to keep servants! We couldn't do at all
+without five or six. I'll tell you what: the school may do as it likes,
+but our desk shall cut the two fellows here."</p>
+
+<p>And the desk did so; and Frank and Gar had to put up with many
+mortifications. There was no help for it. Frank was brave as a young
+lion; but against some sorts of oppression there is no standing up. More
+than once was the boy in tears, telling his griefs to his mother. It
+fell more on Frank than it did on Gar.</p>
+
+<p>Jane could only strive to console him, as she did William. "Patience and
+forbearance, my darling Frank! You will outlive it in time."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IIB" id="CHAPTER_IIB"></a>CHAPTER II.</h2>
+
+<h3>SHADOWS IN HONEY FAIR.</h3>
+
+
+<p>August was hot in Honey Fair. The women sat at their open doors, or even
+outside them; the children tumbled in the gutters; the refuse in the
+road was none the better for the month's heat.</p>
+
+<p>Charlotte East sat in her kitchen one Tuesday afternoon, busy as usual.
+Her door was shut, but her window was open. Suddenly the latch was
+lifted and Mrs. Cross came in: not with the bold, boisterous movements
+that were common to Honey Fair, but with creeping steps that seemed
+afraid of their own echoes, and a scared face.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Cross was in trouble. Her two daughters, Amelia and Mary Ann, to
+whom you have had the honour of an introduction, had purchased those
+lovely cross-barred sarcenets, green, pink, and lilac, and worn them at
+the party at the Alhambra: which party went off satisfactorily, leaving
+nothing behind it but some headaches for the next day, and a trifle of
+pecuniary embarrassment to Honey Fair in general. What with the finery
+for the party, and other finery, and what with articles really useful,
+but which perhaps <i>might</i> have been done without, Honey Fair was pretty
+deeply in with the Messrs. Bankes. In Mrs. Cross's family alone, herself
+and her daughters owed, conjointly, so much to these accommodating
+tradesmen that it took eight shillings a week to keep them quiet. You
+can readily understand how this impoverished the weekly housekeeping;
+and the falsehoods that had to be concocted, by way of keeping the
+husband, Jacob Cross, in the dark, were something alarming. This was the
+state of things in many of the homes of Honey Fair.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Cross came in with timid steps and a scared face. "Charlotte, lend
+me five shillings for the love of goodness!" cried she, speaking as if
+afraid of the sound of her own voice. "I don't know another soul to ask
+but you. There ain't another that would have it to lend, barring Dame
+Buffle, and she never lends."</p>
+
+<p>"You owe me twelve shillings already," answered Charlotte, pausing for a
+moment in her sewing.</p>
+
+<p>"I know that. I'll pay you off by degrees, if it's only a shilling a
+week. I am a'most drove mad. Bankes's folks was here yesterday, and me
+and the girls had only four shillings to give 'em. I'm getting in
+arrears frightful, and Bankes's is as cranky over it as can be. It's all
+smooth and fair so long as you're buying of Bankes's and paying 'em; but
+just get behind, and see what short answers and sour looks you'll have!"</p>
+
+<p>"But Amelia and Mary Ann took in their work on Saturday and had their
+money?"</p>
+
+<p>"My patience! I don't know what us should do if they hadn't! We have to
+pay up everywhere. We're in debt at Buffle's, in debt to the baker, in
+debt for shoes; we're in debt on all sides. And there's Cross spending
+three shilling good of his wages at the public-house! It takes what me
+and the girls earn to pay a bit up here and there, and stop things from
+coming to Cross's ears. Half the house is in the pawn-shop, and what'll
+become of us I don't know. I can't sleep o' nights, hardly, for thinking
+on't."</p>
+
+<p>Charlotte felt sure that, were it her case, she should not sleep at all.</p>
+
+
+<p>"The worst is, I have to keep the little 'uns away from school. Pay for
+'em I can't. And a fine muck they get into, playing in the road all day.
+'What does these children do to theirselves at school, to get into this
+dirty mess?' asks Cross, when he comes in. 'Oh, they plays a bit in the
+gutter coming home,' says I. 'We plays a bit, father,' cries they, when
+they hears me, a-winking at each other to think how we does their
+father."</p>
+
+<p>Charlotte shook her head. "I should end it all."</p>
+
+<p>"End it! I wish we could end it! The girls is going to slave theirselves
+night and day this week and next. But it's not for my good: it's for
+their'n. They want to get their grand silks out o' pawn! Nothing but
+outside finery goes down with them, though they've not an inside rag to
+their backs. They leave care to me. Fools to be sure, they was, to buy
+them silks! They have been in the pawn-shop ever since, and Bankes's
+a-tearing 'em to pieces for the money!"</p>
+
+<p>"I should end it by confessing to Jacob," said Charlotte, when she could
+get in a word. "He is not a bad husband&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"And look at his passionate temper!" broke in Mrs. Cross. "Let it get to
+his ears that we have gone on tick to Bankes's and elsewhere, and he'd
+rave the house out of winders."</p>
+
+<p>"He would be angry at first, no doubt; but when he cooled down he would
+see the necessity of something being done, and help in it. If you all
+set on and put your shoulders to the wheel you might soon get clear.
+Live upon the very least that will satisfy hunger&mdash;the plainest
+food&mdash;dry bread and potatoes. No beer, no meat, no finery, no luxuries;
+and with the rest of the week's money begin to pay up. You'd be clear in
+no time."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Cross stared in consternation. "You be a Job's comforter,
+Charlotte! Dry bread and taters! who could put up with that?"</p>
+
+<p>"When poor people like us fall into trouble, it is the only way that I
+know of to get out of it. I'd rather mortify my appetite for a year than
+have my rest broken by care."</p>
+
+<p>"Your advice is good enough for talking, Charlotte, but it don't answer
+for acting. Cross must have his bit o' meat and his beer, his butter and
+his cheese, his tea and his sugar&mdash;and so must the rest on us. But about
+this five shillings?&mdash;do lend it me, Charlotte! It is for the landlord:
+we're almost in a fix with him."</p>
+
+<p>"For the landlord!" repeated Charlotte involuntarily. "You must keep
+<i>him</i> paid, or it would be the worst of all."</p>
+
+<p>"I know we must. He was took bad yesterday&mdash;more's the blessing!&mdash;and
+couldn't get round; but he's here to-day as burly as beef. We haven't
+paid him for this three weeks," she added, dropping her voice to an
+ominous whisper; "and I declare to you, Charlotte East, that the sight
+of him at our door is as good to me as a dose of physic. Just now, round
+he comes, a-lifting the latch, and me turning sick the minute I sees
+him. 'Ready, Mrs. Cross?' asks he, in his short, surly way, putting his
+brown wig up. 'I'm sorry I ain't, Mr. Abbott, sir,' says I; 'but I'll
+have some next week for certain.' 'That won't do for me,' says he: 'I
+must have it this. If you can't give me some money, I shall apply to
+your husband.' The fright this put me into I've not got over yet,
+Charlotte; for Cross don't know but what the rent's paid up regular. 'I
+know what's going on,' old Abbott begins again, 'and I have knowed it
+for some time. You women in this Honey Fair, you pay your money to them
+Bankeses, which is the blight o' the place, and then you can't pay me.'
+Only fancy his calling Bankeses a blight!"</p>
+
+<p>"That's just what they are," remarked Charlotte.</p>
+
+<p>"For shame, Charlotte East! When one's way is a bit eased by being able
+to get a few things on trust, you must put in your word again it! Some
+of us would never get a new gown to our backs if it wasn't for Bankeses.
+Abbott's gone off to other houses, collecting; warning me as he'd call
+again in half an hour, and if some money wasn't ready for him then he'd
+go straight off to Jacob, to his shop o' work. If you can let me have
+one week for him, Charlotte&mdash;five shillings&mdash;I'll be ever grateful."</p>
+
+<p>Charlotte rose, unlocked a drawer, and gave five shillings to Mrs.
+Cross, thinking in her own mind that the kindest course would be for the
+landlord to go to Cross, as he had threatened.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Cross took the money. Her mind so far relieved, she could indulge
+in a little gossip; for Mr. Abbott's half-hour had not yet expired.</p>
+
+<p>"I say, Charlotte, what d'ye think? I'm afraid Ben Tyrrett and our Mary
+Ann is a-going to take up together."</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed!" exclaimed Charlotte. "That's new."</p>
+
+<p>"Not over-new. They have been talking together on and off, but I never
+thought it was serious till last Sunday. I have set my face dead against
+it. He has a nasty temper of his own; and he's nothing but a jobber at
+fifteen shillings a week, and his profits of the egg-whites. Our Mary
+Ann might do better than that."</p>
+
+<p>"I think she might," assented Charlotte. "And she is over-young to think
+of marrying."</p>
+
+<p>"Young!" wrathfully repeated Mrs. Cross. "I should think she is young!
+Girls are as soft as apes. The minute a chap says a word to 'em about
+marrying, they're all agog to do it, whether it's fit, or whether it's
+unfit. Our Mary Ann might look inches over Ben Tyrrett's head, if she
+had any sense in her. Hark ye, Charlotte! When you see her, just put in
+a word against it; maybe it'll turn her. Tell her you'd not have Tyrrett
+at a gift."</p>
+
+<p>"And that's true," replied Charlotte, with a laugh, as her guest
+departed.</p>
+
+<p>A few minutes, and Charlotte received another visitor. This was the wife
+of Mark Mason&mdash;a tall, bony woman, with rough black hair and a loud
+voice. That voice and Mark did not get on very well together. She put
+her hands back upon her hips, and used it now, standing before Charlotte
+in a threatening attitude.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you do, keeping our Carry out at night?"</p>
+
+<p>Charlotte looked up in surprise. She was thinking of something else, or
+her answer might have been more cautious, for she was one of those who
+never willingly make mischief.</p>
+
+<p>"I do not keep Caroline out. She is here of an evening now and then&mdash;not
+often."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Mason laughed&mdash;a low derisive laugh of mockery. "I knew it was a
+falsehood when she told it me! There she goes out, night after night,
+night after night; so I set Mark on to her, for I couldn't keep her in,
+neither find out where she went to. Mark was in a passion&mdash;something had
+put him out, and Carry was frightened, for he had hold of her arm
+savage-like. 'I am at Charlotte East's of a night, Mark,' she said. 'I
+shall take no harm there.'"</p>
+
+<p>Charlotte did not lift her eyes from her work. Mrs. Mason stood
+defiantly.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, then! Where is it she gets to?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why do you apply to me?" returned Charlotte. "I am not Caroline Mason's
+keeper."</p>
+
+<p>"If you bain't her keeper, you be her adviser," retorted Mrs. Mason.
+"And that's worse."</p>
+
+<p>"When I advise Caroline at all, I advise her for her good."</p>
+
+<p>"My eyes are opened now, if they was blind before," continued Mrs.
+Mason, apostrophizing in no gentle terms the offending Caroline. "Who
+gave Carry that there shawl?&mdash;who gave, her that there fine gown?&mdash;who
+gave her that gold brooch, with a stone in it 'twixt red and yaller, and
+a naked Cupid in white aflying on it? 'A nice brooch you've got there,
+miss,' says I to her. 'Yes,' says she, 'they call 'em cameons.' 'And
+where did you get it, pray?' says I. 'And that's my business,' answers
+she. Next there was a neck-scarf, green and lavender, with yaller fringe
+at its ends, as deep as my forefinger. 'You're running up a tidy score
+at Bankes's, my lady,' says I. 'I shan't come to you to pay for it,'
+says she. 'No,' thinks I to myself, 'but you be living in our house, and
+you may bring Mark into trouble over it,' for he's a soft-hearted gander
+at times. So down I goes to Bankes's place last night. 'Just turn to the
+debt-book, young man,' says I to the gentleman behind the counter&mdash;it
+were the one with the dark hair&mdash;'and tell me how much is owed by
+Caroline Mason.' 'Come to settle it?' asks he. 'Maybe, and maybe not,'
+says I. 'I wants my question answered, whether or no.' Are you
+listening, Charlotte East?"</p>
+
+<p>Charlotte lifted her eyes from her work. "Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"He lays hold of a big book," continues Mrs. Mason, who was talking her
+face crimson, "and draws his finger down its pages. 'Caroline
+Mason&mdash;Caroline Mason,' says he. 'I don't think we have anything against
+her. No: it's crossed off. There was a trifle against her, but she paid
+it last week.' Well, I stood staring at the man, thinking he was
+deceiving me, saying she had <i>paid</i>. 'When did she pay for that shawl
+she had in the winter, and how much did it cost?' asks I. 'Shawl?' says
+he. 'Caroline Mason hasn't had no shawl of us.' 'Nor a gown at Easter&mdash;a
+fancy sort of thing, with stripes?' I goes on: 'nor a cameon brooch last
+week? nor a scarf with yaller fringe?' 'Nothing o' the sort,' says he,
+decisive. 'Caroline Mason hasn't bought any of those things from us. She
+had some bonnet ribbon, and that she paid for.' Now, what was I to
+think?" concluded Mrs. Mason.</p>
+
+<p>Charlotte did not know.</p>
+
+<p>"I comes home a-pondering, and at the corner of the lane I catches sight
+of a certain gentleman loitering about in the shade. The truth flashed
+into my mind. 'He's after our Caroline,' says I to myself; 'and it's him
+that has given her the things, and we shall just have her a world's
+spectacle!' I accused Eliza Tyrrett of being the confidant. 'It isn't
+me,' says she; 'it's Charlotte East.' So I bottled up my temper till
+now, and now I've come to learn the rights on't."</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot tell you the rights," replied Charlotte. "I do not know them.
+I have striven to give Caroline some good advice lately, and that is all
+I have had to do with it. Mrs. Mason, you know that I should never
+advise Caroline, or any one else, but for her good."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Mason would have acknowledged this in a cooler moment. "Why did
+that Tyrrett girl laugh at me, then? And why did Carry say she spent her
+evenings here?" cried she. "The gentleman I see was young Anthony Dare:
+and Carry had better bury herself alive than be drawn aside by his
+nonsense."</p>
+
+<p>"Much better," acquiesced Charlotte. "Where is Caroline?"</p>
+
+<p>"Under lock and key," said Mrs. Mason.</p>
+
+<p>"Under lock and key!" echoed Charlotte.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; under lock and key; and there she shall stop. She was out all this
+blessed morning with Eliza Tyrrett, and never walked herself in till
+after Mark had had his dinner and was gone. So then I began upon her. My
+temper was up, and I didn't spare her. I vowed I'd tell Mark what I had
+seen and heard, and what sort of a wolf she allowed to make her presents
+of fine clothes. With that she turned wild and flung up to her room in
+the cock-loft, and I followed and locked her in."</p>
+
+<p>"You have done very wrong," said Charlotte. "It is not by harshness that
+any good will be done with Caroline. You know her disposition: a child
+might lead her by kindness, but she rises up against harshness. My
+opinion is that she never would have given the least trouble at all had
+you made her a better home."</p>
+
+<p>This bold avowal took away Mrs. Mason's breath. "A better home!" cried
+she, when she could speak. "A better home! Fed upon French rolls and
+lobster salad and apricot tarts, and give her a lady's maid to
+hook-and-eye her gown for her! My heart! that beats all."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't speak of food, and that sort of thing," rejoined Charlotte. "If
+you had treated her with kind words instead of cross ones she would have
+been as good a girl as ever lived. Instead of that you have made your
+home unbearable; and so driven her out, with her dangerous good looks,
+to be told of them by the first idler who came across her: and that
+seems to have been Anthony Dare. Go home and let her out of where you
+have locked her in; do, Hetty Mason! Let her out, and speak kindly to
+her, and treat her as a sister; and you'll undo all the bad yet."</p>
+
+<p>"I shan't then!" was the passionate reply. "I'll see you and her hung
+first, before I speak kind to her to encourage her in her loose ways!"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Mason flung out of the house as she concluded, giving the door a
+bang which only had the effect of sending it open again. Charlotte
+sighed as she rose to close it: not only for any peril that Caroline
+Mason might be in, but for the general blindness, the distorted views of
+right and wrong, which seemed to obtain amidst the women of Honey Fair.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IIIB" id="CHAPTER_IIIB"></a>CHAPTER III.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE DARES AT HOME.</h3>
+
+
+<p>A profusion of glass and plate glittered on the dining-table of Mr.
+Dare. It was six o'clock, and they had just sat down. Mrs. Dare, in a
+light gauze dress and blonde head-dress, sat at the head of the table.
+There was a large family of them; four sons and four daughters; and all
+were present; also Miss Benyon, the governess. Anthony and Herbert sat
+on either side Mrs. Dare; Adelaide and Julia, the eldest daughters, near
+their father; the four other children, Cyril and George, Rosa and Minny,
+were between them.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dare was helping the salmon. In due course, a plate, followed by the
+sauce, was carried to Anthony.</p>
+
+<p>"What's this! Melted butter! Where's the lobster sauce?"</p>
+
+<p>"There is no lobster sauce to-day," said Mrs. Dare. "We sent late, and
+the lobsters were all gone. There was a small supply. Joseph, take the
+anchovy to Mr. Anthony."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Anthony jerked the anchovy sauce off the salver, dashed some on to
+his plate, and jerked the bottle back again. Not with a very good grace:
+his palate was a dainty one. Indeed, it was a family complaint.</p>
+
+<p>"I wouldn't give a fig for salmon without lobster sauce," he cried. "I
+hope you won't send late again."</p>
+
+<p>"It was the cook's fault," said Mrs. Dare. "She did not fully understand
+my orders."</p>
+
+<p>"Deaf old creature!" exclaimed Anthony.</p>
+
+<p>"Anthony, there's cucumber," said Julia, looking down the table at her
+brother. "Ann, take the cucumber to Mr. Anthony."</p>
+
+<p>"You know I never eat cucumber with salmon," grumbled Anthony, in reply.
+And it was not graciously spoken, for the offer had been dictated by
+good-nature.</p>
+
+<p>A pause ensued. It was at length broken by Mrs. Dare.</p>
+
+<p>"Herbert, are you growing more reconciled to office-work?"</p>
+
+<p>"No; and never shall," returned Herbert. "From ten till five is an awful
+clog upon one's time; it's as bad as school."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dare looked up from his plate. "You might have been put to a
+profession that would occupy a great deal more time than that, Herbert.
+What calls have you upon your time, pray, that it is so valuable? Will
+you take some more fish?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I don't know. I think I will. It is good to-day; very good with
+the cucumber, that Anthony despises."</p>
+
+<p>Ann took his plate up to Mr. Dare.</p>
+
+<p>"Anthony," said that gentleman, as he helped the salmon, "where were you
+this afternoon? You were away from the office altogether, after two
+o'clock."</p>
+
+<p>"Out with Hawkesley," shortly replied Anthony.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; it is all very well to say, 'Out with Hawkesley,' but the office
+suffers. I wish you young men were not quite so fond of taking your
+pleasure."</p>
+
+<p>"A little more fish, sir?" asked Joseph of Anthony.</p>
+
+<p>"Not if I know it."</p>
+
+<p>The second course came in. A quarter of lamb, asparagus and other
+vegetables. Herbert looked cross. He had recently taken a dislike to
+lamb, or fancied he had done so.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course there's something coming for me!" he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, of course," said Mrs. Dare. "Cook knows you don't like lamb."</p>
+
+<p>Nothing, however, came in. Ann was sent to inquire the reason of the
+neglect. The cook had been unable to procure veal cutlet, and Master
+Herbert had said if she ever sent him up a mutton-chop again he should
+throw it at her head. Such was the message brought back.</p>
+
+<p>"What an old story-teller she must be to say she could not get veal
+cutlet!" exclaimed Herbert. "I hate mutton and lamb, and I am not going
+to eat either one or the other."</p>
+
+<p>"I heard the butcher say this morning that he had no veal, Master
+Herbert," interposed Ann. "This hot weather they don't kill much meat."</p>
+
+<p>"Why have you taken this dislike to lamb, Herbert?" asked Mr. Dare. "You
+have eaten it all the season."</p>
+
+<p>"That's just it," answered Herbert. "I have eaten so much of it that I
+am sick of it."</p>
+
+<p>"Never mind, Herbert," said his mother. "There's a cherry tart coming
+and a delicious lemon pudding. I don't think you can be so very hungry;
+you went twice to salmon."</p>
+
+<p>Herbert was not in a good humour. All the Dares had been culpably
+pampered, and of course it bore its fruits. He sat drumming with his
+silver fork upon the table, condescending to try a little asparagus, and
+a great deal of both pie and pudding. Cheese, salad, and dessert
+followed, of which Herbert partook plentifully. Still he thought he was
+terribly used in not having had different meat specially provided for
+him; and he could not recover his good humour. I tell you the Dares had
+been most culpably indulged. The house was one of luxury and profusion,
+and every little whim and fancy had been studied. It is one of the worst
+schools a child can be reared in.</p>
+
+<p>The three younger daughters and the governess withdrew, after taking
+each a glass of wine. Cyril and George went off likewise, to their
+lessons or to play. It was their own affair, and Mr. Dare made it no
+concern of his. Presently Mrs. Dare and Adelaide rose.</p>
+
+<p>"Hawkesley's coming in this evening," called out Anthony, as they were
+going through the door.</p>
+
+<p>Adelaide turned. "What did you say, Anthony?"</p>
+
+<p>"Lord Hawkesley's coming. At least he said he would look in for an hour.
+But there's no dependence to be placed on him."</p>
+
+<p>"We must be in the large drawing-room, mamma, this evening," said
+Adelaide, as they crossed the hall. "Miss Benyon and the children can
+take tea in the school-room."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," assented Mrs. Dare. "It is bad form to have one's drawing-room
+cucumbered with children, and Lord Hawkesley understands all that. Let
+them be in the school-room."</p>
+
+<p>"Julia also?"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Dare shrugged her shoulders. "If you can persuade her into it. I
+don't think Julia will consent to take tea in the school-room. Why
+should she?"</p>
+
+<p>Adelaide vouchsafed no reply. Dutiful children they were
+not&mdash;affectionate children they were not&mdash;they had not been brought up
+to be so. Mrs. Dare was of the world, worldly: very much so: and that
+leaves very little time upon the hands for earnest duties. She had taken
+no pains to train her children: she had given them very little love.
+This conversation had taken place in the hall. Mrs. Dare went upstairs
+to the large drawing-room, a really handsome room. She rang the bell and
+gave sundry orders, the moving motive for all being the doubtful visit
+of Viscount Hawkesley&mdash;ices from the pastrycook's, a tray of
+refreshments, the best china, the best silver. Then Mrs. Dare reclined
+in her chair for her after-dinner nap&mdash;an indulgence she much favoured.</p>
+
+<p>Adelaide Dare entered the smaller drawing-room, an apartment more
+commonly used, and opening from the hall. Julia was reading a book just
+brought in from the library. Miss Benyon was softly playing, and the two
+little ones were quarrelling. Miss Benyon turned round from the piano
+when Adelaide entered.</p>
+
+<p>"You must make tea in the school-room this evening, Miss Benyon, for the
+children. Julia, you are to take yours there."</p>
+
+<p>Julia looked up from her book. "Who says so?"</p>
+
+<p>"Mamma. Lord Hawkesley's coming, and we cannot have the drawing-room
+crowded."</p>
+
+<p>"I am not going to keep out of the drawing-room for Lord Hawkesley,"
+returned Julia, a quiet girl in appearance and manner. "Who is Lord
+Hawkesley, that he should disarrange the economy of the house? There's
+so much ceremony and parade observed when he comes that it upsets all
+comfort. Your lordship this, and your lordship that; and papa my-lording
+him to the skies. I don't like it. He looks down upon us&mdash;I know he
+does&mdash;although he condescends to make a sort of friend of Anthony."</p>
+
+<p>Adelaide Dare's dark eyes flashed and her face crimsoned. She was a
+handsome girl. "Julia! I do think you are an idiot!"</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps I am," composedly returned Julia, who was of a careless, easy
+temper; "but I am not going to be kept out of the drawing-room for my
+Lord Hawkesley. Let me go on with my book in peace, Adelaide: it is a
+charming one."</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile Herbert Dare, seeing no prospect of more wine in store&mdash;for
+Mr. Dare, with wonderful prudence, told Herbert that two glasses of port
+were sufficient for him&mdash;left his seat, and bolted out at the
+dining-room window, which opened on to the ground. He ran into the hall
+for his hat, and then, speeding across the lawn, passed into the
+high-road. Anthony remained alone with his father; and Anthony was
+plucking up courage to speak upon a subject that was causing him some
+perplexity. He plunged into it at once.</p>
+
+<p>"Father, I am in a mess. I have managed to outrun the constable."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dare was at that moment holding his glass of wine between his eye
+and the light. The words quite scared him. He set his glass down and
+looked at Anthony.</p>
+
+<p>"How's that? How have you managed that?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know how it has come about," was Anthony's answer. "It is so,
+sir; and you must be so good as to help me out of it."</p>
+
+<p>"Your allowance is sufficient&mdash;amply so. Do you forget that I set you
+clear of debt at the beginning of the year? What money do you want?"</p>
+
+<p>Anthony Dare began pulling the fringe out of the dessert napkin, to the
+great detriment of the damask. "Two hundred pounds, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Two hundred pounds!" echoed Mr. Dare, a dark expression clouding his
+handsome face. "Do you want to ruin me, Anthony? Look at my expenses!
+Look at the claims upon me! I say that your allowance is a liberal one,
+and you ought to keep within it."</p>
+
+<p>Anthony sat biting his lip. "I would not have applied to you, sir, if I
+could have helped it; but I am driven into a corner and <i>must</i> find
+money. I and Hawkesley drew some bills together. He has taken up two,
+and I&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Then you and Hawkesley were a couple of fools for your pains,"
+intemperately interrupted Mr. Dare. "There's no game so dangerous, so
+delusive, as that of drawing bills. Have I not told you so, over and
+over again? Simple debt may be put off from month to month, and from
+year to year; but bills are nasty things. When I was a young man I lived
+for years upon promises to pay, but I took care not to put my name to a
+bill."</p>
+
+<p>"Hawkesley&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Hawkesley may do what you must not," interrupted Mr. Dare, drowning his
+son's voice. "He has his father's long rent-roll to turn to. Recollect,
+Anthony, this must not occur again. It is impossible that I can be
+called upon periodically for these sums. Herbert is almost a man, and
+Cyril and George are growing up. A pretty thing, if you were all to come
+upon me in this manner. I have to exert my wits as it is, I can tell
+you. I'll give you a cheque to-morrow; and I should serve you right if I
+were to put you upon half allowance until I am repaid."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dare finished his wine, rang for the table to be cleared, and left
+the room. Anthony remained standing against the side of the window, half
+in, half out, buried in a brown study, when Herbert came up, leaping
+over the grass. Herbert was nearly as tall as Anthony. He had been for
+some time articled to his father, but had only joined the office the
+previous Midsummer. He looked into the room and saw it was empty.</p>
+
+<p>"Where's the governor?"</p>
+
+<p>"Gone somewhere. Into the drawing-room, perhaps," replied Anthony.</p>
+
+<p>"What a nuisance!" ejaculated Herbert. "One can't talk to him before the
+girls. I want twenty-five shillings from him. Markham has the primest
+fishing-rod to sell, and I must have it."</p>
+
+<p>"Twenty-five shillings for a fishing-rod!" cried Anthony.</p>
+
+<p>"And cheap at the price," answered Herbert. "You don't often see so
+complete a thing as this. Markham would not part with it&mdash;it's a relic
+of his better days, he says&mdash;only his old mother wants some comfort or
+other which he can't otherwise afford. The case&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You have half-a-dozen fishing-rods already."</p>
+
+<p>"Half a dozen rubbish! That's what they are, compared with this one.
+It's no business of yours, Anthony."</p>
+
+<p>"Not at all. But you'll oblige me, Herbert, by not bothering the
+governor for money to-night. I have been asking him for some, and it has
+put him out."</p>
+
+<p>"Did you get it?"</p>
+
+<p>Anthony nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"Then you'll let me have the one-pound-five, Anthony?"</p>
+
+<p>"I can't," returned Anthony. "I shall have a cheque to-morrow, and I
+must pay it away whole. <i>That</i> won't clear me. But I didn't dare to tell
+of more."</p>
+
+<p>"If I don't get that fishing-rod to-night, Markham may sell it to some
+one else," grumbled Herbert.</p>
+
+<p>"Go and get it," replied Anthony. "Promise him the money for to-morrow.
+You are not obliged to give it, you know. The governor has just said
+that he lived for years upon promises to pay."</p>
+
+<p>"Markham wants the money down."</p>
+
+<p>"He'll think that as good as down if you tell him he shall have it
+to-morrow. Bring the fishing-rod away; possession's nine points of the
+law, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"He'll make such an awful row afterwards, if he finds he does not get
+the money."</p>
+
+<p>"Let him. You can row again. It's the easiest thing on earth to fence
+off little paltry debts like that. People get tired of asking for them."</p>
+
+<p>Away vaulted Herbert for the fishing-rod. Anthony yawned, stretched
+himself, and walked out just as twilight was fading. He was going out to
+keep an appointment.</p>
+
+<p>Herbert Dare went back to Markham's. The man&mdash;though, indeed, so far as
+birth went he might be called a gentleman&mdash;lived a little way beyond Mr.
+Dare's. The cottage was situated in the midst of a large garden, in
+which Markham worked late and early. He had a very, very small patrimony
+upon which he lived and kept his mother. He was bending over one of the
+beds when Herbert returned. "He would take the fishing-rod then, and
+bring the money over at nine in the morning, before going to the office.
+Mr. Dare was gone out, or he would have brought it at once," was the
+substance of the words in which Herbert concluded the negotiation.</p>
+
+<p>Could they have looked behind the hedge at that moment, Herbert Dare and
+Markham, they would have seen two young gentlemen suddenly duck down
+under its shelter, creep silently along, heedless of the ditch, which,
+however, was tolerably dry at that season, make a sudden bolt across the
+road, when they got opposite Mr. Dare's entrance, and whisk within its
+gates. They were Cyril and George. That they had been at some mischief
+and were trying to escape detection, was unmistakable. Under cover of
+the garden-wall, as they had previously done under cover of the hedge,
+crept they; sprang into the house by the dining-room window, tore up the
+stairs, and took refuge in the drawing-room, startlingly arousing Mrs.
+Dare from her after-dinner slumbers.</p>
+
+<p>In point of fact, they had reckoned upon finding the room unoccupied.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IVB" id="CHAPTER_IVB"></a>CHAPTER IV.</h2>
+
+<h3>THROWING AT THE BATS.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Aroused thus abruptly out of sleep, cross and startled, Mrs. Dare
+attacked the two boys with angry words. "I will know what you have been
+doing," she exclaimed, rising and shaking out the flounces of her dress.
+"You have been at some mischief! Why do you come violently in, in this
+manner, looking as frightened as hares?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not frightened," replied Cyril. "We are only hot. We had a run for it."</p>
+
+<p>"A run for what?" she repeated. "When I say I will know a thing, I mean
+to know it. I ask you what you have been doing?"</p>
+
+<p>"It's nothing very dreadful, that you need put yourself out," replied
+George. "One of old Markham's windows has come to grief."</p>
+
+<p>"Then that's through throwing stones again!" exclaimed Mrs. Dare. "Now I
+am certain of it, and you need not attempt to deny it. You shall pay for
+it out of your own pocket-money if he comes here, as he did the last
+time."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, but he won't come here," returned Cyril. "He didn't see us. Is tea
+not ready?"</p>
+
+<p>"You can go to the school-room and see. You are to take it there this
+evening."</p>
+
+<p>The boys tore away to the school-room. Unlike Julia, they did not care
+where they took it, provided they had it. Miss Benyon was pouring out
+the tea as they entered. They threw themselves on a sofa, and burst into
+a fit of laughter so immoderate and long that their two young sisters
+crowded round eagerly, asking to hear the joke.</p>
+
+<p>"It was the primest fun!" cried Cyril, when he could speak. "We have
+just smashed one of Markham's windows. The old woman was at it in a
+nightcap, and I think the stone must have touched her head. Markham and
+Herbert were holding a confab together and they never saw us!"</p>
+
+<p>"We were chucking at the leathering bats," put in George, jealous that
+his brother should have all the telling to himself, "and the stone&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"It is leather-winged bat, George," interrupted the governess. "I
+corrected you the other night."</p>
+
+<p>"What does it matter?" roughly answered George. "I wish you wouldn't put
+me out. A leathering-bat dipped down nearly right upon our heads, and we
+both heaved at him, and one of the stones went through the window,
+nearly taking, as Cyril says, old Mother Markham's head. Won't they be
+in a temper at having to pay for it! They are as poor as charity."</p>
+
+<p>"They'll make you pay," said Rosa.</p>
+
+<p>"Will they?" retorted Cyril. "No catch, no have! I'll give them leave to
+make us pay when they find us out. Do you suppose we are donkeys, you
+girls? We dipped down under the hedge, and not a soul saw us. What's for
+tea?"</p>
+
+<p>"Bread and butter," replied the governess.</p>
+
+<p>"Then those may eat it that like! I shall have jam."</p>
+
+<p>Cyril rang the bell as he spoke. Nancy, the maid who waited on the
+school-room, came in answer to it. "Some jam," said Cyril. "And be quick
+over it."</p>
+
+<p>"What sort, sir?" inquired Nancy.</p>
+
+<p>"Sort? oh&mdash;let's see: damson."</p>
+
+<p>"The damson jam was finished last week, sir. It is nearly the season to
+make more."</p>
+
+<p>Cyril replied by a rude and ugly word. After some cogitation, he decided
+upon black currant.</p>
+
+<p>"And bring me up some apricot," put in George.</p>
+
+<p>"And we'll have some gooseberry," called out Rosa. "If you boys have
+jam, we'll have some too."</p>
+
+<p>Nancy disappeared. Cyril suddenly threw himself back on the sofa, and
+burst into another ringing laugh. "I can't help it," he exclaimed. "I am
+thinking of the old woman's fright, and their dismay at having to pay
+the damage."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know what I should do in your place, Cyril?" said Miss Benyon.
+"I should go back to Markham, and tell him honourably that I caused the
+accident. You know how poor they are; they cannot afford to pay for it."</p>
+
+<p>Cyril stared at Miss Benyon. "Where'd be the pull of that?" asked he.</p>
+
+<p>"The 'pull,' Cyril, would be, that you would repair a wrong done to an
+unoffending neighbour, and might go to sleep with a clear conscience."</p>
+
+<p>The last suggestion amused Cyril amazingly he and conscience had not a
+great deal to do with each other. He was politely telling Miss Benyon
+that those notions were good enough for old maids, when Nancy appeared
+with the several sorts of jam demanded. Cyril drew his chair to the
+table, and Nancy went down.</p>
+
+<p>"Ring the bell, Rosa," said Cyril, before the girl could well have
+reached the kitchen. "I can't see one sort from another; we must have
+candles."</p>
+
+<p>"Ring it yourself," retorted Rosa.</p>
+
+<p>"George, ring the bell," commanded Cyril.</p>
+
+<p>George obeyed. He was under Cyril in the college school, and accustomed
+to obey him.</p>
+
+<p>"You might have told Nancy when she was here," remarked Miss Benyon to
+Cyril. "It would have saved her a journey."</p>
+
+<p>"And if it would?" asked Cyril. "What were servants' legs made for, but
+to be used?"</p>
+
+<p>Nancy received the order for the candles, and brought them up. It was to
+be hoped her legs <i>were</i> made to be used, for scarcely had Cyril begun
+to enjoy his black currant jam when they were heard coming up the stairs
+again.</p>
+
+<p>"Master Cyril, Mr. Markham wants to see you."</p>
+
+<p>Cyril and the rest exchanged looks. "Did you say I was at home?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you were an idiot for your pains! I can't come down, tell him. I
+am at tea."</p>
+
+<p>Down went Nancy accordingly. And back she came again. "He says he must
+see you, Master Cyril."</p>
+
+<p>"Be a man, Cyril, and face it," whispered Miss Benyon in his ear.</p>
+
+<p>Cyril jerked his head rudely away from her. "I won't go down. There!
+Nancy, you may tell Markham so."</p>
+
+<p>"He has sat down on the garden bench, sir, outside the window to wait,"
+explained Nancy. "He says, if you won't see him he shall ask for Mr.
+Dare."</p>
+
+<p>Cyril appeared to be in for it. He dashed his bread and jam on the
+table, and clattered down. "Who's wanting me?" called out he, when he
+got outside. "Oh!&mdash;is it you, Markham?"</p>
+
+<p>"How came you to throw a stone just now, and break my window, Cyril
+Dare?"</p>
+
+<p>The words threw Cyril into the greatest apparent surprise. "<i>I</i> throw a
+stone and break your window!" repeated he. "I don't know what you mean."</p>
+
+<p>"Either you or your brother threw it; you were both together. It entered
+my mother's bedroom window, and went within an inch of her head. I'll
+trouble you to send a glazier round to put the pane in."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, of all strange accusations, this is about the strangest!" uttered
+Cyril. "We have not been near your window; we are upstairs at our tea."</p>
+
+
+<p>At this juncture, Mr. Dare came out. He had heard the altercation in the
+house. "What's this?" asked he. "Good evening, Markham."</p>
+
+<p>Markham explained. "They crouched down under the hedge when they had
+done the mischief," he continued, "thinking, no doubt, to get away
+undetected. But, as it happened, Brooks the nurseryman was in his ground
+behind the opposite hedge, and he saw the whole. He says they were
+throwing at the bats. Now I should be sorry to get them punished, Mr.
+Dare; we have been boys ourselves; but if young gentlemen will throw
+stones, they must pay for any damage they do. I have requested your son
+to send a glazier round in the morning. I am sorry he should have denied
+the fact."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dare turned to Cyril. "If you did it, why do you deny it?"</p>
+
+<p>Cyril hesitated for the tenth part of a second. Which would be the best
+policy? To give in, or to hold out? He chose the latter. His word was as
+good as that confounded Brooks's, and he'd brave it out! "We didn't do
+it," he angrily said; "we have not been near the place this evening.
+Brooks must have mistaken others for us in the dusk."</p>
+
+<p>"They did do it, Mr. Dare. There's no mistake about it. Brooks had been
+watching them, and he thinks it was the bigger one who threw that
+particular stone. If I had set a house on fire," Markham added to Cyril,
+"I'd rather confess the accident, than deny it by a lie. What sort of a
+man do you expect to make?"</p>
+
+<p>"A better one than you!" insolently retorted Cyril.</p>
+
+<p>"Wait an instant," said Mr. Dare. He proceeded to the school-room to
+inquire of George. That young gentleman had been an admiring hearer of
+the colloquy from a staircase-window. He tore back to the school-room on
+the approach of his father; hastily deciding that he must bear out Cyril
+in the denial. "Now, George," said Mr. Dare, sternly, "did you and Cyril
+do this, or did you not?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course we did not, papa," was the ready reply. "We have not been
+near Markham's. Brooks must be a fool."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dare believed him. He was leaving the room when Miss Benyon
+interposed.</p>
+
+<p>"Sir, I should be doing wrong to allow you to be deceived. They did
+break the window."</p>
+
+<p>The address caused Mr. Dare to pause. "How do you know it, Miss Benyon?"</p>
+
+<p>Miss Benyon related what had passed. Mr. Dare cast his eyes sternly upon
+his youngest son. "It is you who are the fool, George, not Brooks. A lie
+is sure to get found out in the end; don't attempt to tell another."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dare went down. "I cannot come quite to the bottom of this
+business, Markham," said he, feeling unwilling to expose his sons more
+than they had exposed themselves. "At all events you shall have the
+window put in. A pane of glass is not much on either side."</p>
+
+<p>"It is a good deal to my pocket, Mr. Dare. But that's all I ask. And you
+know my character too well to fear I would make a doubtful claim. Brooks
+is open to inquiry."</p>
+
+<p>He departed; and Mr. Dare touched Cyril on the arm. "Come with me."</p>
+
+<p>He took him into the room, and there ensued an angry lecture. Cyril
+thought George had confessed, and stood silent before his father. "What
+a sneak he must have been!" thought Cyril. "Won't I serve him out!"</p>
+
+<p>"If you have acquired the habit of speaking falsely, you had better
+relinquish it," resumed Mr. Dare. "It will not be a recommendation in
+the eyes of Mr. Ashley."</p>
+
+<p>"I am not going to Ashley's," burst forth Cyril; for the mention of the
+subject was sure to anger him. "Turn manufacturer, indeed! I'd
+rather&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You'd rather be a gentleman at large," interrupted Mr. Dare. "But," he
+sarcastically added, "gentlemen require something to live upon. Listen,
+Cyril. One of the finest openings that I know of in this city, for a
+young man, is in Ashley's manufactory. <i>You</i> may despise Mr. Ashley as a
+manufacturer; but others respect him. He was reared a gentleman&mdash;he is
+regarded as one; he is wealthy, and his business is large and
+flourishing. Suppose you could drop into this, after him?&mdash;succeed to
+this fine business, its sole proprietor? I can tell you that you would
+occupy a better position, and be in receipt of a far larger income than
+either Anthony or Herbert will be."</p>
+
+<p>"But there's no such chance as that, for me," debated Cyril.</p>
+
+<p>"There is the chance: and that's why you are to be placed there. Henry,
+from his infirmity, is not to be brought up to business, and there is no
+other son. You will be apprenticed to Mr. Ashley, with a view to
+succeeding, as a son would, first of all to a partnership with him,
+eventually to the whole. Now, this is the prospect before you, Cyril;
+and prejudiced though you are, you must see that it is a fine one."</p>
+
+<p>"Well," acknowledged Cyril, "I wouldn't object to drop into a good thing
+like that. Has Mr. Ashley proposed it?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, he has not distinctly proposed it. But he did admit, when your
+apprenticeship was being spoken of, that he might be wanting somebody to
+succeed him. He more than hinted that whoever might be chosen to succeed
+him, or to be associated with him, must be rendered fit for the
+connection by being an estimable and a good man; one held in honour by
+his fellow citizens. No other could be linked with the name of Ashley.
+And now, sir, what do you think he, Mr. Ashley, would say to your
+behaviour to-night?"</p>
+
+<p>Cyril looked rather shame-faced.</p>
+
+<p>"You will go to Mr. Ashley's, Cyril. But I wish you to remember, to
+remember always, that the ultimate advantages will depend upon yourself
+and your conduct. Become a good man, and there's little doubt they will
+be yours; turn out indifferently, and there's not the slightest chance
+for you."</p>
+
+<p>"I shan't succeed to any of Ashley's money, I suppose?" complacently
+questioned Cyril, who somewhat ignored the conditions, and saw himself
+in prospective Mr. Ashley's successor.</p>
+
+<p>"It is impossible to say what you may succeed to," replied Mr. Dare, in
+so significant a tone as to surprise Cyril. "Henry Ashley's I should
+imagine to be a doubtful life; should anything happen to him, Mary
+Ashley will, of course, inherit all. And he will be a fortunate man who
+shall get into her good graces and marry her."</p>
+
+<p>It was a broad hint to a boy like Cyril. "She's such a proud thing, that
+Mary Ashley!" grumbled he.</p>
+
+<p>"She is a very sweet child," was the warm rejoinder of Mr. Dare. And
+Cyril went upstairs again to his jam and his interrupted tea.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile the evening went on, and the drawing-room was waiting for Lord
+Hawkesley. Mrs. Dare and Adelaide were waiting for him&mdash;waiting
+anxiously in elegant attire. Mr. Dare did not seem to care whether he
+came or not; and Julia, who was buried in an easy chair with her book,
+would have preferred, of the two, that he stayed away. Between eight and
+nine he arrived. A little man; young, fair, with light eyes and sharp
+features, a somewhat cynical expression habitually on his lips.
+Helstonleigh, in its gossip, conjectured that he must be making young
+Anthony Dare useful to him in some way or other, or he would not have
+condescended to the intimacy. For Lord Hawkesley, a proud man by nature,
+had been reared as an earl's son and heir; which meant an exclusiveness
+far greater in those days than it is in these. This was the third
+evening visit he had paid to Mrs. Dare. Had Adelaide's good looks any
+attraction for him? <i>She</i> was beginning to think so, and to weave
+visions upon the strength of it. Entrenched as the Dares were in their
+folly and assumption, Adelaide was blind to the wide social gulf that
+lay between herself and Viscount Hawkesley.</p>
+
+<p>She sat down at the piano at his request and sang an Italian song. She
+had a good voice, and her singing was better than her Italian accent.
+Lord Hawkesley stood by her and looked over the music.</p>
+
+<p>"I like your style of singing very much," he remarked to her when the
+song was over. "You must have learnt of a good master."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Comme ça</i>," carelessly rejoined Adelaide. As is the case with many
+more young ladies who possess a superficial knowledge of French, she
+thought it the perfection of good taste to display as much of it as she
+did know. "I had the best professor that Helstonleigh can give; but what
+are Helstonleigh professors compared with those of London? We cannot
+expect first-rate talent here."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you like London?" asked Lord Hawkesley.</p>
+
+<p>"I was never there," replied Adelaide, feeling the confession, when made
+to Lord Hawkesley, to be nothing but a humiliation.</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed! You would enjoy a London season."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, so much! I know nothing of the London season, except from books. A
+contrast to your lordship, you will say," she added, with a laugh. "You
+must be almost tired of it; <i>désillusionné</i>."</p>
+
+<p>"What's that in English?" inquired Lord Hawkesley, whose French studies,
+as far as they had extended, had been utterly thrown away upon him.
+Labouring under the deficiency, he had to make the best of it, and did
+it with a boast. "Used up, I suppose you mean?"</p>
+
+<p>Adelaide coloured excessively. She wondered if he was laughing at her,
+and made a mental vow never to speak French to a lord again.</p>
+
+<p>"Will you think me exacting, Miss Dare, if I trespass upon you for
+another song?"</p>
+
+<p>Adelaide did not think him exacting in the least. She was ready to sing
+as long as he pleased.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VB" id="CHAPTER_VB"></a>CHAPTER V.</h2>
+
+<h3>CHARLOTTE EAST'S PRESENT.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Towards dusk, that same evening, Charlotte East went over to Mrs.
+Buffle's for some butter. After she was served, Mrs. Buffle&mdash;who was a
+little shrimp of a woman, with a red nose&mdash;crossed her arms upon the
+counter and bent her face towards Charlotte's. "Have you heered the
+news?" asked she. "Mary Ann Cross is going to make a match of it with
+Ben Tyrrett."</p>
+
+<p>"Is she?" said Charlotte. "They had better wait a few years, both of
+them, until they shall have put by something."</p>
+
+<p>"They're neither of them of the putting-by sort," returned Mrs. Buffle.
+"Them Crosses is the worst girls to spend in all the Fair: unless it's
+Carry Mason. She don't spare her back, she don't. The wonder is, how she
+gets it."</p>
+
+<p>"Young girls will dress," observed Charlotte, carelessly.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Buffle laughed. "You speak as if you were an old one."</p>
+
+<p>"I feel like one sometimes, Mrs. Buffle. When children are left, as I
+and Robert were, with a baby brother to bring up, and hardly any means
+to do it upon, it helps to steady them. Tom&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Eliza Tyrrett burst in at the door, with a violence that made its bell
+twang and tinkle. "Half-a-pound o' dips, long-tens, Dame Buffle, and be
+quick about it," was her order. "There's such a flare-up, in at
+Mason's."</p>
+
+<p>"A flare-up!" repeated Mrs. Buffle, who was always ripe and ready for a
+dish of scandal, whether it touched on domestic differences, or on young
+girls' improvidence in the shape of dress. "Is Mason and her having a
+noise?"</p>
+
+<p>"It's not him and her. It's about Carry. Hetty Mason locked Carry up
+this afternoon, and Mason never came home at all to tea; he went and had
+some beer instead, and a turn at skittles, and she wouldn't let Carry
+out. He came in just now, and his wife told him a whole heap about
+Carry, and Mason went up to the cock-loft, undid the door, and
+threatened to kick Carry down. They're having it out in the kitchen, all
+three."</p>
+
+<p>"What has Carry done?" asked Mrs. Buffle eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps Charlotte East can tell," said Eliza Tyrrett, slyly. "She has
+been thick with Carry lately. <i>I</i> am not a-going to spoil sport."</p>
+
+<p>Charlotte took up her butter, and bending a severe look of caution on
+the Tyrrett girl, left the shop. Anthony Dare's reputation was not a
+brilliant one, and the bare fact of Caroline Mason's allowing herself to
+walk with him would have damaged her in the eyes of Honey Fair. As well
+keep it, if possible, from Mrs. Buffle and other gossips.</p>
+
+<p>As Charlotte crossed to her own door, she became conscious that some one
+was flying towards her in the dusk of the evening: a woman with a fleet
+foot and panting breath. Charlotte caught hold of her. "Caroline, where
+are you going?"</p>
+
+<p>"Let me alone, Charlotte East"&mdash;and Caroline's nostrils were working,
+her eyes flashing. "I have left their house for ever, and am going to
+one who will give me a better."</p>
+
+<p>Charlotte held her tight. "You must not go, Caroline."</p>
+
+<p>"I will," she defiantly answered. "I have chosen my lot this night for
+better or for worse. Will I stay to be taunted without a cause? To be
+told I am what I am not? No! If anything should happen to me, let them
+reproach themselves, for they have driven me on to it."</p>
+
+<p>Charlotte tried her utmost to restrain the wild girl. "Caroline," she
+urged, "this is the turning-point in your life. A step forward, and you
+may have passed it beyond recall; a step backwards, and you may be saved
+for ever. Come home with me."</p>
+
+<p>Caroline in her madness&mdash;it was little else&mdash;turned her ghastly face
+upon Charlotte. "You shan't stop me, Charlotte East! You go your way,
+and I'll go mine. Shall Mark and she go on at me without cause, I say,
+calling me false names?"</p>
+
+<p>"Come home with me, Caroline. You shall stay with me to-night; you
+shan't go back to Hetty. My bed's not large, but it will hold us."</p>
+
+<p>"I won't, I won't!" she uttered, struggling to be free.</p>
+
+<p>"Only for a minute," implored Charlotte. "Come in for a minute until you
+are calm. You are mad just now."</p>
+
+<p>"I am driven to it. There!"</p>
+
+<p>With a jerk she wrenched herself from Charlotte's grasp, passion giving
+her strength: and she flew onwards and was lost in the dark night.
+Charlotte East ran home. Her brothers were there. "Tom," said she, "put
+this butter in the cupboard for me;" and out she went again. At the end
+of Honey Fair, a road lay each way. Which should she take? Which had
+Caroline taken?</p>
+
+<p>She chose the one to the right&mdash;it was the most retired&mdash;and went
+groping about it for twenty minutes. As it happened, as such things
+generally do happen, Caroline had taken the other.</p>
+
+<p>In a sheltered part of that, which lay back, away from the glare of the
+gas lamps, Caroline had taken refuge. She had expected some one would be
+there to meet her; but she found herself mistaken. Down she sat on a
+stone, and her wild passion began to diminish.</p>
+
+<p>Nearly half an hour afterwards, Charlotte found her there. Caroline was
+talking to Anthony Dare, who had just come up. Charlotte grasped
+Caroline.</p>
+
+<p>"You must come with me, Caroline."</p>
+
+<p>"Who on earth are you, and what do you want intruding here?" demanded
+Anthony Dare, turning round with a fierce stare on Charlotte.</p>
+
+<p>"I am Charlotte East, sir, if it is any matter to you to know my name,
+and I am a friend of Caroline Mason's. I am here to take her out of
+harm's way."</p>
+
+<p>"There's nothing to harm her here," haughtily answered young Anthony.
+"Mind your own business."</p>
+
+<p>"I am afraid there is one thing to harm her, sir, and that's you," said
+brave Charlotte. "You can't come among us people in Honey Fair for any
+good. Folks bent on good errands don't need to wait till dark before
+they pay their visits. You had better give up prowling about this place,
+Mr. Anthony Dare. Stay with your equals, sir; with those that will be a
+match for you."</p>
+
+<p>"The woman must be deranged!" uttered Anthony, going into a terrible
+passion. "How dare you presume to say such things to me?"</p>
+
+<p>"How dare you, sir, set yourself out to work ill?" retorted Charlotte.
+"Come along, Caroline," she added to the girl, who was now crying
+bitterly. "As for you, sir, if you mean no harm, as you say, and it is
+necessary that you should condescend to visit Honey Fair, please to pay
+your visits in the broad light of day."</p>
+
+<p>No very pleasant word broke from Anthony Dare. He would have liked to
+exterminate Charlotte. "Caroline," foamed he, "order this woman away. If
+I could see a policeman, I'd give her in charge."</p>
+
+<p>"Sir, if you dare attempt to detain her, I'll appeal to the first
+passer-by. I'll tell them to look at the great and grand Mr. Anthony
+Dare, and to ask him what he wants here, night after night."</p>
+
+<p>Even as Charlotte spoke, footsteps were heard, and two gentlemen,
+talking together, advanced. The voice of one fell familiarly on the ear
+of Anthony Dare, familiarly on that of Charlotte East. The latter
+uttered a joyful cry.</p>
+
+<p>"There's Mr. Ashley! Loose her, sir, or I'll call to him."</p>
+
+<p>To have Mr. Ashley "called to" on the point would not be altogether
+agreeable to the feelings of young Anthony. "You fool!" he exclaimed to
+Charlotte East, "what harm do you suppose I meant, or thought of? You
+must be a very strange person yourself, to get such a thing into your
+imagination. Good night, Caroline."</p>
+
+<p>And turning on his heel haughtily, Anthony Dare stalked off in the
+direction of Helstonleigh. Mr. Ashley passed on, having noticed nothing,
+and Charlotte East wound her arm round the sobbing girl, subdued now,
+and led her home.</p>
+
+<p>Anthony went straight to Pomeranian Knoll, and threw himself on to a
+sofa in a very ill humour. Lord Hawkesley was occupied with Adelaide and
+her singing, and paid little attention to him.</p>
+
+<p>At the close of the evening they left together, Anthony going out with
+Lord Hawkesley, and linking arms as they proceeded towards the Star
+Hotel, Lord Hawkesley's usual quarters when in Helstonleigh.</p>
+
+<p>"I have got two hundred out of the governor," began Anthony in a
+confidential tone. "He will give me the cheque to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>"What's two hundred, Dare?" slightingly spoke his lordship. "It's
+nothing."</p>
+
+<p>"It was of no use trying for more to-night. The two hundred will stop
+present worry, Hawkesley; the future must be provided for when it
+comes." And they walked on with a quicker step.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Dare had looked at her watch as they departed. It was half-past
+eleven. She said she supposed they might as well be going to bed, and
+Mr. Dare roused himself. For the last half-hour he had been half-asleep;
+quite asleep he did not choose to fall, in the young man's presence. A
+viscount to Lawyer Dare was a viscount. "Where's Herbert?" asked he,
+stretching himself. Master Herbert, Joseph answered, had had supper
+served (not being able to recover from the short allowance at dinner),
+and had gone to bed. The rest, excepting Adelaide, had gone before, free
+from want, from care, full of the good things of this life. The young
+Halliburtons, their cousins once removed, had knelt and thanked God for
+the day's good, even though that day to them had been what all their
+days were now, one of poverty and privation. Not so the Dares. As
+children, for they were not in a heathen land, they had been taught to
+say their prayers at night; but as they grew older, the custom was
+suffered to fall into disuse. The family attended church on Sundays,
+fashionably attired, and there ended their religion.</p>
+
+<p>To bed and to sleep went they, all the household, old and young&mdash;Joseph,
+the manservant, excepted. Sleepy Joseph stretched himself in a large
+chair to wait the return of Mr. Anthony: sleepy Joseph had so to stretch
+himself most nights. Mr. Anthony might come in in an hour's time, or Mr.
+Anthony might not come in until it was nearly time to commence the day's
+duties in the morning. It was all a chance; as poor Joseph knew to his
+cost.</p>
+
+<p>Nine o'clock was the breakfast hour at Mr. Dare's, and the family were
+in general pretty punctual at it. On the following morning they were all
+assembled at the meal, Anthony rather red about the eyes, when Ann, the
+housemaid, entered.</p>
+
+<p>"Here's a parcel for you, Mr. Anthony."</p>
+
+<p>She held in her arms a large untidy sort of bundle, done round with
+string. Anthony turned his wondering eyes upon it.</p>
+
+<p>"That! It can't be for me."</p>
+
+<p>"A boy brought it and said it was for you, sir," returned Ann, letting
+the cumbersome parcel fall on a chair. "I asked if there was any answer,
+and he said there was not."</p>
+
+<p>"It must be from your tailor, Anthony," said Mrs. Dare.</p>
+
+<p>Anthony's consequence was offended at the suggestion. "My tailor send me
+a parcel done up like that!" repeated he. "He had better! He would get
+no more of my custom."</p>
+
+<p>"What an extraordinary direction!" exclaimed Julia, who had got up, and
+drawn near, in her curiosity: "'Young Mister Antony Dare!' Just look,
+all of you."</p>
+
+<p>Anthony rose, and the rest followed, except Mr. Dare, who was busy with
+a county paper, and paid no attention. A happy thought darted into
+Minny's mind. "I know!" she cried, clapping her hands. "Cyril and George
+are playing Anthony a trick, like the one they played Miss Benyon."</p>
+
+<p>Anthony, too hastily taking up the view thus suggested, and inwardly
+vowing a not agreeable chastisement to the two, as soon as they should
+rush in to breakfast from school, took out his penknife and severed the
+string. The paper fell apart, and the contents rolled on to the floor.</p>
+
+<p>What on earth were they? What did they mean? A woman's gown, tawdry but
+pretty; a shawl; a neck-scarf, with gold-coloured fringe; two pairs of
+gloves, the fingers worn into holes; a bow of handsome ribbon; a cameo
+brooch, fine and false; and one or two more such articles, not new,
+stood disclosed. The party around gazed in sheer amazement.</p>
+
+<p>"If ever I saw such a collection as this!" exclaimed Mrs. Dare. "It is a
+woman's clothing. Why should they have been sent to you, Anthony?"</p>
+
+<p>Anthony's cheek wore rather a conscious colour just then. "How should I
+know?" he replied. "They must have been directed to me by mistake. Take
+the rags away, Ann"&mdash;spurning them with his foot&mdash;"and throw them into
+the dust-bin. Who knows what infected place they may have come from?"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Dare and the young ladies shrieked at the last suggestion, gathered
+their skirts about them, and retired as far as the limits of the room
+allowed. Some enemy of malicious intent must have done it, they became
+convinced. Ann&mdash;no more liking to be infected with measles or what not
+than they&mdash;seized the tongs, gingerly lifted the articles inside the
+paper, dragged the whole outside the door, and called Joseph to carry
+them to the receptacle indicated by Mr. Anthony.</p>
+
+<p>Charlotte East had thought she would not do her work by halves.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIB" id="CHAPTER_VIB"></a>CHAPTER VI.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE FEAR GROWING GREATER.</h3>
+
+
+<p>We must leap over some months. A story, you know, cannot stand still,
+any more than we can.</p>
+
+<p>Spring had come round. The sofa belonging to Mrs. Reece's parlour was in
+Mrs. Halliburton's, and Janey was lying on it&mdash;her blue eyes bright, her
+cheeks hectic, her fair curls falling in disorder. Through autumn,
+through winter, it had appeared that Dobbs's prognostications of evil
+for Jane were not to be borne out, for she had recovered from the
+temporary indications of illness, and had continued well; but, with the
+early spring weather, Jane failed, and failed rapidly. The cough came
+back, and great weakness grew upon her. She was always wanting to be at
+rest, and would lie about anywhere. Spreading a cloak on the floor, with
+a pillow for her head, Janey would plant herself between her mother and
+the fire, pulling the cloak up on the side near the door. One day Dobbs
+came in and saw her there.</p>
+
+<p>"My heart alive!" uttered Dobbs, when she had recovered her surprise;
+"what are you lying down there for?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am tired," replied Janey; "and there's nowhere else to lie. If I put
+three chairs together, it is not comfortable, and the pillow rolls off."</p>
+
+<p>"There's the sofa in our room," said Dobbs. "Why don't you lie on that?"</p>
+
+
+<p>"So I do, you know, Dobbs; but I want to talk to mamma sometimes."</p>
+
+<p>Dobbs disappeared. Presently there was a floundering and thumping heard
+in the passage, and the sofa was propelled in by Dobbs, very red with
+the exertion. "My missis is indignant to think that the child should be
+upon the floor," cried she, wrathfully. "One would suppose some folks
+were born without brains, or the sofa might have been asked for."</p>
+
+<p>"But, Dobbs," said Janey&mdash;and <i>she</i> was allowed to "Dobbs" as much as
+she pleased, unreproved&mdash;"what am I to lie on in your room?"</p>
+
+<p>"Isn't there my easy chair, with the high foot-board in front&mdash;as good
+as a bed when you let it out?" returned Dobbs, proceeding to place Janey
+comfortably on the sofa. "And now let me say what I came in to say, when
+the sight of that child on the cold floor sent me shocked out again,"
+she added, turning to Jane. "My missis's leg is no better to-day, and
+she has made up her mind to have Parry. It's erysipelas, as sure as a
+gun. Every other spring, about, she's laid up with it in her legs, one
+or the other of 'em. Ten weeks I have known her in bed with it&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"The very best preventive to erysipelas is to take an occasional warm
+bath," interrupted Jane.</p>
+
+<p>The suggestion gave immense offence to Dobbs. "A warm bath!" she
+uttered, ironically. "And how, pray, should my missis take a warm bath?
+Sit down in a mashing-tub, and have a furnace of boiling water turned on
+to her? Those new-fangled notions may do for Londoners, but they are not
+known at Helstonleigh. Warm baths!" repeated Dobbs, with increased
+scorn: "hadn't you better propose a water-bed at once? I have heard that
+they are inventing <i>them</i> also."</p>
+
+<p>"I have heard so, too," pleasantly replied Jane.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, my missis is going to have Parry up, and she intends that he
+shall see Janey and give her some physic&mdash;if physic will be of use,"
+added Dobbs, with an incredulous sniff. "My missis says it will. She
+puts faith in Parry's physic as if it was gold; it's a good thing she's
+not ill often, or she'd let herself be poisoned if quantity could poison
+her! And, Janey, you'll take the physic, like a precious lamb; and heaps
+of nice things you shall have after it, to drive the taste out. Warm
+baths!" ejaculated Dobbs, as she went out, returning to the old
+grievance. "I wonder what the world's coming to?"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Parry was called in, and soon had his two regular patients there.
+Mrs. Reece was confined to her bed with erysipelas in her leg; and if
+Janey seemed better one day, she seemed worse the next. The surgeon did
+not say what was the matter with Jane. He ordered her everything good in
+the shape of food; he particularly ordered port wine. An hour after the
+latter order had been given Dobbs appeared, with a full decanter in her
+hand.</p>
+
+<p>"It's two glasses a day that she is to take&mdash;one at eleven and one at
+three," cried she without circumlocution.</p>
+
+<p>"But, indeed, I cannot think of accepting so costly a thing from Mrs.
+Reece as port wine," interrupted Jane, in consternation.</p>
+
+<p>"You can do as you like, ma'am," said Dobbs with equanimity. "Janey will
+accept it; she'll drink her two glasses of wine daily, if I have to come
+and drench her with it. And it won't be any cost out of my missis's
+pocket, if that's what you are thinking of," logically proceeded Dobbs.
+"Parry says it will be a good three months before she can take her wine
+again; so Janey can drink it for her. If my missis grudged her port wine
+or was cramped in pocket, I should not take my one glass a day, which I
+do regular."</p>
+
+<p>"I can never repay you and Mrs. Reece for your kindness and generosity
+to Jane," sighed Mrs. Halliburton.</p>
+
+<p>"You can do it when you are asked," was Dobbs's retort. "There's the
+wing and merrythought of a fowl coming in for her dinner, with a bit of
+sweet boiled pork. I don't give myself the ceremony of cloth-laying, now
+my missis is in bed, but just eat it in the rough; so the child had
+better have hers brought in here comfortably, till my missis is down
+again. And, Janey, you'll come upstairs to tea to us; I have taken up
+the easy chair."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you very much, Dobbs," said Janey.</p>
+
+<p>"And don't you let them cormorants be eating her dinners or drinking her
+wine," said Dobbs, fiercely, as she was going out. "Keep a sharp
+look-out upon 'em."</p>
+
+<p>"They would not do it!" warmly replied Jane. "You do not know my boys
+yet, if you think they would rob their sick sister."</p>
+
+<p>"I know that boys' stomachs are always on the crave for anything that's
+good," retorted Dobbs. "You might skin a boy if you were forced to it,
+but you'd never drive his nature out of him; and that's to be always
+eating!"</p>
+
+<p>So she had even <i>this</i> help&mdash;port wine! It seemed almost beyond belief,
+and Jane lost herself in thought.</p>
+
+<p>"Mamma, you don't hear me!"</p>
+
+<p>"Did you speak, Janey?"</p>
+
+<p>"I say I think Dobbs got that fowl for me. Mrs. Reece is not taking
+meat, and Dobbs would not buy a fowl for herself. She will give me all
+the best parts, and pick the bones herself. You'll see. How kind they
+are to me! What should I have done, mamma, if I had only our plain food?
+I know I could not eat it now."</p>
+
+<p>"God is over us, my dear child," was Jane's reply. "It is He who has
+directed this help to us: never doubt it, Jane. Whether we live or die,"
+she added pointedly, "we are in His hands, and He orders all things for
+the best."</p>
+
+<p>"Can to die be for the best?" asked Janey, sitting up to think over the
+question.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, yes, my dear girl; certainly it is, if God wills it. How often
+have I talked to you about the <span class="smcap">rest</span> after the grave! No more tears, no
+more partings. Which is best&mdash;to be here, or to go to that rest? Oh,
+Janey! we can put up surely with illness and with crosses here, if we
+may only attain to that. This world will last only for a little while at
+best; but that other will abide for ever and for ever."</p>
+
+<p>A summons from Mr. Parry's boy: Miss Halliburton's medicine had arrived.
+Miss Halliburton made a grievous face over it, when her mamma poured the
+dose out. "I never <i>can</i> take it! It smells so nasty!"</p>
+
+<p>Jane held the wine-glass towards her, a grave, kind smile upon her face.
+"My darling, it is one of earth's little crosses; <i>try</i> and not rebel
+against it. Here's a bit of Patience's jam left, to take after it."</p>
+
+<p>Janey smiled bravely as she took the glass. "It was not so bad as I
+thought, mamma," said she, when she had swallowed it.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course not, Janey; nothing is that we set about with a brave heart."</p>
+
+<p>But, with every good thing, Janey did not improve. Her mother shrank
+from admitting the fact that was growing only too palpable; and Dobbs
+would come in and sit looking at Janey for a quarter of an hour
+together, never speaking.</p>
+
+<p>"Why do you look at me so, Dobbs?" asked Janey, one day, suddenly. "You
+were crying when you looked at me last night at dusk."</p>
+
+<p>Dobbs was rather taken to. "I had been peeling onions," said she.</p>
+
+<p>"Why do you shrink from looking at the truth?" an inward voice kept
+repeating in Mrs. Halliburton's heart. "Is it right, or wise, or well to
+do so?" No; she knew that it could not be.</p>
+
+<p>That same day, after Mr. Parry had paid his visit to Mrs. Reece, he
+looked in upon Janey. "Am I getting better?" she asked him. "I want to
+go into the green fields again, and run about."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah," said he, "we must wait for that, little maid."</p>
+
+<p>Jane went out to the door with him. When he put out his hand to say good
+morning, he saw that she was white with emotion, and could not speak
+readily. "Will she live or die, Mr. Parry?" was the whispered question
+that came at last.</p>
+
+<p>"Now don't distress yourself, Mrs. Halliburton. In these lingering cases
+we must be content to wait the issue, whatever it may be."</p>
+
+<p>"I have had so much trouble of one sort or another, that I think I have
+become inured to it," she continued, striving to speak more calmly.
+"These several days past I have been deciding to ask you the truth. If
+I am to lose her, it will be better that I should know it beforehand: it
+will be easier for me to bear. She is in danger, is she not?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," he replied; "I fear she is."</p>
+
+<p>"Is there any hope?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you know, Mrs. Halliburton, while there is life there is hope."</p>
+
+<p>His tone was kindly; but she could not well mistake that, of human hope,
+there was none. Her lips were pale&mdash;her bosom was heaving. "I
+understand," she murmured. "Tell me one other thing: how near is the
+end?"</p>
+
+<p>"That I really cannot tell you," he more readily replied. "These cases
+vary much in their progression. Do not be downcast, Mrs. Halliburton. We
+must every one of us go, sooner or later. Sometimes I wish I could see
+all mine gone before me, rather than leave them behind to the cares of
+this troublesome world."</p>
+
+<p>He shook hands and departed. Jane crept softly upstairs to her own room,
+and was shut in for ten minutes. Poor thing! <i>she</i> could not spare time
+for the indulgence of grief, as others might! she must hasten to her
+never-ceasing work. She had her task to do; and ten minutes lost from it
+in the day must be made up at night.</p>
+
+<p>As she was going downstairs, with red eyes, Mrs. Reece heard her
+footstep and called to her from her bed. "Is that you, ma'am?"</p>
+
+<p>So Jane had to go in. "Are you better?" she inquired.</p>
+
+<p>"No, ma'am, I don't see much improvement," replied the old lady. "Mr.
+Parry is going to change the lotion; but it's a thing that will have its
+course. How is Janey? Does he say?"</p>
+
+<p>"She is much the same," said Jane. "She grows no better. I fear she
+never will."</p>
+
+<p>"Ay! so Dobbs says; and it strikes me Parry has told her so. Now, ma'am,
+you spare nothing that can do her good. Whatever she fancies, tell
+Dobbs, and it shall be had. I would not for the world have a dying child
+stinted while I can help it. Don't spare wine; don't spare anything."</p>
+
+<p>"A dying child!" The words, in spite of Jane's previous convictions;
+nay, her knowledge; caused her heart to sink with a chill. She
+proceeded, as she had done many times before, to express a tithe of her
+gratitude to Mrs. Reece for the substantial kindness shown to Janey.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't say anything about it, ma'am," returned the old lady in her
+simple, straightforward way. "I have neither chick nor child of my own,
+and both I and Dobbs have taken a liking for Janey. We can't think
+anything we can do too much for her. I have spoken to Parry&mdash;therefore
+don't spare his services; at any hour of the day or night send for him
+if you deem it necessary."</p>
+
+<p>With another attempt at heartfelt thanks, Jane went down. Full as her
+cup was to the brim, she was yet overwhelmed with the sense of kindness
+shown. From that time she set herself to the task of preparing Janey for
+the great change by gradual degrees&mdash;a little now, a little then: to
+make her long for the translation to that better land.</p>
+
+<p>One evening, about eight o'clock, Patience entered&mdash;partly to inquire
+after Janey, partly to ask William if he would go to bring Anna from
+Mrs. Ashley's, where she had been taking tea. Samuel Lynn was detained
+in the town on business, and Grace had been permitted to go out:
+therefore Patience had no one to send. William left his books, and went
+out with alacrity. Patience sat down by Janey's sofa.</p>
+
+<p>"I get so tired, Patience. I wish I had some pretty books to read! I
+have read all Anna's over and over again."</p>
+
+<p>"And she won't eat solids now, and she grows tired of mutton-broth, and
+sago, and egg-flip, and those things," put in Dobbs, in an injured tone,
+who was also sitting there.</p>
+
+<p>"I would try her with a little beef-tea, made with plenty of carrots and
+thickened with arrowroot," said Patience.</p>
+
+<p>"Beef-tea, made with carrots and thickened with arrowroot!" ungraciously
+responded Dobbs, who held in contempt every one's cooking except her
+own.</p>
+
+<p>"I can tell thee that it is one of the nicest things taken," said
+Patience. "It might be a change for the child."</p>
+
+<p>"How's it made?" asked Dobbs. "It might do for my missis: <i>she's</i> tired
+of mutton broth."</p>
+
+<p>"Slice a pound of lean beef, and let it soak for two hours in a quart of
+cold water," replied Patience. "Then put meat and water into a saucepan,
+with a couple of large carrots scraped and sliced. Let it warm
+gradually, and then simmer for about four hours, thee putting salt to
+taste. Strain it off; and, when cold, take off the fat. As the broth is
+wanted, stir it up, and take from it as much as may be required, boiling
+the portion, for a minute, with a little arrowroot."</p>
+
+<p>Dobbs condescended to intimate that perhaps she might try it; though
+she'd be bound it was poor stuff.</p>
+
+<p>William had hastened to Mr. Ashley's. He was shown into a room to wait
+for Anna, and his attention was immediately attracted by a shelf full of
+children's story-books. He knew they were just what Janey was longing
+for. He had taken some in his hand, when Anna came in, ready for him,
+accompanied by Mrs. Ashley, Mary, and Henry. Then William became aware
+of the liberty he had taken in touching the things, and, in his
+self-consciousness, the colour, as usual, rushed to his face. It was a
+frank, ingenuous face, with its fair, open forehead, and its earnest,
+dark grey eyes; and Mrs. Ashley thought it so.</p>
+
+<p>"Were you looking at our books?" asked Henry, who was in a remarkably
+good humour.</p>
+
+<p>"I am sorry to have touched them," replied William. "I was thinking of
+something else."</p>
+
+<p>"I would be nearly sure thee were thinking of thy sister," cried Anna,
+who had an ever-ready tongue.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I was," replied William candidly. "I was wishing she could read
+them."</p>
+
+<p>"I have told her about the books," said Anna, turning from William to
+the rest. "I related to her as much as I could remember of 'Anna Ross:'
+that book which thee had in thy hand, William. She would so like to read
+them; she is always ill."</p>
+
+<p>"Is she very ill?" inquired Mrs. Ashley.</p>
+
+<p>"She is dying," replied Anna.</p>
+
+<p>It was the first intimation William had received of the great fear. His
+countenance changed, his heart beat wildly. "Oh, Anna! who says it?" he
+cried out, in a low, wailing tone.</p>
+
+<p>There was a dead silence. Anna's announcement sounded sufficiently
+startling, and Mrs. Ashley looked with sympathy at the evidently
+agitated boy.</p>
+
+<p>"There! that's my tongue!" cried Anna repentantly. "Patience says she
+wonders some one does not cut it out for me."</p>
+
+<p>Mary Ashley&mdash;a fair, gentle little girl, with large brown eyes, like
+Henry's&mdash;stepped forward, full of sympathy. "I have heard of your sister
+from Anna," she said. "She is welcome to read all my books; you can take
+some to her now, and change them as often as you like."</p>
+
+<p>How pleased William was! Mary selected four, and gave them to him. "Anna
+Ross," "The Blind Farmer," "Theophilus and Sophia," and "Margaret
+White." Very old, some of the books, and childish; but admirably suited
+to what people were beginning to call Jane&mdash;a dying child.</p>
+
+<p>"I say," cried out Henry, a little aristocratic patronage in his tone,
+as William was departing, "how do you get on with your Latin?"</p>
+
+<p>"I get on very well. Not quite so fast as I should with a master. I have
+to puzzle out difficulties for myself, and I am not sure but that's one
+of the best ways to get on. I go on with my Greek, too; and Euclid,
+and&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"How much time do you work?" burst forth Henry.</p>
+
+<p>"From six o'clock till half-past nine. A little of the time I am helping
+my brothers."</p>
+
+<p>"There's perseverance, Henry!" cried Mrs. Ashley; and Master Henry
+shrugged his shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>"Anna," began William, as they walked along, "how do you know that Janey
+is so ill?"</p>
+
+<p>"Now, William, thee must ask thy mother whether she is ill or not. She
+may get well&mdash;how do I know? She was ill last summer, and Hannah Dobbs
+would have it she was in a bad way then; but she recovered. Dost thee
+know what Patience says?"</p>
+
+<p>"What?" asked William eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>"Patience says I have ten ears where I ought to have two; and I think
+thee hast the same. Fare thee well," she added, as they reached her
+door. "Thank thee for coming for me."</p>
+
+<p>William waited at the gate until Anna was admitted, and then hastened
+home. Jane was alone, working as usual.</p>
+
+<p>"Mamma, is it true that Janey is dying?"</p>
+
+<p>Jane's heart gave a leap; and poor William, as she saw, could scarcely
+speak for agitation. "Who told you that?" she asked in low tones.</p>
+
+<p>"Anna Lynn. <i>Is</i> it true?"</p>
+
+<p>"William, I fear it may be. Don't grieve, child! don't grieve!"</p>
+
+<p>William had laid his head down upon the table, the sobs breaking forth.
+His poor mother left her seat, and bent her head down beside him,
+sobbing also.</p>
+
+<p>"William, for my sake don't grieve!" she whispered. "God alone knows
+what is good. He would not take her unless it were for the best."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIIB" id="CHAPTER_VIIB"></a>CHAPTER VII.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE END.</h3>
+
+
+<p>April passed. May was passing; and the end of Jane Halliburton was at
+hand. There was no secret now about her state; but she was going away
+very peacefully.</p>
+
+<p>In this month, May, there occurred another vacancy in the choir of the
+cathedral. Little Gar&mdash;but he was growing too big now to be called
+Little Gar&mdash;proved to be the successful candidate; so that both boys
+were now in the choir.</p>
+
+<p>"It will be such a help to me, learning to chant, should I ever try for
+a minor canonry," boasted Gar, who never tired of telling them that he
+meant to be a clergyman.</p>
+
+<p>"Gar, dear, did you ever sit down and count the cost?" asked Mrs.
+Halliburton. "I fear it will not be your luck to go to college."</p>
+
+<p>"Labor omnia vincit," cried out Gar. "You have heard us stumbling over
+our Latin often enough, mamma, to know what that means. Frank will need
+to count the cost, too, if he is ever to make himself into a barrister;
+and he says he <i>will</i> be one."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, you two vain boys!" cried Jane, laughing.</p>
+
+<p>"Mamma," spoke up Janey from the sofa&mdash;and her breathing was laboured
+now&mdash;"is there harm in their wishing this?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not at all. They are laudable aims. Only Frank and Gar are so poor and
+friendless that I fear the hopes are too ambitious to end in anything
+but disappointment."</p>
+
+<p>Janey called Gar to her, and pulled his face down to a level with hers,
+whispering softly, "Strive well, Gar, and trust in God."</p>
+
+<p>Later, when Jane had to be out on an indispensable errand, Dobbs came in
+to sit with Janey. She brought her some jelly in a saucer.</p>
+
+<p>"I am nearly tired of it, Dobbs," said Janey. "I grow tired of
+everything. And I don't like to say so, because it seems so ungrateful."</p>
+
+<p>"It's the nature of illness to get tired of things," responded Dobbs,
+who thought it was her mission never to cease buoying Janey up with
+hope. "You'll be better when the hot weather comes in."</p>
+
+<p>"No, I shan't, Dobbs. I shall never get better now."</p>
+
+<p>A combination of feelings, indignation predominating, nearly took away
+Dobbs's breath. "Who on earth has been putting that grim notion in your
+head?" asked she.</p>
+
+<p>"It is true, Dobbs."</p>
+
+<p>"True!" ejaculated Dobbs. "Who has been saying it to you? I want to know
+that."</p>
+
+<p>"Mamma for one. She&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Of all the stupids!" burst forth Dobbs, drowning what Janey was about
+to say. "To frighten the child by telling her she's going to die!"</p>
+
+<p>"It does not frighten me, Dobbs. I like to lie and think of it."</p>
+
+<p>Dobbs fell into a doubt whether Janey was in her senses. "Like to lie
+and think of being screwed down in a coffin, and put into the cold
+ground, and left there till the judgment day!" uttered she.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, but, Dobbs, you must know better than that," returned Jane. "<i>We</i>
+are not put into the coffin; it is only our bodies that are put into the
+coffin; we go into the world of departed spirits."</p>
+
+<p>"De-par-ted what?" ejaculated Dobbs, whose notions of the future&mdash;the
+life after this life&mdash;were not very definite; and who could not have
+been more astonished had Jane begun to talk to her in Greek.</p>
+
+<p>"Mamma has always tried to explain these things to us," said Jane. "She
+has made them as clear to us as they can be made, and she has taught us
+not to fear death. She says a great mistake is often made by those who
+bring up children. They are taught to run away from death as something
+gloomy and frightful, instead of being shown its bright side."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I never heard the like!" exclaimed Dobbs, lost in wonder. "How
+can there be a bright side to death?&mdash;in a horrid coffin, with brass
+nails and tin-tacks that screw you down?"</p>
+
+<p>Tears filled Janey's eyes. "Oh, Dobbs, you must learn better than that,
+or how will you ever be reconciled to death? Don't you know that when
+we die, we&mdash;our spirit, that is, for it is our spirit that lives and
+thinks&mdash;leave our body behind us? There's no more consciousness in our
+body, and it is put into the grave till the last day. It is like the
+shell that the silkworm casts away when it comes into the moth: the life
+is in the moth: not in the cast-off shell. You cannot think what trouble
+mamma has taken with us always to explain these things; and she has
+talked to me so much lately."</p>
+
+<p>"And where does the spirit go&mdash;by which, I suppose, you mean the soul?"
+asked Dobbs.</p>
+
+<p>Janey shook her head, to express her ignorance at the best. "It is all a
+mystery," she said; "but mamma has taught us to believe that there's a
+place for the departed, and that we shall be there. It is not to be
+supposed that the soul, a thing of life, could be boxed up in a coffin,
+Dobbs. When Jesus Christ said to the thief on the cross, 'To-day shalt
+thou be with me in paradise,' he meant that world. It is a place of
+light and rest."</p>
+
+<p>"And the good and bad are there together?"</p>
+
+<p>Again Janey shook her head. "Don't you remember, in the parable of the
+rich man and the beggar, there was a great gulf between them, and
+Abraham said that it could not be passed? I dare say it will be very
+peaceful and happy there: quite different from this world, where there's
+so much trouble and sickness. Why should I be afraid of death, Dobbs?"</p>
+
+<p>Dobbs sat looking at her, and was some minutes before she spoke. "Not
+afraid to die!" she slowly said. "Well, I should be."</p>
+
+<p>Janey's eyes were wet. "Nobody need be afraid to die when they have
+learnt to trust in God. Don't you know," she answered with something
+like enthusiasm, "that many people, when dying, have seen Jesus waiting
+for them? What does it matter, then, where our bodies are put? We are
+going to be with Jesus. Indeed, Dobbs, there's nothing sad in dying, if
+you only can look at it in the right way. It is those who look at it in
+the wrong way that are afraid to die."</p>
+
+<p>"The child's as learned as a minister!" was Dobbs's inward comment.
+"Ours told us last Sunday evening at Chapel that we were all on the high
+road to perdition. I'd rather listen to her creed than to his: it sounds
+more encouraging. Their ma hasn't brought 'em up amiss; and that's the
+truth!"</p>
+
+<p>The soliloquy was interrupted by the return of Mrs. Halliburton. Almost
+immediately afterwards some visitors came in&mdash;Mary Ashley and Anna Lynn.
+It was the first time Mary had been there, and she had come to bring
+Janey some more books. She was one of those graceful children whom it is
+pleasant to look at. A contrast in attire she presented to the little
+Quakeress, with her silk dress, her straw hat, trimmed with a wreath of
+flowers and white ribbons, her dark curls falling beneath it. She was
+much younger than her brother Henry; but there was a great resemblance
+between them&mdash;in the refined features, the bright complexion, and the
+soft dark eyes. Somehow, through a remark made by Dobbs, the
+conversation turned upon Jane's inability to recover; and Mary Ashley
+heard with extreme wonder that death was not dreaded. "Her ma has taught
+her different," was Dobbs's comment.</p>
+
+<p>"Mamma takes great pains with us," observed Mary; "but I should not like
+to die. How is it?" she added, turning to Mrs. Halliburton. "Jane is not
+much older than I, and yet she does not dread it!"</p>
+
+<p>"My dear," was the reply, "I think it is simply this. Those whom God is
+intending to take from the world, He often, in His mercy and wisdom,
+weans from the love of it. You are healthy and strong, and the world is
+pleasant to you. Jane has been so long weak and ill that she no longer
+finds enjoyment in it; and this naturally causes her to look beyond this
+world to the rest and peace of the next. All things are well ordered."</p>
+
+<p>Mary Ashley began to think they must be. Chattering Anna, vain Anna, sat
+gazing at Mary's pretty hat, her drooping curls; none, except Anna
+herself, knew with what envious longing. Anna, at any rate, was not
+tired of the world.</p>
+
+<p>The end grew nearer and nearer. There came a day when Jane did not get
+up; there came a second, and a third. On the fourth morning, Janey, who
+had passed a comfortable night, compared with some nights which had
+preceded it, was sitting up in bed when her brothers came in from
+school. They hurried over their breakfast and ran up to her, carrying
+the remains of it in their hands.</p>
+
+<p>The first few minutes after breakfast had always been devoted by Jane to
+reading to her children; in spite of her necessity for close working
+they were so devoted still. "I will read here this morning," she
+observed, as the boys stood around the bed.</p>
+
+<p>"Mamma," interrupted Janey, "read about the holy city, in the Book of
+Revelation."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Halliburton turned to the twenty-first chapter, and had read to the
+twenty-third verse&mdash;"And the city had no need of the sun, neither of the
+moon, to shine in it: for the glory of God did lighten it, and the Lamb
+is the light thereof"&mdash;when Jane suddenly started forward in bed, her
+eyes fixed on some opposite point. Mrs. Halliburton paused, and
+endeavoured to put her gently back again.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, mamma, don't keep me!" she said in a strangely thrilling tone;
+"don't keep me! I see the light! I see papa!"</p>
+
+<p>There was a strange light, not as of earth, in her own face, an
+ineffable smile on her lip, that told more of heaven. Her arms dropped;
+and she sank back on the pillow. Jane Halliburton had gone to her
+Heavenly Father; it may be also to her earthly one. Gar screamed.</p>
+
+<p>Dobbs arrived in the midst of the commotion. And when Dobbs saw what had
+happened, she fell into a storm of anger, of passionate sobs, half ready
+to knock down Mrs. Halliburton with words, and the poor boys with blows.
+Why was she not called to see the last of her? The only young thing she
+had cared for in all the world, and yet she could not be allowed to wish
+her farewell! She'd never love another again as long as her days lasted!
+In vain they strove to explain to her that it was sudden, unexpected,
+momentary: Dobbs would not listen.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Halliburton stole away from Dobbs's storm&mdash;anywhere. Her heart was
+brimful. Although she had known that this must be the ending, now that
+it had come she was as one unprepared. In her grief and sorrow, she was
+tempted for a moment&mdash;but only for a moment&mdash;to question the goodness
+and wisdom of God.</p>
+
+<p>Some one called to her from the foot of the stairs, and she went down.
+She had to go down; she could not shut herself up, as those can who have
+servants to be their deputies. Anna Lynn stood there, dressed for
+school.</p>
+
+<p>"Friend Jane Halliburton, Patience has sent me to ask after Janey this
+morning. Is she better?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, Anna. She is dead."</p>
+
+<p>Jane spoke with unnatural calmness. The child, scared at the words,
+backed away out at the garden door, and then flew to Patience with the
+news. It brought Patience in. Jane was nearly prostrate then.</p>
+
+<p>"Nay, but thee art grieving sadly! Thee must not take on so."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Patience! why should it be?" she wailed aloud in her despair and
+bereavement. "Anna left in health and joyousness; my child taken! Surely
+God is dealing hardly with me."</p>
+
+<p>"Thee must not say that," returned Patience gravely. "But thee art not
+thyself just now. What truth was it that I heard thee impress upon thy
+child not a week ago? That God's ways are not as our ways."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIIIB" id="CHAPTER_VIIIB"></a>CHAPTER VIII.</h2>
+
+<h3>A WEDDING IN HONEY FAIR.</h3>
+
+
+<p>But that such contrasts are all too common in life, you might think it
+scarcely seemly to go direct from a house of death to a house of
+marriage. This same morning which witnessed the death of Jane
+Halliburton, witnessed also the wedding of Mary Ann Cross and Ben
+Tyrrett. Upon which there was wonderful rejoicing at the Crosses'
+house.</p>
+
+<p>Of course, whether a wedding was a good one or a bad one (speaking from
+a pecuniary point of view), it was equally the custom to feast over it
+in Honey Fair. Benjamin Tyrrett was only what is called a jobber in the
+glove trade, earning fifteen or sixteen shillings a week; but Mary Ann
+Cross made up her mind to have him&mdash;in defiance of parental and other
+admonitions that she ought to look over Ben's head. They had gone to
+work Honey Fair fashion, preparing nothing. Every shilling that Mary Ann
+Cross could spare went in finery&mdash;had long gone in finery. In vain
+Charlotte East impressed upon her the necessity of saving: of waiting.
+Mary Ann would do neither one nor the other.</p>
+
+<p>"All that you can spare from back debts, and from present actual wants,
+you should put by," Charlotte had urged. "You don't know how many more
+calls there are for money after marriage than before it."</p>
+
+<p>"There'll be two of us to earn it then," logically replied Mary Ann.</p>
+
+<p>"And two of you to live," said Charlotte. "To marry upon nothing is to
+rush into trouble."</p>
+
+<p>"How you do go on, Charlotte East! He'll earn his wages, and I shall
+earn mine. Where'll be the trouble? I shan't want to spend so much upon
+my back when I am married."</p>
+
+<p>"To marry as you are going to do, must bring trouble," persisted
+Charlotte. "He will manage to get together a few bits of cheap
+furniture, just what you can't do without, to put into one room; and
+there you will be set up, neither of you having one sixpence laid by to
+fall back upon; and perhaps the furniture unpaid, hanging like a log
+upon you. What shall you do when children come, Mary Ann?"</p>
+
+<p>Mary Ann Cross giggled. "If ever I heard the like of you, Charlotte! If
+children do come, they must come, that's all. We can't send 'em back
+again."</p>
+
+<p>"No, you can't," said Charlotte. "They generally arrive in pretty good
+troops: and sometimes there's little to welcome them on. Half the
+quarrels between man and wife, in our class of life, spring from nothing
+but large families and small means. Their tempers get soured with each
+other, and never get pleased again."</p>
+
+<p>"Folks must take their chance, Charlotte."</p>
+
+<p>"There's no <i>must</i> in it. You are nineteen, Ben Tyrrett's twenty-three;
+suppose you made up your minds to wait two or three years. You would be
+quite young enough then: and meanwhile, if both of you laid by, you
+would have something in hand to meet extra expenses, or sickness if it
+came."</p>
+
+<p>"Opinions differs," shortly returned Mary Ann. "If folks tell true, you
+were putting by ever so long for your marriage, and it all ended in
+smoke. I'd rather make sure of a husband when I can get him."</p>
+
+<p>An expression of pain crossed the face of Charlotte East. "Whether I
+marry or not," she answered calmly, "I shall be none the worse for
+having laid money by instead of squandering it. If the best man that
+ever was born came to me, I would not marry him if we had made no better
+provision for a rainy day than you and Tyrrett have. What can come of
+such unions, Mary Ann?"</p>
+
+<p>"It's the way most of us girls do marry," returned Mary Ann.</p>
+
+<p>"And what comes of it, I ask? <i>Blows</i> sometimes, Mary Ann; the workhouse
+sometimes; trouble always."</p>
+
+<p>"Is it true that you put by, Charlotte?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. I put by what I can."</p>
+
+<p>"But how in wonder do you manage it? You dress as well as we do. I'm
+sure our backs take all our money; father pretty nigh keeps the house."</p>
+
+<p>"I dress better than you in one sense, Mary Ann. I don't have on a silk
+gown one day and a petticoat in rags the next. No one ever sees me
+otherwise than neat and clean, and my clothes keep good a long while.
+It's the finery that runs away with your money. I am not ashamed to make
+a bonnet last two years; you'd have two in a season. Another thing, Mary
+Ann: I do not waste my time&mdash;I sit to my work; and I dare say I earn
+double what you do."</p>
+
+<p>"Let us hear what you earned last week, if it isn't impertinent," was
+Mary Ann's answer.</p>
+
+<p>"Ten and ninepence."</p>
+
+<p>"Look at that!" cried the girl, lifting her hands. "I brought out but
+five and twopence, and I left no money for silk, and am in debt two
+quarterns. 'Melia was worse. Hers came to four and eleven. That surly
+old foreman says to me when he was paying, 'What d'ye leave for silk,
+Mary Ann Cross? There's two quarterns down.' 'I know there is, sir,'
+says I, 'but I don't leave nothing to-day.' He gave a grunt at that, the
+old file did."</p>
+
+<p>"And I suppose you spent your five shillings in some useless thing?"</p>
+
+<p>"I had to pay up at Bankes's, and the rest went in a new peach
+bonnet-ribbon."</p>
+
+<p>"Peach! You should have bought white, if you must be married."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, Charlotte! What next? Do you suppose I'm going to be married
+in that shabby old straw, that I've worn all the spring? Not if I know
+it."</p>
+
+<p>"Where's your money to come from for a new one? There will be other
+things wanted, more essential than a bonnet."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll have a new one if I go in trust for it," returned Mary Ann.
+"Tyrrett buys the ring. And it is of no use for you to preach,
+Charlotte; if you preach your tongue out, it'll do no good."</p>
+
+<p>Charlotte might, indeed, have preached a very long sermon before she
+could effect any change in the system of improvidence obtaining in Honey
+Fair. Neither Benjamin Tyrrett nor Mary Ann Cross was gifted with
+forethought, and they took no pains to acquire it.</p>
+
+<p>The marriage was carried out, and this was the happy day. Mrs. Cross
+gave an entertainment in honour of the event, at which the bride and
+bridegroom assisted&mdash;as the French say&mdash;with as many others as the
+kitchen would hold. Tea for the ladies, pipes and ale for the gentlemen,
+supper for all, with spirits-and-water handed round.</p>
+
+<p>How Mrs. Cross had contrived to go on so long without an <i>exposé</i>, she
+scarcely knew herself. The wonder was, that she had gone on at all. It
+took the energies of her life to patch up her embarrassments, and hide
+her difficulties from her husband. The evil day, however, was only
+delayed. It could not be averted.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IXB" id="CHAPTER_IXB"></a>CHAPTER IX.</h2>
+
+<h3>AN EXPLOSION FOR MRS. CROSS.</h3>
+
+
+<p>The evil day, hinted at in the last chapter, was not long in coming. It
+might not have fallen quite so soon but for a misfortune which overtook
+Jacob Cross. The manufacturer for whom he worked died suddenly, and the
+business was immediately given up&mdash;the made gloves being bought by up a
+London house, and the stock in trade, leather machines, etc., sold by
+auction. He had been a first-class manufacturer, doing nearly as large a
+business as Mr. Ashley; and not only Jacob Cross, but many more men in
+Honey Fair were thrown out of work&mdash;one of whom was Andrew Brumm;
+another, Timothy Carter. This happened only a few months after Mary Ann
+Cross's marriage.</p>
+
+<p>It struck terror to the heart of Mrs. Cross. Though she had paid some of
+her debts, she had incurred others: indeed, the very fact of her having
+to pay had caused her to incur fresh ones. Her position was ominous. She
+and Amelia had worked for this same manufacturer, now dead, and of
+course they were at a standstill. Mary Ann Tyrrett had likewise worked
+for him; but she had left the paternal home; and with her we have
+nothing just now to do. The position of others was ominous, as well as
+that of Mrs. Cross. It was the autumn season, and trade was flat. Winter
+orders had gone in, and there was no necessity to hurry those for the
+spring; so that the hands thrown out of work, both men and women, stood
+every chance of remaining out.</p>
+
+<p>A gloom overspread Honey Fair. In many a household the articles least
+needed went, week after week, to the pawnbrokers, without being redeemed
+on the Saturday night, as in more prosperous times. Upon the proceeds
+the families had to exist. It was bad enough for those who were free
+from debt; but for those already labouring under it&mdash;above all,
+labouring under secret debt&mdash;it was something not to be told. Mrs.
+Cross had nightmares regularly every night. Visions would come over her
+now and again of running away, if she had only known where to run to.
+The men would stand or sit at their doors all day, with pipes in their
+mouths: money was sure to be found for tobacco, by hook or by crook.
+There they would lounge in gloomy silence, varied by an occasional wordy
+war with their wives, who wished them anywhere else; or they and their
+pipes would saunter up and down the road, forming into groups to condole
+with each other and to abuse the glove trade.</p>
+
+<p>One Monday afternoon there was a small assemblage in the kitchen of
+Jacob Cross&mdash;himself, Andrew Brumm, and Timothy Carter. Brumm and Carter
+were, in one sense, more fortunate than Cross; inasmuch as that their
+respective wives worked each for another house, not the one which had
+closed; therefore they retained their employment. The fact, however,
+appeared to afford little consolation to the two men, for they were
+keeping up a chorus of grumbling, when Joe Fisher staggered in&mdash;if you
+have not forgotten him.</p>
+
+<p>Fisher had hitherto managed, to the intense surprise of every one, to
+keep out of the workhouse. He would be taken on for a job of work now
+and then; but manufacturers were chary of employing Joe Fisher. For one
+thing, he gave way to drink. A disreputable-looking object had he
+become: a tattered coat and waistcoat, pantaloons in rags, and not the
+ghost of a shirt. People wondered how he found money for drink.</p>
+
+<p>"Who'll give us house-room?" was his salutation, as he pushed himself
+in, his eyes haggard, his legs unsteady, his face thin from incipient
+famine. "Will nobody give us a corner to lie in?"</p>
+
+<p>The men took their pipes from their mouths. "Turned out at last, Joe?"</p>
+
+<p>"Turned out," replied Joe. "And my missis close upon her down-lying."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Cross, who was at the back of the kitchen, washing out her potato
+saucepan, of which frugal edible, seasoned with salt, the family dinner
+had consisted, put in her word.</p>
+
+<p>"You couldn't expect nothing else, Joe Fisher. There you have been, in
+them folks' furnished room, paying nothing, and paying nothing, and you
+drinking everlasting. They have threatened you long enough. Last week,
+you know, they took a vow you should go this."</p>
+
+<p>"Where's the wife and little 'uns?" asked meek Timothy Carter.</p>
+
+<p>"You can look at 'em," responded Fisher. "They're not a hundred miles
+off. They bain't out of view."</p>
+
+<p>He gave a flourish of his hand towards the road, and the men and Mrs.
+Cross crowded to the door to reconnoitre. In the middle of the lane,
+crouched down in its mud, for the weather had been bad, and it was very
+wet under foot, was untidy Sukey Fisher&mdash;a woman all skin and bone now,
+her face hopeless and desperate. She wore no cap, and her matted hair
+fell on to her gown&mdash;such a gown! all tatters and dirt. Several young
+children huddled around her.</p>
+
+<p>"Untidy creature!" muttered Mrs. Cross to herself. "She is as fond of a
+drop as her lazy, quarrelsome husband; and this is what they have
+brought it to between 'em! Them poor little objects of young 'uns 'ud be
+as well dead as alive."</p>
+
+<p>"Look at 'em!" began Fisher. "And they call this a free country! They
+call it a country as is a pattern to others and a refuge for the needy.
+Why don't Government, that opened our ports to them foreign French and
+keeps 'em open, come down and take a look at my wife squatting
+there?&mdash;turned out of our room without a place to put our heads into!"</p>
+
+<p>"If you hadn't put quite as much inside your head, Joe Fisher, and been
+doing of it for years, you might have had more for the outside on't
+now," again spoke Mrs. Cross in her sharp tones. The woman was not
+naturally sharp, as were some in Honey Fair; but the miserable fear she
+lived in, added to their present privations, told upon her temper.</p>
+
+<p>"Hold your magging," said Joe Fisher. "I never like to quarrel with
+petticuts, one's own belongings excepted. All as I say, Mother Cross,
+is, don't <i>you</i> mag."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Cross made no reply to this, and Fisher resumed.</p>
+
+<p>"This comes of letting the Government and the masters have their own
+way! If we had that there strike among us, that I've so often told ye
+on, things would be different. Let a man sit down a minute, Cross."</p>
+
+<p>Cross civilly pushed a chair towards him, concentrating his attention
+afterwards upon Mrs. Fisher. A crowd had collected round her; and Mrs.
+Buffle, with a feeling of humanity that few had given that lady credit
+for possessing, sent out an old woollen shawl to the shivering woman,
+and a basin of hasty pudding. The mother could not feed the whining
+children fast enough with the one iron spoon.</p>
+
+<p>A young man ran up to Cross's door. It was Adam Thorneycroft. He did not
+live in Honey Fair, but often found his way to it, although Charlotte
+had rejected him. "Is Joe Fisher here?" asked he. "Fisher, why don't you
+go to the workhouse and tell them the state your wife is in? She can't
+stop there."</p>
+
+<p>"Her state is no concern of your'n, Master Thorneycroft," was the sullen
+answer.</p>
+
+<p>Thorneycroft turned on his heel, a scornful gesture escaping him at
+Fisher's half-stupid condition. "I must be off to my work," he
+observed; "but can't one of you, who are gentlemen at large, just go to
+the workhouse and acquaint them with the woman's helplessness, and that
+of her children around her?"</p>
+
+<p>Timothy Carter responded to it. "I'll go," said he; "I haven't nothing
+to do with myself this afternoon."</p>
+
+<p>Timothy and Adam walked away together, Tim treading with gingerly feet
+past his own door, lest his wife should recognise his step, bolt out,
+and stop him. Charlotte East was standing at her door, and Adam halted.
+Timothy walked on: he did not feel himself perfectly safe yet.</p>
+
+<p>"What a life that poor woman's is!" exclaimed Charlotte.</p>
+
+<p>"Ay," assented Adam; "and all through Fisher's not sticking to his
+work."</p>
+
+<p>Charlotte moved her face gravely towards him. "Say through his drinking,
+Adam."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you speak that as a warning, Charlotte?" he continued. "I think you
+mean well by me, but you go just the wrong way to show it. If you wanted
+me to keep steady, you should have come and helped me in it. Good-bye. I
+am late."</p>
+
+<p>"Gentlemen at large, young Thorney called us!" cried Jacob Cross to his
+friend Brumm, as Fisher went off and they sat down again. "He's not far
+out. What's to be the end on't?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, the work'us," responded Mrs. Cross, who rarely let an opportunity
+slip of putting in her own opinion. "The work'us for us as well as for
+the Fishers, unless things take a turn. When great, big, able-bodied men
+is throwed out o' work, and yet has to eat and drink, and other folks at
+home has to eat and drink, and nothing to stay their stomachs upon, the
+work'us can't be far off."</p>
+
+<p>"Never for me!" said Andrew Brumm. "I'll work to keep me and mine out on
+it, if it is at breaking stones upon the road. I know one thing&mdash;if ever
+I do get into certain work again, I'll make my missis be a bit
+providenter than she was before."</p>
+
+<p>"Bell Brumm ain't one of the provident sort," dissented Mrs. Cross. "How
+do you manage to get along at all, Drew, these bad times? You don't seem
+to get into trouble."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, we manage somehow," replied Andrew. "But we have to pinch. My
+missis sticks at her work, now I be out on't. She hardly looks off it;
+and I does the house, and sees to the children. Nine shilling, all but
+her silk, she earned last week. And finding that we <i>can</i> exist on that
+after a fashion, has set me thinking that when my good wages was added
+to it we ought to have put by for a rainy day," he continued, after a
+pause. "Just let me get the chance again!"</p>
+
+<p>"It's surprising the miracles wages works when folks ain't earning
+none!" put in Mrs. Cross in a tone of irony, who did not altogether like
+the turn the conversation was taking. "When you get into work again,
+Drew Brumm, your wife won't be more able to save than the rest of us."</p>
+
+<p>"But she shall," returned Andrew. "And she sees for herself now that it
+might be done."</p>
+
+<p>"I was a-making a calkelation yesterday how long we might hold out on
+our household things," observed Jacob Cross&mdash;a silent man, in general.
+"If none of us can get work, they'll have to go, piecemeal. One can't
+clam; one must live upon something."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm resolved upon one point&mdash;that I won't have no underhand debt
+again," resumed Brumm. "Last spring I found out the flaring trade my
+missis was carrying on with them Bankes's&mdash;and the way I come to know of
+it was funny: but never mind that. 'Bell,' says I to her, 'I'd rather
+sell off all I've got and go tramping the country, than I'd live with a
+sword over my head'&mdash;which debt is. And I went down to Bankes's and said
+to 'em, 'If you let my wife get into debt again, I won't pay it, as I
+now give you notice, and I'll have you up before the justices for a
+pest.' I thought I'd make it strong, you see, Cross. And I paid off
+their bill, so much a week, and got shut of 'em. Them Bankes's does more
+mischief in Honey Fair than everything else put together."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, what do Bankes's do?" asked Jacob, in happy ignorance.</p>
+
+<p>"Do!" returned Brumm. "Don't you know&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>But at that critical moment, Mrs. Cross, in bustling behind Andrew
+Brumm's chair, which was on the tilt, contrived to get her foot
+entangled in it. Brumm, his chair, and his pipe, all came down together.</p>
+
+<p>"Mercy on us!" uttered Jacob Cross, coming to the rescue. "How did you
+manage that, Brumm?"</p>
+
+<p>Before Brumm could answer, or had well gathered himself up, there was
+another visitor&mdash;Mr. Abbott, the landlord of at least a third of Honey
+Fair. He had come on his usual Monday's errand. Jacob Cross put down his
+pipe and touched his hat, which, in the manners of Honey Fair, was worn
+indoors. It was not often that the landlord and the men came into
+contact with each other.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you ready for me, Mrs. Cross?"</p>
+
+<p>"We are not ready to-day, sir," interposed Jacob. "You must please to
+give us a little grace these hard times, sir. The moment I be in work
+again, I'll think of you, before I think of ourselves."</p>
+
+<p>"I have given all the grace I can give," replied Mr. Abbott, a hard,
+surly man. "You must either pay, or turn out: I don't care which."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll pay you as soon as I am in work, sir; you may count upon it. As to
+turning out, sir, where could I turn to? You'd not let me take out my
+furniture, and we can't sit down in the street, as Fisher's wife is
+doing."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Abbott turned to the door. When he came back, a man was with him. "I
+must trouble you to give this man house-room for a few days. As you
+won't go out, he must stop in, to see that your goods stop in."</p>
+
+<p>Cross's spirit rose within him. "It's a hard way to treat a man, sir! I
+have lived under you for years, and you have had your rent regular."</p>
+
+<p>"Regular!" exclaimed the landlord. "I have had more trouble to get it
+from your wife, since Bankes's came to Helstonleigh, than from anybody
+else in Honey Fair."</p>
+
+<p>Cross did not understand this. He was too much absorbed by the point in
+question to ask an explanation. "There's only three weeks owing to you,
+sir, and&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Three weeks!" interrupted Mr. Abbott; "there are nine weeks owing to
+me. Nine weeks to-day."</p>
+
+<p>Jacob Cross stood confounded. "Who says there's nine weeks?" asked he.</p>
+
+<p>"I say so. Your wife can say so. Ask her."</p>
+
+<p>But Mrs. Cross, with a scared face and white lips, whisked through the
+door and hurried down Honey Fair. The explosion had come.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Abbott, wasting no more words, departed, leaving the unwelcome
+visitor behind him. Andrew Brumm came in again from outside, where he
+had stood, out of delicacy, feeling thankful that <i>his</i> rent was all
+right. It was pinching work; but Andrew was beginning to learn that debt
+pinches the mind, more than hunger pinches the body.</p>
+
+<p>"Comrade," whispered he, grasping Cross's hand, "it's all along of them
+Bankes's. The women buy their fal-lals and their finery, and the weekly
+payments to 'em must be kept up, whether or no, for fear Bankes's should
+let out on't to us, and ask us for the money. Of course the rent and
+other things gets behind. Half the women round us are knee-deep in
+Bankes's books."</p>
+
+<p>"Why couldn't you have told me this before?" demanded Cross, in his
+astonishment.</p>
+
+<p>"It's not my province to interfere with other men's wives," was Brumm's
+sensible answer.</p>
+
+<p>"Where's she got to?" cried Jacob, looking round for his wife. "I'll
+come to the bottom of this. Nine weeks' rent owing; and her salving me
+up that it was only three!"</p>
+
+<p>Jacob might well say, "Where's she got to?" Mrs. Cross had glided down
+Honey Fair into the first friendly door that happened to be open. That
+was Mrs. Carter's. "For mercy's sake, let's stop here a minute,
+Elizabeth Carter!" exclaimed she. "We have got the bums in!"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Carter was rubbing up some brass candlesticks. Work ran short with
+her that week, and therefore she spent it in cleaning, which was her
+notion of taking holiday; scrubbing and scouring from morning till
+night. She turned round and stared at Mrs. Cross, who, with white face
+and gasping breath, had sunk down upon a chair.</p>
+
+<p>"What on earth's the matter?"</p>
+
+<p>"Abbott has brought it out to my husband that I owes nine weeks' rent,
+and he's telling him about Bankes's, and now he has gone and put a bum
+into the house!"</p>
+
+<p>"More soft you, to have had to do with Bankes's!" was the sympathy
+offered by Mrs. Carter. "You couldn't expect nothing less."</p>
+
+<p>"That old skinflint, Abbott&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Cross stopped short. She opened the staircase door about an inch,
+and humbly twisted herself through the aperture. Who should be standing
+there to hear her, having followed her in, but Mr. Abbott himself.</p>
+
+<p>He had no need to say, "Ready, Mrs. Carter?" Mrs. Carter always was
+ready. She paid him weekly, and asked no favour. The payment made, he
+departed again, and Mrs. Cross emerged from her retreat.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>You</i> can pay him!" she exclaimed, with some envy. "And Timothy's out
+o' work, too; and you be slack. How do you manage it?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not a fool," was the logical response of Mrs. Carter. "If I spent
+my earnings when they are coming in regular, or let Tim keep his to his
+own cheek, where should we be in a time like this? I have my
+understanding about me."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Carter did not praise her understanding without cause. Whatever
+social virtues she may have lacked, she was rich in thrift, in
+forethought. Had Timothy remained out of work for a twelvemonth, they
+would not have been put to shifts.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm afraid to go back!" cried Mrs. Cross.</p>
+
+<p>"So should I be, if I got myself into your mess."</p>
+
+<p>The offered sympathy not being consolatory to her present frame of mind,
+Mrs. Cross departed. Home, at present, she dared not go. She went about
+Honey Fair, seeking the gossiping pity which Elizabeth Carter had
+declined to give, but which she was yearning for. Thus she spent an hour
+or two.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile the news had been spreading through Honey Fair, "Crosses had
+the bums in;" and Mary Ann, hearing it, flew home to know whether it was
+correct. She&mdash;partly through fear, partly in the security from paternal
+correction, imparted to her by the feeling that she was Mary Ann
+Tyrrett, and no longer Mary Ann Cross&mdash;yielded to her father's
+questions, and made full confession. Debts here, debts there, debts
+everywhere. Cross was overwhelmed; and when his wife at length came in,
+he quietly knocked her down.</p>
+
+<p>The broker advanced to the rescue. "If you dare to come between man and
+wife," raved Cross, lifting his arm menacingly, "I'll serve you the
+same." He was a quiet-tempered man, but this business had terribly
+exasperated him. "You'll come to die in the work'us," he uttered to his
+wife. "And serve you right! It's your doings that have broke up our
+home."</p>
+
+<p>"No," retorted she passionately, as she lifted herself from the floor;
+"it's your squanderings in the publics o' nights, that have helped to
+break up our home."</p>
+
+<p>It was a little of both.</p>
+
+<p>The quarrel was interrupted by a commotion outside, and Mrs. Cross
+darted out to look&mdash;glad, perhaps, to escape from her husband's anger.
+An official from the workhouse had come down with an order for the
+admission of Susan Fisher instanter. Timothy Carter, in his meek and
+humane spirit, had so enlarged upon the state of affairs in general,
+touching Mrs. Fisher, that the workhouse bestirred itself. An officer
+was despatched to marshal them into it at once. The uproar was caused by
+her resistance: she was still sitting in the road.</p>
+
+<p>"I won't go into the work'us," she screamed; "I won't go there to be
+parted from my children and my husband. If I'm to die, I'll die out
+here."</p>
+
+<p>"Just get up and march, and don't let's have no row," said the officer.
+"Else I'll fetch a wheel-barrer, and wheel ye to it."</p>
+
+<p>She resisted, shrieking and flinging her arms and her wild hair about
+her, as only a foolish woman would do; the children, alarmed, clung to
+her and cried, and all Honey Fair came out to look. Mr. Joe Fisher also
+staggered up, in a state not to be described. He had been invited by
+some friend, more sympathizing than judicious, to solace his troubles
+with strong waters; and down he fell in the mud, helpless.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, here's a pretty kettle of fish!" cried the perplexed workhouse
+man. "A nice pair, they are! How I am to get 'em both there, is beyond
+me! She can walk, if she's forced to it; but he can't! They spend their
+money in sotting, and when they have no more to spend they come to us to
+keep 'em! I must get an open cart."</p>
+
+<p>The cart was procured somewhere and brought to the scene, a policeman in
+attendance; and the children were lifted into it one by one. Next the
+man was thrown in, like a clod; and then came the woman's turn. With
+much struggling and kicking, with shrieks that might have been heard a
+mile off, she was at length hoisted into it. But she tumbled out again:
+raving that "no work'us shouldn't hold her." The official raved in turn;
+and Honey Fair hugged itself. It had not had the gratification of so
+exciting a scene for many a day; to say nothing of the satisfaction it
+derived from hearing the workhouse set at defiance.</p>
+
+<p>The official and the policeman at length conquered. She was secured, and
+the cart started at a snail's pace with its load&mdash;Mrs. Fisher setting up
+a prolonged and dismal lamentation not unlike an Irish howl: and Honey
+Fair, in its curiosity, following the cart as its train.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XB" id="CHAPTER_XB"></a>CHAPTER X.</h2>
+
+<h3>A STRAY SHILLING.</h3>
+
+
+<p>"Whose shilling is this on my desk?" inquired Mr. Ashley of Samuel Lynn,
+one morning towards the close of the summer.</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot tell thee," was the reply of the Quaker. "I know nothing of
+it."</p>
+
+<p>"It is none of mine, to my knowledge," remarked Mr. Ashley.</p>
+
+<p>"What shilling is that on the master's desk?" repeated Samuel Lynn to
+William when he returned into his own room, where William was.</p>
+
+<p>"I put a shilling on the desk this morning," replied William. "I found
+it in the waste-paper basket."</p>
+
+<p>"Thee go in, then, and tell the master."</p>
+
+<p>William did so. "The shilling rolled out of the waste-paper basket,
+sir," said he, entering the counting-house and approaching Mr. Ashley.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Ashley was remarkably exact in his accounts. He had missed no
+shilling, and he did not think it was his. "What should bring a shilling
+in the waste-paper basket?" he asked. "It may have rolled out of your
+own pocket."</p>
+
+<p>William could have smiled at the remark. A shilling out of <i>his</i> pocket!
+"Oh, no, sir, it did not."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Ashley sat looking earnestly at William&mdash;as the latter fancied. In
+reality he was buried deep in his own thoughts. But William felt
+uncomfortable under the survey, and his face flushed to a glow. Why
+should he feel uncomfortable? What should cause the flush?</p>
+
+<p>This. Since Janey's death, some months ago now, their circumstances had
+been more straitened than ever; of course, there had been expenses
+attending it, and Mrs. Halliburton was paying them off weekly. Bread and
+potatoes, and a little milk, would often be their food. On the previous
+night Jane had a sick headache. Some tea would have been acceptable, but
+she had neither tea nor money in the house; and she was firm in her
+resolution not to purchase on trust. On this morning early, when William
+rose, he found his mother down before him, at her work as usual. Her
+head felt better, she said; it might get quite well if she had only some
+tea; but she had not, and&mdash;there was an end of it. William went out,
+ardently wishing (in the vague profitless manner that he might have
+wished for Aladdin's lamp) that he had only a shilling to procure some
+for her. When, half an hour after, this shilling rolled out of the
+waste-paper basket, as he was shaking it in Mr. Ashley's counting-house,
+a strong temptation&mdash;not to take it, but to wish that he might take it,
+that it was not wrong to take it&mdash;rushed over him. He put it down on
+the desk and turned from it&mdash;turned from the temptation, for the
+shilling seemed to scorch his fingers. The remembrance of this wish&mdash;it
+sounded to him like a dishonest one&mdash;had brought the vivid colour to his
+face, under what he thought was Mr. Ashley's scrutiny. That gentleman
+observed it.</p>
+
+<p>"What are you turning red for?"</p>
+
+<p>This crowned all. William's face changed to scarlet.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Ashley was surprised. He came to the conclusion that some mystery
+must be connected with the shilling&mdash;something wrong. He determined to
+fathom it. "Why do you look confused?" he resumed.</p>
+
+<p>"It was only at my own thoughts, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"What are they? Let me hear them."</p>
+
+<p>William hesitated. "I would rather not tell them, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"But I would rather you did." Mr. Ashley spoke quietly, as usual; but
+there lay command in the quietest tone of Mr. Ashley's.</p>
+
+<p>Implicit obedience had been enjoined upon the Halliburtons from their
+earliest childhood. In that manufactory Mr. Ashley was William's
+<i>master</i>, and he believed he had no resource but to comply with his
+desire. William was of a remarkably ingenuous nature; and if he had to
+impart a thing, he did not do it by halves, although it might tell
+against himself.</p>
+
+<p>"When I found that shilling this morning, sir, the thought came over me
+to wish it was mine&mdash;to wish that I might take it without doing ill. The
+thought did not come over me <i>to take it</i>," he added, raising his
+truthful eyes to Mr. Ashley's, "only to wish that it was not wrong to do
+so. When you looked at me so earnestly, sir, I fancied you could see
+what my thoughts had been. And they were not honourable thoughts."</p>
+
+<p>"Did you ever take money that was not yours?" asked Mr. Ashley, after a
+pause.</p>
+
+<p>William looked surprised. "No, sir, never."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Ashley paused again. "I have known children help themselves to
+halfpence and pence, and think it little crime."</p>
+
+<p>The boy shook his head. "We have been taught better than that, sir. And,
+besides the crime, money taken in that way would bring us no good, only
+trouble. It could not prosper."</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me why you think that."</p>
+
+<p>"My mother has always taught us that a bad action can never prosper in
+the end."</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose you coveted the shilling for marbles; or for sweetmeats?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no, sir. It was not for myself that I wished it."</p>
+
+<p>"Then for whom? For what?"</p>
+
+<p>This caused William's face to flush again. Mr. Ashley questioned till he
+drew from him the particulars&mdash;how that he had wished to buy some tea,
+and why he had wished it.</p>
+
+<p>"I have heard," remarked Mr. Ashley, after listening, "that you have
+many privations to put up with."</p>
+
+<p>"It is true, sir. But we don't so much care for them if we only <i>can</i>
+put up with them. My mother says she knows better days will be in store
+for us, if we only bear on patiently. I am sure we boys ought to do so,
+if she can. It is worse for her than for us."</p>
+
+<p>There ensued another searching question from Mr. Ashley. "Have you ever,
+when alone in the egg-house, amidst its thousands of eggs, been tempted
+to pocket a few to carry home?"</p>
+
+<p>For one moment William suffered a flash of resentment to cross his
+countenance. The next his eyes filled with tears. He felt deeply hurt.</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir, I have not. I hope you do not fear that I am capable of it?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I do not," said Mr. Ashley. "Your father was a clergyman, I think I
+have heard?"</p>
+
+<p>"He was intended for a clergyman, sir, but he did not get to the
+University. His father was a clergyman&mdash;a rector in Devonshire, and my
+mother's father was a clergyman in London. My uncle Francis is also a
+clergyman, but only a curate. We are gentlepeople, though we are poor.
+We would not take eggs or anything else."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Ashley suppressed a smile. "I conclude that you and your brothers
+live in hope some time of regaining your position in life?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir. I think it is that hope that makes us put up with hard things
+so well."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you think of being?"</p>
+
+<p>William's countenance fell. "There is not so much chance of my getting
+on, sir, as there is for my brothers. Frank and Gar are hopeful enough;
+but I don't look forward to anything good for me. My mother says if I
+only help her I shall be doing my duty."</p>
+
+<p>"Your sister died in a decline," remarked Mr. Ashley. "These home
+privations must have told upon her."</p>
+
+<p>William's face brightened. "She had everything she wanted, sir;
+everything, even to port wine. Mrs. Reece and Dobbs took a liking to her
+when they first came, and they never let her want for anything. Mamma
+says that Jane's wants having been supplied in so extraordinary a
+manner, ought to teach us how certainly God is looking over us and
+taking care of us&mdash;that all things, when they come to be absolutely
+needed, will no doubt be supplied to us, as they were to her."</p>
+
+<p>"What a perfect trust in God that boy seems to have!" mused Mr. Ashley,
+when he dismissed William. "Mrs. Halliburton must be a mother in a
+thousand. And he will make a man in a thousand, unless I am mistaken.
+Truthful, open, candid&mdash;<i>I</i> don't know a boy like him!"</p>
+
+<p>About five minutes before the great bell was rung at one o'clock,
+William was called into the counting-house. "I have been casting up my
+cash and find I am a shilling short," observed Mr. Ashley, "therefore
+the shilling that you found is no doubt the missing one. I shall give it
+to you," he continued: "a reward for telling me the straightforward
+truth when I questioned you."</p>
+
+<p>William took the shilling&mdash;as he supposed. "Here are two!" he exclaimed,
+in his surprise.</p>
+
+<p>"You cannot buy much tea with one; and that is what you were thinking
+of. Would you like to be apprenticed to me?" Mr. Ashley resumed,
+drowning the boy's thanks.</p>
+
+<p>The question took William by storm: he was at a loss what to answer. He
+would have been equally at a loss had he been accorded a whole week to
+deliberate upon it. He looked foolish, and said he could not tell.</p>
+
+<p>"Would you like the business?" pursued Mr. Ashley.</p>
+
+<p>"I like the business very well, sir, now I'm used to it. But I could not
+hope ever to get on to be a master."</p>
+
+<p>"There's no knowing what you may get on to be, if you are steady and
+persevering. Masters don't begin at the top of the tree; they begin at
+the bottom and work up to it. At least, that is the case with a great
+many. In becoming an apprentice you would occupy a better position in
+the manufactory than you do now."</p>
+
+<p>"Joe Stubbs is an apprentice, is he not, sir?"</p>
+
+<p>"I will explain it to you, if you do not understand," said Mr. Ashley.
+"Joe Stubbs is apprenticed to one branch of the business, the cutting;
+John Braithwait is an apprentice to the staining, and so on. These lads
+expect to remain workmen all their lives, working at their own peculiar
+branch. You would not be apprenticed to any one branch, but to the
+whole, with a view to becoming hereafter a manager or a master; in the
+same manner that I might apprentice my son, were he intended for the
+business."</p>
+
+<p>William thought he should like this. Suddenly his countenance fell.</p>
+
+<p>"What now?" asked Mr. Ashley.</p>
+
+<p>"I have heard, sir, that the apprentices do not earn wages at first.
+I&mdash;I am afraid we could not well do at home without mine."</p>
+
+<p>"You need not concern yourself with what you hear, or with what others
+earn or don't earn. I should give you eight shillings a-week, instead of
+four, and you would retain your evenings for study, as you do now. I do
+not see any different or better opening for you," continued Mr. Ashley;
+"but should any arise hereafter, through your mother's relatives, or
+from any other channel, I would not stand in the way of your
+advancement, but would consent to cancel your indentures. Do you
+understand what I have been saying?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir, I do. Thank you very much."</p>
+
+<p>"You can speak to Mrs. Halliburton about it, and hear what her wishes
+may be," concluded Mr. Ashley.</p>
+
+<p>The result was, that William was apprenticed to Mr. Ashley. "I can tell
+thee, thee hast found favour with the master," remarked Samuel Lynn to
+William. "He has made thee his apprentice, and has admitted thee, I
+hear, to the companionship of his son. They are proofs that he judges
+well of thee. Pay thee attention to deserve it."</p>
+
+<p>It was quite true that William was admitted to the occasional
+companionship of Henry Ashley. Henry had taken a fancy to him, and would
+get him there to help him stumble through his Latin.</p>
+
+<p>The next to be apprenticed to Mr. Ashley, and almost at the same time,
+was Cyril Dare. But when he found that he was to be the
+fellow-apprentice of William Halliburton, the two on a level in every
+respect, wages excepted&mdash;and of wages Master Cyril was at first to earn
+none&mdash;he was most indignant, and complained explosively to his father.
+"Can't you speak to Mr. Ashley, sir?"</p>
+
+<p>"Where would be the use?" asked Mr. Dare. "There's not a man in
+Helstonleigh would brook interference in his affairs less than Thomas
+Ashley. If one of the two apprentices must leave, because they are too
+much for each other's company, it would be you, Cyril, rely upon it."</p>
+
+<p>Cyril growled; but, as Mr. Dare said, there was no help for it. And he
+and William had to get on together in the best way they could. Cyril had
+thought that he should be the only gentleman-apprentice at Mr. Ashley's.
+There was a marked distinction observed in a manufactory between the
+common apprentices, who did the rough work, and what were called the
+gentleman-apprentices. It did not please Cyril that William should have
+been made one of the latter.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIB" id="CHAPTER_XIB"></a>CHAPTER XI.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE SCHOOLBOYS' NOTES.</h3>
+
+
+<p>As the time went on, Jane's brain grew very busy. Its care was the
+education of her boys&mdash;a perplexing theme. So far as the classics went,
+they were progressing. Frank and Gar certainly were not pushed on as
+they might have been, for Helstonleigh collegiate school was not at that
+time renowned for its pushing qualities; but the boys had a spur in
+themselves. Jane never ceased to urge them to attention, to strive after
+progress; not by the harsh reproaches some children have to hear, but
+by loving encouragement and gentle persuasion. She would call up
+pleasant pictures of the future, when they should have surmounted the
+difficulties of toil, and be reaping their reward. It had ever been her
+custom to treat her children as friends; as friends and companions, more
+than as children. I am not sure that it is not a good plan in all cases,
+but it undoubtedly is so where children are naturally well disposed and
+intelligent. Even when they were little, she would converse and reason
+with them, so far as their understandings would permit. The primary
+thing she inculcated was the habit of unquestioning obedience. This
+secured in their earliest childhood, she could afford to reason with
+them as they grew older; to appeal to their own sense of intelligence;
+to show them how to form and exercise a right judgment. Had the children
+been wilful, deceitful, or opposed to her, her plan must have been
+different; compulsion must have taken the place of reasoning. When they
+did anything wrong&mdash;all children will, or they are not children&mdash;she
+would take the offender to her alone. There would be no scolding; but in
+a grave, calm, loving voice she would say, "Was this right? Did you
+forget that you were doing wrong and would grieve me? Did you forget
+that you were offending God?" And so she would talk; and teach them to
+do right in all things, for the sake of right, for the sake of doing
+their duty to Heaven and to man. These lessons from a mother loved as
+Jane was, could not fail to take root and bear seed. The young
+Halliburtons were in fair training to make not only good, but admirable
+men.</p>
+
+<p>Jane inculcated another valuable lesson. In all perplexity, trouble, or
+untoward misfortune, she taught them to <i>look it full in the face</i>; not
+to fly from it, as is the too-common custom, but to meet it and do the
+best with it. She knew that in trouble, as in terror, looking it in the
+face takes away half its sting: and so she was teaching them to look,
+not only by precept, but by example. With such minds, such training to
+work upon, there was little need to <i>urge</i> them to apply closely to
+their studies; they saw its necessity themselves, and acted upon it. "It
+is your only chance, my darlings, of getting on in life," she would say.
+"You wish to be good and great men; and I think perhaps you may be, if
+you persevere. It is a tempting thing, I know, to leave wearying tasks
+for play or idleness; but do not yield to it. Look to the future. When
+you feel tired, out of sorts, as if Latin were the greatest grievance
+upon earth, say to yourselves, 'It is my duty to keep on, and my duty I
+must do. If I turn idle now, my past application will be lost; but, if I
+persevere, I may go bravely on to the end.' Be brave, darlings, for my
+sake."</p>
+
+<p>And the boys were so. Thus it would happen that when the rest of the
+school were talking, or idling, or being caned, the Halliburtons were at
+work. The head master could not fail to observe their steady
+application; and he more than once held them up as an example to the
+school.</p>
+
+<p>So far so good. But though the classics are essential parts of a good
+education, they do not include all its requisites. And nothing else was
+taught in the college school. There certainly was a writing master, and
+something like an initiation into the first rules of arithmetic was
+attempted; but not a boy in the charity school, hard by, that could not
+have shamed the college boys in adding up a column of figures or in
+writing a page. As to their English&mdash;&mdash;You should have seen them attempt
+to write a letter. In short, the college school ignored everything
+except Latin and Greek.</p>
+
+<p>This state of affairs gave Jane great concern. "Unless I can organize
+some plan, my boys will grow up dunces," she said to herself. And a plan
+she did organize. None could remedy this so well as herself; she, so
+thoroughly educated in all essential branches. It would take two hours
+from her work, but for the sake of her boys she would sacrifice that.
+Every night, therefore, except Saturday, as soon as they had prepared
+their lessons for school&mdash;and in doing that they were helped by
+William&mdash;she left her work and became their instructor. History,
+geography, astronomy, composition, and so on. You can fill up the list.</p>
+
+<p>And she had her reward. The boys advanced rapidly. As the months and
+quarters went on, it was only so much the more instruction gained by
+them.</p>
+
+<p>I think you must be indulged with a glance at one of these college
+school notes. But, first of all, suppose we read one written by Frank.</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Glenn</span>,&mdash;Thanks for wishing me to join your fishing
+expedition the day after to-morrow, but I can't come. My mother
+says, as I had a holiday from college one day last week, it
+will not do to ask for it again. You told me to send word this
+evening whether or not, so I drop you this note. I should like
+to go, and shall be thinking of you all day. Mind you let me
+have a look at the fish you bring home. Yours,</p>
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">Frank Halliburton</span>."</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>The note was addressed "Glenn senior," and Gar was ordered to deliver it
+at Glenn senior's house. Glenn senior, who was a king's scholar, not a
+chorister, made a wry face over it when delivered, and sat down on the
+spur of the moment to answer it:</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>"<span class="smcap">Deer Haliburton</span>,&mdash;Its all stuf about not asking for leve again
+what do the musty old prebens care who gets leve therell be
+enuff to sing without you tell your mother I cant excuse you
+from our party theirs 8 of us going and a stunning baxket of
+progg as good go out for a day's fishing has stop at home on a
+holiday for the benefit of that preshous colledge bring me word
+you'll come to-morrow at skool for we want to arrange our plans
+yours old fellow</p>
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">P Glenn</span>."</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>Master P. Glenn was concluding his note when his father passed through
+the room and glanced over the boy's shoulder. He (Mr. Glenn) was a
+surgeon; one of the chief surgeons attached to the Helstonleigh
+infirmary, and in excellent practice. "At your exercise, Philip?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, papa. I am writing a note to one of our fellows. I want him to be
+of our fishing party on Wednesday."</p>
+
+<p>"Wednesday! Have you a holiday on Wednesday?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Don't you know it will be a saint's day?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not I," said Mr. Glenn. "Saints' days don't concern me as they do you
+college boys. That's a pretty specimen of English!" he added, running
+his amused eyes over Philip's note.</p>
+
+<p>"Are there any mistakes in it?" returned Philip. "But it's no matter,
+papa. We don't profess to write English in the college school."</p>
+
+<p>"It is well you don't profess it," remarked Mr. Glenn. "But how is it
+your friend Halliburton can turn out good English?" He had taken up
+Frank's letter.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! they are such chaps for learning, the two Halliburtons. They stick
+at it like a horse-leech&mdash;never getting the cane for turned lessons.
+They have school at home in the evenings for English, and history, and
+such stuff that they don't get at college."</p>
+
+<p>"Have they a tutor?"</p>
+
+<p>"They are not rich enough for a tutor. Mrs. Halliburton's the tutor.
+What do you think Gar Halliburton did the other day? Keating was having
+a row with the fourth desk, and he gave them some extra verses to do. Up
+goes Gar Halliburton, before he had been a minute at his seat. 'If you
+please, sir,' says he to Keating, 'I had better have another piece.'
+'Why so?' asks Keating. 'Because,' says Gar, 'I did these same verses
+with my brother at home a week ago.' He meant his eldest brother; not
+Frank. But, now, was not that honourable, papa?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, it was," answered Mr. Glenn.</p>
+
+<p>"That's just the Halliburtons all over. They are ultra-honourable."</p>
+
+<p>"I should like to see your friend Frank, and inquire how he manages to
+pick up his English."</p>
+
+<p>"Let me bring him to tea to-morrow night!" cried Philip eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>"You may, if you like."</p>
+
+<p>"Hurrah!" shouted Philip. "And you'll persuade him not to mind his
+mother, but to come to our fishing party?"</p>
+
+<p>"Philip!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, papa, I don't mean that, exactly. But I do not see the use of
+boys listening to their mothers just in everything."</p>
+
+<p>Philip Glenn seized his note, and added a postscript:&mdash;"My father sais
+you are to come to tea to-morrow we shall be so joly." And it was
+despatched to Frank by a servant in livery.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIIB" id="CHAPTER_XIIB"></a>CHAPTER XII.</h2>
+
+<h3>A LESSON FOR PHILIP GLENN.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Frank was as eager to accept the invitation as Philip had been to offer
+it. When the afternoon arrived, and school was over, Frank tore home,
+donned his best clothes, and then tore back again to Mr. Glenn's house.
+Philip received him in the small room, where he and his brother prepared
+their lessons.</p>
+
+<p>"How is it that you and my boys write English so differently?" inquired
+Mr. Glenn, when he had made Frank's acquaintance.</p>
+
+<p>Frank broke into a broad smile, suggested by the remembrance of Philip's
+English. "We study it at home, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"But some one teaches you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Mamma. She was afraid that we should grow up ignorant of everything
+except Latin and Greek; so she thought she would remedy the evil."</p>
+
+<p>"And she takes you in an evening?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir; every evening except Saturday, when she is sure to be busy.
+She comes to the table as soon as our lessons for school are prepared,
+and we commence English. The easier portions of our Latin and Greek we
+do in the day, I and Gar: we crib the time from play-hours; and my
+brother William helps us at night with the more difficult parts."</p>
+
+<p>"Where is your brother at school?" asked Mr. Glenn.</p>
+
+<p>"He is not at school, sir. He is at Mr. Ashley's, with Cyril Dare.
+William has not been to school since papa died. But he was well up in
+everything, for papa had taken great pains with him, and he has gone on
+by himself since."</p>
+
+<p>"Can he do much good by himself?"</p>
+
+<p>"Good!" echoed Frank, speaking bluntly in his eagerness; "I don't think
+you could find so good a scholar for his age. There's not one could come
+near him in the college school. At first he found it hard work. He had
+no one to explain difficult points for him, and was obliged to puzzle
+them out with his own brains. And it's that that has got him on."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Glenn nodded. "Where a good foundation has been laid, a hard-working
+boy may get on better without a master than with one, provided&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"That is just what William says," interrupted Frank, his dark eyes
+sparkling with animation. "He would have given anything at one time to
+be at the college school with us; but he does not care about it now."</p>
+
+<p>"Provided his heart is in his work, I was about to add," said Mr. Glenn,
+smiling at Frank's eagerness.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, of course, sir. And that's what William's is. He has such capital
+books, too&mdash;all the best that are published. They were papa's. I hardly
+know how I and Gar should get on, without William's help."</p>
+
+<p>"Does he help you?"</p>
+
+<p>"He has helped us ever since papa died; before we went to college, and
+since. We do algebra and Euclid with him."</p>
+
+<p>"In&mdash;deed!" exclaimed Mr. Glenn, looking hard at Frank. "When do you
+contrive to do all this?"</p>
+
+<p>"In the evening. Tea is over by half-past five, and we three&mdash;William,
+I, and Gar&mdash;turn at once to our lessons. In about two hours mamma joins
+us, and we work with her about two hours more. Of course we have
+different nights for different studies, Latin every night, Greek nearly
+every night, Euclid twice a week, algebra twice a week, and so on. And
+the lessons we do with mamma are portioned out; some one night, some
+another."</p>
+
+<p>"You must be very persevering boys," cried Mr. Glenn. "Do you never
+catch yourselves looking off to play; to talk and laugh?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir, never. We have got into the habit of sticking to our lessons;
+mamma brought us into it. And then, we are anxious to get on: half the
+battle lies in that."</p>
+
+<p>"I think it does. Philip, my boy, here's a lesson for you, and for all
+other lazy scapegraces."</p>
+
+<p>Philip shrugged his shoulders, with a laugh. "Papa, I don't see any good
+in working so hard."</p>
+
+<p>"Your friend Frank does."</p>
+
+<p>"We are obliged to work, sir," said Frank, candidly. "We have no money,
+and it is only by education that we can hope to get on. Mamma thinks it
+may turn out all for the best. She says that boys who expect money very
+often rely upon it and not upon themselves. She would rather turn us out
+into the world with our talents cultivated and a will to use them, than
+with a fortune apiece. There's not a parable in the Bible mamma is
+fonder of reading to us than that of the ten talents."</p>
+
+<p>"No fortune!" repeated Mr. Glenn in a dreamy tone.</p>
+
+<p>"Not a penny; mamma has to work to keep us," returned Frank, making the
+avowal as freely as though he had proclaimed that his mother was
+lady-in-waiting to the Queen, and he one of her pages. Jane had
+contrived to convince them that in poverty itself there lay no shame or
+stigma; but a great deal in paltry attempts to conceal it.</p>
+
+<p>"Frank," said Mr. Glenn, "I was thinking that you must possess a fortune
+in your mother."</p>
+
+<p>"And so we do!" said Frank. "When Philip's note came to me last night,
+and we were&mdash;were&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Laughing over it!" suggested Mr. Glenn, helping out Frank's hesitation,
+and laughing himself.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, that's it; only I did not like to say it," acknowledged Frank.
+"But I dare say you know, sir, how most of the college boys write. Mamma
+said then, how glad we ought to be that she can make time to teach us
+better, and that we have the resolution to persevere."</p>
+
+<p>"I wish your mother would admit my sons to her class," said Mr. Glenn,
+half-seriously, half-jokingly. "I would give her any recompense."</p>
+
+<p>"Shall I ask her?" cried Frank.</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps she would feel hurt?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no, she wouldn't," answered Frank impulsively. "I will ask her."</p>
+
+<p>"I should not like such a strict mother," avowed Philip Glenn.</p>
+
+<p>"Strict!" echoed Frank. "Mamma's not strict."</p>
+
+<p>"She must be. She says you shan't come fishing with us to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>"No, she did not. She said she wished me not to go, and thought I had
+better not, and then she left it to me."</p>
+
+<p>Philip Glenn stared. "You told me at school this morning that it was
+decided you were not to come. And now you say Mrs. Halliburton left it
+to you."</p>
+
+<p>"So she did," answered Frank. "She generally leaves these things to us.
+She shows us what we ought to do, and why it is right that we should do
+it, and then she leaves it to what she calls our own good sense. It is
+like putting us upon our honour."</p>
+
+<p>"And you do as you know she wishes you would do?" interposed Mr. Glenn.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir, always."</p>
+
+<p>"Suppose you were to take your own will for once against hers?" cried
+Philip in a cross tone. "What then?"</p>
+
+<p>"Then I dare say she would decide herself the next time, and tell us we
+were not to be trusted. But there's no fear. We know her wishes are sure
+to be right; and we would not vex her for the world. The last time the
+dean was here there was a fuss about the choristers getting holiday so
+often; and he forbade its being done."</p>
+
+<p>"But the dean's away," impatiently interrupted Philip Glenn. "Old Ripton
+is in residence, and he would give it you for the asking. He knows
+nothing about the dean's order."</p>
+
+<p>"That's the very reason," returned Frank. "Mamma put it to me whether it
+would be an honourable thing to do. She said, if Dr. Ripton had known of
+the dean's order, then I might have asked him, and he could do as he
+pleased. She makes us wish to do what is right&mdash;not only what appears
+so."</p>
+
+<p>"And you'll punish yourself by going without the holiday, for some
+rubbishing notion of 'doing right'! It's just nonsense, Frank."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course we have to punish ourselves sometimes," acknowledged Frank.
+"I shall be wishing all day long to-morrow that I was with you. But when
+evening comes, and the day's over, then I shall be glad to have done
+right. Mamma says if we do not learn to act rightly and self-reliantly
+as boys we shall not do so as men."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Glenn laid his hand on Frank's shoulder. "Inculcate your creed upon
+my sons, if you can," said he, speaking seriously. "Has your mother
+taught it to you long?"</p>
+
+<p>"She has always been teaching it to us; ever since we were little,"
+rejoined Frank. "If we had to begin now, I don't know that we should
+make much of it."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Glenn fell into a reverie. As Mr. Ashley had once judged by some
+words dropped by William, so Mr. Glenn was judging now&mdash;that Mrs.
+Halliburton must be a mother in a thousand. Frank turned to Philip.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you done your lessons?"</p>
+
+<p>"Done my lessons! No. Have you?"</p>
+
+<p>Frank laughed. "Yes, or I should not have come. I have not played a
+minute to-day&mdash;but cribbed the time. Scanning, and exercise, and Greek;
+I have done them all."</p>
+
+<p>"It seems to me that you and your brothers make friends of your lessons,
+whilst most boys make enemies," observed Mr. Glenn.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, that's true," said Frank.</p>
+
+<p>"Philip," said Mr. Glenn to his son that evening after Frank had
+departed, "I give you <i>carte blanche</i> to bring that boy here as much as
+you like. If you are wise, you will make a lasting friend of him."</p>
+
+<p>"I like the Halliburtons," replied Philip. "The college school doesn't,
+though."</p>
+
+<p>"And pray, why?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I think Dare senior first set the school against them&mdash;that's
+Cyril, you know, papa. He was always going on at them. They were snobs
+for sticking to their lessons, he said, which gentlemen never did; and
+they were snobs because they had no money to spend, which gentlemen
+always had; and they were snobs for this, and snobs for the other; and
+he got his desk, which ruled the school, to cut them. They had to put up
+with a good deal then, but they are bigger now, and can fight their way;
+and, since Dare senior left, the school has begun to like them. If they
+are poor, they can't help it," concluded Philip, as if he would
+apologize for the fact.</p>
+
+<p>"Poor!" retorted Mr. Glenn. "I can tell you, Master Philip, and the
+college school too, that they are rich in things that you want. Unless I
+am deceived, the Halliburtons will grow up to be men of no common
+order."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIIIB" id="CHAPTER_XIIIB"></a>CHAPTER XIII.</h2>
+
+<h3>MAKING PROGRESS.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Trifles, as we all know, lead to great events. When Frank Halliburton
+had gone home, in his usual flying, eager manner, plunging headlong into
+the subject of Mr. Glenn's request, and Jane consented to grant it, she
+little thought that it would lead to a considerable increase to her
+income, enabling them to procure several comforts, and rendering better
+private instruction than her own easy for her sons.</p>
+
+<p>Not that she yielded to the request at once. She took time for
+consideration. But Frank was urgent; and she was one of those ever ready
+to do a good turn for others. The Glenns, as Frank said, did write
+English wretchedly; and if she could help to improve them without losing
+time or money, neither of which she could afford, why not do so? And she
+consented.</p>
+
+<p>It certainly did occur to Mrs. Halliburton to wonder that Mr. Glenn had
+not provided private instruction for his sons, to remedy the
+deficiencies existing in the college school system. Mr. Glenn suddenly
+awoke to the same wonder himself. The fact was, that he, like many other
+gentlemen in Helstonleigh who had sons in the college school, had been
+content to let things take their chance: possibly he assumed that
+spelling and composition would come to his sons by intuition, as they
+grew older. The contrast Frank Halliburton presented to Philip aroused
+him from his neglect.</p>
+
+<p>Jane consented to allow the two young Glenns to share the time and
+instruction she gave to her own boys. Mr. Glenn received the favour
+gladly; but, at first, there was great battling with the young gentlemen
+themselves. They could not be made to complete their lessons for school,
+so as to be at Mrs. Halliburton's by the hour appointed. At length it
+was accomplished, and they took to going regularly.</p>
+
+<p>Before three months had elapsed, great improvement had become visible in
+their spelling. They were also acquiring an insight into English
+grammar; had learnt that America was not situated in the Mediterranean,
+or watered by the Nile; and that English history did not solely consist
+of two incidents&mdash;the beheading of King Charles, and the Gunpowder Plot.
+Improvement was also visible in their manners and in the bent of their
+minds. From being boisterous, self-willed, and careless, they became
+more considerate, more tractable; and Mr. Glenn actually once heard
+Philip decline to embark in some tempting scrape, because it would "not
+be right."</p>
+
+<p>For it was impossible for Jane to have lads near her, and not gently try
+to counteract their faults and failings, as she would have done by her
+own sons; whilst the remarkable consideration and deference paid by the
+young Halliburtons to their mother, their warm affection for her, and
+the pleasant peace, the refinement of tone and manner distinguishing
+their home, told upon Philip and Charles Glenn with good influence. At
+the end of three months, Mr. Glenn wrote a note of warm thanks to Mrs.
+Halliburton, expressing a hope that she would still allow his sons the
+privilege of joining her own, and, in a delicate manner, begging grace
+for his act, enclosed four guineas; which was payment at the rate of
+sixteen guineas a year for the two.</p>
+
+<p>Jane had not expected it. Nothing had been hinted to her about payment,
+and she did not expect to receive any: she did not understand that the
+boys had joined on those terms. It was very welcome. In writing back to
+Mr. Glenn, she stated that she had not expected to receive remuneration;
+but she spoke of her straitened circumstances and thanked him for the
+help it would be.</p>
+
+<p>"That comes from a gentlewoman," was his remark to his wife, when he
+read the note. "I should like to know her."</p>
+
+<p>"I hinted as much to Frank one day, but he said his mother was too much
+occupied to receive visits or to pay them," was Mrs. Glenn's reply.</p>
+
+<p>As it happened, however, Mr. Glenn did pay her a visit. A friend of his,
+whose boys were in the college school, struck with the improvement in
+the Glenns, and hearing of its source, wondered whether his boys might
+not be received on the same terms, and Mr. Glenn undertook to propose
+it. The result of all this was, that in six months from the time of that
+afternoon when Frank first took tea at Mr. Glenn's, Jane had ten evening
+pupils, college boys. There she stopped. Others applied, but her table
+would not hold more, nor could she do justice to a greater number. The
+ten would bring her in eighty guineas a year; she devoted to them two
+hours, five evenings in the week.</p>
+
+<p>Now she could command somewhat better food, and more liberal instruction
+for her own boys, William included, in those higher branches of
+knowledge which they could not, or had not, commenced for themselves. A
+learned professor, David Byrne, whose lodgings were in the London Road,
+was applied to, and he agreed to receive the young Halliburtons at a
+very moderate charge, three evenings in the week.</p>
+
+<p>"Mamma," cried William, one day, with his thoughtful smile, soon after
+this agreement was entered upon, "we seem to be getting on amazingly. We
+can learn something else now, if you have no objection."</p>
+
+<p>"What is that?" asked Jane.</p>
+
+<p>"French. As I and Samuel Lynn were walking home to-day, we met Monsieur
+Colin. He said he was about to organize a French class, twelve in
+number, and would be glad if we would make three of the number. What do
+you say?"</p>
+
+<p>"It is a great temptation," answered Jane. "I have long wished you could
+learn French. Would it be very expensive?"</p>
+
+<p>"Very cheap to us. He said he considered you a sister professor&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"The idea!" burst forth Frank, hotly. "Mamma a professor!"</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed, I don't know that I can aspire to anything so formidable," said
+Jane, with a laugh. "A schoolmistress would be a better word."</p>
+
+<p>Frank was indignant. "You are not a schoolmistress, mamma. I&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Frank," interrupted Jane, her tone changing to seriousness.</p>
+
+<p>"What, mamma?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am <i>thankful</i> to be one."</p>
+
+<p>The tears rose to Frank's eyes. "You are a <i>lady</i>, mamma. I shall never
+think you anything else. There!"</p>
+
+<p>Jane smiled. "Well, I hope I am, Frank; although I help to make gloves
+and teach boys English."</p>
+
+<p>"How well Mr. Lynn speaks French!" exclaimed William.</p>
+
+<p>"Does he speak it?"</p>
+
+<p>"As a native. I cannot tell what his accent may be, but he speaks it as
+readily as Monsieur Colin. Shall we learn, mamma? It will be the
+greatest advantage to us, Monsieur Colin conversing with us in French."</p>
+
+<p>"But what about the time, William?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, if you will manage the money, we will manage the time," returned
+William, laughing. "Only trust to us, mother. We will make it, and
+neglect nothing."</p>
+
+<p>"Then, William, you may tell Monsieur Colin that you shall learn."</p>
+
+<p>"Fair and easy!" broke out Frank; a saying of his when pleased. "Mamma,
+I think, what with one thing and another turning up, we boys shall be
+getting quite first-class education."</p>
+
+<p>"Although mamma feared we never should accomplish it," returned William.
+"As did I."</p>
+
+<p>"Fear!" cried Frank. "I didn't. I knew that 'where there's a will
+there's a way.' <i>Degeneres animos timor arguit</i>," added he, finishing
+off with one of his favourite Latin quotations; but forgetting, in his
+flourish, that he was paying a poor compliment to his mother and his
+brother.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIVB" id="CHAPTER_XIVB"></a>CHAPTER XIV.</h2>
+
+<h3>WILLIAM HALLIBURTON'S GHOST.</h3>
+
+
+<p>This chapter may be said to commence the second part of this history,
+for some years have elapsed since the events last recorded.</p>
+
+<p>Do you doubt that the self-denying patience displayed by Jane
+Halliburton, her persevering struggles, her never-fainting industry,
+joined to her all-perfect trust in the goodness and guidance of the Most
+High God, could fail to bring their reward? It is not possible. But do
+not fancy that it came suddenly in the shape of a coach-and-six. Rewards
+worth having are not acquired so easily. Have you met with the following
+lines? They are somewhat applicable.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"How rarely, friend, a good, great man inherits<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Honour and wealth, with all his worth and pains!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It seems a fable from the land of spirits<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When any man obtains that which he merits,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or any merits that which he obtains.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For shame, my friend! renounce this idle strain:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What would'st thou have the good, great man obtain&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wealth? title? dignity? a golden chain?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or heaps of corpses which his sword hath slain?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Goodness and greatness are not means, but ends.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hath he not always treasures, always friends,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The good, great man? Three treasures&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Love; and life; and calm thoughts, equable as infants' breath.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And three fast friends, more sure than day or night,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Himself; his Maker; and the angel, Death."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>Jane's reward was in progress: it had not fully come. At present it was
+little more than that of an approving conscience for having fought her
+way through difficulties in the patient continuance of well-doing, and
+in the fulfilment, in a remarkable manner, of the subject she had had
+most at heart&mdash;that of giving her sons an education that would fit them
+to fulfil any part they might be called upon to play in the destinies of
+life&mdash;in watching them grow up full of promise to make good and great
+men.</p>
+
+<p>In circumstances, Jane was tolerably at ease now. Time had wrought its
+changes. Mrs. Reece had gone&mdash;not into other lodgings, but to join Janey
+Halliburton on the long journey. And Dobbs&mdash;Dobbs!&mdash;was servant to Mrs.
+Halliburton! Dobbs had experienced misfortune. Dobbs had put by a good
+round sum in a bank, for Dobbs had been provident all her life; and the
+bank broke and swallowed up Dobbs's savings; and nearly all Dobbs's
+surly independence went with it. Misfortunes do not come alone; and Mrs.
+Reece died almost immediately after Dobbs's treacherous bank went. The
+old lady's will had been good to leave Dobbs something, but she had not
+the power to do so: the income she had enjoyed went at her death to her
+late husband's relatives. She had made Dobbs handsome presents from time
+to time, and these Dobbs had placed with the rest of her money. It had
+all gone.</p>
+
+<p>Poor Dobbs, good for nothing in the first shock of the loss, paid Mrs.
+Halliburton for a bedroom weekly, and sat down to fret. Next, she tried
+to earn a living at making gloves&mdash;an employment Dobbs had followed in
+her early days. But, what with not being so young as she was, neither
+eyes nor fingers, Dobbs found she could make nothing of the work. She
+went about the house doing odd tasks for Mrs. Halliburton, until that
+lady ventured on a proposal (with as much deference as though she had
+been making it to an Indian Begum), that Dobbs should remain with her as
+her servant. An experienced, thoroughly good servant she required now;
+and that she knew Dobbs to be. Dobbs acquiesced; and forthwith went
+upstairs, moved her things into the dark closet, and obstinately adopted
+it as her own bedroom.</p>
+
+<p>The death of Mrs. Reece had enabled Jane to put into practice a plan she
+had long thought of&mdash;that of receiving boarders into her house, after
+the manner of the dames at Eton. Some of the foundation boys in the
+college school lived at a distance, and it was a great matter with the
+parents to place them in families where they would find a good home. The
+wife of the head master, Mrs. Keating, took in half-a-dozen; Jane
+thought she might do the same. She had been asked to do so; but had not
+room while Mrs. Reece was with her. She still held her class in the
+evening. As one set of boys finished with her, others were only too glad
+to take their places: there was no teaching like Mrs. Halliburton's.
+Upon making it known that she could receive boarders, applications
+poured in; and six, all she had accommodation for, came. They, of
+course, attended the college school during the day. Thus she could
+afford to relinquish working at the gloves; and did so, to Samuel Lynn's
+chagrin: a steady, regular worker, as Jane had been, was valuable to the
+manufactory. Altogether, what with her evening class, and the sum paid
+by the boarders, her income was between two and three hundred a year,
+not including what was earned by William.</p>
+
+<p>William had made progress at Mr. Ashley's, and now earned thirty
+shillings a week. Frank and Gar had not left the college school. Frank's
+time was out, and more than out: but when a scholar advanced in the
+manner that Frank Halliburton had done, Mr. Keating was not in a hurry
+to intimate to him that his time had expired. So Frank remained on,
+studying hard, one of the most finished scholars Helstonleigh Collegiate
+School had ever turned out.</p>
+
+<p>There sat one great desire in Frank's heart; it had almost grown into a
+passion; it coloured his dreams by night and his thoughts by day&mdash;that
+of matriculating at one of the two Universities. The random and somewhat
+dim idea of Frank's early days&mdash;studying for the Bar&mdash;had become the
+fixed purpose of his life. That he was especially gifted with the
+tastes and qualifications necessary to make a good pleader, there could
+be no doubt about; therefore, Frank had probably not mistaken his
+vocation. Persevering in study, keen in perceptive intellect, equable in
+temper, fluent and persuasive in speech, a true type was he of an embryo
+barrister. He did not quite see his way yet to getting to college.
+Neither did Gar; and Gar had set <i>his</i> mind upon the Church.</p>
+
+<p>One cold January evening, bright, clear, and frosty, Samuel Lynn stopped
+away from the manufactory. He had received a letter by the evening post
+saying that a friend, on his way from Birmingham to Bristol, would halt
+for a few hours at his house and go on by the Bristol mail, which passed
+through the city at eleven o'clock. The friend arrived punctually, was
+regaled with tea and other good things in the state parlour, and he and
+Samuel Lynn settled themselves to enjoy a pleasant evening together,
+Patience and Anna forming part of the company. Anna's luxuriant curls
+and her wondrous beauty&mdash;for, in growing up, that beauty had not belied
+the promise of her childhood&mdash;were shaded under the demure Quaker's cap.
+Something else had not belied the promise of her childhood, and that was
+her vanity.</p>
+
+<p>Apparently, she did not find the evening or the visitor to her taste. He
+was old, as were her father and Patience: every one above thirty Anna
+was apt to class as "old." She fidgeted, was restless, and, just as the
+clock struck seven&mdash;as if the sound rendered any further inaction
+unbearable&mdash;she rose and was quietly stealing from the room.</p>
+
+<p>"Where are thee going, Anna?" asked her father.</p>
+
+<p>Anna coloured, as if taken by surprise. "Friend Jane Halliburton
+promised to lend me a book, father: I should like to fetch it."</p>
+
+<p>"Sit thee still, child; thee dost not want to read to-night when friend
+Stanley is with us. Show him thy drawings. Meanwhile, I will get the
+chessmen. Thee'd like a game?" turning to his visitor.</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, I should," was the ready answer. "Remember, friend Lynn, I beat
+thee last time."</p>
+
+<p>"Maybe my skill will redeem itself to-night," nodded the Quaker, as he
+rose for the chessboard. "It shall try its best."</p>
+
+<p>"Would thee like a candle?" asked Patience, who was busy sewing.</p>
+
+<p>"Not at all. My chamber is light as day, with the moon so near the
+full."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Lynn went up to his room. The chessboard and men were kept on a
+table near the window. As he took them from it he glanced out at the
+pleasant scene. His window, at the back, faced the charming landscape,
+and the Malvern Hills in the horizon shone out almost as distinctly as
+by day. Not, however, on the landscape were Samuel Lynn's eyes fixed;
+they had caught something nearer, which drew his attention.</p>
+
+<p>Pacing the field-path which ran behind his low garden hedge was a male
+figure in a cloak. To see a man, whether with a cloak or without it,
+abroad on a moonlight night, would not have been extraordinary; but
+Samuel Lynn's notice was drawn by this one's movements. Beyond the
+immediate space occupied by the house, the field-path was hidden: on one
+side, by the high hedge intervening between his garden and Mrs.
+Halliburton's; on the other, by a wall. The figure&mdash;whoever it might
+be&mdash;would come to one of these corners, stealthily peep at Samuel Lynn's
+house and windows, and then continue his way past it, until he reached
+the other corner, where he would halt and peep again, partially hiding
+himself behind the hedge. That he was waiting for something or some one
+was apparent, for he stamped his feet occasionally in an impatient
+manner.</p>
+
+<p>"What can it be that he does there?" cried the Quaker, half aloud: "this
+is the second time I have seen him. He cannot be taking a sketch of my
+house by moonlight! Were it any other than thee, William Halliburton, I
+should say it wore a clandestine look."</p>
+
+<p>He returned to the parlour, and took his revenge on his friend by
+checkmating him three times in succession. At nine o'clock supper came
+in, and at ten Mr. Stanley, accompanied by Samuel Lynn, left, to walk
+leisurely into Helstonleigh and await the Bristol mail. As they turned
+out of the house they saw William Halliburton going in at his own door.</p>
+
+<p>"It is a cold night," William remarked to Mr. Lynn.</p>
+
+<p>"Very. Good night to thee."</p>
+
+<p>You cannot see what he is like by this light, especially in that
+disguising cloak, and the cap with its protecting ears. But you can see
+him the following morning, as he stands in Mr. Ashley's counting-house.</p>
+
+<p>A well-grown, upright, noble form, a head taller than Samuel Lynn, by
+whose side he is standing, with a peculiarly attractive face. Not for
+its beauty&mdash;the face cannot boast of very much&mdash;but for its broad brow
+of intellect, its firm, sweet mouth, and its truthful dark-grey eyes.
+None could mistake William Halliburton for anything but a gentleman,
+although they had seen him, as now, with a white apron tied round his
+waist. William was making up gloves: a term, as you may remember, which
+means sorting them according to their qualities&mdash;work that was sometimes
+done in Mr. Ashley's room, on account of its steady light, for it bore a
+north aspect. A table, or counter, was fixed down one side, under its
+windows. Mr. Lynn stood by his side, looking on.</p>
+
+<p>"Thee can do it tolerably well, William," he observed, after some
+minutes' close inspection.</p>
+
+<p>William smiled. The Quaker never bestowed decided praise, and never
+thought any one could be trusted in the making-up department, himself
+and James Meeking excepted. William had been exercised in the making-up
+for the past eighteen months, and he thought he ought to do it pretty
+well by this time. Mr. Lynn was turning away, when his keen sight fell
+on several dozens at a little distance. He took up one of the top pairs
+with a hasty movement, knitted his brow, and then took up others.</p>
+
+<p>"Thee has not exercised thy judgment or thy caution here, friend
+William."</p>
+
+<p>"I did not make up those," replied William.</p>
+
+<p>"Who did, then?"</p>
+
+<p>"Cyril Dare."</p>
+
+<p>"I have told Cyril Dare he is not to attempt the making-up," returned
+Samuel Lynn, in severe tones. "When did he do these?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yesterday afternoon."</p>
+
+<p>"There, again! He knows the gloves are not made up in a winter's
+afternoon. I myself would not do it by so obscure a light. Thee go over
+these thyself when thee has finished the stack before thee."</p>
+
+<p>Samuel Lynn was not one who spared work. He mixed the offending dozens
+together indiscriminately, and pushed them towards William. Then he
+turned to his own place, and went on with his work: he was also making
+up. Presently he spoke again.</p>
+
+<p>"What does thee do at the back of my house of a night? Thee must find
+the walk cold."</p>
+
+<p>William turned his head with a movement of surprise. "I don't do
+anything at the back of your house. What do you mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not walk about there, watching it, as thee did last night?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly not! I do not understand you."</p>
+
+<p>Samuel Lynn's brows knit heavily. "William, I deemed thee truthful. Why
+deny what is a palpable fact?"</p>
+
+<p>William Halliburton put down the pair of gloves he had in his hand, and
+turned to the Quaker. "In saying that I do not walk at the back of your
+house at night, or at the back of any house, I state the truth."</p>
+
+<p>"Last night at seven o'clock, I <i>saw</i> thee parading there in thy cloak.
+I saw thee, I say, William. The night was unusually light."</p>
+
+<p>"Last night, from tea-time until half-past nine, I never stirred out of
+my mother's parlour," rejoined William. "I was at my books as usual. At
+half-past nine I ran up to say a word to Henry Ashley. You saw me
+returning."</p>
+
+<p>"But I saw thee at the back with my own eyes," persisted the Quaker. "I
+saw thy cloak. Thee had on that blue cap of thine: it was tied down over
+thy ears; and the collar of the cloak was turned up, to protect thee, as
+I surmised, from the cold."</p>
+
+<p>"It must have been my ghost," responded William. "<i>Should</i> I be likely
+to pace up and down a cold field, for pastime, on a January night?"</p>
+
+<p>"Will thee oblige me by putting on thy cloak?" was all the answer
+returned by Samuel Lynn.</p>
+
+<p>"What&mdash;now?"</p>
+
+<p>"Please."</p>
+
+<p>William, laughing, went out of the room, and came back in his cloak. It
+was an old-fashioned cloak&mdash;a remarkable cloak&mdash;a dark plaid, its collar
+lined with red. Formerly worn by gentlemen, they had now become nearly
+obsolete; but William had picked this up for much less than half its
+value. He did not care much for fashion, and it was warm and comfortable
+in winter weather.</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps you wish me to put on my cap?" said William, in a serio-comic
+tone.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; and turn down the ears."</p>
+
+<p>He obeyed, very much amused. "Anything more?" asked he.</p>
+
+<p>"Walk thyself about an instant."</p>
+
+<p>His lips smiling, his eyes dancing, William marched from one side of the
+room to the other. While this was in process Cyril Dare bustled in, and
+stood in amazement, staring at William. The Quaker paid no attention to
+his arrival, except that he took out his watch and glanced at it. He
+continued to address William.</p>
+
+<p>"And thee can assure me to my face, that thee was not pacing the field
+last night in the moonlight, dressed as now?"</p>
+
+<p>"I can, and do," replied William.</p>
+
+<p>"Then, William, it is one of two things. My eyes or thy word must be
+false."</p>
+
+<p>"Did you see my face?" asked William.</p>
+
+<p>"Not much of that. With the ears down and the collar up, thy face was
+pretty effectually concealed. There's not another cloak like thine in
+all Helstonleigh."</p>
+
+<p>"You are right there," laughed William; "there's not one half so
+handsome. Admire the contrast of the purple and green plaid and the
+scarlet collar."</p>
+
+<p>"No, not another like it," emphatically repeated the Quaker. "I tell
+thee, William Halliburton, in the teeth of thy denial, that I saw thee,
+or a figure precisely similar to thee, parading the field-path last
+night, and stealthily watching my windows."</p>
+
+<p>"It's a clear case of ghost," returned William, with an amused look at
+Cyril Dare. "How much longer am I to make a walking Guy of myself, for
+your pleasure and Cyril's astonishment?"</p>
+
+<p>"Thee can take it off," replied the Quaker, his curt tone betraying
+dissatisfaction. Until that moment he had believed William Halliburton
+to be the very quintessence of truth. His belief was now shaken.</p>
+
+<p>In the small passage between Mr. Ashley's room and Samuel Lynn's,
+William hung up the cloak and cap. The Quaker turned to Cyril Dare, who
+was taking off his great-coat, stern displeasure in his tone.</p>
+
+<p>"Dost thee know the time?"</p>
+
+<p>"Just gone half-past nine," replied Cyril.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Lynn held out his watch to Cyril. It wanted seventeen minutes to
+ten. "Nine o'clock is thy hour. I am tired of telling thee to be more
+punctual. And thee did not come before breakfast."</p>
+
+<p>"I overslept myself," said Cyril.</p>
+
+<p>"As thee dost pretty often, it seems. If thee can do no better than thee
+did yesterday, as well oversleep thyself for good. Look at these
+gloves."</p>
+
+<p>"Well!" cried Cyril, who was a good-looking young man, in stature not
+far short of William. At least he would have been good-looking, but for
+his eyes; there was a look in them, almost amounting to a squint; and
+they did not gaze openly and honestly into another's eyes. His face was
+thin, and his features were well-formed. "Well!" cried he.</p>
+
+<p>"It is well," repeated the Quaker; "well that I looked at them, for they
+must be done again. Firsts are mixed with seconds, thirds with firsts; I
+do not know that I ever saw gloves so ill made up. What have I told
+thee?"</p>
+
+<p>"Lots of things," responded Cyril, who liked to set the manager at
+defiance, as far as he dared.</p>
+
+<p>"I have desired thee never to attempt to make up the gloves. I now
+forbid thee again; and thee will do well not to forget it. Begin and
+band these gloves that William Halliburton is making ready."</p>
+
+<p>Cyril jerked open the drawer where the paper bands were kept, took some
+out of it, and carried them to the counter, where William stood. Mr.
+Lynn interposed with another order.</p>
+
+<p>"Thee will please put thy apron on."</p>
+
+<p>Now, having to wear this apron was the very bugbear of Cyril Dare's
+life. "There's no need of an apron to paper gloves," he responded.</p>
+
+<p>"Thee will put on thy apron, friend," calmly repeated Samuel Lynn.</p>
+
+<p>"I hate the apron," fumed Cyril, jerking open another drawer, and
+jerking out his apron; for he might not openly disobey the authority of
+Samuel Lynn. "I should think I am the first gentleman that ever was made
+to wear one."</p>
+
+<p>"If thee are practically engaged in a glove manufactory, thee must wear
+an apron, gentleman or no gentleman," equably returned the Quaker. "As
+we all do."</p>
+
+<p>"All don't!" retorted Cyril. "The master does not."</p>
+
+<p>"Thee are not in the master's position yet, Cyril Dare. And I would
+advise thee to exercise thy discretion more and thy tongue less."</p>
+
+<p>The discussion was interrupted by the entrance of Mr. Ashley, and the
+room dropped into silence. There might be no presuming in the presence
+of the master. He sat down to his desk, and opened his morning letters.
+Presently a young man put his head in and addressed Samuel Lynn.</p>
+
+<p>"Noaks, the stainer, has come in, sir. He says the skins given out to
+him yesterday would be better for coloured than blacks."</p>
+
+<p>"Desire James Meeking to attend to him," said Mr. Lynn.</p>
+
+<p>"James Meeking isn't here, sir. He's up in the cutters' room, or
+somewhere."</p>
+
+<p>Samuel Lynn, upon this, went out himself. Cyril Dare followed him. Cyril
+was rather fond of taking short trips about the manufactory, as
+interludes to his work. Soon after, the master lifted his head.</p>
+
+<p>"Step here, William."</p>
+
+<p>William put down the gloves he was examining and approached the desk.
+"What sort of a French scholar are you?" inquired Mr. Ashley.</p>
+
+<p>"A very good one, sir," he replied, after a pause given to surprise. "I
+know it thoroughly. I can read and write it as readily as I can
+English."</p>
+
+<p>"But I mean as to speaking. Could you make yourself understood, for
+instance, if you were suddenly dropped down into a French town, where
+the natives spoke nothing but their own language?"</p>
+
+<p>William smiled. "I don't think I should have much difficulty over it. I
+have been so much with Monsieur Colin that I talk as fast as he does. He
+stops me occasionally to grumble at what he calls <i>l'accent anglais</i>."</p>
+
+<p>"I am not sure that I shall not send you on a mission to France,"
+resumed Mr. Ashley. "You can be better spared than Samuel Lynn; and it
+must be one of you. Will you undertake it?"</p>
+
+<p>"I will undertake anything that you wish me to do, sir, that I could
+accomplish," replied William, lifting his clear earnest eyes to those of
+his master.</p>
+
+<p>"You are an exceedingly good judge of skins: even Samuel Lynn admits
+that. I want some intelligent, trustworthy person to go over to France,
+look about the markets there, and pick up what will suit us. The demand
+for skins is great at the present time, and the markets must be watched
+to select suitable bales before other bidders step in and pounce upon
+them. By these means we may secure some good bargains and good skins: we
+have succeeded lately in doing neither."</p>
+
+<p>"At Annonay, I presume you mean, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Annonay and its neighbourhood; that's the chief market for dressed
+skins. The undressed pelts are to be met with best, as you are aware, in
+the neighbourhood of Lyons. You would have to look after both. I have
+talked the matter over with Mr. Lynn, and he thinks you may be trusted
+both as to ability and conduct."</p>
+
+<p>"I will do my best if I am sent," replied William.</p>
+
+<p>"Your stay might extend over two or three months. We can do with a great
+deal; both of pelts and dressed skins. The dressers at Annonay&mdash;&mdash;Cyril,
+what are you doing there?"</p>
+
+<p>Cyril could scarcely have told. He had come into the counting-house
+unnoticed, and his ears had picked up somewhat of the conversation. In
+his anger and annoyance, Cyril had remained, his face turned towards the
+speakers, listening for more.</p>
+
+<p>For it had oozed out at Pomeranian Knoll, through a word dropped by
+Henry Ashley, that Mr. Ashley had it in contemplation to despatch some
+one from the manufactory on this mission to France, and that the some
+one would not be Samuel Lynn. Cyril received the information with
+avidity, never doubting that <i>he</i> would be the one fixed upon. To give
+him his due, he was really a good judge of skins&mdash;not better than
+William; but somehow Cyril had never given a thought to William in the
+matter. Greatly had he anticipated the journey to the land of pleasure,
+where he would be under no one's control but his own. In that moment,
+when he heard Mr. Ashley speaking to William upon the subject, not to
+him, Cyril felt at war with every one and everything; with the master,
+with William, and especially with the business, which he hated as much
+as he had ever done.</p>
+
+<p>But Mr. Ashley was not one to do things in a hurry, and he had only
+broached the subject.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVB" id="CHAPTER_XVB"></a>CHAPTER XV.</h2>
+
+<h3>"NOTHING RISK, NOTHING WIN."</h3>
+
+
+<p>It was Saturday night, the Saturday after the above conversation, and
+Mr. Lynn was making ready to pay the men. James Meeking was payer in a
+general way; but James Meeking was also packer; that is, he packed, with
+assistance, the goods destined for London. A parcel was being sent off
+this evening, so that it fell to Mr. Lynn's lot to pay the workmen. He
+stood before the desk in the serving-room, counting out the money in
+readiness. There was a quantity of silver in a bag, and a great many
+brown paper packets of halfpence; each packet containing five
+shillings. But they all had to be counted, for sometimes a packet would
+run a penny or twopence short.</p>
+
+<p>The door at the foot of the stairs was heard to open, and a man's step
+came up. It proved to be a workman from a neighbouring manufactory.</p>
+
+<p>"If you please, Mr. Lynn, could you oblige our people with twelve or
+fourteen pounds' worth of change?" he asked. "We couldn't get in enough
+to-day, try as we would. The halfpence seem as scarce as the silver."</p>
+
+<p>Now it happened that the Ashley manufactory was that evening abundantly
+supplied. Samuel Lynn went into the counting-house to the master, who
+was seated at the desk. "The Dunns have sent in to know if we can oblige
+them with twelve or fourteen pounds' worth of change," said he. "We have
+plenty to-night; but to send away so much may run us very short. Dost
+thee happen to have any gold that thee can spare?"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Ashley looked at his own cash drawer. "Here are six, seven
+sovereigns."</p>
+
+<p>"That will be sufficient," replied Samuel Lynn, taking them from his
+hand, and going back to the applicant in the serving-room. "How much has
+thee need of?" asked he.</p>
+
+<p>"Fourteen pounds, please, sir. I have the cheque here, made out for it.
+Silver or copper, it doesn't matter which; or a little gold. I have
+brought a basket along with me."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Lynn gave the money, and took the cheque. The man departed, and the
+Quaker carried the cheque to Mr. Ashley.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Ashley put the cheque into one of the pigeon-holes of his desk. He
+had the account in duplicate before him, of the goods going off, and was
+casting it up. William and Cyril were both in the counting-house, but
+not engaged with Mr. Ashley. William was marking small figures on
+certain banded gloves; Cyril was looking on, an employment that suited
+Cyril amazingly. His want of occupation caught the Quaker's eye.</p>
+
+<p>"If thee has nothing to do, thee can come and help me count the papers
+of coppers."</p>
+
+<p>Cyril dared not say "No," before Mr. Ashley. He might have hesitated to
+say it to Samuel Lynn; nevertheless, it was a work he especially
+disliked. It is <i>not</i> pleasant to soil the fingers counting innumerable
+five-shilling brown-paper packets of copper money; to part them into
+stacks of twelve pence, or twenty-four halfpence. In point of fact, it
+was James Meeking's work; but there were times when Samuel Lynn,
+William, and Cyril had each to take his turn at it. Perhaps the two
+former liked it no better than did Cyril Dare.</p>
+
+<p>Cyril ungraciously followed to the serving-room. In a few minutes James
+Meeking looked in at the counting-house. "Is the master ready?"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Ashley rose and went into the next room, carrying one of the
+duplicate lists. The men were waiting to pack&mdash;James Meeking and the
+other packer, a young man named Dance. The several papers of boxes were
+ready on a side counter; and Mr. Ashley stood with the list in his hand,
+ready to verify them. Had Samuel Lynn not been occupied with serving, he
+would have done this.</p>
+
+<p>"Three dozen best men's outsizes, coloured," called out James Meeking,
+reading the marks on the first parcel he took up.</p>
+
+<p>"Right," responded Mr. Ashley.</p>
+
+<p>James Meeking laid it upon the packing-table&mdash;clear, except for an
+enormous sheet of brown paper as thick as card-board&mdash;turned to the side
+counter and took up another of the parcels.</p>
+
+<p>"Three dozen best men's outsizes, coloured," repeated he.</p>
+
+<p>"Right," replied Mr. Ashley.</p>
+
+<p>And so on, till all the parcels were told through and were found to
+tally with the invoice. Then began the packing. It made a large parcel,
+about four feet square. Mr. Ashley remained, looking on.</p>
+
+<p>"You will not have enough string there," he observed, as the men were
+placing the string round it in squares.</p>
+
+<p>"I told you we shouldn't, Meeking," said George Dance.</p>
+
+<p>"There's no more downstairs," was Meeking's answer, "I thought it might
+be enough."</p>
+
+<p>Neither of the men could leave the parcel. They were mounted on steps on
+either side of it. Mr. Ashley called to William. "Light the lantern, and
+go upstairs to the string-closet. Bring down a ball."</p>
+
+<p>Candles were not allowed to be carried about the premises. William came
+forth, lighted the lantern, and went upstairs. At the same moment, Cyril
+Dare, who had finished his disagreeable copper counting, strolled into
+the counting-house. Finding it empty, he thought he could not do better
+than take a survey of Mr. Ashley's desk, the lid of which was propped
+open. He had no particular motive in doing this, except that that
+receptacle might present some food or other to gratify his curiosity,
+which the glove-laden counters could not be supposed to do. Amidst other
+things his eyes fell on the Messrs. Dunns' cheque, which lay in one of
+the pigeon-holes.</p>
+
+<p>"It would set me up for a fortnight, that fourteen pounds!" ejaculated
+he. "No one would find it out, either. Ashley would suspect any one in
+the manufactory before he'd suspect <i>me</i>!"</p>
+
+<p>He stood for a moment in indecision, his hand stretched out. Should it
+be drawn back, and the temptation resisted; or, should he yield to it?
+"Here goes!" cried Cyril. "Nothing risk, nothing win!"</p>
+
+<p>He transferred the cheque to his own pocket, and stole out of the
+counting-house into the small narrow passage which intervened between it
+and Mr. Lynn's room, where the parcel was being made up. Passing
+stealthily through the room, at the back of the huge parcel, which hid
+him from the eyes of the men and of Mr. Ashley, he emerged in safety
+into the serving-room, took up his position close to Samuel Lynn, and
+began assiduously to count over some shilling stacks which he had
+already verified. Samuel Lynn, his face turned to the crowd of men who
+were on the other side the counter receiving their wages, had not
+noticed the absence of Cyril Dare. Upon this probable fact Cyril had
+reckoned.</p>
+
+<p>"Any more to count?" asked Cyril.</p>
+
+<p>Samuel Lynn turned his head round. "Not if thee has finished all the
+packets." Had he seen what had just taken place, he might have entrusted
+packets of coppers to Mr. Cyril less confidently.</p>
+
+<p>Cyril jumped upon the edge of the desk, and remained perched there.
+William Halliburton came back with the twine, which he handed to George
+Dance. Blowing out the lantern, he returned to the counting-house.</p>
+
+<p>The parcel was completed, and James Meeking directed it in his plain,
+clerk-like hand&mdash;"Messrs. James Morrison, Dillon, and Co., Fore Street,
+London." It was then conveyed to a truck in waiting, to be wheeled to
+the parcels office. Mr. Ashley returned to his desk and sat down.
+Presently Cyril Dare came in.</p>
+
+<p>"Halliburton, don't you want to be paid to-night? Every one's paid but
+you. Mr. Lynn's waiting to close the desk."</p>
+
+<p>"Here is a letter for the post, William," called out Mr. Ashley.</p>
+
+<p>"I am coming back, sir. I have not set the counter straight yet."</p>
+
+<p>He received his money&mdash;thirty shillings a week now. He then put things
+straight in the counting-house, to do which was as much Cyril's work as
+his, and took a letter from the hands of Mr. Ashley. It contained one of
+the duplicate lists, and was addressed as the parcel had been. William
+generally had charge of the outward-bound letters now; he did not forget
+them as he had done in his first unlucky essay. He threw on the elegant
+cloak of which you have heard, took his hat, and went through the town,
+as far as the post-office, Cyril Dare walking with him. There they
+parted; Cyril continuing his way homewards, William retracing his steps.</p>
+
+<p>All had left the manufactory except Mr. Ashley and Samuel Lynn. James
+Meeking had gone down. On a late night, as the present, when all had
+done except the master and Samuel Lynn, the latter would sometimes say
+to the foreman, "Thee can go on to thy supper; I will lock up, and bring
+thee the keys." Mr. Ashley was setting his desk straight&mdash;putting sundry
+papers in their places; tearing up others. He unlocked his cash drawer,
+and put his hand into the pigeon-hole for the cheque. It was not there.
+Neither there nor anywhere, that he could see.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, where's that cheque?" he exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>It caused Samuel Lynn to turn. "Cheque?" he repeated.</p>
+
+<p>"Dunns' cheque, that you brought me an hour ago."</p>
+
+<p>"I saw thee put it in the second pigeon-hole," said the Quaker,
+advancing to the desk, and standing by Mr. Ashley.</p>
+
+<p>"I know I did. But it is gone."</p>
+
+<p>"Thee must have moved it. Perhaps it is in thy private drawer?"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Ashley shook his head: he was deep in consideration. "I have not
+touched it since I placed it there," he presently said. "Unless&mdash;surely
+I cannot have torn it up by mistake?"</p>
+
+<p>He and Samuel Lynn both stooped over the waste-paper basket. They could
+detect nothing of the sort amidst its contents. Mr. Ashley was
+nonplussed. "This is a curious thing, Samuel," said he. "No one was in
+the room during my absence except William Halliburton."</p>
+
+<p>"He would not meddle with thy desk," observed the Quaker.</p>
+
+<p>"No: nor suffer any one else to meddle with it. I should like to see
+William. He may possibly throw some light upon the subject. The cheque
+could not vanish into thin air."</p>
+
+<p>Samuel Lynn went down to James Meeking's, whom he disturbed at supper.
+He bade him watch at the entrance-gate for the return of William from
+the post-office, and request him to walk into the manufactory. William
+was not very long in making his appearance. He received the
+message&mdash;that the master and Mr. Lynn wanted him&mdash;and in he went with
+alacrity, having jumped to the conclusion that some conference was about
+to be held touching the French journey.</p>
+
+<p>Considerably surprised was he to learn what the matter really was. He
+quite laughed at the idea of the cheque's being gone, and believed that
+Mr. Ashley must have torn it up. Very minutely went he over the contents
+of the paper-basket. Its relics were not there.</p>
+
+<p>"It's like magic!" exclaimed William. "No one entered the
+counting-house; not even Mr. Lynn or Cyril Dare."</p>
+
+<p>"Cyril Dare was with me," said the Quaker. "Verily it seems to savour of
+the marvellous."</p>
+
+<p>It certainly did; and no conclusion could be come to. Neither could
+anything be done that night.</p>
+
+<p>It was late when William reached home&mdash;a quarter past ten. Frank was
+sitting over the fire, waiting for him. Gar had gone to bed tired; Mrs.
+Halliburton with headache; Dobbs, because there was nothing more to do.</p>
+
+<p>"How late you are!" was Frank's salutation; "just because I want to have
+a talk with you."</p>
+
+<p>"Upon the old theme," said William, with a smile. "Oxford or Cambridge?"</p>
+
+<p>"I say, William, if you are going to throw cold water upon it&mdash;&mdash;But it
+won't put a damper upon me," broke off Frank, gaily.</p>
+
+<p>"I would rather throw hot water on it than cold, Frank."</p>
+
+<p>"Look here, William. I am growing up to be a man, and I can't bear the
+idea of living longer upon my mother. At my age I ought to be helping
+her. I am no nearer the University than I was years ago; and if I cannot
+get there, all my labour and my learning will be thrown away."</p>
+
+<p>"Not thrown away," said William.</p>
+
+<p>"Thrown away as far as my views are concerned. I must go to the Bar, or
+go to nothing&mdash;<i>aut Cæsar, aut nullus</i>. To the University I <i>will</i> go;
+and I see nothing for it but to do so as a servitor. I shan't care a fig
+for the ridicule of those who get there by a golden road. There's Lacon
+going to Christchurch at Easter, a gentleman commoner; Parr goes to
+Cambridge, to old Trinity."</p>
+
+<p>"They are the sons of rich men."</p>
+
+<p>"I am not envying them. We have not faced the difficulties of our
+position so long, and made the best of them, for me to begin envying
+others now. Wall's nephew goes up at Easter&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, does he?" interrupted William. "I thought he could not manage it."</p>
+
+<p>"Nor can he manage it in that sense. His father has too large a family
+to help him, and there's no chance of the exhibition. It is promised,
+Keating has announced. The exhibitions in Helstonleigh College don't go
+by right."</p>
+
+<p>"Right or merit, do you mean, Frank?"</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose I mean merit; but the one implies the other. They go by
+neither."</p>
+
+<p>"Or you think that Frank Halliburton would have had it?"</p>
+
+<p>"At any rate, he has not got it. Neither has Wall. Therefore, we have
+made up our minds, he and I, to go to Oxford as servitors."</p>
+
+<p>"All right! Success to you both!"</p>
+
+<p>Frank fell into a reverie. The friend of whom he spoke, Wall, was nephew
+of the under-master of the college school. "Of course I never expected
+to get to college in any other way," continued Frank, taking up the
+tongs and balancing them on his fingers. "If an exhibition did at odd
+moments cross my hopes, I would not dwell upon it. There are fellows in
+the school richer and greater than I. However, the exhibition is <i>gone</i>,
+and there's an end of it. The question now is&mdash;if I do go as a servitor,
+can my mother find the little additional expense necessary to keep me
+there?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I am sure she can: and will," replied William.</p>
+
+<p>"There'll be the expenses of travelling, and sundry other little
+things," went on Frank. "Wall says it will cost each of us about fifteen
+pounds a year. We have dinner and supper free. Of course, I should
+never think of tea, and for breakfast I would take milk and plain bread.
+There'd be living at home between terms&mdash;unless I found something to
+do&mdash;and my clothes."</p>
+
+<p>"It can be managed. Frank, you'll drop those tongs."</p>
+
+<p>"What we shall have to do as servitors neither I nor Wall can precisely
+tell," continued Frank, paying no attention to the warning. "Wall says,
+brushing clothes, and setting tables for meals, and waiting on the other
+students at dinner, will be amongst the refreshing exercises. However it
+may be, my mind is made up <i>to do</i>. If they put me to black shoes, I
+shall only sing over it, and sit down to my studies with a better will
+when the shoes have come to an end."</p>
+
+<p>William smiled. "Blacking shoes will be no new employment to you,
+Frank."</p>
+
+<p>"No. And if ever I catch myself coveting the ease and dignity of the
+lordly hats, I shall just cast my thoughts back again to our early
+privations; to what my mother struggled through for us; and that will
+bring me down again. We owe all to her; and I hope she will owe
+something to us in the shape of comforts before she dies," warmly added
+Frank, the tears rising to his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"It is what I have hoped for years," replied William, in a low tone. "It
+is coming, Frank."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I think I do now see one step before me. You remember papa's
+dream, William?"</p>
+
+<p>William simply bowed his head.</p>
+
+<p>"Lately I have not even seen that step. Between ourselves, I was losing
+some of my hopefulness; and you know that is what I never lost, whatever
+the rest of you may have done."</p>
+
+<p>"We none of us lost hope, Frank. It was hope that enabled us to bear on.
+You were over-sanguine."</p>
+
+<p>"It comes to the same thing. The step I see before me now is to go to
+Oxford as a servitor. To St. John's if I can, for I should like to be
+with Wall. He is a good, plodding fellow, though I don't know that he is
+over-burthened with brains."</p>
+
+<p>"Not with the quick brains of Frank Halliburton."</p>
+
+<p>Frank laughed. "You know Perry, the minor canon? He also went to St.
+John's as a servitor. I shall get him to tell me&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Frank stopped. The tongs had gone down with a clatter.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIB" id="CHAPTER_XVIB"></a>CHAPTER XVI.</h2>
+
+<h3>MRS. DARE'S GOVERNESS.</h3>
+
+
+<p>"There's such a row at our place!" suddenly announced Cyril Dare, at the
+Pomeranian Knoll dinner-table, one Monday evening.</p>
+
+<p>"What about?" asked Mr. Dare.</p>
+
+<p>"Some money's missing. At least, a cheque; which amounts to the same
+thing."</p>
+
+<p>"Not quite the same," dissented Mr. Dare. "Unless it has been cashed."</p>
+
+<p>"I mean the same as regards noise," continued Cyril. "There's as much
+fuss being made over it as if it had been fourteen pounds' weight of
+solid gold. It was a cheque of Dunns'; and the master put it into his
+desk, or says he did so. When he came to look for it, it was gone."</p>
+
+<p>"Who took it?" inquired Mr. Dare.</p>
+
+<p>"Who's to know? That's what we want to find out."</p>
+
+<p>"What was the amount?"</p>
+
+<p>"Fourteen pounds, I say. A paltry sum. Ashley makes a boast, and says
+it's not the amount that bothers him, but the feeling that we must have
+some one false near us."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't speak so slightingly of money," rebuked Mr. Dare. "Fourteen
+pounds are not so easily picked up that it should be pleasant to lose
+them."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sure I don't want to speak slightingly of money," returned Cyril,
+rebelliously. "You keep me too short, sir, for me not to know the full
+value of it. But fourteen pounds cannot be much of a loss to Mr.
+Ashley."</p>
+
+<p>"If I keep you short, you have forced me to it by your
+extravagances&mdash;you and the rest of you," responded Mr. Dare, in short,
+emphatic tones.</p>
+
+<p>An unpleasant pause ensued. When the father of a family intimates that
+his income is diminishing, it is not a welcome announcement. The young
+Dares had been obliged to hear it often lately. Adelaide broke the
+silence.</p>
+
+<p>"How was the cheque taken?"</p>
+
+<p>"It was a cheque brought by Dunns' people on Saturday night, in exchange
+for money, and the master placed it in his open desk in the
+counting-house," explained Cyril. "He went into Lynn's room to watch the
+packing, and was away an hour. When he returned, the cheque was gone."</p>
+
+<p>"Who was in the counting-house?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not a soul except Halliburton. He was there all the time."</p>
+
+<p>"And no one else went in?" cried Mr. Dare.</p>
+
+<p>"No one," replied Cyril, sending up his plate for more meat.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, then, it would look as if Halliburton took it?" exclaimed Mr.
+Dare.</p>
+
+<p>Cyril raised his eyebrows. "No one would venture to suggest as much in
+the hearing of the manufactory. It appears to be impressed with the
+opinion that Halliburton, like kings, can do no wrong."</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Ashley is so?"</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Ashley, and downwards."</p>
+
+<p>"But, Cyril, if the facts are as you state, Halliburton must have been
+the one to take it," objected Mr. Dare. "Possibly the cheque may have
+been only mislaid?"</p>
+
+<p>"The counting-house underwent a thorough search this morning, and every
+corner of the master's desk was turned out, but nothing came of it.
+Halliburton appears to be in a world of surprise as to where it can have
+gone; but he does not seem to glance at the fact that suspicion may
+attach to him."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course Mr. Ashley intends to investigate it officially?" said Mr.
+Dare.</p>
+
+<p>"He does not say," replied Cyril. "He had the two packers before him
+this morning separately, inquiring if they saw any one pass through the
+room to the counting-house on Saturday night. He also questioned me. We
+had none of us seen anything of the sort."</p>
+
+<p>"Where were you at the time, Cyril?" eagerly questioned Mr. Dare.</p>
+
+<p>Knowing what we know, it may seem a pointed question. It was not,
+however, so spoken. Mr. Dare would probably have suspected the whole
+manufactory before casting suspicion upon his son. The thought that
+really crossed his mind was, that if his son <i>had</i> happened to be in the
+way and had seen the thief, whoever he might be, steal into the
+counting-house, so that through him he might be discovered, it would
+have been a feather in Cyril's cap in the sight of Mr. Ashley. And to
+find favour with Mr. Ashley Mr. Dare considered ought to be the ruling
+aim of Cyril's life.</p>
+
+<p>"I was away from it all, as it happened," said Cyril, in reply to the
+question. "Old Lynn nailed me on Saturday to help to pay the men. While
+the cheque was disappearing, I was at the delightful employment of
+counting coppers."</p>
+
+<p>"Did one of the packers get in?"</p>
+
+<p>"Impossible. They were under Mr. Ashley's eye the whole time."</p>
+
+<p>"Look here, Cyril," interrupted Mrs. Dare, the first word she had
+spoken: "is it sure that that yea-and-nay Simon of a Quaker has not
+helped himself to it?"</p>
+
+<p>Cyril burst into a laugh. "He is not a Simon in the manufactory, I can
+tell you, ma'am. He is too much of a martinet."</p>
+
+<p>"Will Mr. Ashley be at the manufactory this evening, Cyril?" questioned
+Mr. Dare.</p>
+
+<p>"You may as well ask me whether the moon will shine," was the response
+of Cyril. "Mr. Ashley comes sometimes in an evening; but we never know
+whether he will or not, beforehand."</p>
+
+<p>"Because he may be glad of legal assistance," remarked Mr. Dare, who
+rarely failed to turn an eye to business.</p>
+
+<p>You may remember the party that formerly sat round Mr. Dare's
+dinner-table on that day, some years ago, when Herbert was pleased to
+fancy that he fared badly, not appreciating the excellences of lamb. Two
+of that party were now absent from it&mdash;Julia Dare and Miss Benyon. Julia
+had married, and had left England with her husband; and Miss Benyon had
+been discarded for a more fashionable governess.</p>
+
+<p>This fashionable governess now sat at the table. She was called
+Mademoiselle Varsini. You must not mistake her for a French woman; she
+was an Italian. She had been a great deal in France, and spoke the
+language as a native&mdash;indeed, it was more easy to her now than her
+childhood's tongue; and French was the language she was required to
+converse in with her pupils, Rosa and Minny Dare. English also she spoke
+fluently, but with a foreign accent.</p>
+
+<p>She was peculiar looking. Her complexion was of pale olive, and her eyes
+were light blue. It is not often that light blue eyes are seen in
+conjunction with so dark a skin. Strange eyes they were&mdash;eyes that
+glistened as if they were made of glass; they had at times a hard,
+glazed appearance. Her black hair was drawn from her face and twisted
+into innumerable rolls at the back of her head. It was smooth and
+beautiful, as if a silken rope had been coiled there. Her lips were thin
+and compressed in a remarkable degree, which may have been supposed to
+indicate firmness of character. Tall, and full across the bust for her
+years, her figure would have been called a fine one. She wore a
+closely-fitting dress of some soft, dark material, with small
+embroidered cuffs and collar.</p>
+
+<p>What were her years? She said twenty-five: but she might be taken for
+either older or younger. It is difficult to guess with certainty the age
+of an Italian woman. As a rule they look much older than English women;
+and, when they do begin to show age, they show it rapidly. Mr. Dare had
+never approved of the engagement of this foreign governess. Mrs. Dare
+had picked her up from an advertisement, and had persisted in engaging
+her, in spite of the written references being in French and that she
+could only read one word in ten of them. Mr. Dare's scruples were solely
+pecuniary. The salary was to be fifty pounds a year; exactly double the
+amount paid to Miss Benyon; and he had great expenses on him now. "What
+did the girls want with a fashionable foreign governess?" he asked. But
+he made no impression upon Mrs. Dare. The lady was engaged, and arrived
+in Helstonleigh: and Mr. Dare had declared, from that hour to this, that
+he could not make her out. He professed to be a great reader of the
+human face, and of human character.</p>
+
+<p>"Has there been any attempt made to cash the cheque?" resumed Mr. Dare
+to Cyril.</p>
+
+<p>"Ashley said nothing about that," replied Cyril. "It was lost after
+banking hours on Saturday night; therefore he would be sure to stop it
+at the bank before Monday morning. It is Ashley's loss; Dunns, of
+course, have nothing to do with it."</p>
+
+<p>"It would be no difficult matter to change it in the town," remarked
+Anthony Dare. "Anyone would cash a cheque of Dunns': it is as good as a
+banknote."</p>
+
+<p>Cyril lifted his shoulders. "The fellow had better not be caught at it,
+though."</p>
+
+<p>"What would be the punishment in Angleterre for such a crime?" spoke up
+the governess.</p>
+
+<p>"Transportation for a longer or a shorter period," replied Mr. Dare.</p>
+
+<p>"What you would phrase <i>aux galères</i> mademoiselle," struck in Herbert.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, ça!" responded mademoiselle.</p>
+
+<p>As they called her "mademoiselle" we must do the same. There had been a
+discussion as to what she was to be called when she first came. <i>Miss</i>
+Varsini was not grand enough. Signora Varsini was not deemed familiar
+enough for daily use. Therefore "mademoiselle" was decided upon. It
+appeared to be all one to mademoiselle herself. She had been accustomed,
+she said, to be called mademoiselle in France.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dare hurried over his dinner and his wine, and rose. He was going to
+find out Mr. Ashley. He was in hopes some professional business might
+arise to him in the investigation of the loss spoken of by Cyril. He was
+not a particularly covetous man, and had never been considered grasping,
+especially in business; but circumstances were rendering him so now. His
+general expenses were enormous&mdash;his sons contrived that their own
+expenses should be enormous; and Mr. Dare sometimes did not know which
+way to turn to meet them. Anthony drained him&mdash;it was Mr. Dare's own
+expression; Herbert drained him; Cyril wanted to drain him; George was
+working on for it. Small odds and ends arising in a lawyer's practice,
+that years ago Mr. Dare would scarcely have cared to trouble himself to
+undertake, were eagerly sought for by him now. He must work to live. It
+was not that his practice was a bad one; it was an excellent practice;
+but, do as Mr. Dare would, his expenses outran it.</p>
+
+<p>He bent his steps to the manufactory. Had Mr. Ashley not been there, Mr.
+Dare would have gone on to his house. But Mr. Ashley was there. They
+were shut into the private room, and Mr. Ashley gave the particulars of
+the loss, more in detail than Cyril had given them.</p>
+
+<p>"There is only one opinion to be formed," observed Mr. Dare. "Young
+Halliburton was the thief. The cheque could not go of itself; and no one
+else appears to have been near it."</p>
+
+<p>In urging the case against William, Mr. Dare was influenced by no covert
+motive. He drew his inferences from the circumstances related to him,
+and spoke in accordance with them. The resentment he had once felt
+against the Halliburtons for coming to Helstonleigh (though the
+resentment was on Mrs. Dare's part rather than on his) had long since
+died away. They did not cross his path or he theirs; they did not
+presume upon the relationship; had not, so far as Mr. Dare knew, made it
+known abroad; therefore they were quite welcome to be in Helstonleigh
+for Mr. Dare. To do Mr. Dare justice, he was rather kindly disposed
+towards his fellow-creatures, unless self-interest carried him the other
+way. Cyril often amused himself at home by abusing William Halliburton:
+they were tolerable friends and companions when together, but Cyril
+could not overcome his feeling of dislike; a feeling to which jealousy
+was now added, for William found more favour with Mr. Ashley than he
+did. Cyril gave vent to his anger in explosions at home, and William was
+not spared in them: but Mr. Dare had learnt what his son's prejudices
+were worth.</p>
+
+<p>"It must have been Halliburton," repeated Mr. Dare.</p>
+
+<p>"No," replied Mr. Ashley. "There are four persons, of all those who were
+in my manufactory on Saturday night, for whom I will answer as
+confidently as I would for myself. James Meeking and George Dance are
+two. I believe them both to be honest as the day; and if additional
+confirmation that it was not they were necessary, neither of them
+stirred from beneath my own eye during the possible time of the loss.
+The other two are Samuel Lynn and William Halliburton. Samuel Lynn is
+above suspicion; and I have watched William grow up from boyhood&mdash;always
+upright, truthful and honourable; but more truthful, more honourable,
+year by year, as the years have passed."</p>
+
+<p>"I dare say he is," acquiesced Mr. Dare. "Indeed, I like his look
+myself. There's something unusually frank about it. Of course you will
+have it officially investigated? I came down to offer you my services in
+the matter."</p>
+
+<p>"You are very good," was the reply of Mr. Ashley. "Before entering
+farther into the affair, I must be fully convinced that the cheque's
+disappearance was not caused by myself. I&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"By yourself?" interrupted Mr. Dare, in surprise.</p>
+
+<p>"I do not <i>think</i> it was, mind; but there is a chance of it. I remember
+tearing up a paper or two after I received the cheque, and putting the
+pieces, as I believe, into the waste-paper basket. But I won't answer
+for it that I did not put them into the fire instead, as I passed it on
+my way to Mr. Lynn's room to call over the parcels bill."</p>
+
+<p>"But you would not tear up the cheque?" cried Mr. Dare.</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly not, intentionally. If I did it through carelessness, all I
+can say is, I have been <i>very</i> careless. No; I shall not stir in this
+matter for a day or two."</p>
+
+<p>"But why wait?" asked Mr. Dare.</p>
+
+<p>"If the cheque was stolen, it was probably changed somewhere in the town
+that same night; and this will soon be known. I shall wait."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dare could not bring Mr. Ashley to a more business-like frame of
+mind. He left the manufactory, and went straight to the police-station,
+there to hold an interview with Mr. Sergeant Delves, a popular officer,
+with whom Mr. Dare had had dealings before. He stated the case to him,
+and desired Mr. Delves to ferret out what he could.</p>
+
+<p>"Privately, you know, Delves," said he, winking at the sergeant, whom he
+held by the shoulder. "There's no doubt, in my opinion, that the cheque
+was changed that same night&mdash;probably at a public-house. Go to work <i>sub
+rosâ</i>&mdash;you understand; and any information you may obtain bring quietly
+to me. Don't take it to Mr. Ashley."</p>
+
+<p>"I understand," replied Sergeant Delves, a portly man with a padded
+breast and a red face, who, in his official costume, always looked as if
+he were choking. "I'll see to it."</p>
+
+<p>And he did so; and very effectively.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIIB" id="CHAPTER_XVIIB"></a>CHAPTER XVII.</h2>
+
+<h3>TAKING AN ITALIAN LESSON.</h3>
+
+
+<p>But the evening is not yet over at Pomeranian Knoll.</p>
+
+<p>The dinner-table had broken up. Anthony Dare left the house soon after
+his father. Mrs. Dare turned to the fire for her after-dinner nap: the
+young ladies, Adelaide excepted, proceeded to the drawing-room. Adelaide
+Dare was thinner than formerly; and there was a worn, restless look upon
+her face, that told of care or of disappointment. She remained in her
+seat at the dessert-table, and, fencing herself round with a newspaper,
+lest Mrs. Dare's eyes should open, took a letter from her pocket and
+spread it on the table.</p>
+
+<p>Viscount Hawkesley had never come forward to make her the Viscountess;
+but he had not given up his visits to Pomeranian Knoll, and Adelaide had
+never ceased hoping. It was one of his letters that she was poring over
+now. Two or three years ago she might have married well. A clergyman had
+desired to make her his wife. Adelaide declined. She had possibly her
+own private reasons for believing in the good faith of Lord Hawkesley.
+Adelaide Dare was not the first who has thrown away the substance to
+grasp the shadow.</p>
+
+<p>Mademoiselle Varsini, on leaving the dinner-table, had gone up to the
+school-room. There she stirred the fire into a blaze, sat down in a
+chair, and bent her head in what seemed to be an attitude of listening.</p>
+
+<p>She did not listen in vain. Soon, stealthy footsteps were heard
+ascending the stairs, and a streak of vermilion flashed into her olive
+cheek, and she pressed her hand upon her bosom, as if to still its
+beating. "<i>Que je suis bête!</i>" she murmured. French was far more
+familiar to her than her native tongue.</p>
+
+<p>The footsteps proved to be those of Herbert Dare. A tall, handsome man
+now, better-looking than Anthony. He, Herbert, would have been very
+handsome indeed, but that his features were spoiled by the free
+expression they had worn in his youth&mdash;free as that which characterised
+the face of Mr. Dare. He was coming in to pay a visit to the governess.
+He paid her a good many visits: possibly thought it polite to do so.
+Some gentlemen are polite, and some are the contrary; some take every
+opportunity of improving their minds; some don't care whether they
+improve them or not. Herbert Dare we should place amidst the former: a
+thirst for foreign languages must, undoubtedly, be reckoned one of the
+desires for improvement. Minny Dare had one evening broken in upon a
+visit her brother was paying to mademoiselle, and she (very
+impertinently, it must be owned) inquired what he was doing there.
+"Taking an Italian lesson," Herbert answered, and he did not want Minny
+to bother him over it. Minny made a wry face at the books spread out
+between Herbert and mademoiselle, seated opposite each other at either
+end of the table, and withdrew with all speed lest the governess should
+press her to share in it. Minny did not like Italian lessons as much as
+Herbert appeared to do.</p>
+
+<p>He came in with quiet footsteps, and the first thing he did was to&mdash;lock
+the door. The action may have been intended as a quiet reproof to Miss
+Minny: if so, it is a pity she was not there to profit by it.</p>
+
+<p>"Have they asked for me in the salon?" began the governess.</p>
+
+<p>"Not they," replied Herbert. "They are too much occupied with their own
+concerns."</p>
+
+<p>"Herbert, why were you not here on Saturday night?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"On Saturday night? Oh&mdash;I remember. I had to go out to keep an
+engagement."</p>
+
+<p>"You might have spoken to me first, then," she answered resentfully.
+"Just one little word. I did come up here, and I waited&mdash;I waited! After
+the tea I came up, and I waited again. Ah! quelle patience!"</p>
+
+<p>"Waited to give me my Italian lesson?"</p>
+
+<p>Herbert Dare spoke in a voice of laughing raillery. The Italian girl did
+not seem inclined to laugh. She stood on one side the fire, and its
+blaze&mdash;it was the only light in the room&mdash;flickered on her compressed
+lips. More compressed than ever were they to-night.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, what's the use of turning cross, Bianca?" continued Herbert, still
+laughing. "You are as exacting as if I paid you a guinea a lesson, and
+went upon a system of 'no lesson, no pay.' If&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Bah!" interrupted mademoiselle angrily: and it certainly was not
+respectful of Herbert, as pupil, to call her by her Christian name&mdash;if
+it was that which angered her. "I am getting nearly tired of it all."</p>
+
+<p>"Tired of me! You might have a worse pupil&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Will you be quiet, then!" cried she, stamping her foot. "I am not
+inclined for folly to-night. You shall not say again you are coming
+here, if you don't come, mind, as you did on Saturday night."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I had an engagement, and I went straight off from the
+dinner-table to keep it," answered Herbert, becoming serious. "Upon my
+word of honour it was not my fault, Bianca; it was a business
+engagement. I had not time to come here before I went."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you might have come when you returned," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"Scarcely," replied he. "I was not home till two in the morning."</p>
+
+<p>Bianca Varsini lifted her strange eyes to his. "Why tell me that?" she
+asked, her voice changing to one of mournful complaint. "I know you went
+out from dinner&mdash;I watched you out; and I saw you when you went out
+again. It was past ten. I saw you with my own eyes."</p>
+
+<p>"You must have good eyes, Bianca. I went out from the dinner-table&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Not then&mdash;not then; I speak not of then," she vehemently interrupted.
+"You might have come here before you went out the second time."</p>
+
+<p>"I declare I don't know what you mean," he said, staring at her. "I did
+not come in until two in the morning. It was past two."</p>
+
+<p>"But I saw you," she persisted. "It was moonlight, and I saw you cross
+the lawn from the dining-room window, and go out. I was at this window,
+and I watched you go in the direction of the gate. It was long past
+ten."</p>
+
+<p>"Bianca, you were dreaming! I was not near the house."</p>
+
+<p>Again she stamped her foot. "<i>Why</i> you deceive me? Would I say I saw you
+if I did not?"</p>
+
+<p>Herbert had once seen Bianca Varsini in a passion. He did not care to
+see her in one again. When he said that he had not come near the house,
+from the time of his leaving it on rising from dinner, until two in the
+morning, he had spoken the strict truth. What the Italian girl was
+driving at, he could not imagine: but he deemed it as well to drop the
+subject.</p>
+
+<p>"You are a folle, Bianca, as you often call yourself," said he
+jestingly, taking her hands. "You go into a temper for nothing. I'd get
+rid of that haste, if I were you."</p>
+
+<p>"It was my mother's temper," she answered, drawing her hands away and
+letting them fall by her side. "Do you know what she once did! She spit
+in the face of the Archevêque of Paris!"</p>
+
+<p>"She was a lady!" cried Herbert ironically. "How was that?"</p>
+
+<p>"He offended her. He was passing her in procession at the <i>Fête Dieu</i>,
+and he said something reproachful to her, and it put her in a temper,
+and she spit at him! She could do worse than that if she liked! She
+could have died for those who were kind to her; but let them offend
+her&mdash;je les en fais mes compliments!"</p>
+
+<p>"I say, mademoiselle, who was your mother?"</p>
+
+<p>"Never you mind! She was on the stage; not what you English call good.
+But she was good to me; and she wished me to be what she was not. When I
+was twelve she put me into a convent. La maudite place!"</p>
+
+<p>Herbert laughed. He knew enough of French to understand the expression.</p>
+
+<p>"It was maudite to me. I must not dance; I must not sing; I must not
+have my liberty to do the simplest thing on earth. I must be up in the
+morning to prayers; and then at my lessons all day; and then at prayers
+again. I did pray. I did pray to the Virgin to take me from it. I nearly
+prayed my heart out&mdash;and she never heard me! I had been there a
+year&mdash;figure to yourself, a year!&mdash;when my mother came to see me. She
+had been back in Italy. 'Take me away,' I said to her, 'before I die!'
+'No, Bianca mia,' she answered, 'I leave you here that you may not die;
+that your life may be happier than mine is, for mine is the vraie
+misère.' I not tell you in Italian, as she spoke, for you not understand
+it," rapidly interrupted mademoiselle. "My mother, she continued to me:
+'When you are instructed, you shall become a gouvernante in a family of
+the noblesse; you shall consort with the princes without shame; and
+perhaps you will make a good parti in marriage. Though you have no
+fortune, you will be accomplished; you will have the manière and the
+tournure; you will be belle.' Do you think me belle?" she abruptly broke
+off again.</p>
+
+<p>"Enchanting!" answered Herbert. "Have I not told you so five hundred
+times?"</p>
+
+<p>She stole a glance at the little old-fashioned oval glass which hung
+over the mantel-piece, and then went on.</p>
+
+<p>"My mother would not take me out. Though I lay on the flagstones of the
+visitors' parlour, though I wept for it, she would not take me out. 'It
+is for your good, Bianca mia,' she said. And I remained there seven
+years. Seven years! Do you figure it?"</p>
+
+<p>"But I suppose you grew reconciled?"</p>
+
+<p>"We grow reconciled to the worst in time," she answered, dreamily gazing
+into the fire with her strange eyes. "I pressed down my despair into
+myself at first, and I looked out for the opportunity to run away. We
+were as closely kept as the nuns in their cells, in their barred rooms,
+in their grated chapel; but, sooner than not have had my will and get
+away, I would have set the place on fire!"</p>
+
+<p>"I say, mademoiselle, don't you talk treason!" cried Herbert, laughing.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think I would not?" she answered, turning to him, a gleaming
+look in her eyes. "But I had to wait for the opportunity to escape; and,
+while I waited, news came that my mother had died. She caught cold one
+night when she was in her evening robe, and it settled in her throat,
+and formed a dépôt, and she died. And so it was all over with my escape!
+My mother gone, I had nowhere to fly to. And I stopped in that enfer
+seven years."</p>
+
+<p>"You are complimentary to convents, Bianca. Maudite in one breath, enfer
+in another!"</p>
+
+<p>"They are all that, and worse!" intemperately responded the Italian
+girl. "They are&mdash;mais n'importe; c'est fini pour moi. I had to beat down
+my heart then, and stop in one. Ah! I know not how I did it. I look back
+and wonder. Seven years!"</p>
+
+<p>"But who paid for you all that time?"</p>
+
+<p>"My mother was not poor. She had enough for that. She made the
+arrangements with a priest when she was dying, and paid the money to
+him. The convent educated me, and dressed me, and made me hard. Their
+cold rules beat down my rebellious heart; beat it down to hardness. I
+should not have been so hard but for that convent!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, you are hard, then?" was the remark of Herbert Dare.</p>
+
+<p>"I can be!" nodded Mademoiselle Varsini. "Better not cross <i>me</i>!"</p>
+
+<p>"And how did you get out of the convent?"</p>
+
+<p>"When I was nineteen, they sent me out into a situation, to teach music
+and my own language, and French and English. They taught well in the
+convent: I could speak English then as readily as I speak it now: and
+they gave me a box of clothes and four five-franc pieces, saying that
+was the last of my mother's effects. What cared I? Had they turned me
+out penniless, I should have jumped to go. I served in that first
+situation two years. It was easy, and it was good pay."</p>
+
+<p>"French people?"</p>
+
+<p>"But certainly: Parisians. It was not more than one mile from the
+convent. There was but one little pupil."</p>
+
+<p>"Why did you leave?"</p>
+
+<p>"I was put into a passion one day, and madame said after that she was
+frightened to keep me. Ah! I have had adventures, I can tell you. In the
+next place I did not stay three months; the ennui came to me, and I left
+it for another that I found; and the other one I liked&mdash;I had my
+liberty. I should have stayed in that, but one came and turned me out of
+it."</p>
+
+<p>"A fresh governess?"</p>
+
+<p>"No; a man. A hideous. He was madame's brother, and he was wrinkled and
+yellow, and his long skinny fingers were like claws. He wanted me to
+marry him; he said he was rich. Sell myself to that monster?
+No!&mdash;continue a governess, rather. One evening madame and my two pupils
+had gone to the Odéon, and he came to the little étude where I sat. He
+locked the door, and said he would not unlock it till I gave him a
+promise to be his wife. I stormed, and I stormed: he tried to take my
+hand, the imbécile! He laughed at me, and said I was caged&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Why did you not ring the bell?" interrupted Herbert.</p>
+
+<p>"Bon! Do we have bells in every room in the old Parisian houses? I would
+have pulled open the window, but he stood against the fastening,
+laughing still; so I dashed my hand through a pane, and the glass
+clattered down to the court below, and the servants came out to look up.
+'I cannot undo the étude door,' I called to them; 'come and break it
+open!' So that hideous undid it then, and the servants got some water
+and bathed my hand. 'But why need the signora have put her hand through
+the glass? Why not have opened the window?' said one. 'What is that to
+you?' I said. 'You will not have to pay for it. Bind my hand up.' They
+wrapped it in a handkerchief, and I put on my bonnet and cloak, and went
+out. Madeleine&mdash;she was the cook, and a good old soul&mdash;saw me. 'But
+where is the signorina going so late as this?' she asked. 'Where should
+I be going, but to the pharmacien's?' I answered; and I went my way."</p>
+
+<p>"We say chemist's in England," observed Herbert. "Did he find your hand
+much damaged?"</p>
+
+<p>"I did not go there. Think you I made attention to my hand? I went to
+the&mdash;what you call it?&mdash;cutler's shops, through the Rue Montmartre, and
+I bought a two-edged stiletto. It was that long"&mdash;pointing from her
+wrist to the end of her finger&mdash;"besides the handle. I showed it to that
+hideous the next day. 'You come to the room where I sit again,' I said
+to him, 'and you will see.' He told madame his sister, and she said I
+must leave."</p>
+
+<p>Herbert Dare looked at her&mdash;at her pale face, which had gone white in
+the telling, her glistening, stony eyes, her drawn lips. "You would not
+have dared to use the stiletto, though!" he cried, in some wonder.</p>
+
+<p>"I not dare! You do not know me. When I am roused, there's not a thing I
+would not dare to do. I am not ruffled at trifles: things that excite
+others do not trouble me. 'Bah! What matter trifles?' I say. My mother
+always told me to let the evil spirit lie torpid within me, or I should
+not die in my bed."</p>
+
+<p>"I say," cried Herbert, half mockingly, "what religion do you call
+yourself?"</p>
+
+<p>She took the question literally. "I am a Catholic or Protestant as is
+agreeable to my places," was the very candid answer. "I am not a
+dévote&mdash;a saint. Where's the use of it?"</p>
+
+<p>"That is why you generally have those violent headaches on Sunday," said
+Herbert Dare, laughing. "You ought&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>There was an interruption. Rosa Dare's footsteps were heard on the
+stairs, and they halted at the door.</p>
+
+<p>"Mademoiselle!" she called out.</p>
+
+<p>Mademoiselle did not answer. Herbert Dare flung his handkerchief over
+the handle of the door in a manner that hid the key-hole. Rosa Dare
+tried the door, found it fastened, and went off grumbling.</p>
+
+<p>"It's my belief mademoiselle locks herself in there to get a nap after
+dinner, as mamma does in the dining-room!"</p>
+
+<p>She was heard to enter the drawing-room and slam the door. Herbert
+softly opened that of the school-room, and went down after his sister.</p>
+
+<p>"I say, Herbert," cried Rosa, when he entered, "have you seen anything
+of mademoiselle?"</p>
+
+<p>"I!" responded Herbert. "Do you think I keep mademoiselle in my pocket?"</p>
+
+<p>"She goes and locks herself up in the school-room after dinner, and I
+can't think what she does there, or what she can be at," retorted Rosa.</p>
+
+<p>"At her devotions, perhaps," suggested Herbert.</p>
+
+<p>The words did not please Mrs. Dare, who had then joined the circle.
+"Herbert, I will not have Mademoiselle Varsini ridiculed," she said
+quite sternly. "She is a most efficient instructress for Rosa and Minny,
+and we must be careful not to give her offence, or she might leave."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sure I have heard of foreign women telling their beads till
+cock-crowing," persisted Herbert.</p>
+
+<p>"Those are Roman Catholics. A Protestant, as is Mademoiselle
+Varsini&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Dare's angry words were cut short by the appearance of Mademoiselle
+Varsini herself. She, the governess, turned to Rosa. "What did you want
+just now when you came to the school-room door?"</p>
+
+<p>"I wanted you here to show me that filet stitch," answered Rosa, slight
+impertinence peeping out in her tone. "And I don't see why you should
+not answer when I knock, mademoiselle."</p>
+
+<p>"It may not always suit me to answer," was the calm reply of the
+governess. "My time is my own after dinner; and Madame Dare will agree
+with me that a governess should hold full control over her school-room."</p>
+
+<p>"You are perfectly right, mademoiselle," acquiesced Mrs. Dare.</p>
+
+<p>Mademoiselle went to the piano and dashed off a symphony. She was a
+brilliant player. Herbert, looking at his watch, and finding it later
+than he thought, hurried from the house.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIIIB" id="CHAPTER_XVIIIB"></a>CHAPTER XVIII.</h2>
+
+<h3>A VISION IN HONEY FAIR.</h3>
+
+
+<p>The surmise that the missing cheque had been changed into good money on
+the Saturday night, proved to be correct. White, the butcher at the
+corner of the shambles, had given change for it, and locked up the
+cheque in the cash-box. Had he paid it into the bank on Monday, he would
+have found what it was worth. But he did not do so. Mr. White was a fat
+man with a good-humoured countenance and black hair. Sergeant Delves
+proceeded to his house some time on the Tuesday.</p>
+
+<p>"I hear you cashed a cheque of the Messrs. Dunn on Saturday night,"
+began he. "Who brought it to you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, what about that cheque?" returned the butcher. "One of your men has
+been in here, asking a lot of questions."</p>
+
+<p>"A good deal about it," said the sergeant. "It was stolen from Mr.
+Ashley."</p>
+
+<p>"Stolen from Mr. Ashley!" echoed the butcher, staring at Sergeant
+Delves.</p>
+
+<p>"Stolen out of his desk. And you stand a nice chance, White, of losing
+the money. You should be more cautious. Who was it brought it here?"</p>
+
+<p>"A gentleman. A respectable man, at any rate. Who says it's stolen?"</p>
+
+<p>"I do," replied the sergeant, sitting himself down on the
+meat-block&mdash;rather a damp seat from its just having been washed with hot
+water. Delves liked to make himself familiar with his old friends in
+Helstonleigh in a patronising manner; it was only lately he had been
+promoted to sergeant. "Now! let's have the particulars, White."</p>
+
+<p>"I had just shut up my shop, all but the door, when in come a gentleman
+in a cloak and cap. 'Could you oblige the Messrs. Dunn with change for a
+cheque, Mr. White?' says he, handing a cheque to me. 'Yes, sir,' said I,
+'I can; very happy to oblige 'em. Would you like it in gold?' Well, he
+said he would like it in gold, and I gave it to him. 'Thank ye,' said
+he; 'I'd have got it nearer if I could, for I'm troubled to death with
+tooth-ache; but people are shut up:' and I noticed that he had kept his
+white handkerchief up to his mouth and nose. He went out with the gold,
+and I put up the cheque. And that's all I know about it, Delves."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you know who it was?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I don't. He had a cap on, with the ears coming down his cheeks;
+and, what with that, and the peak over his eyes, and the white
+handkerchief held up to his nose, I didn't so much as get a sight of his
+face. The shop was pretty near dark, too, for the gas was out. There was
+only a candle at the pay window."</p>
+
+<p>"If a man came in disguised like that, asking to have a cheque changed
+into gold, it might have occurred to some tradesmen there'd be something
+wrong about it," cried the sergeant.</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't know he was disguised," objected the butcher. "I saw it was a
+good cheque of the Messrs. Dunn, and I never gave a thought to anything
+else. I've had their cheques before to-day. Mr. William Dunn has dealt
+here this twenty year. But now that it's put into my head, I begin to
+think he <i>was</i> disguised," continued the butcher. "His voice was odd,
+thick and low, and he spoke as if he had plums in his mouth."</p>
+
+<p>"Should you know him again?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ay. That is if he came in dressed as he was then. I'd know the cloak
+out of a hundred. It was one of them old-fashioned plaid rockelows."</p>
+
+<p>"Roquelaures," corrected the sergeant.</p>
+
+<p>"Something of that. The collar was lined with red, with a little edge of
+fur on it. There's a few such shaped cloaks in the town now, made of
+blue serge or cloth."</p>
+
+<p>"What time was it?" asked the sergeant.</p>
+
+<p>"Just eleven. I was shutting up."</p>
+
+<p>Sergeant Delves took possession of the cheque and proceeded to the
+office of Mr. Dare. A long conference ensued, and then they went out
+together towards Mr. Ashley's manufactory. On the road they happened to
+meet Cyril, and Mr. Dare drew him aside.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you happen to know any one who wears an old-fashioned plaid cloak?"
+he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Halliburton wears one," replied Cyril: "the greatest object of a thing
+you ever saw. I say," continued Cyril, "what's old Delves doing with
+you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not much," carelessly said Mr. Dare. "He has been looking after a
+little private business for me."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, is that all?" and Cyril, feeling reassured, tore off on the errand
+he was bound for. For reasons best known to himself, it would not have
+pleased him that Sergeant Delves should be pressed into the affair of
+the cheque. At least, Cyril would have preferred that the matter should
+be allowed to rest.</p>
+
+<p>He executed his commission, one that he had been charged with by Samuel
+Lynn, turned back, passed the manufactory, and took his way to Honey
+Fair on a little matter of his own. It was only the purchase of a
+dog&mdash;not to make a mystery of it. A dog that had taken Cyril's fancy,
+and for which he and the owner had not yet been able to come to terms.
+So he was going up again to try his powers of persuasion.</p>
+
+<p>As he walked rapidly through Honey Fair, he saw a little bit of by-play
+on the opposite side. A young woman in a tattered gown, and a dirty
+bonnet drawn over her face, was walking along as rapidly as he. Her bent
+head, her humble attitude, her shrinking air, her haste to get out of
+sight of others, all betrayed that she, from some cause or other, was
+not in good odour with the world around. That she felt herself under a
+cloud, was only too apparent: it was a cloud of humiliation, for which
+she had only herself to thank. The women who met her hurried past with a
+toss of the head and then stood to peep after her as she disappeared in
+the distance.</p>
+
+<p><i>She</i> hurried&mdash;hurried past them&mdash;glad, it seemed, to be away from their
+stern looks and condemning eyes. Had you seen her, you would never have
+recognised her. In the dim eye, darker than of yore, the white cheek,
+the wasted form, no likeness remained of the once-blooming Caroline
+Mason.</p>
+
+<p>Just as she passed opposite to Cyril, Eliza Tyrrett came out of a house
+and met her; and Eliza, picking up her skirts, lest they should become
+contaminated, swept past with a sidelong glance of reproach and a
+scornful gesture. Caroline's head only bent the lower as she glided away
+from her old companion.</p>
+
+<p>It had been just as well that Charlotte East had not sent back that
+bundle, years ago, to surprise Anthony Dare. It was years now since
+Charlotte herself had come to the same conclusion.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIXB" id="CHAPTER_XIXB"></a>CHAPTER XIX.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE DUPLICATE CLOAKS.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Leaning back against the corner of the mantel-piece by the side of the
+blazing fire in his private room, calmly surveying those ranged before
+him, and listening to their tale with an impassive face, was Thomas
+Ashley. Sergeant Delves and Mr. Dare were giving him the account of the
+changing of the cheque, obtained from White the butcher. Samuel Lynn
+stood near the master's desk, his brow knit in perplexity, his
+countenance keen and anxious. The description of the cloak, tallying so
+exactly with the one worn by William Halliburton, led Mr. Dare to the
+conclusion, nay, to the positive conviction that the butcher's visitor
+could have been no other than William. The sergeant held the same view;
+but the sergeant adopted it with difficulty.</p>
+
+<p>"It's an odd thing for <i>him</i> to turn thief," said he, reflectively. "I'd
+have trusted that young fellow, sir, with untold gold," he added, to Mr.
+Ashley. "Here's another proof how we may be deceived."</p>
+
+<p>"I told you," said Mr. Dare, turning to Mr. Ashley, "that it could be no
+other than Halliburton."</p>
+
+<p>"Thee will permit me to say, friend Dare, that I do not agree with thy
+deductions," interposed the Quaker, before Mr. Ashley could answer.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, what would you have?" returned Mr. Dare. "Nothing can be plainer.
+Ask Sergeant Delves if he thinks further proof can be needed."</p>
+
+<p>"Many a man has been hanged upon less," was the oracular answer of
+Sergeant Delves.</p>
+
+<p>"What part of my deductions do you object to?" inquired Mr. Dare of the
+Quaker.</p>
+
+<p>"Thee art assuming&mdash;if I understand thee correctly&mdash;that there is no
+other cloak in the city so similar to William's as to be mistaken for
+it."</p>
+
+<p>"Just so."</p>
+
+<p>"Then, friend, I tell thee that there is."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dare opened his eyes. "Who wears it?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"That is another question," said Samuel Lynn. "I should be glad to find
+out myself, for curiosity's sake."</p>
+
+<p>Then Mr. Lynn told the story of his having observed a man, whom he had
+taken for William, walking at the back of his house, apparently waiting
+for something. "I saw him on two evenings," he observed, "at some
+considerable interval of time. The figure bore a perfect resemblance to
+William Halliburton; the height, the cloak, the cap&mdash;all appeared to be
+his. I taxed him with it. He denied it <i>in toto</i>, said he had not been
+walking there at all, and I believed he was attempting, for the first
+time since I have known him, to deceive me. I&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Are you sure he was not?" put in Mr. Dare.</p>
+
+<p>"Thee should allow me to finish, friend. Last night I was home somewhat
+earlier than usual&mdash;thee can recollect why," the Quaker added, looking
+at Mr. Ashley. "I was up in my room, and I saw the same figure pacing
+about in precisely the same manner. William's denial had staggered me,
+otherwise I could have been ready to affirm that it was himself and no
+other. The moon was not up; but it was a very light night, and I marked
+every point in the cloak&mdash;it was as like William's as two peas are like
+each other. What he could want, pacing at the back of my house and of
+his, puzzled me much. I&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"What time was this, Mr. Lynn?" interrupted the sergeant.</p>
+
+<p>"Past eight o'clock. Later than the hour at which I had seen him on the
+two previous occasions. 'It is William Halliburton, of a surety,' I said
+to myself; and I thought I would pounce upon him, and so convict him of
+the falsehood he had told. I left my house by the front door, went down
+the road, past the houses, and entered the gate admitting into the
+field. I walked up quietly, keeping under the hedge as much as possible,
+and approached William&mdash;as I deemed him to be. He was then standing
+still, and gazing at the upper windows of my house. In spite of my
+caution, he heard me, and turned round. Whether he knew me or not, I
+cannot say; but he clipped the cloak around him with a hasty movement,
+and made off right across the field. I would not be balked if I could
+help it. I opened friend Jane Halliburton's back gate, and proceeded
+through the garden and house to the parlour, which I entered without
+ceremony. There sat William at his books."</p>
+
+<p>"Then it was not he, after all!" cried Mr. Dare, interested in the tale.</p>
+
+
+<p>"Of a surety it was not he. I tell thee, friend, he was seated quietly
+at his studies. 'Hast thee lent thy cloak to a friend to-night?' I asked
+him. He looked surprised, and said he had not. But, to be convinced, I
+requested to see his cloak, and he took me outside the door, and there
+was the cloak hanging up in the passage, his cap beside it. That is why
+I did not approve of thy deductions, friend Anthony Dare, in assuming
+that the cloak, which the man had on who changed the cheque, must be
+William Halliburton's," concluded Mr. Lynn.</p>
+
+<p>"You say the man looked like William when you were close to him?"
+inquired Mr. Ashley, who thought the whole affair very curious, and now
+broke silence for the first time.</p>
+
+<p>"Very much like him," answered Samuel Lynn. "But the resemblance may
+have been only in the cloak and cap. The face was not discernible; by
+accident or design, it was concealed. I think there need not be better
+negative proof that it was not William who changed the cheque."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Ashley smiled. "Without this evidence of Mr. Lynn's I could have
+told you it was waste of time to cast suspicion on William Halliburton
+to me," said he, addressing the sergeant and Mr. Dare. "Were you to come
+here and accuse myself, it would make just as much impression upon me.
+Wait an instant, gentlemen."</p>
+
+<p>He went to the door, opened it, and called William. The latter came in,
+erect, courteous, noble&mdash;never suspecting the sergeant's business there
+could have anything to do with him.</p>
+
+<p>"William," began his master, "who is it that wears a similar cloak to
+yours, in the town?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am unable to say, sir," was William's ready reply. "Until last
+night," and he turned to Samuel Lynn with a smile, "I should have said
+there was not another like it. I suppose now there must be one."</p>
+
+<p>"If there is one, there may be more," remarked Mr. Ashley. "The fact is,
+William, the cheque has been traced. It was changed at White's, the
+butcher; and the person changing it wore a cloak, it seems, very much
+like yours."</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed!" cried William, with animation. "Well, sir, of course there may
+be many such cloaks in the town. All I can say is, I have not seen
+them."</p>
+
+<p>"There can't be many," spoke up the sergeant, "if it be the
+old-fashioned sort of thing described to me."</p>
+
+<p>William looked the sergeant full in the face with his open countenance,
+his honest eyes. No guilt there. "Would you like to see my cloak?" he
+asked. "It may be a guide, if you think the one worn resembled it."</p>
+
+<p>The sergeant nodded. "I was going to ask you to bring it in, if it was
+here."</p>
+
+<p>William brought it in. "It is one of the bygones," said he laughing. "I
+have some thoughts of forwarding it to the British Museum, as a specimen
+of antiquity. Stay! I will put it on, that you may see its beauties the
+better."</p>
+
+<p>He threw the cloak over his shoulders, and exhibited himself off, as he
+had done once before in that counting-house for the benefit of Samuel
+Lynn. "I think the British Museum will get it," he continued, in the
+same joking spirit. "Not until winter's over, though. It is a good
+friend on a cold night."</p>
+
+<p>Sergeant Delves' eyes were riveted on the cloak. "Where have I seen that
+cloak?" he mused, in a dreamy tone. "Lately, too!"</p>
+
+<p>"You may have seen me in it," said William.</p>
+
+<p>The sergeant shook his head. He lifted one hand to his temples, and
+proceeded to rub them gently, as if the process would assist his memory,
+never once relaxing his gaze.</p>
+
+<p>"Did White say the changer of the cheque was a tall man?" asked Mr.
+Ashley.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Mr. Dare. "Whether he meant as tall as William Halliburton,
+I cannot say. There are not&mdash;why, I should think there are not a hundred
+men in the town who come up to that height," he added, looking at
+William.</p>
+
+<p>"Yourself one of them," said William, turning to him with a smile.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dare shook his head, a regret for his past youth crossing his heart.
+"Ay, once. I am beginning to grow downward now."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Ashley was buried in reflection. There was a curious sound of
+mystery about the tale altogether, to his ears. That there were many
+thieves in Helstonleigh, he did not doubt&mdash;people who would appropriate
+a cheque, or anything else that came in their way; but why the same
+person&mdash;if it was the same&mdash;should pace the cold field at night,
+watching Samuel Lynn's house, was inexplicable. "It may not be the
+same," he observed aloud. "Shall you watch for the man again?" he asked
+of Mr. Lynn.</p>
+
+<p>"I shall not give myself much trouble over it now," was the reply.
+"While I was concerned to ascertain William's truthfulness&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I scarcely think you need have doubted it, Mr. Lynn," interrupted
+William.</p>
+
+<p>"True. I have never doubted thee yet. But it appeared to be thy word
+against the sight of my own eyes. The master will understand&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>A most extraordinary interruption came from Sergeant Delves. He threw up
+his head with a start, and gave vent to a shrill, prolonged whistle. "It
+looks dark!" cried he.</p>
+
+<p>"What didst thee say, friend Delves?"</p>
+
+<p>"I beg pardon, gentlemen," answered the sergeant. "I was not speaking to
+any of you; I was following up the bent of mine own thoughts. It
+suddenly flashed into my mind who it is that I have seen in one of these
+cloaks."</p>
+
+<p>"And who is it?" asked Mr. Dare.</p>
+
+<p>"You must excuse me, sir, if I keep that to myself," was the answer.</p>
+
+<p>"As tall a man as William Halliburton?"</p>
+
+<p>The sergeant ran his eyes up and down William's figure. "A shade taller,
+I should say, if anything."</p>
+
+<p>"And it struck me that the man who made off across the field was a shade
+taller," observed Samuel Lynn.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I can't make sense of it," resumed Mr. Dare, breaking a pause.
+"Let us allow, if you like, that there are fifty such cloaks in the
+town. Unless one, wearing such, had access to Mr. Ashley's
+counting-house, to this very room that we are now in, how does the fact
+of there being others remove the suspicion from William Halliburton?"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dare had not intended wilfully to cause him pain. He had forgotten
+for the moment that William was a stranger to the doubt raised touching
+himself. Amidst the deep silence that ensued, William looked from one to
+the other.</p>
+
+<p>"Who suspects me?" he asked, surprise the only emotion in his tone.</p>
+
+<p>Sergeant Delves tapped him significantly on the shoulder. "Never you
+trouble yourself, young sir. If what has come into my mind be right, it
+isn't <i>you</i> who are guilty."</p>
+
+<p>When he and Mr. Dare went out, Mr. Ashley followed them to the outer
+gate. As they stood there talking, Frank Halliburton passed. "Look
+here," thought the sergeant to himself, "there's not much doubt as to
+the black sheep&mdash;I see that: but it's as well, to be on the sure side.
+Young man," cried he aloud to Frank, in the authoritative, patronizing
+manner which Sergeant Delves was fond of assuming when he could, "what
+time did your brother William get home last Saturday night? I suppose
+you know, if you were at home yourself."</p>
+
+<p>Frank looked at him rather haughtily. "<i>I</i> know," he replied. "I have
+yet to learn why you need know."</p>
+
+<p>"Tell him, Frank," said Mr. Ashley, with a smile.</p>
+
+<p>"It was a little after ten," said Frank.</p>
+
+<p>"Did he go out again?" asked the sergeant.</p>
+
+<p>"Out again at that time!" cried Frank. "No: he did not go out again. We
+sat talking together ever so long, and then went up to bed."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah!" rejoined the sergeant. It was all he answered. And he wished Mr.
+Ashley good day, and departed with Mr. Dare.</p>
+
+<p>"I am going to Oxford at Easter, Mr. Ashley," cried Frank with
+animation.</p>
+
+<p>"I am pleased to hear it."</p>
+
+<p>"But only as a servitor. I don't mind," he added, throwing back his head
+with pardonable pride. "Let me once get a start, and I hope to rise
+above some who go there as gentlemen-commoners. I intend to make this my
+circuit," he went on, half jokingly, half seriously.</p>
+
+<p>"You are ambitious, Frank. I heartily wish you success. There's nothing
+like keeping a good heart."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes, success is not doubtful. I'll do battle with all the
+obstructions in my course. Good afternoon, sir."</p>
+
+<p>William, curious and anxious, could make nothing of his books that night
+at home. At length he threw up, put on the notable cloak, and went down
+to the manufactory. He found Mr. Ashley there; and the counting-house
+soon received an addition to its company in the person of Sergeant
+Delves. He had come in search of William. Not being aware that William
+was allowed the privilege of spending his evenings at home, he had
+supposed the manufactory was the place to find him in.</p>
+
+<p>"I want you down at White's," said the sergeant. "Put on your cloak,
+will you be so good, Mr. Halliburton, and come with me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Do you suspect me?" was William's answer.</p>
+
+<p>"No, I don't," returned the sergeant. "I told you before, to-day, that I
+did not. The fact is"&mdash;dropping his voice to a mysterious whisper&mdash;"I
+want to do a little bit of private inquiry on my own account. I have a
+clue to the party: and I should like to work it out."</p>
+
+<p>"If you have a sufficient clue, the party had better be arrested at
+once," observed Mr. Ashley.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, but it's not sufficient for that," nodded the sergeant. "No, Mr.
+Ashley, sir; my strong advice to you is, keep quiet a bit."</p>
+
+<p>They started for the butcher's, William wearing his cloak and cap, and
+Mr. Ashley accompanying them. Mr. Ashley possessed his own curiosity
+upon various points; perhaps his own doubts.</p>
+
+<p>"It is strange who this man can be who walks at the back of your house,"
+observed Mr. Ashley to William, as they went along. "What can be his
+motive for walking there, dressed like you?"</p>
+
+<p>"It is curious, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"I should suppose it can only arise from a desire that he should be
+taken for you," continued Mr. Ashley. "But to what end? Why should he
+walk there at all?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, indeed!" responded William.</p>
+
+<p>"What coloured gloves are you wearing?" abruptly interrupted Sergeant
+Delves.</p>
+
+<p>William took his hands from beneath his cloak, and held them out. They
+were of the darkest possible colour, next to black; the shade called in
+the glove trade "corbeau." "These are all I have in use at present," he
+said. "They are nearly new."</p>
+
+<p>"Have you worn any light gloves lately? Tan or fawn?"</p>
+
+<p>"I scarcely ever wear tan gloves. I have not put on a pair for months."</p>
+
+<p>They arrived at the butcher's and entered. White was standing at his
+block, chopping a bone in two. He lifted his head, and touched his hair
+to Mr. Ashley.</p>
+
+<p>"Is this the gentleman who had the money of you for the cheque?" began
+Sergeant Delves, without circumlocution.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. White put down his chopper, and took a survey of William. "It's like
+the cloak and cap that the other wore," said he.</p>
+
+<p>Sergeants take up words quickly. "That the 'other' wore? Then you do not
+think it was this one?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I don't," decided the butcher. "The one who brought the cheque was
+a shorter man."</p>
+
+<p>"Shorter!" repeated Mr. Ashley, remembering it had been said in his
+counting-house that the man who appeared to be personating William was
+thought to have the advantage the other way. "You mean taller, White."</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir, I mean shorter. I am sure he was shorter. Not much, though."</p>
+
+<p>There was a pause. "You observed that his gloves were tan, I think,"
+said the sergeant.</p>
+
+<p>"Something of that sort. Clean light gloves they were, such as gentlemen
+wear."</p>
+
+<p>"Finally, then, White, you decide that this was not the gentleman?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not he," said the butcher. "It's not the same voice."</p>
+
+<p>"The voice goes for nothing," said Sergeant Delves. "The other one had
+plums in his mouth."</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said the butcher, "I think I should have known Mr. Halliburton,
+in spite of any disguise, had he come in."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't make too sure, White," said the sergeant, with one of his wise
+nods. "He who came might have turned out to be just as familiar to you
+as Mr. Halliburton, if he had let you see his face. The fact is, White,
+there's some one going about with a cloak like this, and we want to find
+out who it is. Mr. Halliburton would give a pound out of his pocket, I'm
+sure, to know."</p>
+
+<p>"I'd give two," said Mr. Ashley, with a smile.</p>
+
+<p>"Sir," asked the butcher of Mr. Ashley, "what about the money? Shall I
+lose it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Now, White, just wait a bit," put in the sergeant. "If it was a
+gentleman that changed it, perhaps we shall get it out of <i>him</i>. Any
+way, you keep quiet."</p>
+
+<p>They left the shop&mdash;standing a moment together before parting. The
+sergeant's road lay one way; Mr. Ashley's and William's another. "This
+only makes the matter more obscure," observed Mr. Ashley, alluding to
+what had passed.</p>
+
+<p>"Not at all. It makes it all the more clear," was the cool reply of the
+sergeant.</p>
+
+<p>"White says the man was shorter than Mr. Halliburton."</p>
+
+<p>"It's just what I expected him to say," nodded the sergeant. "If I am on
+the right scent&mdash;and I'd lay a thousand pound on it!&mdash;the man who
+changed the cheque <i>is</i> shorter. I just wanted White's evidence on the
+point," he added, looking at William; "and that is why I asked you to
+come down, dressed in your cloak. Good night, gentlemen."</p>
+
+<p>He turned up the Shambles. And Mr. Ashley and William walked away side
+by side.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXB" id="CHAPTER_XXB"></a>CHAPTER XX.</h2>
+
+<h3>IN THE STARLIGHT.</h3>
+
+
+<p>The conversation at Mr. Dare's dinner-table again turned upon the loss
+of the cheque, and the proceedings thereon. It was natural that it
+should turn upon it. Mr. Dare's mind was full of it; and he gave
+utterance to various conjectures and speculations, as they occurred to
+him.</p>
+
+<p>"In spite of what they say, I cannot help thinking that it must have
+been William Halliburton," he remarked with emphasis. "He alone was in
+the counting-house when the cheque disappeared; and the person changing
+it at White's, is proved to have borne the strongest possible
+resemblance to him; at all events, to his dress. The face was hidden&mdash;as
+of course it would be. People who attempt to pass off stolen cheques,
+take pretty good care that their features are not seen.</p>
+
+<p>"But who hesitates to bring it home to Halliburton?" inquired Mrs. Dare.</p>
+
+<p>"They all do&mdash;as it seems to me. Ashley won't hear a word: laughs at the
+idea of Halliburton's being capable of it, and says we may as well
+accuse himself. That's nothing: as Cyril says, Mr. Ashley appears to be
+imbued with the idea that Halliburton can do no wrong: but now Delves
+has veered round. He shifts the blame entirely off Halliburton."</p>
+
+<p>"Upon whom does he shift it?" asked Anthony Dare.</p>
+
+<p>"He won't say," replied Mr. Dare. "He has grown mysterious over it since
+the afternoon; nodding and winking, and giving no explanation. He says
+he knows who it is who possesses the second cloak."</p>
+
+<p>"The second cloak!" The words were a puzzle to most at table, and Mr.
+Dare had to explain that another cloak, similar to that worn by William
+Halliburton, was supposed to be in existence.</p>
+
+<p>Cyril looked up, with wonder marked on his face. "Does Delves say there
+are two such cloaks?" asked he.</p>
+
+<p>"That there are two such cloaks appears to be an indisputable fact,"
+replied Mr. Dare. "The one cloak was parading behind the Halliburtons'
+house last night. Samuel Lynn went up to it&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"The cloak parading tout seul&mdash;alone?" interrupted Signora Varsini, with
+a perplexed air.</p>
+
+<p>A laugh went round the table. "Accompanied by the wearer, mademoiselle,"
+said Mr. Dare, continuing the account of Samuel Lynn's adventure. "Thus
+the fact of there being two cloaks is established," he proceeded.
+"Still, that tells nothing; unless the owner of the other has access to
+Mr. Ashley's counting-house. I pointed this fact out to them. But
+Delves&mdash;which is most unaccountable&mdash;differed from me; and when we
+parted he expressed an opinion, with that confident nod of his, that it
+was not Halliburton's cloak which had been in the mischief at the
+butcher's, but the other."</p>
+
+<p>"What a thundering falsehood!" burst forth Herbert Dare.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Sir!</i>" cried Mr. Dare, while all around the table stared at Herbert's
+excited manner.</p>
+
+<p>Herbert had the grace to feel ashamed of his abrupt and intemperate
+rudeness. "I beg your pardon, sir; I spoke in my surprise. I mean that
+Delves must be telling a falsehood, if he seeks to throw the guilt off
+Halliburton. The very fact of the fellow's wearing a strange cloak such
+as that, when he went to get rid of the cheque, must be proof positive
+of Halliburton's guilt."</p>
+
+<p>"So I think," acquiesced Mr. Dare.</p>
+
+<p>"What sort of a cloak is this that you laugh at, and call scarce?"
+inquired the governess.</p>
+
+<p>"The greatest scarecrow of a thing you can conceive, mademoiselle,"
+responded Mr. Dare. "I had the pleasure of seeing it to-day on
+Halliburton. It is a dark green-and-blue Scotch plaid, made very full,
+with a turned up collar lined with red, and a bit of fur edging it."</p>
+
+<p>"Plaid? Plaid?" repeated mademoiselle. "Why it must be&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"What?" asked Mr. Dare, for she had stopped.</p>
+
+<p>"It must be very ugly," concluded she. But somehow Mr. Dare gathered an
+impression that it was not what she had been about to say.</p>
+
+<p>"What is it that Delves says about the cloaks?" eagerly questioned
+Cyril. "I cannot make it out."</p>
+
+<p>"Delves says he knows who it is that owns the other; and that it was the
+other which went to change the cheque at White's."</p>
+
+<p>"What mysterious words, papa!" cried Adelaide. "The cloak went to change
+the cheque!"</p>
+
+<p>"They were Delves' own words," replied Mr. Dare. "He did seem remarkably
+mysterious over it."</p>
+
+<p>"Is he going to hunt up the other cloak?" resumed Cyril.</p>
+
+<p>"I conclude so. He was pondering over it for some time before he could
+remember who it was that he had seen wear a similar cloak. When the
+recollection came to him, he started up with surprise. Sharp men, these
+police-officers!" added Mr. Dare. "They forget nothing."</p>
+
+<p>"And they ferret out everything," said Herbert with some testiness.
+"Instead of wasting time over vain speculations touching cloaks, why
+does not he secure Halliburton? It is impossible that the other
+cloak&mdash;if there is another&mdash;could have had anything to do with the
+affair."</p>
+
+<p>"I dropped a note to Delves after he left me, recommending him to follow
+up the suspicion on Halliburton, whether Mr. Ashley is agreeable or
+not," said Mr. Dare. "I have rarely in my life met with a stronger case
+of presumptive evidence."</p>
+
+<p>So, many, besides Mr. Dare, would have felt inclined to say. Herbert,
+like his father, was firm in the belief that William Halliburton must
+have taken the money; that it must have been he who paid the visit to
+the butcher. What Cyril thought may be best inferred from his actions. A
+sudden fear had come over him that Sergeant Delves was really going to
+search out the other cloak. A most inconvenient procedure for Cyril,
+lest, in the process, the sergeant should search out <i>him</i>. He laid down
+his knife and fork. He had had quite enough dinner for one day.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you not hungry, Cyril?" asked his mother.</p>
+
+<p>"I had a tremendous lunch," answered Cyril. "I can't eat more now."</p>
+
+<p>He sat at the table until they had finished, feeling that he was being
+choked with dread. But that a guilty conscience deprives us of free
+action, he would have left the table and gone about some work he was now
+eager to do.</p>
+
+<p>He rose when the rest did, looked about for a pair of large scissors,
+and glided with them up the staircase, his eyes and ears on the alert,
+lest there should be any watching him. No human being in that house had
+the slightest knowledge of what Cyril was about to do, or that he was
+going to do anything; but to Cyril's guilty conscience it seemed that
+all must be on the look-out.</p>
+
+<p>A candle and scissors in hand he stole up to Herbert's room and locked
+himself in. Inside a closet within the room hung a dark blue camlet
+cloak, and Cyril took it from the hook. It had a plaid lining: a lining
+of the precise pattern and colours that the material of William
+Halliburton's cloak was composed of. The cloak was of the same full,
+old-fashioned make; its collar was lined with red, tipped with fur: in
+short, the one cloak worn on the right side and the other worn on the
+wrong side, could not have been told apart. This cloak belonged to
+Herbert Dare; occasionally, though not often, he went out at dusk,
+wearing it wrong side outermost. It was he, no doubt, whom Sergeant
+Delves had seen wearing one. He was a little taller than William
+Halliburton, towering above six feet. What his motive had been in
+causing a cloak to be lined so that, turned, it should resemble William
+Halliburton's, or whether the similarity in the lining had been
+accidental, was only known to Herbert himself.</p>
+
+<p>With trembling fingers, and sharp scissors that were not particular
+where they cut, Cyril began his task of taking out this plaid lining.
+That he had worn it to the butcher's, and that he feared it might tell
+tales of him, were facts only too apparent. Better put it out of the way
+for ever! Unpicking, cutting, snipping, Cyril tore away at the lining,
+and at length got it out, the cloak suffering considerable damage in the
+shape of cuts and rents, and loose threads. Hanging the cloak up again,
+he twisted the lining together.</p>
+
+<p>He was thus engaged when the handle of the door was briskly turned, as
+if some one essayed to enter who had not expected to find it fastened.
+Cyril dashed the lining under the bed, and made a spring to the window.
+To leap out? surely not: for the fall would have killed him. But he had
+nearly lost all presence of mind in his perplexity and fear.</p>
+
+<p>Another turn at the handle, and the steps went on their way. Cyril
+thought he recognized them for the housemaid's, Betsy. He supposed she
+was going her evening round of the chambers. Gathering the lining under
+his arm, he halted to think. His hands shook, and his face was white.</p>
+
+<p>What should he do with this tell-tale thing? He could not eat it; he
+dared not burn it. There was no room, of those which had fires, where he
+might make sure of being alone: and the smell would alarm the house.
+What <i>was</i> he to do with it?</p>
+
+<p>Dig a hole and bury it, came a prompting voice within him; and Cyril
+waited for no better suggestion, but crept with it down the stairs, and
+out to the garden.</p>
+
+<p>Seizing a spade, he dug a hole rapidly in an unfrequented place; and
+when it was large enough thrust the stuff in. Then he covered it over
+again, to leave the spot apparently as he found it.</p>
+
+<p>"I wish those stars would give a stronger light," grumbled Cyril,
+looking up at the dark blue canopy. "I must come again in the morning, I
+suppose, and see that it's all safe. It wouldn't do to bring a lantern."</p>
+
+<p>Now it happened that Mr. Herbert Dare was bound on a private errand that
+evening. His intention was to go abroad in his cloak while he executed
+it. Just about the time that Cyril was putting the finishing touch to
+the hole, Herbert went up to his room to get the cloak.</p>
+
+<p>To get the cloak, indeed! When Herbert opened the closet-door, nothing
+except the mutilated object just described met his eye. A torn, cut
+thing, the threads hanging from it loosely. Nothing could exceed
+Herbert's consternation as he stared at it. He thought he must be in a
+dream. <i>Was</i> it his cloak? Just before dinner, when he came up to wash
+his hands, he had seen his cloak hanging there, perfect. He shook it, he
+pulled it, he peered at it. His cloak it certainly was; but who had
+destroyed it? A suspicion flashed into his mind that it might be the
+governess. He made but a few steps to the school-room, carrying the
+cloak with him.</p>
+
+<p>The governess was sitting there, listlessly enough. Perhaps she was
+waiting for him. "I say, mademoiselle," he began, "what on earth have
+you been doing to my cloak?"</p>
+
+<p>"To your cloak!" responded she. "What should I have been doing to it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Look here," he said, spreading it out before her. "Who or what has done
+this? It was all right when I went down to dinner."</p>
+
+<p>She stared at it in astonishment great as Herbert's, and threw off a
+volley of surprise in her foreign tongue. But she was a shrewd woman.
+Ay, never was there a shrewder than Bianca Varsini. Mr. Sergeant Delves
+was not a bad hand at ferreting out conclusions; but she would have
+beaten the sergeant hollow.</p>
+
+<p>"Tenez," cried she, putting up her forefinger in thought, as she gazed
+at the cloak. "Cyril did this."</p>
+
+<p>"Cyril!"</p>
+
+<p>She nodded her head. "You stood it out to me that you did not come in on
+Saturday evening and go out again between ten and eleven&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I did not," interrupted Herbert. "I told you truth, but you would not
+believe me."</p>
+
+<p>"But this cloak went out. And it was turned the plaid side outwards, and
+your cap was on, tied down at the ears. Naturally I thought it was you.
+It must have been Cyril! Do you comprehend?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I don't," said Herbert. "How mysteriously you are speaking!"</p>
+
+<p>"It must have been Cyril who robbed Mr. Ashley."</p>
+
+<p>"Mademoiselle!" interrupted Herbert indignantly.</p>
+
+<p>"Ecoutez, mon ami. He was blanched as white as a mouchoir, while your
+father spoke of it at dinner&mdash;did you see that he could not eat? 'You
+look guilty, Monsieur Cyril,' I said to myself, not really thinking him
+to be so. But be persuaded it was no other. He must have taken the
+paper-money&mdash;or what you call it&mdash;and come home here for your cloak and
+cap to wear, while he changed it for gold, thinking it would fall on
+that other one who wears the cloak; that William Hall&mdash;&mdash;I cannot say
+the name; c'est trop dur pour les lèvres. It is Cyril, and no other. He
+has turned afraid now, and has torn the lining out."</p>
+
+<p>Herbert could make no rejoinder at first, partly in dismay, partly in
+astonishment. "It cannot have been Cyril!" he reiterated.</p>
+
+<p>"I say it is Cyril," persisted the young lady. "I saw him creep up the
+stairs after dinner, with a candle and your mother's great scissors in
+his hand. He did not see me. I was in the dark, looking out of my room.
+Depend he was going to do it then."</p>
+
+<p>"Then, of all blind idiots, Cyril's the worst!&mdash;if he did take the
+cheque," uttered Herbert. "Should it become known, he is done for; and
+that for life. And my father helping to fan the flame!"</p>
+
+<p>The governess shrugged her shoulders. "I not like Cyril," she said. "I
+have never liked him since I came."</p>
+
+<p>"But you will not tell against him!" cried Herbert, in fear.</p>
+
+<p>"No, no, no. Tell against your brother! Why should I? It is no concern
+of mine. Unless people meddle with me, I not meddle with them. Cyril is
+safe, for me."</p>
+
+<p>"What on earth am I to do for my cloak to-night?" debated Herbert. "I
+was going&mdash;going where I want it."</p>
+
+<p>"Why you want it so to-night?" asked mademoiselle sharply.</p>
+
+<p>"Because it's cold," responded Herbert. "The cloak was warmer than my
+overcoat is."</p>
+
+<p>"Last night you go out, to-night you go out, to-morrow you go out. It is
+always so now!"</p>
+
+<p>"I have a lot of perplexing business upon me," answered Herbert. "I have
+no time to see about it in the day."</p>
+
+<p>Some little time longer he remained talking with her, partially
+disputing. The Italian, from some cause or other, went into ill-humour
+and said some provoking things. Herbert, it must be confessed, received
+them with good temper, and she grew more affable. When he left her, she
+offered to pick the loose threads out of the cloak, and hem up the
+bottom.</p>
+
+<p>"You'll lock the door while you do it?" he urged.</p>
+
+<p>"I will take it to my chamber," she said. "No one will molest me there."</p>
+
+<p>Herbert left it with her and went out. Cyril went out. Anthony had
+already gone out. Mr. Dare remained at home. He and his wife were
+conversing over the dining-room fire, in the course of the evening, when
+Joseph came in.</p>
+
+<p>"You are wanted, please, sir," he said to his master.</p>
+
+<p>"Who wants me?" asked Mr. Dare.</p>
+
+<p>"It's Policeman Delves, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, show him in here," said Mr. Dare. "I hope something will be done in
+this," he added to his wife. "It may turn out a good slice of luck for
+me."</p>
+
+<p>Sergeant Delves came in. In point of fact, he had just returned from
+that interview with the butcher, where he had been accompanied by Mr.
+Ashley and William.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Delves, did you get my note?" asked Mr. Dare.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir, I did," said the sergeant, taking the seat offered him. "It's
+what I have come up about."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you intend to act upon my advice?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why&mdash;no, I think not," replied the sergeant. "Not, at any rate, until I
+have had a talk with you."</p>
+
+<p>"What will you take?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, sir, the night's cold. I don't mind a drop of brandy-and-water."</p>
+
+<p>It was brought, and Mr. Dare joined his visitor in partaking of it. He
+agreed with him that the night was cold. But nothing could Mr. Dare make
+of him. As often as he turned the conversation on the subject in hand,
+so often did the sergeant turn it off again. Mrs. Dare grew tired of
+listening to nothing; and she departed, leaving them together.</p>
+
+<p>Then the manner of Sergeant Delves changed. He drew his chair forward;
+and bent towards Mr. Dare.</p>
+
+<p>"You have been urging me to go against young Halliburton," he began. "It
+won't do. Halliburton no more fingered that cheque, or had anything to
+do with it, than you or I had. Mr. Dare, don't you stir in this matter
+any further."</p>
+
+<p>"My present intention is to stir it to the bottom," returned Mr. Dare.</p>
+
+<p>"Look here," said the sergeant in an undertone; "I am not obliged to
+take notice of offences that don't come legally in my way. Many a thing
+has been done in this town&mdash;ay, and is being done now&mdash;that I am obliged
+to wink at; it don't lay right in my duty to take notice of it, so I
+keep my eyes shut. Now that's just it in this case. So long as the
+parties concerned, Mr. Ashley, or White, don't put it into my hands
+officially, I am not obliged to take so-and-so into custody, or to act
+upon my own suspicions. And I won't do it upon suspicions of my own: I
+promise it. If I am forced, that's another matter."</p>
+
+<p>"Are you alluding to Halliburton?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. You are on the wrong scent, I say."</p>
+
+<p>"And you think you are on the right one?"</p>
+
+<p>"I could put my finger out this night and lay it on the fox. But I tell
+you, sir, I don't want to, unless I am compelled. Don't <i>you</i> compel me,
+Mr. Dare, of all people in the world."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dare leaned back in his chair, his thumbs in his waistcoat armholes.
+No suspicion of the truth had crossed him, and he could not understand
+either the sergeant or his manner. The latter rose to depart.</p>
+
+<p>"The other cloak, similar to young Halliburton's, belongs to your son
+Herbert," he whispered, as he passed Mr. Dare. "It was his brother,
+Cyril, who wore it on Saturday night, and who changed the cheque:
+therefore we may give a guess as to who took the cheque out of Mr.
+Ashley's desk. Now you be still over it, sir, for his sake, as I shall
+be. If I can, I'll call at your office to-morrow, Mr. Dare, and talk
+further. White must have the money refunded to him, or <i>he</i> won't be
+still."</p>
+
+<p>Anthony Dare fell into a confusion of horror and consternation, leaving
+the sergeant to bow himself out. Mrs. Dare heard the departure, and
+returned to the room.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," cried she briskly, "is he going to accuse Halliburton?"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dare did not answer. He looked up in a beseeching, helpless sort of
+manner, as one who is stunned by a blow.</p>
+
+<p>"What is the matter?" she questioned, gazing at him closely. "Are you
+ill?"</p>
+
+<p>He rose up shaking, as if ague were upon him. "No&mdash;no."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps you are cold," said Mrs. Dare. "I asked you what Delves was
+going to do. Will he accuse Halliburton?"</p>
+
+<p>"Be still!" sharply cried Mr. Dare in a tone of pain. "The matter is to
+be hushed up. It was not Halliburton."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIB" id="CHAPTER_XXIB"></a>CHAPTER XXI.</h2>
+
+<h3>A PRESENT OF TEA-LEAVES.</h3>
+
+
+<p>How went on Honey Fair? Better and worse, better and worse, according to
+custom; the worse prevailing over the better.</p>
+
+<p>Of all its inhabitants, none had advanced so well as Robert East.
+Honestly to confess it, that is not saying much; since the greater
+portion, instead of advancing in the world's social scale, had
+retrograded. Robert had left the manufactory he had worked for and was
+now second foreman at Mr. Ashley's. He was also becoming through
+perseverance an excellent scholar in a plain way. He had had one friend
+to help him; and that was William Halliburton.</p>
+
+<p>The Easts had removed to a better house; one of those which had a garden
+in front of it. No garden was more fragrant than theirs; and it was kept
+in order by Robert and Thomas East. The house was larger than they
+required, and part of it was occupied by Stephen Crouch and his
+daughter. It was known that the Easts were putting by money: and Honey
+Fair wondered: for none lived more comfortably, more respectably. Honey
+Fair&mdash;taking it as a whole&mdash;lived neither comfortably nor respectably.
+The Fishers had never come out of the workhouse, and Joe was dead. The
+Crosses, turned from their home, their furniture sold, had found
+lodgings; two rooms. Improvident as ever, were they. They did not
+attempt to rise even to their former condition; but grovelled on, living
+from hand to mouth. The Masons, man and wife, passed their time
+agreeably in quarrels. At least, that it was agreeable may be assumed,
+for the quarrels never ceased. Now and then they were diversified by a
+fight. The children were growing up without training; and Caroline&mdash;ah!
+I don't know that it will do much good to ask after her. Caroline, years
+ago, had taken a false step; and, try as she would, she could not
+regain her footing. She lived in a garret alone. She had so lived a long
+while; and she worked her fingers to the bone to keep body and soul
+together, and went about with her head down. Honey Fair looked askance
+at her, and gathered up its petticoats when they saw her coming, as you
+saw Eliza Tyrrett gather up hers, lest they should come into contact
+with those contaminations. The Carters thrived; the Brumms, also, were
+better off than they used to be; and the Buffles did so excellently that
+a joke went about that they would be retiring on their fortune: but the
+greater portion of Honey Fair was full of trouble and improvidence.</p>
+
+<p>William Halliburton frequently found himself in Honey Fair. It was the
+most direct road from his house to that of Monsieur Colin, the French
+master. William, sociably inclined by nature, had sometimes dropped in
+at one or other of the houses. He would find Robert East labouring at
+his books much more than he need have laboured had some little
+assistance been given him in his progress. William good-naturedly
+undertook to supply it. It became quite a common thing for him to go
+round and pass an hour with the Easts and Stephen Crouch.</p>
+
+<p>The unpleasant social features of Honey Fair thus obtruded themselves on
+William Halliburton's notice; it was impossible that any one passing
+much through Honey Fair should not be struck with them. Could nothing be
+done to rescue the people from this degraded condition?&mdash;and a degraded
+one it was, compared with what it might have been. Young and
+inexperienced as he was, it was a question that sometimes arose to
+William's mind. Dirty homes, scolding mothers, ragged and pining
+children, rough and swearing husbands! Waste, discomfort, evil. The
+women laid the blame on the men: reproached them with wasting their
+evenings and their money at the public-house. The men retorted upon the
+women, and said they had not a home "fit for a pig to come into."
+Meanwhile the money, whether earned by husband or wife, <i>went</i>. It went
+somehow, bringing apparently nothing to show for it, and the least
+possible return of good. Thus they struggled and squabbled on, their
+lives little better than one continued scene of scramble, discomfort,
+and toil. At a year's end they were not in the least bettered, not in
+the least raised, socially, morally, or physically, from their condition
+at the year's commencement. Nothing had been achieved; except that they
+were one year nearer to the great barrier which separates time from
+eternity.</p>
+
+<p>Ask them what they were toiling and struggling for. They did not know.
+What was their end, their aim? They had none. If they could only rub on,
+and keep body and soul together (as poor Caroline Mason was trying to do
+in her garret), it appeared to be all they cared for. They did not
+endeavour to lift up their hopes or their aspirations above that; they
+were willing so to go on until death should come. What a life! what an
+end!</p>
+
+<p>A feeling would now and then come over William that he might in some way
+help them to attempt better things. To do so was a duty which seemed to
+be lying across his path, that he might take it up and make it his. How
+to set about it, he knew no more than the Man in the Moon. Now and then
+disheartening moments would come upon him. To attempt to sweep away the
+evils of Honey Fair appeared a far more formidable task than to cleanse
+the Augean Stables could ever have appeared to Hercules. He knew that
+any endeavour, whether on his part or on that of others, who might be
+far more experienced and capable than he, would be utterly fruitless
+unless the incentive to exertion, to strive to do better, should be
+first born within themselves. Ah, my friends! the aid of others may be
+looked upon as a great thing; but without self-struggle and self-help
+little good will be effected.</p>
+
+<p>One evening in passing the house partially occupied by the Crosses the
+door was flung violently open, a girl of fifteen flew shrieking out and
+a saucer of wet tea-leaves came flying after her. The tea-leaves
+alighted on the girl's neck, just escaping William's arm. It was the
+youngest girl of the family, Patty. The tea-leaves had come from Mrs.
+Cross. Her face was red with passion, her voice loud; the girl, on her
+part, was insulting and abusive. Mrs. Cross had her hands stretched out,
+to scratch, or tear, or pull hair, and a personal skirmish would
+inevitably have ensued but for the chance of William's being there. He
+received the hands upon his arm and contrived to detain them.</p>
+
+<p>"What's the matter, Mrs. Cross?"</p>
+
+<p>"Matter!" raved Mrs. Cross. "She's a idle, impedent wicked huzzy&mdash;that's
+what's the matter. She knows I've my gloving to get in for Saturday, and
+not a stroke'll she help. There's the dishes lying dirty from dinner,
+the tea-cups lying from tea, and touch 'em she won't. She expects me to
+do it, and me with my gloving to find 'em in food! I took hold of her
+arm to make her do it, and she turned and struck at me, the
+good-for-nothing faggot! I hope none on it didn't go on you, sir," added
+Mrs. Cross, somewhat modifying her voice, and pausing to recover breath.</p>
+
+<p>"Better that it had gone on my coat than on Patty's neck," replied he,
+in a good-natured, half-joking tone; though, indeed, the girl, with her
+evil look at her mother, her insolent air, stood there scarcely worth
+his defence. "If my mother asked me to wash tea-things or do anything
+else, Patty, I should do it, and think it a pleasure to help her," he
+added, to the girl.</p>
+
+<p>Patty pushed her tangled hair behind her ears, and turned a defiant look
+upon her mother. Hidden as she had thought it from William, he saw it.</p>
+
+<p>"You just wait," nodded Mrs. Cross, in answer as defiant. "I'll make
+your back smart by-and-by."</p>
+
+<p>Which of the two was the more in fault? It was hard to say. The girl had
+never been brought up to know her duty, or to do it. The mother from her
+earliest childhood had given abuse and blows; no kindly, persuasive
+words; no training. Little wonder, now Patty was growing up, that she
+turned again. It was the usual sort of maternal government throughout
+Honey Fair. In these, and similar cases, where could interference or
+counsel avail, unless the spirit of the mothers and daughters could be
+changed?</p>
+
+<p>William walked on, after the little episode of the tea-leaves. He could
+not help contrasting these homes with his home; their life with his
+life. He was given to reflection beyond his years, and he wished these
+people could be aroused to improvement both of mind and body. They were
+living for no end; toiling only to satisfy the wants of the day&mdash;nay, to
+arrest the wants, rather than to satisfy them. How many of them were so
+much as thinking of another world? Their toil and turmoil in this was
+too great to enable them to cast a thought to the next.</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder," mused William, as he stepped towards M. Colin's, "whether
+some of the better-conducted of the men might not be induced to come
+round to East's in an evening? It might be a beginning, at any rate.
+Once wean the men from the public-houses, and there's no knowing what
+reform might be effected. I would willingly give up an hour or two of my
+evenings to them!"</p>
+
+<p>His visit to M. Colin over, he retraced his steps to Honey Fair and
+turned into Robert East's. It was past eight o'clock then. Robert and
+Stephen Crouch were home from work, and were getting out their books.
+Charlotte sat by, at work as usual, and Tom East was drawing Charlotte's
+head towards him, to whisper something to her.</p>
+
+<p>"Robert," said William, speaking impulsively, the moment he entered, "I
+wonder whether you could induce a few of your neighbours to come here of
+an evening?"</p>
+
+<p>"What for, sir?" asked Robert turning round from the book-shelves where
+he stood, searching for some volume.</p>
+
+<p>"It might be so much better for them. It might end in being so. I wish,"
+he added with sudden warmth, "we could get all Honey Fair here!"</p>
+
+<p>"All Honey Fair!" echoed Stephen Crouch in astonishment.</p>
+
+<p>"I mean what I say, Crouch."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, sir, the room wouldn't hold a quarter or a tenth part, or a
+hundredth part of them."</p>
+
+<p>William laughed. "No, that it would not, practically. There is so much
+discomfort around us, and&mdash;and ill-doing&mdash;I must call it so, for want of
+a better name&mdash;that I sometimes wish we could mend it a little."</p>
+
+<p>"Who mend it, sir?"</p>
+
+<p>"Any one who would try. You two might help towards it. If you could
+seduce a few round here, and get them to be interested in your own
+evening occupation&mdash;books and rational conversation&mdash;and so wean them
+from the public-houses, it would be a great thing."</p>
+
+<p>"There'd never be any good done with the men, take them as a whole, sir.
+They are an ignorant, easy-going lot, and don't care to be better."</p>
+
+<p>"That's just it, Crouch. They don't care to be better. But they might be
+taught to care. It would be a very great thing if Honey Fair could be
+brought to spend its evenings as you spend yours. If the men gave up
+spending their money, and reeling home after it; and the women kept tidy
+hearths and civil tongues. As Charlotte does," he added looking round at
+her.</p>
+
+<p>"There's no denying that, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"I think something might be done. By degrees, you understand; not in a
+hurry. Were you to take the men by storm&mdash;to say, 'We want you to lead
+changed lives, and are going to show you how to do it,' your movement
+would fail, and you would get laughed at into the bargain. Say to the
+men, 'You shan't go to the public-house, because you waste your time,
+your money, and your temper,' and, rely upon it, it would have as much
+effect as if you spoke to the wind. But get them to come here as a sort
+of change, and you may secure them for good if you make the evenings
+pleasant to them. In short, give them some employment or attraction that
+will outweigh the attractions of the public-house."</p>
+
+<p>"It would certainly be a good thing," said Stephen Crouch, musingly.
+"They might be for trying to raise themselves then."</p>
+
+<p>"Ay," spoke William, with enthusiasm. "Once let them find the day-spring
+within themselves, the wish to do right, to be raised above what they
+are now, and the rest will be easy. When once that day-spring can be
+found, a man is made. God never sent a man here, but he implanted that
+within him. The difficulty is, to awaken it."</p>
+
+<p>"And it is not always done, sir," said Charlotte, lifting her face from
+her work with a kindling eye, a heightened colour. <i>She</i> had found it.</p>
+
+<p>"Charlotte, I fear it is rarely done, instead of not always. It lies
+pretty dormant, to judge by appearances, in Honey Fair."</p>
+
+<p>William was right. It is an epoch in a man's life, that finding what he
+had not inaptly called the day-spring. Self-esteem, self-reliance, the
+courage of long-continued patience, the striving to make the best of the
+mind's good gifts&mdash;all are born of it. He who possesses it may soar to a
+bright and, happy lot, bearing in mind&mdash;may he always bear it!&mdash;the rest
+and reward promised hereafter.</p>
+
+<p>"At any rate, it would be giving them a chance, as it seems to me,"
+observed William. "I think I know one who would come. Andrew Brumm."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, <i>he</i> would, and be glad to come," replied Robert East. "He is
+different from many of them. I know another who would, sir; and that's
+Adam Thornycroft."</p>
+
+<p>Charlotte bent her head over her work.</p>
+
+<p>"Since that cousin of his died of <i>delirium tremens</i>, Thornycroft has
+said good-bye to the public-houses. He spends his evenings at home with
+his mother: but I know he would like to spend them here. Tim Carter
+would come, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"If Mrs. Tim will let him," put in Tom East saucily. And a laugh went
+round.</p>
+
+<p>"Ever so few to begin with, will set the example to others," remarked
+William. "There's no knowing what it may grow to. Small beginnings make
+great endings. I have talked with my mother about Honey Fair. She has
+always said: 'Before Honey Fair's conduct can be improved, its minds
+must be improved.'"</p>
+
+<p>"There will be the women yet, sir," spoke Charlotte. "If they are to
+remain as they are, it will be of little use the men doing anything for
+themselves."</p>
+
+<p>"Charlotte, once begun, I say there's no knowing where the work may
+end," he gravely answered.</p>
+
+<p>The rain, which had been threatening all the evening, was coming down
+pretty smartly as William walked through Honey Fair on his return.
+Standing against a shutter near his own door was Jacob Cross. "Good
+night, Jacob," said William.</p>
+
+<p>"Goodnight, sir," answered Jacob sullenly.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you standing in the rain that it may make you grow, as the children
+say?" asked William in his ever-pleasant tone.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm standing here 'cause I've nowhere else to stand," said the man, his
+voice full of resentment. "I'm turned out of our room, and I have no
+money for the Horned Ram."</p>
+
+<p>"A good thing you have not," thought William. "What has turned you out
+of your room?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm turned out, sir, by the row there is in it. Our Mary Ann's come
+home."</p>
+
+<p>"Mary Ann?" repeated William, not quite understanding.</p>
+
+<p>"Our Mary Ann, what took and married Ben Tyrrett. A fine market she have
+brought her pigs to!"</p>
+
+<p>"What has she done?" questioned William.</p>
+
+<p>"She's done enough," wrathfully answered Cross. "We told her when she
+married Tyrrett that he was nothing but a jobber at fifteen shillings
+a-week&mdash;and it's all he was, sir, as you know. 'Wait,' I says to her;
+'somebody better than him'll turn up.' Her mother says 'Wait.' Others
+says 'Wait.' No, not she; the girls are all marrying mad. Well, she took
+her own way; she would take it; and they got married, and set up upon
+nothing. Neither of 'em had saved a two-penny-piece; and Ben fond of the
+public; and our Mary Ann fond of laziness and finery; and not knowing
+how to keep house any more than her young sister Patty did."</p>
+
+<p>William remembered the little interlude of that evening in which Miss
+Patty had played her part. Jacob continued.</p>
+
+<p>"It was all fine and sunshiny with 'em for a few days or a few weeks,
+till the novelty wears off, and then they finds things going cranky. The
+money, <i>that</i> begins to run short; and Mary Ann, she finds that Ben
+likes his glass; and Ben, he finds that she's just a doll, with no
+gumption or management inside her. They quarrels&mdash;naterally, and they
+comes to us to settle it. 'You was both red-hot for the bargain,' says
+I, 'and you must just make the best of it and of one another.' And so
+they went back: and it has gone on till this, quarrelling continual. And
+now he's took to beat her, and home she came to-night, not half an hour
+ago, with her three children and a black eye, vowing she'll stop at home
+and won't go back to him again. And she and her mother's having words
+over it, and the babies a-squalling&mdash;enough noise to raise the ceiling
+off, and I come out of it. I wish I was dead, I do!"</p>
+
+<p>Jacob's account of the noise was scarcely exaggerated. It penetrated to
+where they stood, two or three houses off. William had moved closer,
+that the umbrella might give Cross part of its shelter. "Not a very
+sensible wish, that of yours, is it, Cross?" remarked he.</p>
+
+<p>"I have wished it long, sir, sensible or not sensible. I slaves away my
+days and have nothing but a pigsty to step into at home, and angry words
+in it. A nice place for a tired man! I can't afford the public more than
+three or four nights a-week; not that, always. They're getting corky at
+the beer-shops, nowadays, and won't give trust. Wednesday this is;
+Thursday, to-morrow; Friday, next night: three nights, and me without a
+shelter to put my head in!"</p>
+
+<p>"I should like to take you to one to-morrow night," said William. "Will
+you go with me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Where to?" ungraciously asked Cross.</p>
+
+<p>"To Robert East's. You know how he and Crouch spend their evenings.
+There's always something going on there interesting and pleasant."</p>
+
+<p>"Crouch and East don't want me."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, they do. They will be only too glad if you, and a few more
+intelligent men, will join them. Try it, Cross. There's a warm room to
+sit in, at all events, and nothing to pay."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, it's all very fine for them Easts! We haven't their luck. Look at
+me! Down in the world."</p>
+
+<p>William put his hand on the man's shoulder. "Why should you be down in
+the world?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why should I?" repeated Cross, in surprise. "Because I am," he
+logically answered.</p>
+
+<p>"That is not the reason. The reason is because you do not try to rise in
+the world."</p>
+
+<p>"It's no use trying."</p>
+
+<p>"Have you ever tried?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, no! How can I try?"</p>
+
+<p>"You wished just now that you were dead. Would it not be better to wish
+to live?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not such a life as mine."</p>
+
+<p>"But to wish to live would seem to imply that it must be a better life.
+And why need your life be so miserable? You gain fair wages; your wife
+earns money. Altogether I suppose you must have twenty-six or
+twenty-eight shillings a week&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But there's no thrift with it," exclaimed Cross. "It melts away
+somehow. Before the middle of the week comes, it's all gone."</p>
+
+<p>"You spend some at the Horned Ram, you know," said William, not in a
+reproving tone.</p>
+
+<p>"She squanders away in rubbish more than that," was Jacob's answer,
+pointing towards his house, and not giving at all a complimentary stress
+upon the "she."</p>
+
+<p>"And with nothing to show for it in return, either of you. Try another
+plan, Jacob."</p>
+
+<p>"I'd not be backward&mdash;if I could see one to try," said he, after a
+pause.</p>
+
+<p>"Be here at half-past eight to-morrow evening, and I will go in with you
+to East's. If you cannot see any better way, you can spend a pleasant
+evening. But now, Jacob, let me say a word to you, and do you note it.
+If you find the evening pass agreeably, go the next evening, and the
+next; go always. You can't tell all that may arise from it in time. I
+know of one thing that will."</p>
+
+<p>"What's that, sir?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, that instead of wishing yourself dead, you will grow to think life
+too short, for the good you find in it."</p>
+
+<p>He went on his way. Jacob Cross, deprived of the umbrella, stood in the
+rain as before and looked after him, indulging his reflections.</p>
+
+<p>"He is a young man, and things wear their bright side to him. But he has
+a cordial way with him, and don't look at folks as if they was dirt."</p>
+
+<p>And that had been the origin of the <i>soirées</i> held at Robert East's. By
+degrees ten or a dozen men took to going there, and&mdash;what was more&mdash;to
+like to go, and to find an interest in it. It was a great improvement
+upon the Horned Ram.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIIB" id="CHAPTER_XXIIB"></a>CHAPTER XXII.</h2>
+
+<h3>HENRY ASHLEY'S OBJECT IN LIFE.</h3>
+
+
+<p>On one of the warm, bright days that we sometimes have in the month of
+February, all the brighter from their contrast to the passing winter,
+William Halliburton was walking home to tea from the manufactory, and
+overtook Henry Ashley limping along.</p>
+
+<p>Henry was below the middle height, and slight in form, with the same
+beautiful face that had marked his boyhood, delicately refined in
+feature, brilliant in colour; the same upright lines of pain knit in the
+smooth white brow.</p>
+
+<p>"Just the man I wanted," said he, linking his arm within William's. "You
+are a good help up a hill, and I am hot and tired."</p>
+
+<p>"Wrapped up in that coat, with its fur lining, I should think you are! I
+have doffed my elegant cloak, you see, to-day."</p>
+
+<p>"Is it off to the British Museum?"</p>
+
+<p>William laughed. "I have not had time to pack it up."</p>
+
+<p>"I am glad I met you. You must come home to tea with me. Well? Why are
+you hesitating? You have no engagement?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing more than usual. My studies&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You are study mad!" interrupted Henry Ashley. "What do you want to be?
+A Socrates? An Admirable Crichton?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing so formidable. I want to be useful."</p>
+
+<p>"And you make yourself accomplished, as a preliminary step to it. Mary
+took up the fencing-sticks for you yesterday. Herbert Dare was at our
+house&mdash;some freak is taking him to be a pretty constant visitor just
+now&mdash;and the talk turned upon Frank. You know," broke off Henry in his
+quaint way, "I never use long words when short ones will do: you learned
+ones would say 'conversation.' Mr. Keating had said to my father that
+Frank Halliburton was a brilliant scholar, and I retailed it to Herbert.
+I knew it would put him up, and there's nothing I like half so much as
+to <i>rile</i> the Dares. Herbert sneered. 'And he owes it partly to
+William,' I went on, 'for if Frank's a brilliant scholar, William's a
+brilliant<i>er</i>!' 'William Halliburton a brilliant scholar!' stormed
+scornful Herbert. 'Has he learnt to be one at the manufactory? So long
+as he knows how gloves are made, that's enough for him. What does <i>he</i>
+want with the requirements of gentlemen?' Up looked Miss Mary; her
+colour rising, her eyes flashing. She was at her drawing: at which, by
+the way, she makes no progress; nothing to be compared with Anna Lynn.
+'William Halliburton has forgotten more than you ever learnt, Herbert
+Dare,' cried she; 'and there's more of the true gentleman in his little
+finger than there is in your whole body.' 'There's for you, Herbert
+Dare,' whistled I; 'but it's true, lad, like it or not as you may!'
+Herbert <i>was</i> riled."</p>
+
+<p>Henry turned his head as he concluded, and looked up at William. A gleam
+like a sunbeam had flashed into William's eyes; a colour to his cheeks.</p>
+
+<p>"Well?" cried Henry sharply, for William did not speak. "Have you
+nothing to say?"</p>
+
+<p>"It was generous of Miss Ashley."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't mean that. Oh dear!" sighed Henry, who appeared to be in one of
+his fitful moods; "who is to know whether things will turn out crooked
+or straight in this world of ours? What objection have you to coming
+home with me for the evening? That's what I mean."</p>
+
+<p>"None. I can give up my books for a night, bookworm as you think me. But
+they will expect me at East's."</p>
+
+<p>"Happy the man that expecteth nothing!" responded Henry. "Disappoint
+them."</p>
+
+<p>"As for disappointing them, I shouldn't so much mind, but I can't abide
+to disappoint myself," returned William, quoting from Goldsmith's good
+old play, of which both he and Henry were fond.</p>
+
+<p>"You don't mean to say it would be a disappointment to <i>you</i>, not giving
+the lesson, or whatever it is, to those working chaps!" uttered Henry
+Ashley.</p>
+
+<p>"Not as you would count disappointment. When I do not get round for an
+hour, it seems as a night lost. I know the men like to see me; and I am
+always fearing that we are not sure of them."</p>
+
+<p>"You speak as though your whole soul were in the business," returned
+Henry Ashley.</p>
+
+<p>"I think my heart is in it."</p>
+
+<p>Henry looked at him wistfully, and his tone grew serious. "William, I
+would give all I am worth, present, and to come, to change places with
+you."</p>
+
+<p>"To change places with me!" echoed William, in surprise.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes: for you have an object in life. You may have many. To be useful in
+your generation is one of them."</p>
+
+<p>"And so may you have objects in life."</p>
+
+<p>"With this encumbrance!" He stamped his lame leg, and a look of keen
+vexation settled itself in his face. "You can go forth into the world
+with your strong limbs, your unbroken health; you can work, or you can
+play; you can be active, or you can be still, at will. But what am I? A
+poor, weak creature; infirm of temper, tortured by pain, condemned half
+my days to the monotony of a sick-room. Compare my lot with yours!"</p>
+
+<p>"There are those who would choose your lot in preference to mine, were
+the option given them," returned William. "I must work. It is a duty
+laid upon me. You can play."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you! How?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am not speaking literally. Every good and pleasing thing that money
+can purchase is at your command. You have only to enjoy them, so far as
+you may. One, suffering as you do, bears not upon him the responsibility
+to <i>use</i> his time, that a healthy man does. Lots, in this world, Henry,
+are, as I believe, pretty equally balanced. Many would envy you your
+life of calm repose."</p>
+
+<p>"It is not calm," was the abrupt rejoinder. "It is disturbed by pain,
+and aggravated by temper; and&mdash;and&mdash;tormented by uncertainty."</p>
+
+<p>"At any rate, you can subdue the one."</p>
+
+<p>"Which, pray?"</p>
+
+<p>"The temper. Henry"&mdash;dropping his voice&mdash;"a victory over your own temper
+may be one of the few obligations laid upon you."</p>
+
+<p>"I wish I could live for an object," grumbled Henry.</p>
+
+<p>"Come round with me to East's, sometimes."</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;daresay!" retorted Henry, when he could recover from his amazement.
+"Thank you again, Mr. Halliburton."</p>
+
+<p>William laughed. But he soon resumed his seriousness. "I can understand
+that for you, the favoured son of Mr. Ashley, reared in refinement and
+exclusiveness&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Enshrined in pride&mdash;the failing that Helstonleigh is pleased to call my
+besetting sin; sheltered under care and coddling so great that the very
+winds of heaven are not suffered to visit my face too roughly!" was the
+impetuous interruption of Henry Ashley. "Come! bring it all out. Don't,
+from motives of delicacy, keep in any of my faults, virtues, or
+advantages!"</p>
+
+<p>"I can understand, I say, why you are unwilling to break through the
+reserve of your home habits," William calmly continued. "But, if you did
+so, you might no longer have to complain of the want of an object in
+life."</p>
+
+<p>At this moment they came in view of William's house. Mrs. Halliburton
+happened to be at one of the windows. William nodded his greeting, and
+Henry raised his hat. Presently Henry began again.</p>
+
+<p>"Pray, do you join the town in its gratuitous opinion that Henry Ashley,
+of all in it, is the proudest amid the proud?"</p>
+
+<p>"I do not find you proud," said William.</p>
+
+<p>"You! As far as you and I are concerned, I think the boot might be on
+the other leg. You might set up for being proud over me."</p>
+
+<p>William could not help laughing. "Putting joking aside, my opinion is,
+Henry, that your shyness and sensitiveness are in fault; not your pride.
+It is your reserved manner alone which has caused Helstonleigh to take
+up the impression that you are unduly proud."</p>
+
+<p>"Right, old fellow!" returned Henry in emphatic tones. "If you knew how
+far I and pride stand apart&mdash;but let it pass."</p>
+
+<p>Arrived at the entrance to Mr. Ashley's, William threw open the gate for
+Henry, retreating himself. "I must go home first, Henry. I won't be a
+quarter of an hour."</p>
+
+<p>Henry looked cross. "Why on earth, then, did you not go in as we passed?
+What was the use of your coming up here to go back again?"</p>
+
+<p>"I thought my arm was helping you."</p>
+
+<p>"So it was. But&mdash;there! don't be an hour."</p>
+
+<p>As William walked rapidly back, he met Mrs. Ashley's carriage. She and
+Mary were in it. Mrs. Ashley nodded as he raised his hat, and Mary
+glanced at him with a smile and a heightened colour. She had grown up to
+excessive beauty.</p>
+
+<p>A few moments, and William met beauty of another style&mdash;Anna Lynn. Her
+cheeks were the flushed, dimpled cheeks of her childhood; the same
+sky-blue eyes gleaming from between their long dark lashes; the same
+profusion of silky, brown hair; the same gentle, sweetly modest manners.
+William stopped to shake hands with her.</p>
+
+<p>"Out alone, Anna?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am on my way to take tea with Mary Ashley."</p>
+
+<p>"Are you? We shall meet there, then."</p>
+
+<p>"That will be pleasant. Fare thee well for the present, William."</p>
+
+<p>She continued her way. William ran in home, and to his chamber. Dressing
+himself hastily, he went to the room where his mother sat, and stood
+before her.</p>
+
+<p>"Does my coat fit me, mother?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, where are you going?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"To Mrs. Ashley's. I have put on my new coat. Does it do? It seems all
+right"&mdash;throwing up his arms.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, it fits you exactly. I think you are growing a dandy. Go along. I
+must not look at you too long."</p>
+
+<p>"Why not?" he asked in surprise.</p>
+
+<p>"In case I grow proud of my eldest son. And I would rather be proud of
+his goodness than of his looks."</p>
+
+<p>William laughingly gave his mother a farewell kiss. "Tell Gar I am sorry
+he will not have me at his elbow this evening, to find fault with his
+Greek. Good-bye, mother dear."</p>
+
+<p>In truth, there was something remarkably noble in William Halliburton's
+appearance. As he entered Mrs. Ashley's drawing-room, the fact seemed to
+strike upon Henry with unusual force, who greeted him from his distant
+sofa.</p>
+
+<p>"So that's what you went back for!&mdash;to turn yourself into a buck!" he
+called out as William approached him. "As if you were not well enough
+before! Did you dress for me, pray?"</p>
+
+<p>"For you!" laughed William. "That's good!"</p>
+
+<p>"In saying 'me,' I include the family," returned Henry quaintly.
+"There's no one else to dress for."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, there is. There's Anna Lynn."</p>
+
+<p>Now, in good truth, William had no covert meaning in giving this answer.
+The words rose to his lips, and he spoke them lightly. Perhaps he could
+have given a very different one, had he been compelled to speak out the
+inmost feeling of his heart. Strange, however, was the effect on Henry
+Ashley. He grasped William's arm with emotion, and pulled his face down
+to him as he lay.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you say? What do you mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"I mean nothing in particular. Anna <i>is</i> here."</p>
+
+<p>"You shall not evade me," gasped Henry. "I must have it out, now or
+later. <span class="smcap">What</span> is it that you mean?"</p>
+
+<p>William stood, almost confounded. Henry was evidently in painful
+excitement; every vestige of colour had forsaken his sensitive
+countenance, and his white hands shook as they held William.</p>
+
+<p>"What do <i>you</i> mean?" William whispered. "I said nothing to agitate you
+thus, that I am aware of. Are we at cross-purposes?"</p>
+
+<p>A spot, bright as carmine, began to flush into the invalid's pale
+cheeks, and he moved his face so that the light did not fall upon it.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll have it out, I say. What is Anna Lynn to you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing," answered William, a smile parting his lips.</p>
+
+<p>"What is she to you?" reiterated Henry, his tone painfully earnest.</p>
+
+<p>William edged himself on to the sofa, so as to cover Henry from the gaze
+of any eyes that might be directed to him from the other parts of the
+room. "I like Anna very much," he said in a clear, low tone; "almost as
+I might like a sister; but I have no love for her, in the sense you
+would imply&mdash;if I am not mistaking your meaning. And I never shall
+have."</p>
+
+<p>Henry looked at him wistfully. "On your honour?"</p>
+
+<p>"Henry! was there need to ask it? On my honour, if you will."</p>
+
+<p>"No, no; there was no need: you are always truthful. Bear with me,
+William! bear with my infirmities."</p>
+
+<p>"My sister Anna Lynn might be, and welcome. My wife never."</p>
+
+<p>Henry did not answer. His face was growing damp with physical pain.</p>
+
+<p>"You have one of your fits of suffering coming on!" breathed William.
+"Shall I get you anything?"</p>
+
+<p>"Hush! only sit there, to hide me from them: and be still."</p>
+
+<p>William did as he was requested, sitting so as to screen him from Mrs.
+Ashley and the rest. He held his hands, and the paroxysm, sharp while it
+lasted, passed away. Henry's very lips had grown white with pain.</p>
+
+<p>"You see what a poor wretch I am!"</p>
+
+<p>"I see that you suffer," was William's compassionate answer.</p>
+
+<p>"From henceforth there is a fresh bond of union between us, for you
+possess my secret. It is what no one else in the world does. William,
+<i>that's</i> my object in life."</p>
+
+<p>William did not reply. Perplexity was crowding on his mind, shading his
+countenance.</p>
+
+<p>"Well!" cried Henry, beginning to recover his equanimity, and with it
+his sharp retorts. "Why are you looking so blue?"</p>
+
+<p>"Will it be smooth sailing for you, Henry, with Mr. Ashley?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I think it will," was the hasty rejoinder: its very haste, its
+fractious tone, proving that Henry was by no means so sure of it as he
+would imply. "I am not as others are: therefore he will let minor
+considerations yield to my happiness."</p>
+
+<p>William looked uncommonly grave. "Mr. Ashley is not all," he said,
+arousing from a reverie. "There may be difficulties elsewhere. She must
+not marry out of their own society. Samuel Lynn is one of its strictest
+members."</p>
+
+<p>"Rubbish! Samuel Lynn is my father's servant, and I am my father's son.
+If Samuel should take a strait-laced fit, and hold out, why, I'll turn
+broadbrim."</p>
+
+<p>"Samuel Lynn is my father's servant!" In that very fact, William saw
+cause to fear that it might not be such plain sailing with Mr. Ashley as
+Henry wished to anticipate. He could not help looking the doubts he
+felt. Henry observed it.</p>
+
+<p>"What's the matter now?" he peevishly asked. "I do think you were born
+to be the plague of my life! My belief is, you want her for yourself."</p>
+
+<p>"I am only anxious for you, Henry. I wish you could have assured
+yourself that it would go well, before&mdash;before allowing your feelings to
+be irrevocably bound up in it. A blow, for you, might be hard to bear."</p>
+
+<p>"How could I help my feelings?" retorted Henry. "I did not fix them
+purposely on Anna Lynn. Before I knew anything about it, they had fixed
+themselves. Almost before I knew that I cared for her, she was more to
+me than the sun in the heavens. There has been no help for it at all, I
+tell you. So don't preach."</p>
+
+<p>"Have you spoken to her?"</p>
+
+<p>Henry shook his head. "The time has not come for it. I must make it
+right with the master before I can stir a step: and I fear it is not
+quite ripe for that. Mind <i>you</i> don't talk."</p>
+
+<p>William smiled. "I will mind."</p>
+
+<p>"You'd better. If that Quaker society got a hint of it, there's no
+knowing what a hullabaloo they might make. They might be for reading
+Anna a public lecture at Meeting: or get Samuel Lynn to vow he'd not
+give his consent."</p>
+
+<p>"I should argue in this way, were I you, Henry. With my love so firmly
+fixed on Anna Lynn&mdash;&mdash;I beg your pardon, Miss Ashley."</p>
+
+<p>William started up. Mary Ashley was standing close to the sofa. Had she
+caught the sense of the last words?</p>
+
+<p>"Mamma spoke twice, but you were too busily engaged to hear," said Mary.
+"Henry, James is waiting to wheel your sofa to the tea-table."</p>
+
+<p>Henry rose. Passing his arm through William's, he approached the group.
+The servant pushed the sofa after them. Standing together were Mary
+Ashley and Anna Lynn. They presented a great contrast to each other.
+Mary wore an evening dress of shimmering silk, its low body trimmed with
+rich white lace; white lace hung from its drooping sleeves: and she had
+on ornaments of gold. Anna was in grey merino, high in the neck, close
+at the wrists; not a bit of lace about her, not an ornament; nothing but
+a plain white linen collar. "Catch me letting her wear those
+Methodistical things when she shall be mine!" thought Henry. "I'll make
+a bonfire of the lot."</p>
+
+<p>But the Quaker cap? Ah! it was not there. Anna had continued her habit
+at home of throwing it off, as formerly. Patience reprimanded in vain.
+She was not seconded by Samuel Lynn. "We are by ourselves, Patience; it
+does not much matter," he would say; "the child says she is cooler
+without it." But had Samuel Lynn known that Anna was in the habit of
+discarding it on every possible occasion when she was from home, he had
+been as severe as Patience. At Mr. Ashley's, especially, she would sit,
+as now, without it, her lovely face made more lovely by its falling
+curls. Anna did wrong, and she knew it; but she was a wilful girl, and a
+vain one. That pretty, timid, retiring manner concealed much self-will,
+much vanity; though in some things she was as easily swayed as a child.</p>
+
+<p>She disobeyed Patience in another matter. Patience would say to her,
+"Should Mary Ashley be opening her instrument of music, thee will mind
+not to listen to her songs: thee can go into another room."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes, Patience," she would answer; "I will mind."</p>
+
+<p>But, instead of not listening, Miss Anna would place herself near the
+piano, and drink in the songs as if her whole heart were in the music.
+Music had a great effect upon her; and there she would sit entranced, as
+though she were in some earthly Elysium. She said nothing of this at
+home; but the deceit was wrong.</p>
+
+<p>They were sitting down to tea, when Herbert Dare came in. The hours for
+meals were early at Mr. Ashley's: the medical men considered it best for
+Henry. Herbert could be a gentleman when he chose; good-looking also;
+quite an addition to a drawing-room. He took his seat between Mary and
+Anna.</p>
+
+<p>"I say, how is it you are not dining at home this evening?" asked Henry,
+who somehow did not regard the Dares with any great favour.</p>
+
+<p>"I dined in the middle of the day," was Herbert's reply.</p>
+
+<p>"The condescension! I thought only plebeians did that. James, is there a
+piece of chalk in the house? I must chalk that up."</p>
+
+<p>"Henry! Henry!" reproved Mrs. Ashley.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, let him talk, Mrs. Ashley," said Herbert, with supreme good humour.
+"There's nothing he likes so well as a wordy war."</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing in the world," acquiesced Henry. "Especially with Herbert
+Dare."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIIIB" id="CHAPTER_XXIIIB"></a>CHAPTER XXIII.</h2>
+<h3>ATTERLY'S FIELD.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Laughing, talking, playing at proverbs, earning and paying forfeits, it
+was a merry group in Mrs. Ashley's drawing-room. That lady herself was
+not joining in the merriment. She sat apart at a small table, some work
+in her hand, speaking a word now and then, and smiling to herself in
+echo to some unusual burst of laughter. It was so surprising that only
+five voices could make so much noise. They were sitting in a circle;
+Mary Ashley between William Halliburton and Herbert Dare, Anna Lynn
+between Herbert Dare and Henry Ashley, Henry and William side by side.</p>
+
+<p>Time, in these happy moments, passes rapidly. In due course, the hands
+of the French clock on the mantel-piece pointed to half-past eight, and
+its silver tones rang out the chimes. They were at the end of the game,
+and just settling themselves to commence another. The half-hour aroused
+William, and he glanced towards the clock.</p>
+
+<p>"Half-past eight! who would have thought it? I had no idea it was so
+late. I must leave you just for half an hour," he added, rising.</p>
+
+<p>"Leave for what?" cried Henry Ashley.</p>
+
+<p>"To go as far as East's. I will not remain there."</p>
+
+<p>Henry broke into a "wordy war," as Herbert Dare had called it earlier in
+the evening. William smiled, and overruled him in his quiet way.</p>
+
+<p>"They have my promise to go round this evening," he said. "I gave it
+them unconditionally, and must just go round to tell them I cannot
+come&mdash;if that's not a contradiction. Don't look so cross, Henry."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, you don't mean to come back," resentfully spoke Henry. "When
+you get there, you'll stop there."</p>
+
+<p>"No; I have told you I will not. But if I let them expect me all the
+evening, they will be looking and waiting, and do no good."</p>
+
+<p>He went out as he spoke, and left the house. As he reached the gate Mr.
+Ashley was coming in. Mr. Ashley had been in the manufactory; he did not
+often go there after tea. "Going already, William?" Mr. Ashley exclaimed
+in accents of surprise.</p>
+
+<p>"Not for long, sir. I must just look in at East's."</p>
+
+<p>"Is that scheme likely to prosper? Can you keep the men?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, indeed, I think so. My hopes are strong."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, there's nothing like hope," answered Mr. Ashley, with a laugh.
+"But I shall wonder if you do keep them. William," he added, after a
+slight pause, his tone changing to a business one, "I have a few words
+to say to you. I was about to speak to you in the counting-house this
+afternoon, but something put it aside. I have changed my plans with
+respect to this Lyons journey. Instead of despatching you, as I had
+thought of doing, I believe I shall send Samuel Lynn."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Ashley paused. William did not immediately reply.</p>
+
+<p>"Samuel Lynn's experience is greater than yours. It is a new thing, and
+he will see, better than you could do, what can and what cannot be
+done."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well, sir," at length answered William.</p>
+
+<p>"You speak as though you were disappointed," remarked Mr. Ashley.</p>
+
+<p>William was disappointed. But his motive for the feeling lay far deeper
+than Mr. Ashley supposed. "I should like to have gone, sir, very much.
+But&mdash;of course, my liking, or not liking, has nothing to do with it.
+Perhaps it is as well that I should not go," he resumed, more in
+soliloquy, as if he were trying to reconcile himself to the
+disappointment by argument, than in observation to Mr. Ashley. "I do not
+see how the men would have done without me at East's."</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, that's a grave consideration," replied Mr. Ashley jokingly, as he
+turned to walk to his own door.</p>
+
+<p>William stood still, nailed as it were to the spot, looking after his
+master. A most unwelcome thought had flashed over him; and in the
+impulse of the moment he followed Mr. Ashley, to speak it out. Even in
+the night's obscurity, his emotion was perceptible.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Ashley, the suspicion cast on me, at the time that cheque was lost,
+has not been the reason&mdash;the reason for your declining to intrust me
+with this commission?"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Ashley looked at him in surprise. But that William's agitation was
+all too real, he would have laughed at him.</p>
+
+<p>"William, I think you are turning silly. No suspicion was cast on you."</p>
+
+<p>"You have never stirred in the matter, sir; you have never spoken to me
+to tell me you were satisfied that I was not in any way guilty," was
+William's impulsive answer.</p>
+
+<p>"Spoken to you! where was the need? Why, William, my whole life, my
+daily intercourse with you, is only so much proof that <i>you</i> have my
+full confidence. Should I admit you to my home, to the companionship of
+my children, if I had no more faith in you than that?"</p>
+
+<p>"True," said William, beginning to recover himself. "It was a thought
+that flashed over me, sir, when you said I was not to be sent on this
+journey. I should not like you to doubt me; I could not live under it."</p>
+
+<p>"William, you reproached me with not having stirred in&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I beg your pardon, sir. I never thought of such a thing as reproach. I
+would not presume to do it."</p>
+
+<p>"I have not stirred in the matter," resumed Mr. Ashley. "A very
+disagreeable suspicion arises in my mind at times, as to how the cheque
+went; and I do not choose to stir in it. Have you no suspicion on the
+point?"</p>
+
+<p>The question took William by surprise. He stammered in his answer; an
+unusual thing for him to do. "N&mdash;o."</p>
+
+<p>"I ask if you have a suspicion?" quietly repeated Mr. Ashley, meaningly,
+as if he took William's answer for nothing, or had not heard it.</p>
+
+<p>Then William spoke out readily. "A suspicion has crossed my mind, sir.
+But it is one I should not like to breathe to you."</p>
+
+<p>"That's enough. I see. White voluntarily took the loss of the money on
+himself. He came to me to say so; therefore, I infer that it has in some
+private way been refunded to him. Mr. Dare veered round, and advised me
+not to investigate the affair, as I was no loser by it; Delves hinted
+the same thing. Altogether, I can see through the thing pretty clearly,
+and I am content to let it rest. Are you satisfied? If not&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Ashley broke off abruptly. William waited.</p>
+
+<p>"So, don't turn foolish again. You and I now understand each other.
+William!" he emphatically added, "I am growing to like you almost as I
+like my own children. I am proud of you; and I shall be prouder yet. God
+bless you, my boy!"</p>
+
+<p>It was so very rare that the calm, dignified Thomas Ashley was betrayed
+into anything like demonstrativeness, that William could only stand and
+look. And while he looked, the door closed on his master.</p>
+
+<p>He went way with all speed, calling at his home. Were the truth to be
+told, perhaps William was quite as anxious to be back again at Mr.
+Ashley's as Henry was that he should be there. Scarcely stopping for a
+word of greeting, he opened a drawer, took from it a small case of
+fossils, and then searched for something else; something which
+apparently he could not find.</p>
+
+<p>"Have any of you seen my microscope?" he asked, turning to the group at
+the table bending over their books.</p>
+
+<p>Jane looked round. "My dear, I lent it to Patience to-day. I suppose she
+forgot to return it. Gar, will you go and ask her for it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't disturb yourself, Gar," said William. "I am going out, and will
+ask Patience myself."</p>
+
+<p>Patience was alone in her parlour. She returned him the microscope,
+saying that the reason she had not sent it in was, that she had not had
+time to use it. "Thee art in evening dress!" she remarked to William.</p>
+
+<p>"I am at Mrs. Ashley's. I have only come out for a few minutes. Thank
+you. Good night, Patience."</p>
+
+<p>"Wait thee a moment, William. Is Anna ready to come home?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, that she is not. Why?"</p>
+
+<p>"I want to send for her. Samuel Lynn is spending the evening in the
+town, so I must send Grace. And I don't care to send her late. She will
+only get talking to John Pembridge, if she goes out after he is home
+from work."</p>
+
+<p>William smiled. "It is natural that she should, I suppose. When are they
+going to be married?"</p>
+
+<p>"Shortly," answered Patience, in a tone not quite so equable as usual.
+Patience saw no good in people getting married in general; and she was
+vexed at the prospect of losing Grace in particular. "She leaves us in a
+fortnight from this," she continued, alluding to Grace, "and all her
+thoughts seem to be bent now upon meeting John Pembridge. Could thee
+bring Anna home for me?"</p>
+
+<p>"With pleasure," replied William.</p>
+
+<p>"That is well, then. Grace does not deserve to go out to-night, for she
+wilfully crossed me to-day. Good evening, William."</p>
+
+<p>Fossil-case in hand, and the microscope in his pocket, William made the
+best of his way to Honey Fair. Robert East, Stephen Crouch, Brumm,
+Thornycroft, Carter, Cross, and some half-dozen others, were crowded
+round Robert's table. William handed them the fossils and the
+microscope; told the men to amuse themselves with them for that night,
+and he would explain more about them on the morrow. He was ever anxious
+that the men should have some object of amusement as a rallying point on
+these evenings; anything to keep their interest awakened.</p>
+
+<p>Before the half-hour had expired, he was back at Mr. Ashley's. Proverbs
+had been given up, and Mary was at the piano. Mr. Ashley had been
+accompanying her on the flute, on which instrument he was a brilliant
+player, and when William entered she was singing a duet with Herbert
+Dare. Anna&mdash;disobedient Anna&mdash;was seated, listening with all her ears
+and heart to the music, her up-turned countenance quite wonderful to
+look upon in its rapt delight.</p>
+
+<p>"I think you could sing," spoke Henry Ashley to her, in an undertone,
+after watching her while the song lasted.</p>
+
+<p>Anna shook her head. "I may not try," she said, raising her blue eyes to
+him for one moment, and then dropping them.</p>
+
+<p>"The time may come when you may," returned Henry, in a deeper whisper.</p>
+
+<p>She did not answer, she did not lift her eyes; but the faintest possible
+smile parted her rosy lips&mdash;a smile which seemed to express a
+consciousness that perhaps that time might come. And Henry, shy and
+sensitive, stood apart and gazed upon her, his heart beating.</p>
+
+<p>"Young lady," said William, advancing, "do you know that a special
+honour has been assigned me to-night? One that concerns you."</p>
+
+<p>Anna raised her eyes now. She felt as much at ease with William as she
+did with her father or Patience. "What dost thee say, William? An
+honour?"</p>
+
+<p>"That of seeing you safely home. I&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"What's that for?" interrupted Anna. "Where's my father?"</p>
+
+<p>"He is not at home this evening. And Patience did not care to send out
+Grace. I'll take care of you."</p>
+
+<p>William could not but observe the sudden flush, the glow of pleasure, or
+what looked like pleasure, that overspread Anna's countenance at the
+information. "What's that for?" he thought, echoing her recent words.
+But Mary began to sing again, and his attention was diverted.</p>
+
+<p>Ten o'clock was the signal for departure. As they were going
+out&mdash;William, Anna, and Herbert Dare, who took the opportunity to leave
+with them&mdash;Henry Ashley limped after them, and drew William aside in the
+hall.</p>
+
+<p>"Honour bright, mind, my friend!"</p>
+
+<p>William did not understand. "Honour bright, always," said he. "But what
+do you mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"You'll not get making love to her on your way home!"</p>
+
+<p>William could not help laughing. He turned his amused face full on
+Henry. "Be at rest. I would not care to make love to her, had I full
+leave and license from the Quaker society, granted me in public
+meeting."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think I did not see her brightened countenance when you told her
+she was to go home with you?" retorted Henry.</p>
+
+<p>"I saw it too. I conclude she was pleased that her father was not coming
+for her, little undutiful thing! However it may have been, rely upon it
+that brightening was not for me."</p>
+
+<p>Pressing his hand warmly, with a pressure that no false friend ever
+gave, William hastened away. It was time. Herbert Dare and Anna had not
+waited for him, but were ever so far ahead.</p>
+
+<p>"Very polite of you!" cried William, when he caught them up. "Anna, had
+you gone pitching into that part of the path they are mending, I should
+have been responsible, you know. You might have waited for me."</p>
+
+<p>He spoke good-humouredly, making a joke of it. Herbert Dare did not
+appear to receive it as one. He retorted haughtily.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you suppose I am not capable of taking care of Miss Lynn? As much so
+as you, at any rate."</p>
+
+<p>"Possibly," coolly returned William, not losing his good-humoured tone.
+Herbert Dare had given Anna his arm. William walked near her on the
+other side. Thus they reached Mr. Lynn's.</p>
+
+<p>"Good night," said Herbert, shaking hands with her. "Good night to you,
+Halliburton."</p>
+
+<p>"Good night," replied William.</p>
+
+<p>Herbert Dare set off running. William knocked at the door and waited
+until it was opened. Then he also shook hands with Anna, and saw her in.</p>
+
+<p>Frank and Gar were putting up their books for the night when William
+entered. The boarders had gone to bed. Jane, a very unusual thing for
+her, was sitting by the fire, doing nothing.</p>
+
+<p>"Am I not idle, William?" she said.</p>
+
+<p>William bent to kiss her. "There's no need for you to be anything but
+idle now, mother."</p>
+
+<p>"No need! William, you know better. There's great need that none should
+be idle: none in the world. But I have a bad headache to-night."</p>
+
+<p>"William," called out Gar, "they brought this round for you from East's.
+Young Tom came with it."</p>
+
+<p>It was the case of fossils and the microscope. William observed that
+they need not have sent them, as he should want them there the next
+evening. "Patience said she had not had time to use the microscope," he
+continued. "I think I will take it in to her. I suppose she has been
+buying linen, and wants to see if the threads are even."</p>
+
+<p>"The Lynns will have gone to bed by this time," said Jane.</p>
+
+<p>"Not to-night. I have only just seen Anna home from Mrs. Ashley's; and
+Mr. Lynn has gone out to supper."</p>
+
+<p>He turned to leave the room with the microscope, but Gar was looking at
+the fossils and asked the loan of it. A few minutes, and William finally
+went out.</p>
+
+<p>Patience came to the door, in answer to his knock. She thanked him for
+the microscope and stood a minute or two chatting. Patience was fond of
+a gossip; there was no denying it.</p>
+
+<p>"Will thee not walk in?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not now," he said, turning away. "Good night, Patience."</p>
+
+<p>"Good night to thee. Thee send in Anna, please. She is having a pretty
+long talk with thy mother."</p>
+
+<p>William was at a loss. "I saw Anna in from Mr. Ashley's."</p>
+
+<p>"She did but ask whether her father was home, and then ran through the
+house," replied Patience. "She had a message for thy mother, she said,
+from Margaret Ashley."</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Ashley does not send messages to my mother," returned William, in
+some wonder. "They have no acquaintance with each other&mdash;beyond a bow,
+in passing."</p>
+
+<p>"She must have sent her one to-night&mdash;why else should the child go in to
+deliver it?" persisted Patience. "Not but that Anna is always running
+into thy house at nights. I fear she must trouble thy mother at her
+class."</p>
+
+<p>"She never stays long enough for that," replied William. "When she does
+come in&mdash;and it is not often&mdash;she just opens the door; 'How dost thee,
+friend Jane Halliburton?' and out again."</p>
+
+<p>"Then thee can know nothing about it, William. I tell thee she never
+stays less than an hour, and she is always there. I say to her that one
+of these evenings thy mother may likely be hinting to her that her room
+will be more acceptable than her company. Thee send her home now,
+please."</p>
+
+<p>William turned away. Curious thoughts were passing through his mind.
+That Anna did not go in, in the frequent manner Patience intimated; that
+she rarely stayed above a minute or two, he knew. He knew&mdash;at least, he
+felt perfectly sure&mdash;that Anna was not at his house now; had not been
+there. And yet Patience said "Send her home."</p>
+
+<p>"Has Anna been here?" he asked when he went in.</p>
+
+<p>"Anna? No."</p>
+
+<p>Not just that moment, to draw observation, but presently, William left
+the room, and went into the garden at the back. A very unpleasant
+suspicion had arisen in his mind. It might not have occurred to him, but
+for certain glances which he had observed pass that evening between
+Herbert Dare and Anna&mdash;glances of confidence&mdash;as if they had a private
+mutual understanding on some point or other. He had not understood them
+then: he very much feared he was about to understand them now.</p>
+
+<p>Opening the gate leading to the field at the back, commonly called
+Atterly's Field, he looked cautiously around. For a moment or two he
+could see nothing. The hedge was thick on either side, and no living
+being appeared to be beneath its shade. But he saw farther when his eyes
+became accustomed to the obscurity.</p>
+
+<p>Pacing slowly together, were Herbert Dare and Anna. Now moving on, a few
+steps; now pausing to converse more at ease. William drew a deep breath.
+He saw quite enough to be sure this was not the first time they had so
+paced together: and thought after thought crowded on his mind; one idea,
+one remembrance chasing another.</p>
+
+<p>Was this the explanation of the plaid cloak, which had paraded
+stealthily on that very field-path during the past winter? There could
+not be a doubt of it. And was it in this manner that Anna's flying
+absences from home were spent&mdash;absences which she, in her unpardonable
+deceit, had accounted for to Patience by saying that she was with Mrs.
+Halliburton? Alas for Anna! Alas for all who deviate by an untruth from
+the path of rectitude! If the misguided child&mdash;she was little better
+than a child&mdash;could only have seen the future that was before her! It
+may have been very pleasant, very romantic to steal a march on Patience,
+and pace out there in the cold, chattering to Herbert Dare; listening to
+his protestations that he cared for no one in the world but herself;
+never had cared, never should care: but it was laying up for Anna a day
+of reckoning, the like of which had rarely fallen on a young head.
+William seemed to take it all in at a glance; and, rising tumultuously
+over other unpleasant thoughts, came the remembrance of Henry Ashley's
+misplaced and ill-starred love.</p>
+
+<p>With another deep breath, that was more like a groan than anything
+else&mdash;for Herbert Dare never brought good to any one in his life, and
+William knew it&mdash;William set off towards them. Whether they heard
+footsteps, or whether they thought the time for parting had come,
+certain it was that Herbert was gone before William could reach them,
+and Anna was speeding towards her home with a fleet step. William placed
+himself in her way, and she started aside with a scream that went
+echoing through the field. Then they had not heard him.</p>
+
+<p>"William, is it thee? Thee hast frightened me nearly out of my senses."</p>
+
+<p>"Anna," he gravely said, "Patience is waiting for you."</p>
+
+<p>Anna Lynn's imagination led her to all sorts of fantastic fears. "Oh,
+William, thee hast not been in to Patience!" she exclaimed, in sudden
+trembling. "Thee hast not been to our house to seek me!"</p>
+
+<p>They had reached his gate now. He halted, and took her hand in his, his
+manner impressive, his voice firm. "Anna, I must speak to you as I would
+to my own sister; as I might to Janey, had she lived, and been drawn
+into this terrible imprudence. Though, indeed, I should not then speak,
+but act. What tales are they that Herbert Dare is deceiving you with?"</p>
+
+<p>"Hast thee been in to Patience? Hast thee been in to Patience?"
+reiterated Anna.</p>
+
+<p>"Patience knows nothing of this. She thinks you are at our house. I ask
+you, Anna, what foolish tales Herbert Dare is deceiving you with?"</p>
+
+<p>Anna&mdash;relieved on the score of her fright&mdash;shook her head petulantly.
+"He is not deceiving me with any. He would not deceive."</p>
+
+<p>"Anna, hear me. His very nature, as I believe, is deceit. I fear he has
+little truth, little honour within him. Is Herbert professing to&mdash;to
+love you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I will not answer thee aught. I will not hear thee speak against
+Herbert Dare."</p>
+
+<p>"Anna," he continued in a lower tone, "you ought to be <i>afraid</i> of
+Herbert Dare. He is not a good man."</p>
+
+<p>How wilful she was! "It is of no use thy talking," she reiterated,
+putting her fingers to her ears. "Herbert Dare <i>is</i> good. I will not
+hear thee speak against him."</p>
+
+<p>"Then, Anna, as you meet it in this way, I must inform your father or
+Patience of what I have seen. If you will not keep yourself out of
+harm's way, they must do it for you."</p>
+
+<p>It terrified her to the last degree. Anna could have died rather than
+suffer her escapade to reach the ears of home. "How can thee talk of
+harm, William? What harm is likely to come to me? I did no more harm
+talking to Herbert Dare here, than I did, talking to him in Margaret
+Ashley's drawing-room."</p>
+
+<p>"My dear child, you do not understand things," he answered. "The very
+fact of your stealing from your home to walk about in this manner,
+however innocent it may be in itself, would do you incalculable harm in
+the eyes of the world. And I am quite sure that in no shape or form can
+Herbert Dare bring you good, or contribute to your good. Tell me one
+thing, Anna: Have you learnt to care much for him?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't care for him at all," responded Anna.</p>
+
+<p>"No! Then why walk about with him?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because it's fun to cheat Patience."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Anna, this is very wrong, very foolish. Do you mean what you
+say&mdash;that you do not care for him?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course I mean it," she answered. "I think he is very kind and
+pleasant, and he gave me a pretty locket. But that's all. William, thee
+wilt not tell upon me?" she continued, clinging to his arm, her tone
+changing to one of entreaty, as the terror, which she had been
+endeavouring to conceal with light words, returned upon her. "William!
+thee art kind and obliging&mdash;thee wilt not tell upon me! I will promise
+thee never to meet Herbert Dare again, if thee wilt not."</p>
+
+<p>"It would be for your own sake, Anna, that I should speak. How do I
+know that you would keep your word?"</p>
+
+<p>"I give thee my promise that I will! I will not meet Herbert Dare in
+this way again. I tell thee I do not care to meet him. Canst thee not
+believe me?"</p>
+
+<p>He did believe her, implicitly. Her eyes were streaming; her pretty
+hands clung about him. He did like Anna very much, and he would not draw
+vexation upon her, if it could be avoided with expediency.</p>
+
+<p>"I will rely upon you then, Anna. Believe me, you could not choose a
+worse friend in all Helstonleigh, than Herbert Dare. I have your word?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. And I have thine."</p>
+
+<p>He placed her arm within his own, and led her to the back door of her
+house. Patience was standing at it. "I have brought you the little
+truant," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"It is well thee hast," replied Patience. "I had just opened the door to
+come after her. Anna, thee art worse than a wild thing. Running off in
+this manner!"</p>
+
+<p>It had not been in William's way to see much of Anna's inner qualities.
+He had not detected her deceit; he did not know that she could be
+untruthful when it suited her to be so. He had firm faith in her word,
+never questioning that it might be depended upon. Nevertheless, when he
+came afterwards to reflect upon the matter, he thought it might be his
+duty to give Patience a little word of caution. And this he could do
+without compromising Anna.</p>
+
+<p>He contrived to see Patience alone the very next day. She began talking
+of their previous evening at the Ashleys'.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," observed William, "it was a pleasant evening. It would have been
+all the pleasanter, though, but for one who was there&mdash;Herbert Dare."</p>
+
+<p>"I do not admire the Dares," said Patience frigidly.</p>
+
+<p>"Nor I. But I observed one thing, Patience&mdash;that he admires Anna. Were
+Anna my sister, I should not like her to be too much admired by Herbert
+Dare. So take care of her."</p>
+
+<p>Patience looked steadily at him. William continued, his tone
+confidential.</p>
+
+<p>"You know what Herbert Dare is said to be, Patience&mdash;fonder of leading
+people to ill than to good. Anna is giddy&mdash;as you yourself tell her
+twenty times a day. I would keep her carefully under my own eyes. I
+would not even allow her to run into our house at night, as she is fond
+of doing," he added with marked emphasis. "She is as safe there as she
+is here; but it is giving her a taste of liberty that she may not be the
+better for in the end. When she comes in, send Grace with her, or bring
+her yourself: I will see her home again. Tell her she is a grown-up
+young lady now, and it is not proper that she should go out unattended,"
+he concluded, laughing.</p>
+
+<p>"William, I do not quite understand thee. Hast thee cause to say this?"</p>
+
+<p>"All I say, Patience, is&mdash;keep her out of the way of possible harm, of
+undesirable friendships. Were Anna to be drawn into a liking for Herbert
+Dare, I am sure it would not be agreeable to Mr. Lynn. He would never
+consider the Dares a desirable family for her to marry into&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Marry into the family of the Dares!" interrupted Patience hotly. "Art
+thee losing thy senses, William?"</p>
+
+<p>"These likings sometimes lead to marriage," quietly continued William.
+"Therefore, I say, keep her away from all chance of forming them.
+Believe me, my advice is good."</p>
+
+<p>"I think I understand," concluded Patience. "I thank thee kindly,
+William."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIVB" id="CHAPTER_XXIVB"></a>CHAPTER XXIV.</h2>
+
+<h3>ANNA'S EXCUSE.</h3>
+
+
+<p>A very unpleasant part of the story has now to be touched upon.
+Unpleasant things occur in real life, and if true pictures have to be
+given of the world as it exists, as it goes on its round, day by day,
+allusion to them cannot be wholly avoided.</p>
+
+<p>Certain words of William Halliburton to Patience had run in this
+fashion: "Were Anna to be drawn into a liking for Herbert Dare, I am
+sure it would not be agreeable to Mr. Lynn. He would never consider the
+Dares a desirable family for her to marry into." In thus speaking,
+William had striven to put the case in a polite sort of form to the ears
+of Patience. As to any probability of marriage between one of the Dares
+and Anna Lynn, he would scarcely have believed it within the range of
+possibility. The Dares, one and all, would have considered Anna far
+beneath them in position, whilst the difference of religion would on
+Anna's side be an almost insurmountable objection. The worst that
+William had contemplated was the "liking" he had hinted at. He cared for
+Anna's welfare as he would have cared for a sister's, and he believed it
+would not contribute to her happiness that she should become attached to
+Herbert Dare. But for compromising Anna&mdash;and he had given his word not
+to do it&mdash;he would have spoken out openly and said there was a danger of
+this liking coming to pass, if she met him as he feared she had been in
+the habit of doing. Certainly he would not have alluded to the remote
+possibility of marriage, the mention of which had so scared Patience.</p>
+
+<p>What had William thought, what had Patience said, could they have known
+that this liking was already implanted in Anna's heart beyond recall?
+Alas! that it should have been so! Quiet, childish, timid as Anna
+outwardly appeared, the strongest affection had been aroused in her
+heart for Herbert Dare&mdash;was filling its every crevice. These apparently
+shy, sensitive natures are sometimes only the more passionate and
+wayward within. One evening a few months previously, Anna was walking
+in Atterly's Field, behind their house. Anna had been in the habit of
+walking there&mdash;nay, of playing there&mdash;since she was a child, and she
+would as soon have associated harm with their garden as with that field.
+Farmer Atterly kept his sheep in it, and Anna had run about with the
+lambs as long as she could remember. Herbert Dare came up
+accidentally&mdash;the path through it, leading along at the back of the
+houses, was public, though not much frequented&mdash;and he spoke to Anna.
+Anna knew him to say "Good day" when she passed him in the street; and
+she now and then saw him at Mrs. Ashley's. Herbert stayed talking with
+her a few minutes, and then went on his way.</p>
+
+<p>Somehow, from that time, he and Anna encountered each other there pretty
+frequently; and that was how the liking had grown. If a qualm of
+conscience crossed Miss Anna at times that it was not quite the thing
+for a young lady to do, thus to meet a gentleman in secret, she
+conveniently put the qualm away. That harm should arise from it in any
+way never so much as crossed her mind for a moment; and to do Herbert
+Dare justice, real harm was probably as far from his mind as from hers.</p>
+
+<p>He grew to like her, almost as she liked him. Herbert Dare did not, in
+the sight of Helstonleigh, stand out as a model of all the cardinal
+virtues; but he was not all bad. Anna believed him all good&mdash;all honour,
+truth, excellence; and her heart had flashed out a rebuke to William
+when he hinted that Herbert was not exactly a paragon. She only knew
+that the very sound of his footstep made her heart leap with happiness;
+she only knew that to her he appeared everything that was bright and
+fascinating. Her great dread was, lest their intimacy should become
+known and separation ensue. That separation would be inevitable, were
+her father or Patience to become cognizant of it, Anna rightly believed.</p>
+
+<p>Cunning little sophist that she was! She would fain persuade herself
+that an innocent meeting out of doors was justifiable, where a meeting
+indoors was out of the question. They had no acquaintance with the
+Dares; consequently Herbert could plead no excuse for calling in upon
+them&mdash;none at least that would be likely to carry weight with Patience.
+And so the young lady reconciled her conscience in the best way she
+could, stole out as often as she was able to meet him, and left
+discovery to take care of itself.</p>
+
+<p>Discovery came in the shape of William Halliburton. It was bad enough;
+but far less alarming to Anna than it might have been. Had her father
+dropped upon her, she would have run away and fallen into the nearest
+pond, in her terror and consternation.</p>
+
+<p>Though guilty of certain trifling inaccuracies&mdash;such as protesting that
+she "did not care" for Herbert Dare&mdash;Anna, in that interview with
+William, fully meant to keep the promise she made, not to meet him
+again. Promises, however, given under the influence of terror or other
+sudden emotion, are not always kept. It would probably prove so with
+Anna's. One thing was indisputable&mdash;that where a mind could so far
+forget its moral rectitude as to practise deceit in one particular, as
+Anna was doing, it would not be very scrupulous to keep its better
+promises.</p>
+
+<p>Anna's thoughts for many a morning latterly, when she arose, had been
+"This evening I shall see him," and the prospect seemed to quicken her
+fingers, as it quickened her heart. But on the morning after the
+discovery, her first thought was, "I must never see him again as I have
+done. How shall I warn him not to come?" That he would be in the field
+again that evening, unless warned, she knew: if William Halliburton saw
+him there a quarrel might ensue between them; at any rate, an unpleasant
+scene. Anna came down, feeling cross and petulant, and inclined to wish
+William had been at the bottom of the sea before he had found them out
+the previous evening.</p>
+
+<p>"Where there's a will, there's a way," it is said. Anna Lynn contrived
+that day to exemplify it. Her will was set upon seeing Herbert Dare, and
+she did see him: it can scarcely be said by accident. Anna contrived to
+be sent into the town by Patience on an errand, and she managed to
+linger so long in the neighbourhood of Mr. Dare's office, gazing in at
+the shops in West Street (if Patience had only seen her!), that Herbert
+Dare passed.</p>
+
+<p>"Anna!"</p>
+
+<p>"Herbert, I have been waiting in the hope of seeing thee," she
+whispered, her manner timid as a fawn, her pretty cheeks blushing. "Thee
+must not come again in the evening, for I cannot meet thee."</p>
+
+<p>"Why so?" asked Herbert.</p>
+
+<p>"William Halliburton saw me with thee last night, and he says it is not
+right. I had to give him my promise not to meet thee again, or he would
+have told my father."</p>
+
+<p>Herbert cast a word to William; not a complimentary one. "What business
+is it of his?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"I dare not stay talking to thee, Herbert. Patience will likely be
+sending Grace after me, finding me so long away. But I was obliged to
+tell thee this, lest thee should be coming again. Fare thee well!"</p>
+
+<p>Passing swiftly from him, Anna went on her way. Herbert did not choose
+to follow her in the open street. She went along, poor child, with her
+head down and her eyelashes glistening. It was little else than bitter
+sorrow thus to part with Herbert Dare.</p>
+
+<p>Patience was standing at the door, looking out for her when she came in
+sight of home. Patience had given little heed to what William
+Halliburton had said the previous night, or she might not have sent Anna
+into Helstonleigh alone. In point of fact, Patience had thought William
+a little fanciful. But when, instead of being home at four o'clock, as
+she ought to have been, the clock struck five, and she had not made her
+appearance, Patience began to think she did let her have too much
+liberty.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, where hast thee been?" was Patience's salutation, delivered in icy
+tones.</p>
+
+<p>"I met so many people, Patience. They stayed to talk with me."</p>
+
+<p>Brushing past Patience, deaf to her subsequent reproofs, Anna flew up to
+her own room. When she came down, her father had entered, and Patience
+was pouring out the tea.</p>
+
+<p>"Wilt thee tell thy father where thee hast been?"</p>
+
+<p>The command was delivered in Patience's driest tone. Anna, inwardly
+tormented, outwardly vexed, burst into tears. The Quaker looked up in
+surprise.</p>
+
+<p>Patience explained. Anna had left home at three o'clock to execute a
+little commission: she might well have been home in three-quarters of an
+hour and she had only made her appearance now.</p>
+
+<p>"What kept thee, child?" asked her father.</p>
+
+<p>"I only looked in at a shop or two," pleaded Anna, through her tears.
+"There were the prettiest new engravings in at Thomas Woakam's! If
+Patience had wanted me to run both ways, she should have said so."</p>
+
+<p>Notwithstanding the little spice of impertinence peeping out in the last
+sentence, Samuel Lynn saw no reason to correct Anna. That she could ever
+be wrong, he scarcely admitted to his own heart. "Dry thy tears, child,
+and take thy tea," said he. "Patience wanted thee, maybe, for some
+household matter; it can wait another opportunity. Patience," he added,
+as if to drown the sound of his words and their remembrance, "are my
+shirts in order?"</p>
+
+<p>"Thy shirts in order?" repeated Patience. "Why dost thee ask that?"</p>
+
+<p>"I should not have asked it without reason," returned he. "Wilt thee
+please give me an answer?"</p>
+
+<p>"The old shirts are as much in order as things, beginning to wear, can
+be," replied Patience. "Thy new shirts I cannot say much about. They
+will not be finished this side Midsummer, unless Anna sits to them a
+little closer than she is doing now."</p>
+
+<p>"Thy shirts will be ready quite in time, father; before the old ones are
+gone beyond wearing," spoke up Anna.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know that," said Mr. Lynn. "Had they been ready, child, I might
+have wanted them now. I am going a journey."</p>
+
+<p>"Is it the French journey thee hast talked of once or twice lately?"
+interposed Patience.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Samuel Lynn. "The master was speaking to me about it this
+afternoon. We were interrupted, and I did not altogether gather when he
+wishes me to start; but I fancy it will be immediately&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, father! couldst thee not take me?"</p>
+
+<p>The interruption came from Anna. Her blue eyes were glistening, her
+cheeks were crimson; a journey to the interior of France wore charms for
+her as great as it did for Cyril Dare. All the way home from West Street
+she had been thinking how she should spend her miserable home days,
+debarred of the evening snatches of Mr. Herbert's charming society.
+Going to France would be something.</p>
+
+<p>"I wish I could take thee, child! But thee art aware thee might as well
+ask me to take the Malvern Hills."</p>
+
+<p>In her inward conviction, Anna believed she might. Before she could
+oppose any answering but most useless argument, Samuel Lynn's attention
+was directed to the road. Parting opposite to his house, as if they had
+just walked together from the manufactory, were Mr. Ashley and William
+Halliburton. The master walked on. William, catching Samuel Lynn's eye,
+came across and entered.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Ashley had been telling William some news. Though no vacillating man
+in a general way, it appeared that he had again reconsidered his
+determination with regard to despatching William to France. He had come
+to the resolve to send him, as well as Samuel Lynn. William could not
+help surmising that his betrayed emotion the previous night, his fears
+touching Mr. Ashley's reason for not sending him, may have had something
+to do with that gentleman's change of mind.</p>
+
+<p>"Will you be troubled with me?" asked he of Mr. Lynn, when he had
+imparted this to him.</p>
+
+<p>"If such be the master's fiat, I cannot help being troubled with thee,"
+was the answer of Samuel Lynn; but the tone of his voice spoke of
+anything rather than dissatisfaction. "Why is he sending thee as well as
+myself?"</p>
+
+<p>"He told me he thought it might be best that you should show me the
+markets, and introduce me to the skin merchants, as I should probably
+have to make the journey alone in future," replied William. "I had no
+idea, until the master mentioned it now, that you had ever made the
+journey yourself, Mr. Lynn; you never told me."</p>
+
+<p>"There was nothing, that I am aware of, to call for the information,"
+observed the Quaker, in his usual dry manner. "I went there two or three
+times on my own account when I was in business for myself. Did the
+master tell thee when he should expect us to start?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not precisely. The beginning of the week, I think."</p>
+
+<p>"I have been asking my father if he cannot take me," put in Anna, in
+plaintive tones, looking at William.</p>
+
+<p>"And I have answered her, that she may as well ask me to take the
+Malvern Hills," was the rejoinder of Samuel Lynn. "I could as likely
+take the one as the other."</p>
+
+<p>Likely or unlikely, Samuel Lynn would have taken her beyond all
+doubt&mdash;taken her with a greedy, sheltering grasp&mdash;had he foreseen the
+result of leaving her at home, the grievous trouble that was to fall
+upon her head.</p>
+
+<p>"Thee wilt drink a dish of tea with us this evening, William?"</p>
+
+<p>It was Patience who spoke. William hesitated, but he saw they would be
+pleased at his doing so, and he sat down. The conversation turned upon
+France&mdash;upon Samuel Lynn's experiences, and William's anticipations.
+Anna lapsed into silence and abstraction.</p>
+
+<p>In the bustle of moving, when Samuel Lynn was departing for the
+manufactory, William, before going home to his books, contrived to
+obtain a word alone with Anna.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you thought of our compact?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," she said, freely meeting his eyes in honest truth. "I saw him
+this afternoon in the street; I went on purpose to try and meet him. He
+will not come again."</p>
+
+<p>"That is well. Mind and take care of yourself, Anna," he added, with a
+smile. "I shall be away, and not able to give an eye to you, as I freely
+confess it had been my resolve to do."</p>
+
+<p>Anna shook her head. "He does not come again," she repeated. "Thee may
+go away believing me, William."</p>
+
+<p>And William did go away believing her&mdash;went away to France putting faith
+in her; thinking that the undesirable intimacy was at an end for ever.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVB" id="CHAPTER_XXVB"></a>CHAPTER XXV.</h2>
+
+<h3>PATIENCE COME TO GRIEF.</h3>
+
+
+<p>In the early part of March, Samuel Lynn and William departed on their
+journey to France. And the first thought that occurred to Patience
+afterwards was one that is apt to occur to many thrifty housekeepers on
+the absence of the master&mdash;that of instituting a thorough cleansing of
+the house, from garret to cellar; or, as Anna mischievously expressed
+it, "turning the house inside out." She knew Patience did not like her
+wild phrases, and therefore she used them.</p>
+
+<p>Patience was parting with Grace&mdash;the servant who had been with them so
+many years. Grace had resolved to get married. In vain Patience assured
+her that marriage, generally speaking, was found to be nothing better
+than a bed of thorns. Grace would not listen. Others had risked the
+thorns before her, and she thought she must try her chance with the
+rest. Patience had no resource but to fall in with the decision, and to
+look out for another servant. It appeared that she could not readily
+find one; at least, one whom she would venture to engage. She was
+unusually particular; and while she waited and looked out, she engaged
+Hester Dell, a humble member of her own persuasion, to come in
+temporarily. Hester lived with her aged mother, not far off, chiefly
+supporting herself by doing fine needlework at her own, or at the
+Friends' houses. She readily consented to take up her abode with
+Patience for a month or so, to help with the housework, and looked upon
+it as a sort of holiday.</p>
+
+<p>"It's of no use to begin the house until Grace shall be gone," observed
+Patience to Anna. "She'd likely be scrubbing the paper on the walls,
+instead of the paint, for her head is turned just now."</p>
+
+<p>"What fun, if she should!" ejaculated Anna.</p>
+
+<p>"Fun for thee, perhaps, who art ignorant of cost and labour," rebuked
+Patience. "I shall wait until Grace has departed. The day that she goes,
+Hester comes in; and I shall have the house begun the day following."</p>
+
+<p>"Couldn't thee have it begun the same day?" saucily asked Anna.</p>
+
+<p>"Will thee attend to thy stitching?" returned Patience sharply. "Thy
+father's wristbands will not be done the better for thy nonsense."</p>
+
+<p>"Shall I be turned out of my bedroom?" resumed Anna.</p>
+
+<p>"For a night, perchance. Thee canst go into thy father's. But the top of
+the house will be done first."</p>
+
+<p>"Is the roof to be scrubbed?" went on Anna. "I don't know how Hester
+will hold on while she does it."</p>
+
+<p>"Thee art in one of thy wilful humours this morning," responded
+Patience. "Art thee going to set me at defiance now thy father's back is
+turned?"</p>
+
+<p>"Who said anything about setting thee at defiance?" asked Anna. "I
+<i>should</i> like to see Hester scrubbing the roof!"</p>
+
+<p>"Thee hadst better behave thyself, Anna," was the retort of Patience.
+And Anna, in her lighthearted wilfulness, burst into a merry laugh.</p>
+
+<p>Grace departed, and Hester came in: a quiet little body, of forty
+years, with dark hair and defective teeth. Patience, as good as her
+word, was up betimes the following morning, and had the house up
+betimes, to institute the ceremony. Their house contained the same
+accommodation as Mrs. Halliburton's, with this addition&mdash;that the garret
+in the Quaker's had been partitioned off into two chambers. Patience
+slept in one; Grace had occupied the other. The three bedrooms on the
+floor beneath were used, one by Mr. Lynn, one by Anna; the other was
+kept as a spare room, for any chance visitor; the "best room" it was
+usually called. The house belonged to Mr. Lynn. Formerly, both houses
+had belonged to him; but at the time of his loss he had sold the other
+to Mr. Ashley.</p>
+
+<p>The ablutions were in full play. Hester, with a pail, mop,
+scrubbing-brush, and other essentials, was ensconced in the top
+chambers; Anna, ostensibly at her wristband stitching (but the work did
+not get on very fast), was singing to herself in an undertone in one of
+the parlours, the door safely shut; while Patience was exercising a
+general superintendence, giving an eye everywhere. Suddenly there echoed
+a loud noise, as of a fall, and a scream resounded throughout the house.
+It appeared to come from what they usually called the bedroom floor.
+Anna flew up the stairs, and Hester Dell flew down the upper ones. At
+the foot of the garret stairs, her head against the door of Anna's
+chamber, lay Patience and a heavy bed-pole. In attempting to carry the
+pole down from her room, she had somehow overbalanced herself, and
+fallen heavily.</p>
+
+<p>"Is the house coming down?" Anna was beginning to say. But she stopped
+in consternation when she saw Patience. Hester attempted to pick her up.</p>
+
+<p>"Thee cannot raise me, Hester. Anna, child, thee must not attempt to
+touch me. I fear my leg is br&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Her voice died away, her eyes closed, and a hue, as of death, overspread
+her countenance. Anna, more terrified than she had ever been in her
+life, flew round to Mrs. Halliburton's.</p>
+
+<p>Dobbs, from her kitchen, saw her coming&mdash;saw the young face streaming
+with tears, heard the short cries of alarm&mdash;and Dobbs stepped out.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, what on earth's the matter now?" asked she.</p>
+
+<p>Anna seized Dobbs, and clung to her; partly that to do so seemed some
+protection in her great terror. "Oh, Dobbs, come in to Patience!" she
+cried. "I think she's dying."</p>
+
+<p>The voice reached the ears of Jane. She came forth from the parlour.
+Dobbs was then running in to Samuel Lynn's, and Jane ran also,
+understanding nothing.</p>
+
+<p>Patience was reviving when they entered. All her cry was, that they must
+not move her. One of her legs was in some manner doubled under her, and
+doubled over the pole. Jane felt a conviction that it was broken.</p>
+
+<p>"Who can run fastest?" she asked. "We must have Mr. Parry here."</p>
+
+<p>Hester waited for no further instruction. She caught up her
+fawn-coloured Quaker shawl and grey bonnet, and was off, putting them on
+as she ran. Anna, sobbing wildly, turned and hid her face on Jane, as
+one who wants to be comforted. Then, her mood changing, she threw
+herself down beside Patience, the tears from her own eyes falling on
+Patience's face.</p>
+
+<p>"Patience, dear Patience, canst thee forgive me? I have been wilful and
+naughty, but I never meant to cross thee really. I did it only to tease
+thee; but I loved thee all the while."</p>
+
+<p>Patience, suffering as she was, drew down the repentant face to kiss it
+fervently. "I know it, dear child; I know thee. Don't thee distress
+thyself for me."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Parry came, and Patience was carried into the spare room. Her leg
+was broken, and badly broken; the surgeon called it a compound fracture.</p>
+
+<p>So there was an end to the grand cleansing scheme for a long time to
+come! Patience lay in sickness and pain, and Hester had to make her her
+first care. Anna's spirits revived in a day or two. Mr. Parry said a
+cure would be effected in time; that the worst of the business was the
+long confinement for Patience; and Anna forgot her dutiful fit of
+repentance. Patience <i>would</i> be well again, would be about as before;
+and, as to the present confinement, Anna rather grew to look upon it as
+the interposition of some good fairy, who must have taken her own
+liberty under its special protection.</p>
+
+<p>Whether Anna would have succeeded in eluding the vigilance of Patience
+<i>up</i> cannot be told; she certainly did that of Patience <i>down</i>. Anna had
+told Herbert Dare that he was not to pay a visit to Atterly's field
+again, or expect her to pay one; but Herbert Dare was about the last
+person to obey such advice. Had William Halliburton remained to be&mdash;as
+Herbert termed it&mdash;a treacherous spy, there's no doubt that Herbert
+would have striven to set his vigilance at defiance: with William's
+absence, the field, both literally and figuratively, was open to him. In
+the absence of Samuel Lynn, it was doubly open. Herbert Dare knew
+perfectly well that if the Quaker once gained the slightest inkling of
+his secret acquaintance with Anna, it would effectually be put a stop
+to. To wear a cloak resembling William Halliburton's, on his visits to
+the field, had been the result of a bright idea. It had suddenly
+occurred to Mr. Herbert that if the Quaker's lynx eyes did by mischance
+catch sight of the cloak, promenading some fine night at the back of his
+residence, they would accord it no particular notice, concluding the
+wearer to be William Halliburton taking a moonlight stroll at the back
+of <i>his</i> residence. Nevertheless, Herbert had timed his visits so as to
+make pretty sure that Samuel Lynn was out of view, safely ensconced in
+Mr. Ashley's manufactory; and he had generally succeeded. Not quite
+always, as the reader knows.</p>
+
+<p>Anna was of a most persuadable nature. In defiance of her promise to
+William, she suffered Herbert Dare to persuade her again into the old
+system of meeting him. Guileless as a child, never giving thought to
+wrong or to harm&mdash;beyond the wrong and harm of thus clandestinely
+stealing out, and that wrong she conveniently ignored&mdash;she saw nothing
+very grave in doing it. Herbert could not come indoors; Patience would
+be sure not to welcome him; and therefore, she logically argued to her
+own mind, she must go out to him.</p>
+
+<p>She had learnt to like Herbert Dare a great deal too well not to wish to
+meet him, to talk with him. Herbert, on his part, had learnt to like
+her. An hour passed in whispering to Anna, in mischievously untying her
+sober cap, and letting the curls fall, in laying his own hand fondly on
+the young head, and telling her he cared for her beyond every earthly
+thing. It had grown to be one of his most favourite recreations; and
+Herbert was not one to deny himself any recreation that he took a fancy
+to. He intended no harm to the pretty child. It is possible that, had
+any one seriously pointed out to him the harm that might arise to Anna,
+in the estimation of Helstonleigh, should these stolen meetings be found
+out, Herbert might for once have done violence to his inclinations, and
+not have persisted in them. Unfortunately&mdash;very unfortunately, as it was
+to turn out&mdash;there was no one to give this word of caution. Patience was
+ill, William was away: and no one else knew anything about it. In point
+of fact, Patience could not be said to know anything, for William's
+warning had not made the impression upon her that it ought to have done.
+Patience's confiding nature was in fault. For Anna deliberately to meet
+Herbert Dare or any other "Herbert" in secret, she would have deemed a
+simple impossibility. In the judgment of Patience, it had been nothing
+less than irredeemable sin.</p>
+
+<p>What did Herbert Dare promise himself, in thus leading Anna into this
+imprudence? Herbert promised himself nothing&mdash;beyond the passing
+gratification of the hour. Herbert had never been one to give any care
+to the future, for himself or for any one else; and he was not likely to
+begin to do it at present. As to seeking Anna for his wife, such a
+thought had never crossed his mind. In the first place, at the rate the
+Dares&mdash;Herbert and his brothers&mdash;were going on, a wife for any of them
+seemed amongst the impossibilities. Unless, indeed, she made the bargain
+beforehand to live upon air; there was no chance of their having
+anything else to live upon. But, had Herbert been in a position,
+pecuniarily considered, to marry ten wives, Anna Lynn would not have
+been one of them. Agreeable as it might be to him to linger with Anna,
+he considered her far beneath himself; and pride, with Herbert, was
+always in the ascendant. Herbert had been introduced to Anna Lynn at
+Mrs. Ashley's, and that threw a sort of prestige around her. She was
+also enshrined in the respectable Quaker body of the town. But for these
+facts, for being who she was, Herbert might have been less scrupulous in
+his behaviour towards her. He would not&mdash;it may be as well to say he
+dared not&mdash;be otherwise than considerate towards Anna Lynn; but, on the
+other hand, he would not have considered her worthy to become his wife.
+On the part of Samuel Lynn, he would far rather have seen his child in
+her coffin, than the wife of Herbert Dare. The young Dares did not bear
+a good name in Helstonleigh.</p>
+
+<p>In this most uncertain and unsatisfactory state of things, what on
+earth&mdash;as Dobbs had said to Anna&mdash;did Herbert want with her at all? Far,
+far better that he had allowed Anna to fall in with the sensible advice
+of William Halliburton&mdash;"Do not meet him again." It was a sad pity; and
+it is very probable that Herbert Dare regretted it afterwards, in the
+grievous misery it entailed. Misery to both; and without positive ill
+conduct on the part of either.</p>
+
+<p>But that time has not yet come, and we are only at the stage of Samuel
+Lynn's absence and Patience's broken leg. Anna had taken to stealing out
+again; and her wits were at work to concoct a plausible excuse for her
+absences to Hester Dell, that no tales might be carried to Patience.</p>
+
+<p>"Hester, Patience is a fidget. Thee must see that. She would like me to
+keep at my work all day, all day, evening too, and never have a breath
+of fresh air! She'd like me to shut myself up in this parlour, as she
+has now to be shut up in her room; never to be in the garden in the
+lovely twilight; never to run and look at the pretty lambs in the field;
+never to go next door, and say 'How dost thee?' to Jane Halliburton!
+It's a shame, Hester!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I think it would be, if it were true," responded Hester, a simple
+woman in mind and language, who loved Anna almost as well as did
+Patience. "But dost thee not think thee art mistaken, child? Patience
+seems anxious that thee should go out. She says I am to take thee."</p>
+
+<p>"I dare say!" responded Anna; "and leave her all alone! How would she
+come downstairs with her broken leg, if any one knocked at the door?
+She's a dreadful fidget, Hester. She'd like to watch me as a cat watches
+a mouse. Look at last night! It's all on account of these shirts. She
+thinks I shan't get them done. I shall."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, dear, I think thee wilt," returned Hester, casting her eyes on the
+work. "Thee art getting on with them."</p>
+
+<p>"I am getting on nicely. I have done all the stitching, and nearly the
+plain part of the bodies; I shall soon be at the gathers. What did she
+say to thee last night?"</p>
+
+<p>"She said, 'Go to the parlour, Hester, and See whether Anna does not
+want a light.' And I came and could not find thee. And then she said
+thee wast always running into the next door, troubling them, and she
+would not have it done. Thee came in just at the time, and she scolded
+thee."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, she did," resentfully spoke Anna. "I tell thee, Hester, she's the
+worst fidget breathing. I give thee my word, Hester, that I had not been
+inside the Halliburtons' door. I had been in this garden and in the
+field. I had been close at work all day&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Not quite all day, dear," interrupted Hester, willing to smooth matters
+to the child as far as she was able. "Thee hadst thy friend Mary Ashley
+here to call in the morning, and thee hadst Sarah Dixon in the
+afternoon."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I had been at work a good part of the day," corrected Anna, "and
+I wanted some fresh air after it. Where's the crime?"</p>
+
+<p>"Crime, dear! It's only natural. If I had not my errands to go upon, and
+so take the air that way, I should like myself to run to the field, when
+my work was done."</p>
+
+<p>"So would any one else, except Patience," retorted Anna. "Hester, look
+thee. When she asks after me again, thee hast no need to tell her,
+should I have run out. It only fidgets her, and she is not well enough
+to be fidgeted. Thee tell her I am at my sewing. But I <i>can't</i> be sewing
+for ever, Hester; I must have a few minutes' holiday from it now and
+then. Patience might have cause to grumble if I ran away and left it in
+the day."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, dear, I think it is only reasonable," slowly answered Hester,
+considering the matter over. "I'll not tell her thee art in the garden
+again; for she must be kept tranquil, friend Parry says."</p>
+
+<p>"She was just as bad when I was a little girl, Hester," concluded Anna.
+"She wouldn't let me run in the garden alone then, for fear I should eat
+the gooseberries. But it is not the gooseberry season now."</p>
+
+<p>"All quite true and reasonable," thought Hester Dell.</p>
+
+<p>And so the young lady contrived to enjoy a fair share of evening
+liberty. Not but that she would have done with more, had she known how
+to get it. And as the weeks went on, and the cold weather of early
+spring merged into summer days, more genial nights, she and Herbert Dare
+grew bold in their immunity from discovery, and scarcely an evening
+passed but they might have been seen, had any one been on the watch, in
+Farmer Atterly's field. Anna had reached the point of taking his arm
+now; and there they would pace under cover of the hedge, Herbert
+talking, and Anna dreaming that she was in Eden.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVIB" id="CHAPTER_XXVIB"></a>CHAPTER XXVI.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE GOVERNESS'S EXPEDITION.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Herbert Dare sat enjoying the beauty of the April evening in the garden
+of Pomeranian Knoll. He was hoisted on the back of a garden bench, and
+balanced himself astride it, the tip of one toe resting on the seat, the
+other foot dangling. The month was drawing to its close, and the beams
+of the setting sun streamed athwart Herbert's face. It might be supposed
+that he had seated himself there to bask in the soft, still air and
+lovely sunset. In point of fact, he hardly knew whether the sun was
+rising or setting&mdash;whether the evening was fair or foul&mdash;so buried was
+he in deep thought and perplexing care.</p>
+
+<p>The particular care which was troubling Herbert Dare, was one which has,
+at some time or other, troubled the peace of a great many of us. It was
+pecuniary embarrassment. Herbert had been in it for a long time; had, in
+fact, been sinking into it deeper and deeper. He had managed to ward it
+off hitherto in some way or other; but the time to do that much longer
+was going by. He was not given to forethought, it has been previously
+mentioned; but he could not conceal from himself that unpleasantness
+would ensue, and that speedily, unless something could be done. What was
+that something to be? He did not know; he could not imagine. His father
+protested that he had not the means to help him; and Herbert believed
+that Mr. Dare spoke the truth. Not that Mr. Dare knew of the extent of
+the embarrassment. Had he done so, it would have come to the same thing,
+so far as his help went. His sons, as he said, had drained him to the
+utmost.</p>
+
+<p>Anthony passed the end of the walk. Whether he saw Herbert or not,
+certain it was, that he turned away from his direction. Herbert lifted
+his eyes, an angry light in them. He lifted his voice also, angry too.</p>
+
+<p>"Here, you! Don't go skulking off because you see me sitting here. I
+want you."</p>
+
+<p>Anthony was taken to. It is more than probable that he <i>was</i> skulking
+off, and that he <i>had</i> seen Herbert, for he did not particularly care
+then to come into contact with his brother. Anthony was in embarrassment
+on his own score; was ill at ease from more reasons than one; and when
+the mind is troubled, sharp words do not tend to soothe it. Little else
+than sharp words had been exchanged latterly between Anthony and Herbert
+Dare.</p>
+
+<p>It was no temporary ill-feeling, vexed to-day, pleased to-morrow,
+which had grown up between them; the ill-will had existed a long time.
+Herbert believed that his brother had injured him, had wilfully
+played him false, and his heart bitterly resented it. That Anthony was
+in fault at the beginning was undoubted. He had drawn Herbert
+unsuspiciously&mdash;unsuspiciously on Herbert's part, you understand&mdash;into
+some mess with regard to bills. Anthony was fond of "bills;" Herbert,
+more wise in that respect, had never meddled with them: his opinion
+coincided with his father's: they were edged tools, which cut both ways.
+"Eschew bills if you want to die upon your own bed," was a saying of Mr.
+Dare's, frequently uttered for the benefit of his sons. Good advice, no
+doubt. Mr. Dare, as a lawyer, ought to know. Herbert had held by the
+advice; Anthony never had; and the time came when Anthony took care that
+his brother should not.</p>
+
+<p>In a period of deep embarrassment for Anthony, he had persuaded Herbert
+to sign two bills for him, their aggregate amount being large; assuring
+him, in the most earnest and apparently truthful manner, that the money
+to meet them, when due, was already provided. Herbert, in his good
+nature, fell into the snare. It turned out not only that the bills were
+not met at all, but Anthony had so contrived it that Herbert should be
+responsible, not he himself. Herbert regarded it as a shameful piece of
+treachery, and never ceased to reproach his brother. Anthony, who was of
+a sullen, morose temper, resented the reproach; and they did not lead
+together the happiest of lives. The bills were not settled yet; indeed,
+they formed part of Herbert's most pressing embarrassments. This was one
+cause of the ill-feeling between them, and there were others, of a
+different nature. Anthony and Herbert Dare had never been cordial with
+each other, even in childhood.</p>
+
+<p>Anthony, called by Herbert, advanced. "Who wants to skulk away?" asked
+he. "Are you judging me by yourself?"</p>
+
+<p>"I hope not," returned Herbert, in tones of the most withering contempt
+and scorn. "Listen to me. I've told you five hundred times that I'll
+have some settlement, and if you don't come to it amicably, I'll force
+you to it. Do you hear, you? I'll <i>force</i> you to it."</p>
+
+<p>"Try it," retorted Anthony, with a mocking laugh; and he coolly walked
+away.</p>
+
+<p>Walked away, leaving Herbert in a towering rage. He felt inclined to
+follow him; to knock him down. Had Anthony only met the affair in a
+proper spirit, it had been different. Had he said, "Herbert, I am
+uncommonly vexed&mdash;I'll see what can be done," or words to that effect,
+half the sting in his brother's mind would have been removed; but, to
+taunt Herbert with having to pay&mdash;as he sometimes did&mdash;was almost
+unbearable. Had Herbert been of Anthony's temper, he would have proved
+that it was quite unbearable.</p>
+
+<p>But Herbert's temper was roused now. It was the toss of a die whether he
+followed Anthony and struck him down, or whether he did not. The die was
+cast by the appearance of Signora Varsini; and Anthony, for that
+evening, escaped.</p>
+
+<p>It was not very gallant of Herbert to remain where he was, in the
+presence of the governess, astride upon the garden bench. Herbert was
+feeling angry in no ordinary degree, and this may have been his excuse.
+She came up, apparently in anger also. Her brow was frowning, her
+compressed mouth drawn in until its lips were hidden.</p>
+
+<p>There is good advice in the old song or saying: "It is well to be off
+with the old love, before you are on with the new." As good advice as
+that of Mr. Dare's, relative to the bills. Herbert might have sung it in
+character. He should have made things square with the Signora Varsini,
+before entering too extensively on his friendship with Anna Lynn.</p>
+
+<p>Not that the governess could be supposed to occupy any position in the
+mind or heart of Herbert Dare, except <i>as</i> governess; governess to his
+sisters. Herbert would probably have said so, had you asked him. What
+<i>she</i> might have said, is a different matter. She looks angry enough to
+say anything just now. The fact appeared to be&mdash;so far as any one not
+personally interested in the matter could be supposed to gather it&mdash;that
+Herbert had latterly given offence to the governess, by not going to the
+school-room for what he called his Italian lessons. Of course he could
+not be in two places at once; and if his leisure hour after dinner was
+spent in Atterly's field, it was impossible that he could be in the
+school-room, learning Italian with the governess. But she resented it as
+a slight. She was of an exacting nature; probably of a jealous nature;
+and she regarded it as a personal slight, and resented it bitterly. She
+had been rather abrupt in speech and manner to Herbert, in consequence;
+and that, <i>he</i> resented. But, being naturally of an easy temper, Herbert
+was no friend to unnecessary disputes. He tried what he could towards
+soothing the young lady; and, finding he effected no good in that way,
+he adopted the other alternative&mdash;he shunned her. The governess
+perceived this, and worked herself up into a state of semi-fury.</p>
+
+<p>She came down upon him in full sail. The moment Herbert saw her, he
+remembered having given her a half-promise the previous day to pay her a
+visit that evening. "Now for it," thought he to himself.</p>
+
+<p>"Why you keep me waiting like this?" began she, when she was close to
+him.</p>
+
+<p>"Have I kept you waiting?" civilly returned Herbert. "I am very sorry.
+The fact is, mademoiselle, I have a good deal of worry upon me, and I'm
+fit for nobody's company but my own to-night. You might not have thanked
+me for my visit, had I come."</p>
+
+<p>"That is my own look-out," replied the governess. "When a gentleman
+makes a promise to me, I expect him to keep it. I go up to the
+school-room, and I wait, I wait, I wait! Ah, my poor patience, how I
+wait! I have that copy of Tasso, that you said you would like to see.
+Will you come?"</p>
+
+<p>Herbert thought he was in for it. He glanced at the setting sun&mdash;at
+least, at the spot where the sun had gone down, for it had sunk below
+the horizon, leaving only crimson streaks in the grey sky to tell of
+what had been. Twilight was rapidly coming on, when he would depart to
+pay his usual evening visit: there was no time, he decided, for Tasso
+and the governess.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll come another evening," said he. "I have an engagement, and I must
+go out to keep it."</p>
+
+<p>A stony hardness settled on mademoiselle's face. "What engagement?" she
+imperatively demanded.</p>
+
+<p>It might be thought that Herbert would have been justified in civilly
+declining to satisfy her curiosity. What was it to her? Apparently he
+thought otherwise. Possibly he was afraid of an outbreak.</p>
+
+<p>"What engagement! Oh&mdash;I am going to play a pool at billiards with Lord
+Hawkesley. He is in Helstonleigh again."</p>
+
+<p>"And that is what you go for, every evening&mdash;to play billiards with Lord
+Hawkesley?" she resumed, her eyes glistening ominously.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course it is, mademoiselle. With Hawkesley or other fellows."</p>
+
+<p>"A lie!" curtly responded mademoiselle.</p>
+
+<p>"I say," cried Herbert, laughing good-humouredly: "do you call that
+orthodox language?"</p>
+
+<p>"It nothing to you what I call it," she cried, clipping her words in her
+vehemence, as she would do when excited. "It not with Milord Hawkesley,
+not to billiards that you go! I know it is not."</p>
+
+<p>"Then I tell you that I often play billiards," cried Herbert. "On my
+honour I do."</p>
+
+<p>"May-be, may-be," answered she, very rapidly. "But it not to billiards
+that you go every evening. Every evening!&mdash;every evening! Not an evening
+now, but you go out, you go out! I bought Tasso&mdash;do you know that I
+<i>bought</i> Tasso?&mdash;that I have bought it with my money, that you may have
+the pleasure of hearing me read it, as you said&mdash;as you call it? Should
+I spend the money, had I thought you would not come when I had it&mdash;would
+not care to hear it read?"</p>
+
+<p>Had she been in a more amiable mood, Herbert would have told her that
+she was a simpleton for spending her money; he would have told her that
+Tasso, read in the original, would have been to him unintelligible as
+Sanscrit. He had a faint remembrance of saying to mademoiselle that he
+should like to read Tasso, in answer to a remark that Tasso was her
+favourite of the Italian poets: but he had only made the observation
+carelessly, without seriously meaning anything. And she had been so
+foolish as to go and buy it!</p>
+
+<p>"Will you come this evening and hear it begun?" she continued, breaking
+the pause, and speaking rather more graciously.</p>
+
+<p>"Upon my word of honour, Bianca, I can't to-night," he answered, feeling
+himself, between the two&mdash;the engagement made, and the engagement sought
+to be made&mdash;somewhat embarrassed. "I will come another evening; you may
+depend upon me."</p>
+
+<p>"You say to me yesterday that you would come this evening; that I might
+depend upon you. Much you care!"</p>
+
+<p>"But I could not help myself. An engagement arose, and I was obliged to
+fall in with it. I was, indeed. I'll hear Tasso another evening."</p>
+
+<p>"You will not break your paltry engagement at billiards to keep your
+word to a lady! C'est bien!"</p>
+
+<p>"It&mdash;it is not altogether that," replied Herbert, getting out of the
+reproach in the best way he could. "I have some business as well."</p>
+
+<p>She fastened her glistening eyes upon him. There was an expression in
+them which Herbert neither understood nor liked. "C'est très bien!" she
+slowly repeated. "I know where you are going, and for what!"</p>
+
+<p>A smile&mdash;at her assumed knowledge, and what it was worth&mdash;flitted over
+Herbert Dare's face. "You are very wise," said he.</p>
+
+<p>"Take care of yourself, mon ami! C'est tout ce que je vous dis."</p>
+
+<p>"Now, mademoiselle, what is the matter, that you should look and speak
+in that manner?" he asked, still in the same good-humoured tone, as if
+he would fain pass the affair away in a joke. "I'm sure I have enough
+bother upon me, without your adding to it."</p>
+
+<p>"What is your bother?"</p>
+
+<p>"Never mind: it would give you no pleasure to know it. It is caused by
+Anthony&mdash;and be hanged to him!"</p>
+
+<p>"Anthony is worth ten of you!" fiercely responded mademoiselle.</p>
+
+<p>"Every one to his own liking," carelessly remarked Herbert. "It's well
+for me that all the world does not think as you do, mademoiselle."</p>
+
+<p>Mademoiselle looked as though she would like to beat him. "So!" she
+foamed, drawing back her bloodless lips; "now that your turn is served,
+Bianca Varsini may just be sent to the enfer! Garde-toi, mon camarade!"</p>
+
+<p>"Garde your voice," replied Herbert. "The cows yonder will think it's a
+tempest. I wish my turn <i>was</i> served, in more ways than one. What
+particular turn do you mean? If it's buying Tasso, I'll purchase it from
+you at double price."</p>
+
+<p>He could not help giving her a little chaff. It was what he would have
+called it: chaff. Exacting people fretted his generally easy temper,
+and he was beginning to fear that she would detain him until it was too
+late to see Anna.</p>
+
+<p>But, on the latter score, he was set at rest. With a few words, spoken
+in Italian, she nodded her head angrily at him, and turned away. Fierce
+words, in spite of their low tone, Herbert was sure they were, but he
+could not catch one of them. Had he caught them all, it would have come
+to the same, so far as his understanding went. Excellent as Signora
+Varsini's method of teaching Italian may have been, her lessons had not
+as yet been very efficient for Herbert Dare.</p>
+
+<p>She crossed her hands before her, and went down the walk, taking the
+path to the house. Proceeding straight up to the school-room, she met
+Cyril on the stairs. He had apparently been dressing himself for the
+evening, and was going out to spend it. The governess caught him
+abruptly, pulled him inside the school-room, and closed the door.</p>
+
+<p>"I say, mademoiselle, what's that for?" asked Cyril, believing, by the
+fierce look of the young lady, that she was about to take some summary
+vengeance upon him.</p>
+
+<p>"Cyril! you tell me. Where is it that Herbert goes to of an evening?
+Every evening&mdash;every evening?"</p>
+
+<p>Cyril stared excessively. "What does it concern you to know where he
+goes, mademoiselle?" returned he.</p>
+
+<p>"I want to know for my own reasons, and that's enough for you, Monsieur
+Cyril. Where does he go?"</p>
+
+<p>"He goes out," responded Cyril.</p>
+
+<p>The governess stamped her foot petulantly. "I could tell you that he
+goes out. I ask you where it is that he goes?"</p>
+
+<p>"How should I know?" was Cyril's answer. "It's not my business."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Don't</i> you know?" demanded mademoiselle.</p>
+
+<p>"No, that I don't," heartily spoke Cyril. "Do you suppose I watch him,
+mademoiselle? He'd pretty soon pitch into me, if he caught me at that
+game. I dare say he goes to billiards."</p>
+
+<p>The suggestion excited the ire of the governess. "He has been telling
+you to say so!" she said, menace in every tone of her voice, every
+gesture of her lifted hand.</p>
+
+<p>Cyril opened his eyes to their utmost width. He could not understand why
+the governess should be asking him this, or why Herbert's movements
+should concern her. "I know nothing at all about it," he answered; and,
+so far, he spoke the truth. "I don't know that Herbert goes anywhere in
+particular of an evening. If he does, he would not tell me."</p>
+
+<p>She laid her hand heavily on his shoulder; she brought her
+face&mdash;terrible in its livid earnestness&mdash;almost into contact with his.
+"Ecoutez, mon ami," she whispered to the amazed Cyril. "If you are going
+to play this game with me, I will play one with you. Who wore the cloak
+to that boucherie, and got the money?&mdash;who ripped out the écossais side
+afterwards, leaving it all mangled and open? Think you, I don't know?
+Ah, ha! Monsieur Cyril, you cannot play the farce with me!"</p>
+
+<p>Cyril's face turned ghastly, drops of sweat broke out over his forehead.
+"Hush!" he cried, looking round in the instinct of terror, lest
+listeners should be at hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; you say, 'Hush!'" she resumed. "I will hush if you don't make me
+speak. I have hushed ever since. You tell me what I want to know, and
+I'll hush always."</p>
+
+<p>"Mademoiselle Varsini!" he cried, his manner too painfully earnest for
+her to doubt now that he spoke the truth: "I declare that I know nothing
+of Herbert's movements. I don't know where he goes or what he does. When
+I told you I supposed he went to billiards, I said what I thought might
+be the case. He may go to fifty places of an evening, for all I can
+tell. Tell me what it is you want found out, and I will try and do it."</p>
+
+<p>Cyril was not one to play the spy on his brother; in fact, as he had
+just classically observed to the young lady, Herbert would have "pitched
+into" him, had he found him attempting it. And serve him right! But
+Cyril saw that he was in her power; and that made all the difference. He
+would now have tracked Herbert to the ends of the earth at her bidding.</p>
+
+<p>But she did not bid him. Quite the contrary. She took her hand from
+Cyril's shoulder, opened the door, and said she did not want him any
+longer. "It is no matter," cried she; "I wanted to learn something about
+Monsieur Herbert, for a reason; but if you do not know it, let it pass.
+It is no matter."</p>
+
+<p>Cyril departed; first of all lifting his cowardly face. It looked a
+coward's then. "You'll keep counsel, mademoiselle?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. When people don't offend me, I don't offend them."</p>
+
+<p>She stood at the door after he had gone down, half in, half out of the
+room, apparently in deep thought. Presently footsteps were heard coming
+up, and she retreated and closed the door.</p>
+
+<p>They were those of Herbert. He went on to his room, remained there a few
+minutes, and then came out again. Mademoiselle had the door ajar as he
+descended. Her quick eye detected that he had been giving a few
+finishing touches to his toilette&mdash;brushing his hair, pulling down his
+wristbands, and various other little odds and ends of dandyism.</p>
+
+<p>"And you do that to play billiards!" nodded she, inwardly, as she looked
+after him. "I'll see, monsieur."</p>
+
+<p>Upstairs with a soft step, went she, to her own chamber. She reached
+from her box a long and loose dark-green cloak, similar to those worn by
+the women of France and Flanders, and a black silk quilted bonnet. It
+was her travelling attire, and she put it on now. Then she locked her
+chamber door behind her, and slipped down into the dining-room, with as
+soft a step as she had gone up.</p>
+
+<p>Passing out at the open window, she kept tolerably under cover of the
+trees, and gained the road. It was quite dusk then, but she recognized
+Herbert before her, walking with a quick step. She put on a quick step
+also, keeping a safe distance between herself and him. He went through
+the town, to the London road, and turned into Atterly's field. The
+governess turned into it after him.</p>
+
+<p>There she stopped under the hedge, to reconnoitre. A few minutes, and
+she could distinguish that he was joined by some young girl, whom he met
+with every token of respect and confidence. A strange cry went forth on
+the evening air.</p>
+
+<p>Herbert Dare was startled. "What noise was that?" he exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>Anna had heard nothing. "It must have been one of the lambs in the
+field, Herbert."</p>
+
+<p>"It was more like a human voice in pain," observed Herbert. But they
+heard no more.</p>
+
+<p>They began their usual walk&mdash;a few paces backward and forward, beneath
+the most sheltered part of the hedge, Anna taking his arm. Mademoiselle
+could see, as well as the darkness allowed her; but she could not hear.
+Her face, peeping out of the shadowy bonnet, was not unlike the face of
+a tiger.</p>
+
+<p>She crawled away. She had noticed as she turned into the field an iron
+gate that led into the garden, which the hedge skirted. She crept round
+to it, found it locked, and mounted it. It had spikes on the top, but
+the signora would not have cared just then had she found herself
+impaled. She got safe over it, and then considered how to reach the spot
+where they stood without their hearing her.</p>
+
+<p>Would she be baffled? <i>She</i> be baffled! No. She stooped down, unlaced
+her boots, and stole softly on in her stockings. And there she was!
+almost as close to them as they were to each other.</p>
+
+<p>Where had the signora heard those gentle, timid tones before? A lovely
+girl, looking little more than a child, in her modest Quaker dress, rose
+to her mind's eye. She had seen her with Miss Ashley. She&mdash;the
+signora&mdash;knelt down upon the earth, the better to catch what was said.</p>
+
+<p>"Listeners never hear any good of themselves." It is a proverb too often
+exemplified, as the signora could have told that night. Herbert Dare was
+accounting for his late appearance, which he laid to the charge of the
+governess. He gave a description of the interview she had volunteered
+him in the garden at home&mdash;more ludicrous, perhaps, than true, but
+certainly not complimentary to the signora. Anna laughed; and the lady
+on the other side gathered that this was not the first time she had
+formed a topic of merriment between them. You should have seen her face.
+<i>Pour plaisir</i>, as she herself might have said.</p>
+
+<p>She stayed out the interview. When it was over, and Herbert Dare had
+departed, she put on her boots and mounted the gate again; but she was
+not so agile this time, and a spike entered her wrist. Binding her
+handkerchief round it, to arrest the blood, she returned to Pomeranian
+Knoll.</p>
+
+<p>Five hundred questions were showered upon her when she entered the
+drawing-room, looking calm and impassible as ever. Not a tress of her
+elaborate braids of hair was out of place; not a fold awry in her dress.
+Much wonder had been excited by her failing to appear at tea; Minny had
+drummed a waltz on her chamber door, but mademoiselle would not open it,
+and would not speak.</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot speak when I am lying down with those <i>vilaine</i> headaches,"
+remarked mademoiselle.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you a headache, mademoiselle?" asked Mrs. Dare. "Will you have a
+cup of tea brought up?"</p>
+
+<p>Mademoiselle declined the tea. She was not thirsty.</p>
+
+<p>"What have you done to your wrist, mademoiselle?" called out Herbert,
+who was stretched on a sofa, at the far end of the room.</p>
+
+<p>"My wrist? Oh, I scratched it."</p>
+
+<p>"How did you manage that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, bah! it's nothing," responded mademoiselle.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVIIB" id="CHAPTER_XXVIIB"></a>CHAPTER XXVII.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE QUARREL.</h3>
+
+
+<p>It is grievous, when ill-feeling arises between brothers, that that
+ill-feeling should be cherished instead of being subdued. But such was
+the case with Anthony and Herbert Dare. By the time the sunny month of
+May came in, matters had grown to such a height between them, that Mr.
+Dare found himself compelled to interfere. It was beginning to make
+things in the house uncomfortable. They would meet at meals, and not
+only abstain from speaking to each other, but take every possible
+opportunity of showing mutual and marked discourtesy. No positive
+outbreak between them had as yet taken place in the presence of the
+family: but it was only smouldering, and might be daily looked for.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dare, so far as the original cause went, blamed his eldest son.
+Undoubtedly Anthony had been solely in fault. It was a dishonourable,
+ungenerous, unmanly act, to draw his brother into trouble, and to do it
+plausibly and deceitfully. At the <i>present</i> stage of the affair, Mr.
+Dare saw occasion to blame Herbert more than Anthony. "It is you who
+keep up the ball, Herbert," he said to him. "If you would suffer the
+matter to die away, Anthony would do so." "Of course he would," Herbert
+replied. "He has served his turn, and would be glad that it should end
+there."</p>
+
+<p>It was in vain that Mr. Dare talked to them. A dozen times did he
+recommend them to "shake hands and make it up." Neither appeared
+inclined to take the advice. Anthony was sullen. He would have been
+content to let the affair drop quietly into oblivion: perhaps, as
+Herbert said, had been glad that it should so drop; but, make the
+slightest move towards it, he would not. Herbert openly said that <i>he'd</i>
+not shake hands. If Anthony wanted ever to shake hands with him again,
+let him pay up.</p>
+
+<p><i>There</i> lay the grievance; "paying up." The bills, not paid, were a
+terrible thorn in the side of Herbert Dare. He was responsible, and he
+knew not one hour from another but he might be arrested on them. To
+soothe matters between his sons, Mr. Dare would willingly have taken the
+charge of payment upon himself, but he had positively not the money to
+do it with. In point of fact, Mr. Dare was growing seriously embarrassed
+on his own score. He had had a great deal of trouble with his sons, with
+Anthony in particular, and he had grown sick and tired of helping them
+out of pecuniary difficulties. Still, he would have relieved Herbert of
+this one nightmare, had it been in his power. Herbert had been deluded
+into it, without any advantage to himself; therefore Mr. Dare had the
+will, could he have managed it, to help him out. He told Herbert that he
+would see what he could do after a while. The promise did not relieve
+Herbert of present fears; neither did it restore peace between the
+malcontents. Had Herbert been relieved of that particular embarrassment,
+others would have remained to him; but that fact did not in the least
+lessen his soreness, as to the point in question.</p>
+
+<p>It was an intensely hot day; far hotter than is usual at the season; and
+the afternoon sun streamed full on the windows of Pomeranian Knoll,
+suggesting thoughts of July, instead of May. A gay party&mdash;at any rate, a
+party dressed in gay attire&mdash;were crossing the hall to enter a carriage
+that waited at the door. Mr. Dare, Mrs. Dare, and Adelaide. Mrs. Dare
+had always been given to gay attire, and her daughters had inherited her
+taste. They were going to dine at a friend's house, a few miles'
+distance from Helstonleigh. The invitation was for seven o'clock. It was
+now striking six, the dinner-hour at Mr. Dare's.</p>
+
+<p>Minny, looking half melted, had perched herself upon the end of the
+balustrades to watch the departure.</p>
+
+<p>"You'll fall, child," said Mr. Dare.</p>
+
+<p>Minny laughed, and said there was no danger of her falling. She wondered
+what her father would think if he saw her sometimes at her gymnastics on
+the balustrades, taking a sweeping slide from the top to the bottom. She
+generally contrived that he should not see her; or mademoiselle either.
+Mademoiselle had caught sight of the performance once, and had given her
+a whole French fable to learn by way of punishment.</p>
+
+<p>"Are we to have strawberries for dinner, mamma?" asked Minny.</p>
+
+<p>"You will have what I have thought proper to order," replied Mrs. Dare
+rather sharply. She was feeling hot and cross. Something had put her out
+while dressing.</p>
+
+<p>"I think you might wait for strawberries until they are ripe in our own
+garden; not buy them regardless of cost," interposed Mr. Dare, speaking
+for the general benefit, but not to any one in particular.</p>
+
+<p>Minny dropped the subject. "Your dress is turned up, Adelaide," said
+she.</p>
+
+<p>Adelaide looked languidly behind her, and a maid, who had followed them
+down, advanced and put right the refractory dress: a handsome dress of
+pink silk, glistening with its own richness. At that moment Anthony
+entered the hall. He had just come home to dinner, and looked in a very
+bad humour.</p>
+
+<p>"How late you'll be!" he cried.</p>
+
+<p>"Not at all. We shall drive there in an hour."</p>
+
+<p>They swept out at the door, Mrs. Dare and Adelaide. Mr. Dare was about
+to follow them when a sudden thought appeared to strike him, and he
+turned back and addressed Anthony.</p>
+
+<p>"You young men take care that you don't get quarrelling with each other.
+Do you hear, Anthony?"</p>
+
+<p>"I hear," ungraciously replied Anthony, not turning to speak, but
+continuing his way up to his dressing-room. He probably regarded the
+injunction with contempt, for it was too much in Anthony Dare's nature
+so to regard all advice, of whatever kind. Nevertheless it had been well
+that he had given heed to it. It had been well that that last word to
+his father had been one of affection!</p>
+
+<p>Dinner was served. Anthony, in the absence of Mr. and Mrs. Dare, took
+the head. Rosa, with a show of great parade and ceremony, assumed the
+seat opposite to him and said she should be mistress. Minny responded
+that Rosa was not going to be mistress over her, and the governess
+desired Miss Rosa not to talk so loudly. Rather derogatory checks,
+these, to the dignity of a "mistress."</p>
+
+<p>Herbert was not at table. Irregular as the young Dares were in many of
+their habits, they were generally home to dinner. Minny wondered aloud
+where Herbert was. Anthony replied that he was "skulking."</p>
+
+<p>"Skulking!" echoed Minny.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, skulking," angrily repeated Anthony. "He left the office at three
+o'clock, and has never been near it since. And the governor left at
+four!" he added, in a tone that seemed to say he considered that also a
+grievance.</p>
+
+<p>"Where did Herbert go to?" asked Rosa.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know," responded Anthony. "I only know that I had a double
+share of work to do."</p>
+
+<p>Anthony Dare was no friend to work. And having had to do a little more
+than he would have done had Herbert remained at his post, had
+considerably aggravated his temper.</p>
+
+<p>"Why should Monsieur Herbert go away and leave you his work to do?"
+inquired the governess, lifting her eyes from her plate to Anthony.</p>
+
+<p>"I shall take care to ask him why," returned Anthony.</p>
+
+<p>"It is not fair that he should," continued mademoiselle. "I would not
+have done it for him, Monsieur Anthony."</p>
+
+<p>"Neither should I, had I not been obliged," said Anthony, not in the
+least relaxing from his ill-humour, either in looks or tone. "It was
+work that had to be done before post-time, and one of our clerks is away
+on business to-day."</p>
+
+<p>Dinner proceeded to its close. Joseph hesitated, unwilling to remove the
+cloth. "Is it to be left for Mr. Herbert?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"No!" imperiously answered Anthony. "If he cannot come in for dinner,
+dinner shall not be kept for him."</p>
+
+<p>"Cook is keeping the things by the fire, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Then tell her to save herself the trouble."</p>
+
+<p>So the cloth was removed, and dessert put on. To Minny's inexpressible
+disappointment it turned out that there were no strawberries. This put
+<i>her</i> into an ill-humour, and she left the table and the room, declaring
+she would not touch anything else. Mademoiselle Varsini called her back,
+and ordered her to her seat; she would not permit so great a breach of
+discipline. Cyril and George, who were not under mademoiselle's control,
+gulped down a glass of wine, and hastened out to keep an engagement. It
+was a very innocent one; a cricket match had been organized for the
+evening, by some of the old college boys; and Cyril and George were
+amongst the players. It has never been mentioned that Mr. Ashley, in his
+strict sense of justice, had allowed Cyril the privilege of spending his
+evenings at home five nights in the week, as he did to William
+Halliburton.</p>
+
+<p>The rest remained at table. Minny, per force; Rosa, to take an unlimited
+quantity of oranges; Mademoiselle Varsini, because it was the custom to
+remain. But mademoiselle soon rose and withdrew with her pupils; Anthony
+was not showing himself a particularly sociable companion. He had not
+touched any dessert; but seemed to be drinking a good deal of wine.</p>
+
+<p>As they were going out of the room, Herbert bustled in. "Now then, take
+care!" cried he, for Minny, paying little attention to her movements,
+had gone full tilt at him.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! Herbert, can't you see?" cried she, dolefully rubbing her head.
+"What made you so late? Dinner's gone away."</p>
+
+<p>"It can be brought in again," replied Herbert carelessly. "Comme il est
+chaud! n'est-ce pas, mademoiselle?"</p>
+
+<p>This last was addressed to the governess. Rosa screamed with laughter at
+his bad French, and mademoiselle smiled. "You get on in French as you do
+in Italian, Monsieur Herbert," cried she. "And that is what you
+call&mdash;backward."</p>
+
+<p>Herbert laughed good-humouredly. He did not know what particular mistake
+he had made; truth to say, he did not care. They withdrew, and he rang
+the bell for his dinner.</p>
+
+<p>"Mind, Herbert," cried Minny, putting in her head again at the door,
+"papa said you were not to quarrel."</p>
+
+<p>Better, perhaps, that she had not said it! Who can tell?</p>
+
+<p>The brothers remained alone. Anthony sullen, and, as yet, silent. He
+appeared to have emptied the port wine decanter, and to be beginning
+upon the sherry! Herbert strolled past him; supreme indifference in his
+manner&mdash;some might have said contempt&mdash;and stood just outside the
+window, whistling.</p>
+
+<p>You have not forgotten that this dining-room window opened to the
+ground. The apartment was long and somewhat narrow, the window large and
+high, and opening in the centre, after the manner of a French one. The
+door was at one end of the room; the window at the other.</p>
+
+<p>Anthony was in too quarrelsome a mood to remain silent long. He began
+the skirmish by demanding what Herbert meant by absenting himself from
+the office for the afternoon, and where he had been to. His resentful
+tones, his authoritative words, were not calculated to win a very civil
+answer.</p>
+
+<p>They did not win one from Herbert. <i>His</i> tones were resentful, too; his
+words were coolly aggravating. Anthony was not his master; when he was,
+he might, perhaps, answer him. Such was their purport.</p>
+
+<p>A hot interchange of words ensued. Nothing more. Anthony remained at the
+table; Herbert, half in, half out of the window, leaned against its
+frame. When Joseph returned to put things in readiness for Herbert's
+dinner, they had subsided into quietness. It was only a lull in the
+storm.</p>
+
+<p>Joseph placed the dessert nearer Anthony's end of the table, and laid
+the cloth across the other end. Herbert came into the room. "What a time
+you are with dinner, Joseph!" cried he. "One would think it was being
+cooked over again."</p>
+
+<p>"Cook's warming it, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Warming it!" echoed Herbert. "Why couldn't she keep it warm? She might
+be sure I should be home to dinner."</p>
+
+<p>"She was keeping it warm, sir; but Mr. Anthony ordered it to be put
+away."</p>
+
+<p>Now, the man had really no intention of making mischief when he said
+this: that it might cause ill-feeling between the brothers never crossed
+his mind. He was only anxious that he and the cook should stand free
+from blame; for the young Dares, when displeased with the servants, were
+not in the habit of sparing them. Herbert turned to Anthony.</p>
+
+<p>"What business have you to interfere with my dinner? Or with anything
+else that concerns me?"</p>
+
+<p>"I choose to make it my business," insolently retorted Anthony.</p>
+
+<p>At this juncture Joseph left the room. He had laid the cloth, and had
+nothing more to stay for. Better perhaps that he had remained! Surely
+they would not have proceeded to extremities, the brothers, before their
+servant! In a short time, sounds, as if both were in a terrible state of
+fury, resounded through the house from the dining-room. The sounds did
+not reach the kitchen, which was partially detached from the house; but
+the young ladies heard them, and came running out of the drawing-room.</p>
+
+<p>The governess was in the school-room. The noise penetrated even there.
+She also came forth, and saw her two pupils extended over the
+balustrades, listening. At any other time mademoiselle would have
+reproved them: now she crept down and leaned over in company.</p>
+
+<p>"What can be the matter?" whispered she.</p>
+
+<p>"Papa told them not to quarrel!" was all the answer, uttered by Minny.</p>
+
+<p>It was a terrible quarrel&mdash;there was little doubt of that; no child's
+play. Passionate bursts of fury rose incessantly, now from one, now from
+the other, now from both. Hot recrimination; words that were not suited
+to unaccustomed ears&mdash;or to any ears, for the matter of that&mdash;rose high
+and loud. The governess turned pale, and Minny burst into tears.</p>
+
+<p>"Some one ought to go into the room," said Rosa. "Minny, you go! Tell
+them to be quiet."</p>
+
+<p>"I am afraid," replied Minny.</p>
+
+<p>"So am I."</p>
+
+<p>A fearful sound: an explosion louder than all the rest. A noise as if
+some heavy weight had been thrown down. Had it come to blows? Minny
+shrieked, and at the same moment Joseph was seen coming along with a
+tray, Herbert's dinner upon it.</p>
+
+<p>His presence seemed to bring with it a sense of courage, and Rosa and
+Minny flew down followed by the governess. Herbert had been knocked down
+by Anthony. He was gathering himself up when Joseph opened the door.
+Gathering himself up in a tempest of passion, his white face a livid
+fury, as he caught hold of a knife from the table and rushed upon
+Anthony.</p>
+
+<p>But Joseph was too quick for him. The man dashed his tray on the table,
+seized Herbert, and turned the uplifted knife downwards. "For Heaven's
+sake, sir, recollect yourself!" said he.</p>
+
+<p>Recollect himself then? No. Persons, who put themselves into that mad
+state of passion, cannot "recollect" themselves. Joseph kept his hold,
+and the dining-room resounded with shrieks and sobs. They proceeded from
+Rosa and Minny. They pulled their brothers by the coats, they implored,
+they entreated. The women servants came flying from the kitchen, and the
+Italian governess asked the two gentlemen in French whether they were
+not ashamed of themselves.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps they were. At any rate the quarrel was, for the time, ended.
+Herbert flung the knife upon the table and turned his white face upon
+his brother.</p>
+
+<p>"Take care of yourself, though!" cried he, in marked tones: "I swear you
+shall have it yet."</p>
+
+<p>They pulled Anthony out of the room, Rosa and Minny; or it is difficult
+to say what rejoinder he might have made, or how violently the quarrel
+might have been renewed. It was certain that he had taken more wine than
+was good for him; and that, generally speaking, did not improve the
+temper of Anthony Dare. Mademoiselle Varsini walked by his side, talking
+volubly in French. Whether she was sympathizing or scolding, Anthony did
+not know. Not particularly bright at understanding French at the best of
+times, even when spoken slowly, he could not, in his present excitement,
+catch the meaning of a single word. Entering the drawing-room, he threw
+himself upon the sofa, intending to smooth down his ruffled plumage by
+taking a nap.</p>
+
+<p>Herbert meanwhile had remained in the dining-room, smoothing down <i>his</i>
+ruffled plumage. Joseph and the cook were bending over the <i>débris</i> on
+the carpet. When Joseph dashed down his tray on the table, a dish of
+potatoes had bounded off; both dish and potatoes thereby coming to
+grief. Herbert sat down and made an excellent dinner. He was not of a
+sullen temper; and, unlike Anthony, the affair once over he was soon
+himself again. Should they come into contact again directly, there was
+no saying how it would end or what might ensue. His dinner over, he went
+by-and-by to the drawing-room. Joseph had just entered, and was arousing
+Anthony from the sleep he had dropped into. "One of the waiters from the
+Star-and-Garter has come, sir. He says Lord Hawkesley has sent him to
+say that the gentlemen are waiting for you."</p>
+
+<p>"I can't go, tell him," responded Anthony, speaking as he looked,
+thoroughly out of sorts. "I am not going out to-night. Here! Joseph!"
+for the man was turning away with the message.</p>
+
+<p>"Sir?"</p>
+
+<p>"Take these, and bring me my slippers."</p>
+
+<p>"These" were his boots, which he, not very politely, kicked off in the
+ladies' presence, and sent flying after Joseph. The man stooped to pick
+them up and was carrying them away.</p>
+
+<p>"Here!&mdash;what a hurry you are in!" began Anthony again. "Take lights up
+to my chamber, and the brandy, and some cold water. I shall make myself
+comfortable there for the night. This room's unbearable, with its
+present company."</p>
+
+<p>The last was a shaft levelled at Herbert. He did not retort, for a
+wonder. In fact, Anthony afforded little time for it. Before the words
+had well left his lips, he had left the room. Herbert began to whistle;
+its very tone insolent.</p>
+
+<p>It appeared almost certain that the unpleasantness was not yet over; and
+Rosa audibly wished her papa was at home. Joseph carried to Anthony's
+room what he required, and then brought the tea to the drawing-room.
+Herbert said he should take tea with them. It was rather unusual for him
+to do so; it was very unusual for Anthony not to go out. Their sisters
+felt sure that they were only staying in to renew hostilities; and again
+Rosa almost passionately wished for the presence of her father.</p>
+
+<p>It was dusk by the time tea was over. Herbert rose to leave the room.
+"Where are you going?" cried mademoiselle sharply after him.</p>
+
+<p>"That's my business," he replied, not in too conciliatory a tone.
+Perhaps he thought the question proceeded from one of his sisters, for
+he was outside the door when it reached him.</p>
+
+<p>"He is going into Anthony's room!" cried Rosa, turning pale, as they
+heard him run upstairs. "Oh, mademoiselle! what can be done? I think
+I'll call Joseph."</p>
+
+<p>"Hush!" cried mademoiselle. "Wait you here. I will go and see."</p>
+
+<p>She stole out of the room and up the stairs, intending to reconnoitre.
+But she had no time to do so. Herbert was coming down again, and she
+could only slip inside the school-room door, and peep out. He had
+evidently been upstairs for his cloak, for he was putting it on as he
+descended.</p>
+
+<p>"The cloak on a hot night like this!" said mademoiselle mentally. "He
+must want to disguise himself!"</p>
+
+<p>She stopped to listen. Joseph had come up the stairs, bringing something
+to Anthony, and Herbert arrested him, speaking in low tones.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't make any mistake to-night about the dining-room window, Joseph. I
+can't think how you could have been so stupid last night!"</p>
+
+<p>"Sir, I assure you I left it undone, as usual," replied Joseph. "It must
+have been master who fastened it."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, take care that it does not occur again," said Herbert. "I expect
+to be in between ten and eleven; but I may be later, and I don't want to
+ring you up again."</p>
+
+<p>Herbert went swiftly downstairs and out, choosing to depart by the way,
+as it appeared, that he intended to enter&mdash;the dining-room window.
+Joseph proceeded to Anthony's chamber: and the governess returned to her
+frightened pupils in the drawing-room.</p>
+
+<p>"A la bonne heure!" she said to them. "Monsieur Herbert has gone out,
+and I heard him say to Joseph that he had gone for the evening."</p>
+
+<p>"Then it's all safe!" cried Minny. And she began dancing round the room.
+"Mademoiselle, how pale you look!"</p>
+
+<p>Mademoiselle had sat down in her place before the tea-tray, and was
+leaning her cheek upon her hand. She was certainly looking unusually
+pale. "Enough to make me!" she said, in answer to Minny. "If there were
+to be this disturbance often in the house, I would not stop in it for
+double my <i>appointements</i>. It has given me one of those <i>vilaine</i>
+headaches, and I think I shall go to bed. You will not be afraid to stay
+up alone, mesdemoiselles?"</p>
+
+<p>"There is nothing to be afraid of now," promptly answered Rosa, who had
+far rather be without her governess's company than with it. "Don't sit
+up for us, mademoiselle."</p>
+
+<p>"Then I will go at once," said mademoiselle. And she wished them good
+night, and retired to her chamber.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="PART_THE_THIRD" id="PART_THE_THIRD"></a>PART THE THIRD.</h2>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IC" id="CHAPTER_IC"></a>CHAPTER I.</h2>
+
+<h3>ANNA LYNN'S DILEMMA.</h3>
+
+
+<p>It was a lovely evening. One of those warm, still evenings that May
+sometimes brings us, when gnats hum in the air, and the trees are at
+rest. The day had been intensely hot: the evening was little less so,
+and Anna Lynn leaned over the gate of their garden, striving to catch
+what of freshness there might be in the coming night. The garish day was
+fading into moonlight; the distant Malvern hills grew fainter and
+fainter on the view; the little lambs in the field&mdash;growing into great
+lambs now, some of them&mdash;had long lain down to rest; and the Thursday
+evening bells came chiming pleasantly on the ear from Helstonleigh.</p>
+
+<p>"How late he is to-night!" murmured Anna. "If he does not come soon, I
+shall not be able to stay out."</p>
+
+<p>Even as the words passed her lips, a faint movement might be
+distinguished in the obscurity of the night, telling of the advent of
+Herbert Dare. Anna looked round to see that the windows were clear from
+prying eyes, and went forth to meet him.</p>
+
+<p>He had halted at the usual place, under cover of the hedge. The hedge of
+sweetbriar, skirting that side garden into which Signora Varsini had
+made good her <i>entrée</i>, in the gratification of her curiosity. A shaded
+walk and a quiet one: very little fear there, of overlookers.</p>
+
+<p>"Herbert, thee art late!" cried Anna.</p>
+
+<p>"A good thing I was able to come at all," responded Herbert, taking
+Anna's arm within his own. "I thought at one time I must have remained
+at home, to chastise my brother Anthony."</p>
+
+<p>"Chastise thy brother Anthony!" repeated Anna in astonishment.</p>
+
+<p>Herbert, for the first time, told her of the unpleasantness that existed
+between his brother and himself. He did not mention the precise cause;
+but simply said Anthony had behaved ill to him, and drawn down upon him
+trouble and vexation. Anna was all sympathy. Had Herbert told her the
+offence had lain on his side, not on Anthony's, her entire sympathy had
+still been his. She deemed Herbert everything that was good and great
+and worthy. Anthony&mdash;what little she knew of him&mdash;she did not like.</p>
+
+<p>"Herbert, maybe he will be striking thee in secret, when thee art
+unprepared."</p>
+
+<p>"Let him!" carelessly replied Herbert. "I can strike again. I am
+stronger than he is. I know one thing: either he or I must leave my
+father's house and take lodgings; we can't remain in it together."</p>
+
+<p>"It would be he to leave, would it not, Herbert? Thy father would not be
+so unjust as to turn thee out for thy brother's fault."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know about that," said Herbert. "I expect it is I who would
+have to go. Anthony is the eldest, and my mother's favourite."</p>
+
+<p>Anna lifted her hand, in her innocent surprise. Anthony the favourite by
+the side of Herbert? She could not understand how so great an anomaly
+could exist.</p>
+
+<p>Interested in the topic, the time slipped on. During a moment of
+silence, when they had halted in their walk, they heard what was called
+the ten o'clock bell strike out from Helstonleigh: a bell that boomed
+out over the city every night for ten minutes before ten o'clock. The
+sound startled Anna. She had indeed overstayed her time.</p>
+
+<p>"One moment, Anna!" cried Herbert, as she was preparing to fly off.
+"There can't be any such hurry. Hester will not be going to bed yet, on
+a hot night like this. I wanted you to return me that book, if you have
+done with it. It is not mine, and I have been asked for it."</p>
+
+<p>Truth to say, Anna would be glad to return it. The book was Moore's
+"Lalla Rookh," and Anna had been upon thorns all the time she had been
+reading it, lest by some unlucky mishap it might reach the eyes of
+Patience. <i>She</i> thought it everything that was beautiful; she had read
+pages of it over and over again; they wore for her a strange
+enchantment; but she had a shrewd suspicion that neither book nor
+reading would be approved by Patience.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll bring it out to thee at once, Herbert, if I can," she hastily
+said. "If not, I will give it thee to-morrow evening."</p>
+
+<p>"Not so fast, young lady," said Herbert, laughing, and detaining her.
+"You may not come back again. I'll wish you good night now."</p>
+
+<p>"Nay, please thee let me go! What will Hester say to me?"</p>
+
+<p>Scarcely giving a moment to the adieu, Anna sped with swift feet to the
+garden gate. But the moment she was within the barrier, and had turned
+the key, she began&mdash;little dissembler that she was!&mdash;to step on slowly,
+in a careless, <i>nonchalant</i> manner, looking up at the sky, turning her
+head to the trees, in no more hurry apparently than if bedtime were
+three hours off. She had seen Hester Dell standing at the house door.</p>
+
+<p>"Child," said Hester gravely, "thee shouldst not stay out so late as
+this."</p>
+
+<p>"It is so warm a night, Hester!"</p>
+
+<p>"But thee shouldst not be beyond the premises. Patience would not like
+it. It is past thy bedtime, too. Patience's sleeping-draught has not
+come," she added, turning to another subject.</p>
+
+<p>"Her sleeping-draught not come!" repeated Anna in surprise.</p>
+
+<p>"It has not. I have been expecting the boy to knock every minute, or I
+should have come to see after thee. Friend Parry may have forgotten it."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, of course he must have forgotten it," said Anna, inwardly
+promising the boy a sixpence for his forgetfulness. "The medicine always
+comes in the morning. Will Patience sleep without it?"</p>
+
+<p>"I fear me not. What dost thee think? Suppose I were to run for it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, do, Hester."</p>
+
+<p>They went in, Hester closing the back door and locking it. She put on
+her shawl and bonnet, and was going out at the front door when the clock
+struck ten.</p>
+
+<p>"It is ten o'clock, child," she said to Anna. "Thee go to bed. Thee
+needst not sit up. I'll take the latch-key with me and let myself in."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Hester! I don't want to go to bed yet," returned Anna fretfully.
+"It is like a summer's evening."</p>
+
+<p>"But thee hadst better, child," urged Hester. "Patience has been angry
+with me once or twice, saying I suffer thee to sit up late. A pretty
+budget she will be telling thy father on his return! Thee go to bed. Thy
+candle is ready here on the slab. Good night."</p>
+
+<p>Hester departed, shutting fast the door, and carrying with her the
+latch-key. Anna, fully convinced that friend Parry's forgetfulness, or
+the boy's, must have been designed as a special favour to herself, went
+softly into the best parlour to take the book out of her pretty
+work-table.</p>
+
+<p>But the room was dark, and Anna could not find her keys. She believed
+she had left her keys on the top of this very work-table; but feel as
+she would she could not place her hands upon them. With a word of
+impatience, lest, with all her hurry, Herbert Dare should be gone before
+she could return to him with the book, she went to the kitchen, lighted
+the chamber candle spoken of by Hester as placed ready for her use, and
+carried it into the parlour.</p>
+
+<p>Her keys were found on the mantel-piece. She unlocked the drawer, took
+from it the book, blew out the candle, and ran through the garden to the
+field.</p>
+
+<p>Another minute, and Herbert would have left. He was turning away. In
+truth, he had not in the least expected to see Anna back again. "Then
+you have been able to come!" he exclaimed, in his surprise.</p>
+
+<p>"Hester is gone out," explained Anna. "Friend Parry has forgotten to
+send Patience's medicine, and Hester has gone for it. Herbert, thee only
+think! But for Hester's expecting Parry's boy to knock at the door, she
+would have come out here searching for me! She said she would. I must
+never forget the time again. There's the book, and thank thee. I am
+sorry and yet glad to give it thee back."</p>
+
+<p>"Is that not a paradox?" asked Herbert, with a smile. "I do not know why
+you should be either sorry or glad: to be both seems inexplicable."</p>
+
+<p>"I am sorry to lose it: it is the most charming book I have read, and
+but for Patience I should like to have kept it for ever," returned Anna
+with enthusiasm. "But I always felt afraid of Hester's finding it and
+carrying it up to Patience. Patience would be angry; and she might tell
+my father. That is why I am glad to give it back to thee."</p>
+
+<p>"Why did you not lock it up?" asked Herbert.</p>
+
+<p>"I did lock it up. I locked it in my work-table drawer. But I forget to
+put my keys in my pocket; I leave them about anywhere. I should have
+been out with it sooner, but that I could not find the keys."</p>
+
+<p>Anna was in no momentary hurry to run in now. Hester was safe for full
+twenty minutes to come, therefore her haste need not be so great. She
+knew that it was past her bedtime, and that Patience would be wondering
+(unless by great good-fortune Patience should have dropped asleep) why
+she did not go in to wish her good night. But these reflections Anna
+conveniently ignored, in the charm of remaining longer to talk about the
+book. She told Herbert that she had been copying the engravings, but she
+must put the drawings in some safe place before Patience was about
+again. "Tell me the time, please," she suddenly said, bringing her
+chatter to a standstill.</p>
+
+<p>Herbert took out his watch, and held its face towards the moon. "It is
+twelve minutes past ten."</p>
+
+<p>"Then I must be going in," said Anna. "She could be back in twenty
+minutes, and she must not find me out again."</p>
+
+<p>Herbert turned with her, and walked to the gate; pacing slowly, both of
+them, and talking still. He turned in at the gate with her, and Anna
+made no demur. No fear of his being seen. Patience was as safe in bed as
+if she had been chained there, and Hester could not be back quite yet.
+Arrived at the door, closed as Anna had left it, Herbert put out his
+hand. "I suppose I must bid you a final good night now, Anna," he said
+in low tones.</p>
+
+<p>"That thee must. I have to come down the garden again to lock the gate
+after thee. And Hester may not be more than three or four minutes
+longer. Good night to thee, Herbert."</p>
+
+<p>"Let me see that it is all safe for you, against you do go in," said
+Herbert, laying his hand on the handle of the door to open it.</p>
+
+<p>To open it? Nay: he could not open it. The handle resisted his efforts.
+"Did you lock it, Anna?"</p>
+
+<p>Anna smiled at what she thought his awkwardness. "Thee art turning it
+the wrong way, Herbert. See!"</p>
+
+<p>He withdrew his hand to give place to hers, and she turned the handle
+softly and gently the contrary way; that is, she essayed to turn it. But
+it would not turn for her, any more than it had turned for Herbert Dare.
+A sick feeling of terror rushed over Anna, as a conviction of the truth
+grew upon her. Hester Dell had returned, and she was locked out!</p>
+
+<p>In good truth, it was no less a calamity. Hester Dell had not gone far
+from the door on her errand, when she met the doctor's boy with his
+basket, hastening up with the medicine. "I was just coming after it,"
+said Hester to him. "Whatever brings thee so late?"</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Parry was called out this morning before he had time to make it up,
+and he has only just come home," was the boy's reply.</p>
+
+<p>"Better late than never," he somewhat saucily added.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, so it is," acquiesced Hester, who rarely gave anything but a meek
+retort. And she turned back home, letting herself in with the latch-key.
+The house appeared precisely as she had left it, except that Anna's
+candle had disappeared from the mahogany slab in the passage. "That's
+right! the child's gone to bed," soliloquised she.</p>
+
+<p>She proceeded to go to bed herself. The Quaker's was an early household.
+All Hester had to do now, was to give Patience her sleeping-draught.
+"Let me see," continued Hester, still in soliloquy, "I think I did lock
+the back door."</p>
+
+<p>To make sure, she tried the key and found it was not locked. Rather
+wondering, for she certainly thought she <i>had</i> locked it, but dismissing
+the subject the next minute from her thoughts, she locked it now and
+took the key out. Then she continued her way up to Patience. Patience,
+lying there lonely and dull with her night-light, turned her eyes on
+Hester.</p>
+
+<p>"Did thee think we had forgotten thee, Patience? Parry has been out all
+day, the boy says, and the physic is but this minute come."</p>
+
+<p>"Where's Anna?" inquired Patience.</p>
+
+<p>"She is gone to bed."</p>
+
+<p>"Why did she not come to me as usual?"</p>
+
+<p>"Did she not come?" asked Hester.</p>
+
+<p>"I have seen nothing of her all the evening."</p>
+
+<p>"Maybe she thought thee'd be dozing," observed Hester, bringing forward
+the sleeping-draught which she had been pouring into a wine-glass. She
+said no more. Her private opinion was that Anna had purposely abstained
+from the visit lest she should receive a scolding for going to bed late,
+her usual hour being half-past nine. Neither did Patience say any more.
+She was feeling that Anna might be a little less ungrateful. She took
+the draught, and Hester went to bed.</p>
+
+<p>And poor Anna? To describe her dismay, her consternation, would be a
+useless attempt. The doors were fast&mdash;the windows were fast also.
+Herbert Dare essayed to soothe her, but she would not be soothed. She
+sat down on the step of the back door and cried bitterly: all her
+apprehension being for the terrible scolding she should have from
+Patience, were it found out; the worse than scolding if Patience told
+her father.</p>
+
+<p>To give Herbert Dare his due, he felt truly vexed at the dilemma for
+Anna's sake. Could he have let her in by getting down a chimney himself,
+or in any other impromptu way, and so opened the door for her, he would
+have done it. "Don't cry, Anna," he entreated, "don't cry! I'll take
+care of you. Nothing shall harm you. I'll not go away."</p>
+
+<p>The more he talked, the more she cried. Very like a little child. Had
+Herbert Dare known how to break the glass without noise he would have
+taken out a pane in the kitchen window, and so reached the fastening and
+opened it. Anna, in worse terror than ever, begged him not to attempt
+it. It would be sure to arouse Hester.</p>
+
+<p>"But you'll be so cold, child, staying here all night!" he urged. "You
+are shivering now."</p>
+
+<p>Anna was shivering: shivering with vexation and fear. Herbert thought it
+would be better that he should boldly knock up Hester; and he suggested
+it: nay, he pressed it. But the proposal sounded more alarming to Anna
+than any that had gone before it. It seemed that there was nothing to be
+done.</p>
+
+<p>How long she sat there, crying and shivering and refusing to be
+comforted or to hear reason, she could not tell. Half the night, it
+seemed. But Anna, you must remember, was counting time by her own state
+of mind, not by the clock. Suddenly a bright thought, as a ray of light,
+flashed into her brain.</p>
+
+<p>"There's the pantry window," she cried, arresting her tears. "How could
+I ever have forgotten it? There is no glass, and thee art strong enough
+to push in the wire."</p>
+
+<p>This pantry window Herbert Dare had known nothing about. It was at the
+side of the house, thickly surrounded by shrubs; a square window frame,
+protected by wire. He fought his way to it amidst the shrubs; but to get
+in proved a work of time and difficulty. The window was at some height
+from the ground, the wire was strong. Anna sat on the door-step, never
+stirring, leaving him to get in if he could, her tears falling, and
+terrific visions of Patience's anger chasing each other through her
+mind. And the night went on.</p>
+
+<p>"Anna!"</p>
+
+<p>She could have shouted forth a cry of delight as she leaped up. He had
+entered, had found his way to the kitchen window, had gently raised it,
+and was softly calling to her. Some little difficulty still, but with
+Herbert's assistance she was safely landed, a great tear in her dress
+the only damage. He had managed to obtain a light by means of some
+fusees in his pocket, and had lighted a candle. Anna sat down on a
+chair, her face radiant through her tears. "How shall I ever thank
+thee?"</p>
+
+<p>He was looking at his fingers with a half-serious, half-mocking
+expression of dismay. The wire had torn them in many places, and they
+were bleeding. "I could have got in quicker had I forced the wire out in
+the middle," he observed, "but that would have told tales. I pushed it
+away from the side, and have pushed it back again into its place as well
+as I could. Perhaps it may escape notice."</p>
+
+<p>"How shall I ever thank thee?" was all Anna could repeat in her
+gratitude.</p>
+
+<p>"Now you know what you must do, Anna," said he. "I am going to jump out
+through the window, and be off home. You must shut it and fasten it
+after me: I'd shut it myself, after I'm out, but that these stains on my
+fingers would be transferred to the frame. And when you leave the
+kitchen, remember to turn the key of the door outside. I found it
+turned. Do you understand? And now farewell, my little locked-out
+princess. Don't say I have not worked wonders for you, as the good
+spirits do in the fairy tales."</p>
+
+<p>She caught his hand in her glad delight. She looked at him with a face
+full of gratitude. Herbert Dare bent down and took a kiss from the
+up-turned face. Perhaps he thought he had fairly earned the reward. Then
+he proceeded to swing himself through the window, feeling delighted that
+he had been able to free Anna from her dilemma.</p>
+
+<p>Before Helstonleigh arose next morning, a startling report was
+circulating through the city, the very air teeming with it. A report
+that Anthony Dare had been killed in the night by his brother Herbert.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IIC" id="CHAPTER_IIC"></a>CHAPTER II.</h2>
+
+<h3>COMMOTION.</h3>
+
+
+<p>The streets of Helstonleigh, lying so still and quiet in the moonlight,
+were broken in upon by the noisy sound of a carriage, bowling through
+them. A carriage that was abroad late. It wanted very little of the time
+when the church clocks would boom out the two hours after midnight.
+Time, surely, for all sober people to be in bed!</p>
+
+<p>The carriage contained Mr. Dare, his wife and daughter. They went, as
+you may remember, to a dinner party in the country. The dinner was
+succeeded by an evening gathering, and it was nearly one o'clock when
+they left the house to return. It wanted only five minutes to two when
+the carriage stopped at their own home, and sleepy Joseph opened the
+door to them.</p>
+
+<p>"All in bed?" asked Mr. Dare, as he bustled into the hall.</p>
+
+<p>"I believe so, sir," answered Joseph, as carelessly as he could speak.
+Mr. Dare, he was aware, alluded to his sons; and not being by any means
+sure upon the point, Joseph was willing to escape further questioning.</p>
+
+<p>Two of the maids came forward&mdash;the lady's maid, as she was called in the
+family, and Betsy. Betsy was no other than our old friend Betsy Carter:
+once the little maid-of-all-work at Mrs. Halliburton's; risen now to be
+a very fine housemaid at Mrs. Dare's. They had sat up to attend upon
+Mrs. Dare and Adelaide.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dare had been for a long while in the habit of smoking a pipe before
+he went to bed. He would have told you that he could not do without it.
+If business or pleasure took him out, he must have his pipe when he
+returned, however late it might be.</p>
+
+<p>"How hot it is!" he exclaimed, throwing back his coat. "Leave the hall
+door open, Joseph: I'll sit outside. Bring me my pipe."</p>
+
+<p>Joseph looked for the pipe in its appointed resting-place, and could not
+see it. It was a small, handsome pipe, silver-mounted, with an amber
+mouth-piece. The tobacco-jar was there, but Joseph could see nothing of
+the pipe.</p>
+
+<p>"Law! I remember!" exclaimed Betsy. "Master left it in the dining-room
+last night, and I put it under the sideboard when I was doing the room
+this morning, intending to bring it away. I'll go and get it."</p>
+
+<p>Taking the candle from Joseph's hand, she turned hastily into the
+dining-room. Not, however, as hastily as she came out of it. She rushed
+out, uttering a succession of piercing shrieks, and seized upon Joseph.
+The shrieks echoed through the house, upstairs and down, and Mr. Dare
+came in.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, what on earth's the matter, girl?" cried he. "Have you seen a
+ghost?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, sir! Oh, Joseph, don't let go of me; Mr. Anthony's lying in there,
+dead!"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't be a simpleton," responded Mr. Dare, staring at Betsy.</p>
+
+<p>Joseph gave a rather less complimentary reprimand, and shook the girl
+off. But suddenly, even as the words left his lips, there rose up before
+his mind's eye the vision of the past evening: the quarrel, the threats,
+the violence between Anthony and Herbert. A strange apprehension seated
+itself in the man's mind.</p>
+
+<p>"Be still, you donkey!" he whispered to Betsy, his voice scarcely
+audible, his manner subdued. "I'll go in and see."</p>
+
+<p>Taking the candle, he went into the dining-room. Mr. Dare followed. The
+worst thought that occurred to Mr. Dare was, that Anthony might have
+taken more wine than was good for him, and had fallen down, helpless, in
+the dining-room. Unhappily, Anthony had been known so to transgress.
+Only a week or two before&mdash;&mdash;but let that pass: it has nothing to do
+with us now.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dare followed Joseph in. At the upper end of the room, near the
+window, lay some one on the ground. It was surely Anthony. He was lying
+on his side, his head thrown back, his face up-turned. A ghastly face,
+which sent poor Joseph's pulses bounding on with a terrible fear as he
+looked down at it. The same face which had scared Betsy when <i>she</i>
+looked down.</p>
+
+<p>"He is stark dead!" whispered Joseph, with a shiver, to Mr. Dare.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dare, his own life-blood seeming to have stopped, bent over his son
+by the light of the candle. Anthony appeared to be not only dead, but
+cold. In his terrible shock, his agitation, he still remembered that it
+was well, if possible, to spare the sight to his wife and daughter. Mrs.
+Dare and Adelaide, alarmed by Betsy's screams, had run downstairs, and
+were now hastening into the room.</p>
+
+<p>"Go back! go back!" cried Mr. Dare, fencing them away with his hands.
+"Adelaide, you must not come in! Julia," he added to his wife, in tones
+of imploring entreaty, "go upstairs, and keep back Adelaide."</p>
+
+<p>He half led, half pushed them across the hall. Mrs. Dare had never in
+all her life seen his face as she saw it now&mdash;a face of terror. She
+caught the fear; vaguely enough, it must be confessed, for she had not
+heard Anthony's name, as yet, mentioned in connection with it.</p>
+
+<p>"What is it?" she asked, holding on by the balustrades. "What is there
+in the dining-room?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know what it is," replied Mr. Dare, from between his white
+lips. "Go upstairs! Adelaide, go up with your mother."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dare was stopped by more screams. Whilst he was preventing immediate
+terror to his wife and daughter, the lady's maid, her curiosity excited
+beyond repression, had slipped into the dining-room, and peeped over
+Joseph's shoulder. What she had expected to see she perhaps could not
+have stated; what she did see was so far worse than her wildest fears,
+that she lost sense of everything, except the moment's fear; and shriek
+after shriek echoed from her.</p>
+
+<p>A scene of confusion ensued. Mrs. Dare tried to force her way to the
+room; Adelaide followed her; Betsy began bewailing Mr. Anthony, by name,
+in wild words. And the sleepers, above, came flocking out of their
+chambers, with trembling limbs and white faces.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dare put his back against the dining-room door. "Girls, go back!
+Julia, go back, for the love of Heaven! Mademoiselle, is that you? Be so
+good as to stay where you are, and keep Rosa and Minny with you."</p>
+
+<p>"Mais, qu'est-ce que c'est, donc?" exclaimed mademoiselle, speaking, in
+her wonder, in her most familiar tongue, and, truth to say, paying
+little heed to Mr. Dare's injunction. "Y a-t-il du malheur arrivé?"</p>
+
+<p>Betsy went up to her. Betsy recognised her as one not of the family, to
+whom she could ease her overflowing mind. The same thought had occurred
+to Betsy as to Joseph. "Poor Mr. Anthony's lying in there dead, mamzel,"
+she whispered. "Mr. Herbert must have killed him."</p>
+
+<p>Unheeding the request of Mr. Dare, unmindful of the deficiences or want
+of elegance in her costume, which consisted of what she called a
+<i>peignoir</i>, and a borderless calico nightcap, mademoiselle flew down to
+the hall and slipped into the dining-room. Some of the others slipped in
+also, and a sad scene ensued. What with wife, governess, servants, and
+children, Mr. Dare was powerless to end it. Mademoiselle went straight
+up, gave one look, and staggered back against the wall.</p>
+
+<p>"C'est vrai!" she muttered. "C'est Monsieur Anthony."</p>
+
+<p>"It is Anthony," shivered Mr. Dare, "I fear&mdash;I fear violence has been
+done him."</p>
+
+<p>The governess was breathing heavily. She looked quite as ghastly as did
+that up-turned face. "But why should it be?" she asked, in English. "Who
+has done it?"</p>
+
+<p>Ah, who had done it! Joseph's frightened face seemed to say that he
+could tell if he dared, Cyril bounded into the room, and clasped one of
+the arms. But he let it fall again. "It is rigid!" he gasped. "Is he
+dead? Father! he can't be dead!"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dare hurried Joseph from the room&mdash;hurried him across the hall to
+the door. He, Mr. Dare, seemed so agitated as scarcely to know what he
+was about. "Make all haste," he said; "the nearest surgeon."</p>
+
+<p>"Sir," whispered Joseph, turning when he was outside the door, his
+agitation as great as his master's: "I'm afraid it's Mr. Herbert who has
+done this."</p>
+
+<p>"Why?" sharply asked Mr. Dare.</p>
+
+<p>"They had a dreadful quarrel this evening, sir, after you left. Mr.
+Herbert drew a knife upon his brother. I got in just in time to stop
+bloodshed, or it might have happened then."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dare suppressed a groan. "Go off, Joseph, and bring a doctor here.
+He may not be past reviving, Milbank is the nearest. If he is at home,
+bring him; if not, get anybody."</p>
+
+<p>Joseph, without his hat, sped across the lawn, and gained the entrance
+gate at the very moment that a gig was passing. By the light of a lamp,
+Joseph saw that it contained Mr. Glenn, the surgeon, driven by his
+servant. He had been on a late professional visit into the country.
+Joseph shouted running before the horse in his excitement, and the man
+pulled up.</p>
+
+<p>"What's the matter, Joseph?" asked Mr. Glenn. "Any one ill?"</p>
+
+<p>Somewhat curious to say, Mr. Glenn was the usual medical attendant of
+the Dares. Joseph explained as well as he could. Mr. Anthony had been
+found lying on the dining-room carpet, to all appearance dead. Mr. Glenn
+descended.</p>
+
+<p>"Anything up at your place?" asked a policeman, who had just come by, on
+his beat.</p>
+
+<p>"I should think there is," returned Joseph. "One of the gentlemen's
+been found dead."</p>
+
+<p>"Dead!" echoed the policeman. "Which of them is it?" he asked, after a
+pause.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Anthony."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, I saw him turn in here about half-past eleven!" observed the
+officer, "He is in a fit, perhaps."</p>
+
+<p>"Why do you say that?" asked Joseph.</p>
+
+<p>"Because he had been taking a drop too much. He could hardly walk.
+Somebody brought him as far as the gate."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Glenn had hastened on. The policeman followed with Joseph. Followed,
+possibly, to gratify his curiosity; possibly, because he thought his
+services might be in some way required. When the two entered the
+dining-room, Mr. Glenn was kneeling down to examine Anthony, and sounds
+of distress came on their ears from a distance. They were caused by the
+hysterics of Mrs. Dare.</p>
+
+<p>"Is he dead, sir?" asked the policeman, in a low tone.</p>
+
+<p>"He has been dead these two or three hours," was Mr. Glenn's reply.</p>
+
+<p>But it was not a fit. It was not anything so innocent. Mr. Glenn found
+that the cause of death was a stab in the side. Death, he believed, must
+have been instantaneous: and the hemorrhage was chiefly internal. There
+were very few stains on the clothes.</p>
+
+<p>"What's this!" cried Mr. Glenn.</p>
+
+<p>He was pulling at some large substance on which Anthony had fallen. It
+proved to be a cloak. Cyril&mdash;and some others present&mdash;recognised it as
+Herbert's cloak. Where was Herbert? In bed? Was it possible that he
+could sleep through the noise and confusion that the house was in?</p>
+
+<p>"Can nothing be done?" asked Mr. Dare of the surgeon.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Glenn shook his head. "He is stone dead, you see; dead, and nearly
+cold. He must have been dead more than two hours. I should say nearer
+three."</p>
+
+<p>From two to three hours! Then that would bring the time of his death to
+about half-past eleven o'clock; close upon the time that the policeman
+saw him returning home. Some one turned to ask the policeman a question,
+but he had disappeared. Mr. Glenn went to see what he could do for Mrs.
+Dare, whose cries had been painful to hear, and Mr. Dare drew Joseph
+aside. Somehow he felt that he <i>dared</i> not question him in the presence
+of witnesses, lest any condemnatory fact should transpire to bring the
+guilt home to his second son. In spite of the sight of Anthony lying
+dead before him, in spite of what he had heard of the quarrel, he could
+not bring his mind to believe that Herbert had been guilty of this most
+dastardly deed.</p>
+
+<p>"What time did you let him in?" asked Mr. Dare, pointing to his
+ill-fated son.</p>
+
+<p>Joseph answered evasively. "The policeman said it was about half after
+eleven, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"And what time did Mr. Herbert come home?"</p>
+
+<p>In point of fact, but for seeing the cloak where he did see it, Joseph
+would not have known whether Mr. Herbert was at home yet. He felt there
+was nothing for it but to tell the simple truth to Mr. Dare&mdash;that the
+gentlemen had been in the habit of letting themselves in at any hour
+they pleased, the dining-room window being left unfastened for them.
+Joseph made the admission, and Mr. Dare received it with anger.</p>
+
+<p>"I did it by their orders, sir," the man said, with deprecation. "If you
+think it was wrong, perhaps you'll put things on a better footing for
+the future. But, to wait up every night till its pretty near time to
+rise again, is what I can't do, or anybody else. Flesh and blood is but
+mortal, sir, and couldn't stand it."</p>
+
+<p>"But you were not kept up like that?" cried Mr. Dare.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir, I was. If one of the gentlemen wasn't out, the other would
+be. I told them it was impossible I could be up nearly all night and
+every night, and rise in the morning just the same, and do my work in
+the day. So they took to have the dining-room window left open, and came
+in that way, and I went to rest at my proper hour. Mr. Cyril and Mr.
+George, too, they are taking to stay out."</p>
+
+<p>"The house might have been robbed over and over again!" exclaimed Mr.
+Dare.</p>
+
+<p>"I told them so, sir. But they laughed at me. They said who'd be likely
+to come through the grounds and up to the windows and try them? At any
+rate, sir," added Joseph, as a last excuse, "they <i>ordered</i> it done. And
+that's how it is, sir, that I don't know what time either Mr. Anthony or
+Mr. Herbert came in last night."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dare said no more. The fruits of the way in which his sons had been
+reared were coming heavily home to him. He turned to go upstairs to
+Herbert's chamber. On the bottom stairs, swaying herself to and fro in
+her <i>peignoir</i>, a staring print, all the colours of the rainbow, sat the
+governess. She lifted her white face as Mr. Dare approached.</p>
+
+<p>"Is he dead?"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dare shook his head. "The surgeon says he has been dead ever since
+the beginning of the night."</p>
+
+<p>"And Monsieur Herbert? Is <i>he</i> dead?"</p>
+
+<p>"<i>He</i> dead!" repeated Mr. Dare in an accent of alarm, fearing possibly
+she might have a motive for the question. "What should bring him also
+dead? Mademoiselle, why do you ask it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Eh, me, I don't know," she answered. "I am bewildered with it all. Why
+should he be dead, and not the other? Why should either be dead?"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dare saw that she did look bewildered; scarcely in her senses. She
+had a white handkerchief in her hand, and was wiping the moisture from
+her scarcely less white face. "Did you witness the quarrel between
+them?" he inquired, supposing that she had done so by her words.</p>
+
+<p>"If I did, I not tell," she vehemently answered, her English less clear
+than usual. "If Joseph say&mdash;I hear him say it to you just now&mdash;that
+Monsieur Herbert took a knife to his brother, I not give testimony to
+it. What affair is it of mine, that I should tell against one or the
+other? Who did it?&mdash;who killed him?"&mdash;she rapidly continued. "It was not
+Monsieur Herbert. No, I will say always that it was not Monsieur
+Herbert. He would not kill his brother."</p>
+
+<p>"I do not think he would," earnestly spoke Mr. Dare.</p>
+
+<p>"No, no, no!" said mademoiselle, her voice rising with her emphasis. "He
+never kill his brother; he not enough <i>méchant</i> for that."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps he has not come in?" cried Mr. Dare, catching at the thought.</p>
+
+<p>Betsy Garter answered the words. She had stolen up in the general
+restlessness, and halted there. "He must be come in, sir," she said;
+"else how could his cloak be in the dining-room? They are saying that
+it's Mr. Herbert's cloak which was under Mr. Anthony."</p>
+
+<p>"What has Mr. Herbert's cloak to do with his coming in or not coming
+in?" sharply asked Mr. Dare. "He would not be wearing his cloak this
+weather."</p>
+
+<p>"But he does wear it, sir," returned Betsy. "He went out in it
+to-night."</p>
+
+<p>"Did you see him?" sternly asked Mr. Dare.</p>
+
+<p>"If I hadn't seen him, I couldn't have told that he went out in it,"
+independently replied Betsy, who, like her mother, was fond of
+maintaining her own opinion. "I was looking out of the window in Miss
+Adelaide's room, and I saw Mr. Herbert go out by way of the dining-room
+window towards the entrance-gate."</p>
+
+<p>"Wearing his cloak?"</p>
+
+<p>"Wearing his cloak," assented Betsy, "I hoped he was hot enough in it."</p>
+
+<p>The words seemed to carry terrible conviction to Mr. Dare's mind.
+Unwilling to believe the girl, he sought Joseph and asked him.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, for certain," Joseph answered. "Mr. Herbert, as he was coming
+downstairs to go out, stopped to speak to me, sir, and he was fastening
+his cloak on then."</p>
+
+<p>Minny ran up, bursting with grief and terror as she seized upon Mr.
+Dare. "Papa! papa! is it true?" she sobbed.</p>
+
+<p>"Is what true, child?"</p>
+
+<p>"That it was Herbert? They are saying so."</p>
+
+<p>"Hush!" said Mr. Dare. Carrying a candle, he went up to Herbert's room,
+his heart aching. That Herbert could sleep through the noise was
+surprising; and yet, not much so. His room was more remote from the
+house than were the other rooms, and looked towards the back. But, had
+he slept through it? When Mr. Dare went in, he was sitting up in bed,
+awaking, or pretending to awake, from sleep. The window, thrown wide
+open, may have contributed to deaden any sound in the house. "Can you
+sleep through this, Herbert?" cried Mr. Dare.</p>
+
+<p>Herbert stared, and rubbed his eyes, and stared again, as one
+bewildered. "Is that you, father?" he presently cried. "What is it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Herbert," said his father, in low tones of pain, of dread; "what have
+you been doing to your brother?"</p>
+
+<p>Herbert, as if not understanding the drift of the question, stared more
+than ever. "I have done nothing to him," he presently said. "Do you mean
+Anthony?"</p>
+
+<p>"Anthony is lying on the dining-room floor killed&mdash;murdered. Herbert,
+<i>who did it</i>?"</p>
+
+<p>Herbert Dare sat motionless in bed, looking utterly lost. That he could
+not understand, or was affecting not to understand, was evident.
+"Anthony is&mdash;what do you say, sir?"</p>
+
+<p>"He is dead; he is <i>murdered</i>," replied Mr. Dare. "Oh, my son, my son,
+say you did not do it! for the love of heaven, say you did not do it!"
+And the unhappy father burst into tears and sank down on the bed,
+utterly unmanned.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IIIC" id="CHAPTER_IIIC"></a>CHAPTER III.</h2>
+
+<h3>ACCUSED.</h3>
+
+
+<p>The grey dawn of the early May morning was breaking over the world&mdash;over
+the group gathered in Mr. Dare's dining-room. That gentleman, his
+surviving sons, a stranger, a constable or two; and Sergeant Delves, who
+had been summoned to the scene. Sundry of the household were going in
+and out, of their own restless, curious accord, or by summons. The
+sergeant was making inquiries into the facts and details of the evening.</p>
+
+<p>Anthony Dare&mdash;as may be remembered&mdash;had sullenly retired to his room,
+refusing to go out when the message came to him from Lord Hawkesley. It
+appeared, by what was afterwards learnt, that he, Anthony Dare, had made
+an appointment to meet Hawkesley and some other men at the
+Star-and-Garter hotel, where Lord Hawkesley was staying; the proposed
+amusement of the evening being cards. Anthony Dare remained in his
+chamber, solacing his chafed temper with brandy-and-water, until the
+waiter from the Star-and-Garter appeared a second time, bearing a note.
+This note Sergeant Delves had found in one of the pockets, and had it
+now open before him. It ran as follows:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Dare</span>,&mdash;We are all here waiting, and can't make up the
+tables without you. What do you mean by shirking us? Come
+along, and don't be a month over it.&mdash;Yours,</p>
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">Hawkesley.</span>"</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>This note had prevailed. Anthony, possibly repenting of the solitary
+evening to which he had condemned himself, put on his boots again and
+went forth: not&mdash;it is not pleasant to have to record it, but it cannot
+be concealed&mdash;not sober. He had taken ale with his dinner, wine after
+it, and brandy-and-water in his room. The three combined had told upon
+him.</p>
+
+<p>On his arrival at the Star-and-Garter, he found six or seven gentlemen
+assembled. But, instead of sitting down there in Lord Hawkesley's room,
+it was suddenly decided to adjourn to the lodgings of a Mr. Brittle,
+hard by; a young Oxonian, who had been plucked in his Little Go, and was
+supposed to be reading hard to avoid a second similar catastrophe. They
+went to Mr. Brittle's and sat down to cards, over which brandy-and-water
+and other drinks were introduced. Anthony Dare, by way of quenching his
+thirst, did not spare them, and was not particular as to the sorts. The
+consequence was that he soon became most disagreeable company, snarling
+with all around; in short, unfit for play. This <i>contretemps</i> put the
+rest of the party out of sorts, and they broke up. But for that, they
+might probably have sat on, until morning, and that poor unhappy life
+have been spared. There was no knowing what might have been. Anthony
+Dare was in no fit state to walk alone, and one of them, Mr. Brittle,
+undertook to see him home. Mr. Brittle left him at the gate, and Anthony
+Dare stumbled over the lawn and gained the house. After that, nothing
+further was known. So much as this would not have been known, but that,
+in hastening for Delves, the policeman had come across Mr. Brittle. It
+was only natural that the latter, shocked and startled, should bend his
+steps to the scene; and from him they gathered the account of Anthony's
+movements abroad.</p>
+
+<p>But now came the difficulty. Who had let Anthony in? No one. There was
+little doubt that he had made his way through the dining-room window.
+Joseph had turned the key of the front door at eleven o'clock, and he
+had not been called upon to open it until the return of Mr. and Mrs.
+Dare. The policeman who happened to be passing when Anthony came
+home&mdash;or it may be more correct to say, was brought home&mdash;testified to
+the probable fact that he had entered by means of the dining-room
+window. The man had watched him: had seen that, instead of making for
+the front door, which faced the road and was in view, he had stumbled
+across the grass, and disappeared down by the side of the house. On this
+side the dining-room window was situated; therefore it was only
+reasonable to suppose that Anthony had so entered.</p>
+
+<p>"Had you any motive in watching him?" asked Sergeant Delves of this man.</p>
+
+<p>"None, except to see that he did not fall," was the reply. "When the
+gentleman who brought him home loosed his arm, he told him, in a joking
+way, not to get kissing the ground as he went in; and I thought I'd
+watch him that I might go to his assistance if he did fall. He could
+hardly walk: he pitched about with every step."</p>
+
+<p>"Did he fall?"</p>
+
+<p>"No; he managed to keep up. But I should think he was a good five
+minutes getting over the grass plat."</p>
+
+<p>"Did the gentleman remain to watch him?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, not for above a minute. He just waited to see that he got safe over
+the gravel path on to the grass, and then he went back."</p>
+
+<p>"Did you see anyone else come in? About that time?&mdash;or before it?&mdash;or
+after it?"</p>
+
+<p>The man shook his head. "I didn't see anyone else at all. I shut the
+gate after Mr. Anthony, and I didn't see it opened again. Not but what
+plenty might have opened and shut it, and gone in, too, when I was
+higher up my beat."</p>
+
+<p>Sergeant Delves called Joseph. "It appears uncommonly odd that you
+should have heard no noise whatever," he observed. "A man's movements
+are not generally very quiet when in the state described as being that
+of young Mr. Dare's. The probability is that he would enter the
+dining-room noisily. He'd be nearly sure to fall against the furniture,
+being in the dark."</p>
+
+<p>"It's certain that I never did hear him," replied Joseph. "We was shut
+up in the kitchen, and I was mostly nodding from the time I locked up at
+eleven till master came home at two. The two girls was chattering loud
+enough; they was at the table, making-up caps, or something of that. The
+cook went to bed at ten; she was tired."</p>
+
+<p>"Then, with the exception of you three, all the household were in bed?"</p>
+
+<p>"All of 'em&mdash;as was at home," answered Joseph. "The governess had gone
+early, the two young ladies went about ten, Mr. Cyril and Mr. George
+went soon after ten. They came home from cricket 'dead beat' they said,
+had supper, and went to bed soon after it."</p>
+
+<p>"It's not usual for them&mdash;the young men, I mean&mdash;to go to bed so early,
+is it?" asked Sergeant Delves.</p>
+
+<p>"No, except on cricket nights," answered Joseph. "After cricket they
+generally come home and have supper, and don't go out again. Other
+nights they are mostly sure to be out late."</p>
+
+<p>"And you did not hear Mr. Herbert come in?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sergeant Delves, I say that I never heard nothing nor nobody from the
+time I locked the front door till master and missis came home,"
+reiterated Joseph, growing angry. "Let me repeat it ten times over, I
+couldn't say it plainer. If I had heard either of the gentlemen come in,
+I should have gone to 'em to see if anything was wanted. Specially to
+Mr. Anthony, knowing that he was not sober when he went out."</p>
+
+<p>Two points appeared more particularly to strike Sergeant Delves. The one
+was, that no noise should have been heard; that a deed like this could
+have been committed in, as it appeared, absolute silence. The other was,
+that the dining-room window should have been found fastened inside. The
+latter fact confirmed the strong suspicion that the offender was an
+inmate of the house. A person, not an inmate of the house, would
+naturally have escaped by the open dining-room window; but to do this,
+<i>and</i> to fasten it inside after him was an impossibility. Every other
+window in the house, every door, had been securely fastened; some in the
+earlier part of the evening, some at eleven o'clock by Joseph. Herbert
+Dare voluntarily acknowledged that it was he who had fastened the
+dining-room window. His own account was&mdash;and the sergeant looked at him
+narrowly while he gave it&mdash;that he had returned home late, getting on
+for two o'clock; that he had come in through the dining-room, and had
+put down the window fastening. He declared that he had not seen Anthony.
+If Anthony had been lying there, as he was afterwards found, he,
+Herbert, had not observed him. But, he said, so far as he remembered, he
+never glanced to that part of the room at all, but had gone straight
+through on the other side, between the table and the fireplace. And if
+he had glanced to it he could have seen nothing, for the room was dark.
+He had no light, and had to feel his way.</p>
+
+<p>"Was it usual for the young gentlemen to fasten the window?" Sergeant
+Delves asked of Joseph. And Joseph replied that they sometimes did,
+sometimes did not. If by any chance Mr. Anthony and Mr. Herbert came in
+together, then they would fasten it; or if, when the one came in, he
+knew that the other was not out, he would equally fasten it. Mr. Cyril
+and Mr. George did not often come in that way; in fact, they were not
+out so late, generally speaking, as were their brothers.</p>
+
+<p>"Precisely so," Herbert assented, with reference to the fastening. He
+had fastened it, believing his brother Anthony to be at home and in bed.
+When he went out the previous evening, Anthony had already gone to his
+room, expressing his intention not to leave it again that night.</p>
+
+<p>Sergeant Delves inquired&mdash;no doubt for reasons of his own&mdash;whether this
+expressed intention on the part of Anthony could be testified to by any
+one besides Herbert. Yes. By Joseph, by the governess, by Rosa and Minny
+Dare; all four had heard him say it. The sergeant would not trouble the
+young ladies, but requested to speak to the governess.</p>
+
+<p>The governess was indignant at the request being made. She was in and
+out amongst them with her white face, in her many-coloured <i>peignior</i>.
+She had been upstairs and partially dressed herself; had discarded the
+calico nightcap and done her hair, put on the <i>peignior</i> again, and come
+down to see and to listen. But she did not like being questioned.</p>
+
+<p>"I know nothing about it," she said to the sergeant, speaking
+vehemently. "What should I know about it? I will tell you nothing. I
+went to bed before it was well nine o'clock; I had a headache; and I
+never heard anything more till the commotion began. Why you ask me?"</p>
+
+<p>"But you can surely tell, ma'am, whether or not you heard Mr. Anthony
+say he was going to his chamber for the night?" remonstrated the
+sergeant.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, he did say it," she answered vehemently. "He said it in the salon.
+He kicked off his boots, and told Joseph to bring his slippers, and to
+take brandy-and-water to his room, for he should not leave it again that
+night. I never thought or knew that he had left it until I saw him lying
+in the dining-room, and they said he was dead."</p>
+
+<p>"Was Mr. Herbert present when he said he should go to his room for the
+night?"</p>
+
+<p>"He was present, I think: I think he had come in then to the salon. That
+is all I know. I made the tea, and then my head got bad, and I went to
+bed. I can tell you nothing further."</p>
+
+<p>"Did you hear any noise in the house, ma'am?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. If there was any noise I did not notice it. I soon went to sleep.
+Where is the use of your asking me these things? You should ask those
+who sat up. I shall be sick if you make me talk about it. Nothing of
+this ever arrived in any family where I have been before."</p>
+
+<p>The sergeant allowed her to retire. She went to the stairs and sat down
+on the lower step, and leaned her cheek upon her hand, all as she had
+done previously. Mr. Dare asked her why she did not go upstairs, away
+from the confusion and bustle of the sad scene; but she shook her head.
+She did not care to be in her chamber alone, she answered, and her
+pupils were shut in with Madame Dare and Mademoiselle Adelaide.</p>
+
+<p>It is possible that one thing puzzled the sergeant: though what puzzled
+him and what did not puzzle him had to be left to conjecture, for he
+said nothing about it. No weapon had been found. The policemen had been
+searching the room thoroughly, had partly searched the house; but had
+come upon no instrument likely to have inflicted the wound. A
+carving-knife or common table-knife had been suggested, remembering the
+previous occurrences of the evening; but Mr. Glenn's decided opinion
+was, that it must have been a very different instrument; some slender,
+sharp-pointed, two-edged blade, he thought, about six inches in length.</p>
+
+<p>The most suspicious evidence, referring to Herbert, was the cloak. The
+sergeant had examined it curiously, with compressed lips. Herbert
+disposed of this, so far as he was concerned&mdash;that is, if he was to be
+believed. He said that he had put his cloak on, had gone out in it as
+far as the entrance gate; but finding it warmer than was agreeable, he
+had turned back, and flung it on to the dining-room table, going in, as
+he had come out, through the window. He added, as a little bit of
+confirmatory evidence, that he remembered seeing the cloak begin to
+slide off the table again, that he saw it must fall to the ground; but,
+being in a hurry, he would not stop to prevent its doing so, or to pick
+it up.</p>
+
+<p>The sergeant never seemed to take his sidelong glance from Herbert Dare.
+He had gone to work in his own way; hearing the different accounts and
+conjectures, sifting this bit of evidence, turning about that, holding a
+whispered colloquy with the man who had been sent to examine Herbert's
+room: holding a longer whispered colloquy with Herbert himself. On the
+departure of the surgeon and Mr. Brittle, who had gone away together, he
+had marched to the front and side doors of the house, locked them, and
+put the keys into his pocket. "Nobody goes out of this without my
+permission," quoth he.</p>
+
+<p>Then he took Mr. Dare aside. "There's no mistake about this, I fear,"
+said he gravely.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dare knew what he meant. He himself was growing grievously
+faint-hearted. But he would not say so; he would not allow it to be seen
+that he cast, or could cast, a suspicion on Herbert. "It appears to me
+that&mdash;that&mdash;if poor Anthony was in the state they describe, that he may
+have sat down or laid down after entering the dining-room, and dropped
+asleep," observed Mr. Dare. "Easy, then&mdash;the window being left open&mdash;for
+some midnight housebreaker from the street to have come in and attacked
+him."</p>
+
+<p>"Pooh!" said Sergeant Delves. "It is no housebreaker that has done this.
+We have a difficult line of duty to perform at times, us police; and all
+we can do to soften matters, is to go to work as genteelly as is
+consistent with the law. I'm sorry to have to say it, Mr. Dare, but I
+have felt obliged to order my men to keep a look-out on Mr. Herbert."</p>
+
+<p>A chill ran through Mr. Dare. "It could not have been Herbert!" he
+rejoined, his tone one of pain, almost of entreaty. "Mr. Glenn says it
+could not have been done later than half-past eleven, or so. Herbert
+never came home until nearly two."</p>
+
+<p>"Who is to prove that he was not at home till near two?"</p>
+
+<p>"He says he was not. I have no doubt it can be proved. And poor Anthony
+was dead more than two hours before."</p>
+
+<p>"Now, look you here," cried Sergeant Delves, falling back on a favourite
+phrase of his. "Mr. Glenn is correct enough as to the time of the
+occurrence: I have had some experience in death myself, and I'm sure he
+is not far out. But let that pass. Here are witnesses who saw him alive
+at half-past eleven o'clock, and you come home at two and find him dead.
+Now, let your son Herbert thus state where he was from half-past eleven
+till two. He says he was out: not near home at all. Very good. Only let
+him mention the place, so that we can verify it, and find, beyond
+dispute, that he <i>was</i> out, and the suspicion against him will be at an
+end. But he won't do this."</p>
+
+<p>"Not do it?" echoed Mr. Dare.</p>
+
+<p>"He tells me point-blank that he can't and he won't. I asked him."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dare turned impetuously to the room where he had left his second
+son&mdash;his eldest son now. "Here, Herbert"&mdash;he was beginning. But the
+officer cut short the words by drawing him back.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't go and make matters worse," whispered he: "perhaps they'll be bad
+enough without it. Now, Lawyer Dare, you'll do well not to turn
+obstinate, for I am giving you a bit of friendly advice. You and I have
+had many a transaction together, and I don't mind going a bit out of my
+way for you, as I wouldn't do for other people. The worst thing your son
+could do, would be to say before those chattering servants that he can't
+or won't tell where he has been all night, or half the night. It would
+be self-condemnation at once. Ask him in private, if you must ask him."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dare called his son to him, and Herbert answered to it. A policeman
+was sauntering after him, but the sergeant gave him a nod, and the man
+went back.</p>
+
+<p>"Herbert, you say you did not come in until near two this morning."</p>
+
+<p>"Neither did I. It wanted about twenty minutes to it. The churches
+struck half-past one as I came through the town."</p>
+
+<p>"Where did you stay?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well&mdash;I can't say," replied Herbert.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dare grew agitated. "You must say, Herbert," he hoarsely whispered,
+"or take the consequences."</p>
+
+<p>"I can't help the consequences," was Herbert's answer. "Where I was last
+night is no matter to any one, and I shall not say."</p>
+
+<p>"Your not saying&mdash;if you can say&mdash;is just folly," interposed the
+sergeant. "It's the first question the magistrates will ask when you are
+placed before them."</p>
+
+<p>Herbert looked up angrily. "Place me before the magistrates!" he echoed.
+"What do you mean? You will not dare to take me into custody!"</p>
+
+<p>"You have been in custody this half-hour," coolly returned the sergeant.</p>
+
+<p>Herbert looked terribly fierce.</p>
+
+<p>"I will not submit to this indignity," he exclaimed. "<i>I will not.</i>
+Sergeant Delves, you are overstepping&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Look here," interrupted the sergeant, drawing something from some
+unseen receptacle; and Mr. Herbert, to his dismay, caught sight of a
+pair of handcuffs. "Don't you force me to use them," said the officer.
+"You are in custody, and must go before the magistrates; but now, you be
+a gentleman, and I'll use you as one."</p>
+
+<p>"I protest upon my honour that I have had neither act nor part in this
+crime!" cried Herbert, in agitation. "Do you think I would stain my hand
+with the sin of Cain?"</p>
+
+<p>"What is that on your hand?" asked the sergeant, bending forward to look
+more closely at Herbert's fingers.</p>
+
+<p>Herbert held them out openly enough. "I was doing something last night
+which tore my fingers," he said. "I was trying to undo the fastenings of
+some wire. Sergeant Delves, I declare to you solemnly, that from the
+moment when my brother went to his chamber, as witnesses have stated to
+you, I never saw him until my father brought me down from my bed to see
+him lying dead."</p>
+
+<p>"You drew a knife on him not many hours before, you know, Mr. Herbert!"</p>
+
+<p>"It was done in the heat of passion. He provoked me very much; but I
+should not have used it. No, poor fellow! I should never have injured
+him."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you only make your tale good to the magistrates," was all the
+sergeant's answer. "It will be their affair as soon as you are before
+them&mdash;not mine."</p>
+
+<p>Herbert Dare was handed back to the constable; and, as soon as the
+justice-room opened, was conveyed before the magistrates&mdash;all, as the
+sergeant termed it, in a genteel, gentlemanly sort of way. He was
+charged with the murder of his brother Anthony.</p>
+
+<p>To describe the commotion that spread over Helstonleigh would be beyond
+any pen. The college boys were in a strange state of excitement: both
+Anthony and Herbert Dare had been college boys themselves not so very
+long ago. Gar Halliburton&mdash;who was no longer a college boy, but a
+supernumerary&mdash;went home full of it. Having imparted it there, he
+thought he could not do better than go in and regale Patience with the
+news, by way of <i>divertissement</i> to her sick bed. "May I come up,
+Patience?" he called out from the foot of the stairs. "I have something
+to tell you."</p>
+
+<p>Receiving permission, up he flew. Patience, partially raised, was sewing
+with her hands, which she could just contrive to do. Anna sat by the
+window, putting the buttons on some new shirts.</p>
+
+<p>"I have finished two," cried she, turning round to Gar in great glee.
+"And my father's coming home next week, he writes us word. Perhaps thy
+mother has had a letter from William. Look at the shirts!" she
+continued, exhibiting them.</p>
+
+<p>"Never mind bothering about shirts, now, Anna," returned Gar, losing
+sight of his gallantry in his excitement. "Patience, the most dreadful
+thing has happened. Anthony Dare's murdered!"</p>
+
+<p>Patience, calm Patience, only looked at Gar. Perhaps she did not believe
+it. Anna's hands, holding out the shirts, were arrested midway: her
+mouth and blue eyes alike opening.</p>
+
+<p>"He was murdered in their dining-room in the night," went on Gar, intent
+only on his tale. "The town is all up in arms; you never saw such an
+uproar. When we came out of school just now, we thought the French must
+have come to invade us, by the crowds there were in the street. You
+couldn't get near the Guildhall, where the examination was going on. Not
+more than half a dozen of us were able to fight our way in. Herbert Dare
+looked so pale; he was standing there, guarded by three policemen&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Thee hast a fast tongue, Gar," interrupted Patience. "Dost thee mean to
+say Herbert Dare was in custody?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, he was," replied Gar, faster than before. "It is he who has
+done it. At least, he is accused of it. He and Anthony had a quarrel
+yesterday, and it came to knives. They were parted then; but he is
+supposed to have laid wait for Anthony in the night and killed him."</p>
+
+<p>"Is Anthony dead? Is he&mdash;&mdash;Anna! what hast thee&mdash;&mdash;?"</p>
+
+<p>Anna had dropped the shirts and the buttons. Her blue eyes had closed,
+her lips and cheeks had grown white, her hands fell powerless. "She is
+fainting!" shouted Gar, as he ran to support her.</p>
+
+<p>"Gar, dear," said Patience, "thee shouldst not tell ill news quite so
+abruptly. Thee hast made me feel queer. Canst thee stretch thy hands out
+to the bell? It will bring up Hester."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IVC" id="CHAPTER_IVC"></a>CHAPTER IV.</h2>
+
+<h3>COMMITTED FOR TRIAL.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Helstonleigh could not recover its equanimity. Never had it been so
+rudely shaken. Incidents there had been as startling; crimes of as deep
+a dye; but, taking it with all its attendant circumstances, no
+occurrence, in the memory of the oldest inhabitant, had excited the
+interest that was attaching to the death and assumed murder of Anthony
+Dare.</p>
+
+<p>The social standing of the parties, above that in which such unhappy
+incidents are more generally found; the conspicuous position they
+occupied in the town, and the very uncertainty&mdash;the mystery, it may be
+said&mdash;in which the affair was wrapped, wrought local curiosity to the
+highest point.</p>
+
+<p>Scarcely a shadow of doubt rested on the public mind that the deed had
+been done by Herbert Dare. The Police force, actively engaged in
+searching out all the details, held the same opinion. In one sense, this
+was, perhaps, unfortunate; for, when strong suspicion, whether of the
+police or of the public, is especially directed to one isolated point,
+it inevitably tends to keep down doubts that might arise in regard to
+other quarters.</p>
+
+<p>It seemed scarcely possible to hope that Herbert was not guilty. All the
+facts tended to the assumption that he was so. There was the ill-feeling
+known to have existed between himself and his brother: the quarrel and
+violence in the dining-room not many hours before, in which quarrel
+Herbert <i>had</i> raised a knife upon him. "But for the entrance of the
+servant Joseph," said the people, one to another, "the murder might have
+been done then." Joseph had stopped evil consequences at the time, but
+he had not stopped Herbert's mouth&mdash;the threat he had uttered in his
+passion&mdash;still to be revenged. Terribly those words told now against
+Herbert Dare.</p>
+
+<p>Another thing that told against him, and in a most forcible manner, was
+the cloak. That he had put it on to go out; nay, had been seen to go out
+in it by the housemaid, was indisputable; and his brother was found
+lying on this very cloak. In vain Herbert protested, when before the
+magistrates and at the coroner's inquest, that he returned before
+leaving the gates, and had flung this cloak into the dining-room,
+finding it too hot that evening to wear. He obtained no credit. He had
+not been seen to do this; and the word of an accused man goes for
+little. All ominous, these things&mdash;all telling against him, but nothing,
+taking them collectively, as compared with his refusal to state where he
+was that night. He left the house between eight and nine, close upon
+nine, he thought; he was not sure of the exact time to a quarter of an
+hour; and he never returned to it until nearly two. Such was his
+account. But, where he had been in the interim, he positively refused to
+state.</p>
+
+<p>It was only his assertion, you see, against the broad basis of
+suspicion. Anthony Dare's death must have taken place, as testified by
+Mr. Glenn, somewhere about half-past eleven; who was to prove that
+Herbert at that time was not at home? "I was not," Herbert reiterated,
+when before the coroner. "I did not return home till between half-past
+one and two. The churches struck the half-hour as I was coming through
+the town, and it would take me afterwards some ten minutes to reach
+home. It must have been about twenty minutes to two when I entered."</p>
+
+<p>"But where were you? Where had you been? Where did you come from?" he
+was asked.</p>
+
+<p>"That I cannot state," he replied. "I was out upon a little business of
+my own; business that concerns no one but myself; and I decline to make
+it public."</p>
+
+<p>On that score nothing more could be obtained from him. The coroner drew
+his own conclusions; the jury drew <i>theirs</i>; the police had already
+drawn theirs, and very positive ones.</p>
+
+<p>These were the two facts that excited the ire of Sergeant Delves and his
+official colleagues: with all their searching, they could find no weapon
+likely to have been the one used; and they could not discover where
+Herbert Dare had gone to that evening. It happened that no one
+remembered to have seen him passing in the town, early or late; or, if
+they had seen him, it had made no impression on their memory. The
+appearance of Mr. Dare's sons was so common an occurrence that no
+especial note was likely to have been taken of it. Herbert declared that
+in passing through West Street, Turtle, the auctioneer, was leaning out
+at his open bedroom window, and that he, Herbert, had called out to him,
+and asked whether he was star-gazing. Mr. Turtle, when applied to, could
+not corroborate this. He believed that he <i>had</i> been looking out at his
+window that night; he believed that it might have been about the hour
+named, getting on for two, for he was late going to bed, having been to
+a supper party; but he had no recollection whatever of seeing Mr.
+Herbert pass, or of having been spoken to by him, or by any one else.
+When pressed upon the point, Mr. Turtle acknowledged that his intellects
+might not have been in the clearest state of perception, the supper
+party having been a jovial one.</p>
+
+<p>One of the jury remarked that it was very singular the prisoner could go
+through the dining-room, and not observe his brother lying in it. The
+prisoner replied that it was not singular at all. The room was in
+darkness, and he had felt his way through it on the opposite side of the
+table to that where his brother was afterwards found. He had gone
+straight through, and up to his chamber, as quietly as possible, not to
+disturb the house; and he dropped asleep as soon as he was in bed.</p>
+
+<p>The verdict returned was "Wilful murder against Herbert Dare," and he
+was committed to the county gaol to take his trial at the assizes. Mr.
+Dare's house was beyond the precincts of the city. Sergeant Delves and
+his men renewed their inquiries; but they could discover no trace,
+either of the weapon, or of where Herbert Dare had passed the suspicious
+hours. The sergeant was vexed; but he would not allow that he was
+beaten. "Only give us time," said he, with a characteristic nod. "The
+Pyramids of Egypt were only built up stone by stone."</p>
+
+<p>Tuesday morning&mdash;the morning fixed for the funeral of Anthony Dare. The
+curious portion of Helstonleigh wended its way up to the churchyard; as
+it is the delight of the curious portion of a town to do. What a sad
+sight it was! That dark object, covered by its pall, carried by its
+attendants, followed by the mourners; Mr. Dare, and his sons Cyril and
+George. He, the father, bent his face in his handkerchief, as he walked
+behind the coffin to the grave. Many a man in Helstonleigh enjoyed a
+higher share of esteem and respect than did Lawyer Dare; but not one
+present in that crowded churchyard that did not feel for him in his
+bitter grief. Not one, let us hope, that did not feel to his heart's
+core the fate of the unhappy Anthony, now, for weal or for woe, to
+answer before his Maker for his life on earth.</p>
+
+<p>That same day, Tuesday, witnessed the return of Samuel Lynn and William
+Halliburton. They arrived in the evening, and of course the first news
+they were greeted with was the prevailing topic. Few things caused the
+ever-composed Quaker to betray surprise; but William was half-stunned
+with the news. Anthony Dare dead&mdash;murdered&mdash;buried that very day; and
+Herbert in prison, awaiting his trial for the offence! To William the
+whole affair seemed more incredible than real.</p>
+
+<p>"Sir," he said to his master, when, the following morning, they were
+alone together in the counting-house at the manufactory, "do you believe
+Herbert Dare can be guilty?"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Ashley had been gazing at William, lost in thought. The change we
+often see, or fancy we see, in a near friend, after a few weeks'
+absence, was apparent in William. He had improved in looks; and yet
+those looks, with their true nobility, both of form and intellect, had
+been scarcely capable of improvement. Nevertheless, it was there, and
+Mr. Ashley had been struck with it.</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot say," he replied, aroused by the question. "Facts appear
+conclusively against him; but it seems incredible that he should so have
+lost himself. To be suspected and committed on such a charge is grief
+enough, without the reality of guilt."</p>
+
+<p>"So it is," acquiesced William.</p>
+
+<p>"We feel the disgrace very keenly&mdash;as all must who are connected with
+the Dares in ever so remote a degree. <i>I</i> feel it, William; feel it as a
+blow; Mrs. Ashley is the cousin of Anthony Dare."</p>
+
+<p>"They are relatives of ours also," said William in a low tone. "My
+father was first cousin to Mrs. Dare."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Ashley looked at him with surprise. "Your father first cousin to
+Mrs. Dare!" he repeated. "What are you saying?"</p>
+
+<p>"Her first cousin, sir. You have heard of old Mr. Cooper, of
+Birmingham?"</p>
+
+<p>"From whom the Dares inherited their money. Well?"</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Cooper had a brother and a sister. Mrs. Dare was the daughter of
+the brother; the sister married the Reverend William Halliburton, and my
+father was their son. Mrs. Dare, as Julia Cooper, and my father, Edgar
+Halliburton, both lived together for some time under their uncle's roof
+at Birmingham."</p>
+
+<p>A moment's pause, and then Mr. Ashley laid his hand on William's
+shoulder. "Then that brings a sort of relationship between us, William.
+I shall have a right to feel pride in you now."</p>
+
+<p>William laughed. But his cheek flushed with the pleasure of a more
+earnest feeling. His greatest earthly wish was to be appreciated by Mr.
+Ashley.</p>
+
+<p>"How is it I never heard of this relationship before?" cried Mr. Ashley.
+"Was it purposely concealed?"</p>
+
+<p>"It is only within a year or two that I have known of it," replied
+William. "Frank and Gar are not aware of it yet. When we first came to
+Helstonleigh, the Dares were much annoyed at it; and they made it known
+to my mother in so unmistakable a manner, that she resolved to drop all
+mention of the relationship; she would have dropped the relationship
+itself if she could have done so. It was natural, perhaps, that they
+should feel annoyed," continued William, seeking to apologize for them.
+"They were rich and great in the eyes of the town; we were poor and
+obscure."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Ashley was casting his recollections backwards. A certain event,
+which had always somewhat puzzled him, was becoming clear now. "William,
+when Anthony Dare&mdash;acting, as he said, for me&mdash;put that seizure into
+your house for rent, it must have been done with the view of driving you
+from the town?"</p>
+
+<p>"My mother says she has always thought so, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"I see; I see. Why, William, half the inheritance, enjoyed by the Dares,
+ought justly to have been your father's!"</p>
+
+<p>"We shall do as well without it, in the long-run, sir," replied William,
+a bright smile illumining his face. "Hard though the struggle was at the
+beginning!"</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, that you will!" warmly returned Mr. Ashley. "The ways of Providence
+are wonderful! Yes, William&mdash;and I know you have been taught to think
+so&mdash;what men call the chances of the world, are all God's dealings.
+Reflect on the circumstances favouring the Dares; reflect on your own
+drawbacks and disadvantages! They had wealth, position, a lucrative
+profession; everything, in fact, to help them on, that can be desired by
+a family in middle-class life; whilst you had poverty, obscurity, and
+toil to contend with. But now, look at what they are! Mr. Dare's money
+is dissipated; he is overwhelmed with embarrassment&mdash;I know it to be a
+fact, William; but this is for your ear alone. Folly, recklessness,
+irreligion, reign in his house; his daughters lost in pretentious
+vanity; his sons in something worse. In a few years they will have gone
+down&mdash;down. Yes," added Mr. Ashley, pointing with his finger to the
+floor of his counting-house, "down to the dogs. I can see it coming, as
+surely as that the sun is in the heavens. You and they will have
+exchanged positions, William; nay, you and yours, unless I am greatly
+mistaken, will be in a far higher position than they have ever occupied;
+for you will have secured the favour of God, and the approbation of all
+good men."</p>
+
+<p>"That Frank and Gar will attain to a position in time, I should be worse
+than a heathen to doubt, looking back on the wonderful manner in which
+we have been helped on," thoughtfully observed William. "For myself I am
+not sanguine."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you never cherish dreams on your own account?" inquired Mr. Ashley.</p>
+
+<p>"If I do, sir, they are vague dreams. My position affords no scope for
+ambition."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know that," said Mr. Ashley. "Would you not be satisfied to
+become one of the great manufacturers of this great city?" he continued,
+laughing.</p>
+
+<p>"Not unless I could be one of the greatest. Such as&mdash;&mdash;" William
+stopped.</p>
+
+<p>"Myself, for instance?" quietly put in Mr. Ashley.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, indeed," answered William, lifting his earnest eyes to his master.
+"Were it possible that I could ever attain to be as you are, sir, in all
+things&mdash;in character, in position, in the estimation of my
+fellow-citizens&mdash;it would be sufficient ambition for me, and I should
+sit down content."</p>
+
+<p>"Not you," cried Mr. Ashley. "You would then be casting your thoughts to
+serving your said fellow-citizens in Parliament, or some such exalted
+vision. Man's nature is to soar, you know; it cannot rest. As soon as
+one object of ambition is attained, others are sought after."</p>
+
+<p>"So far as I go, we need not discuss it," was William's answer. "There's
+no chance of my ever becoming even a second-rate manufacturer; let alone
+what you are, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"The next best thing to being myself, would perhaps be that of being my
+partner, William."</p>
+
+<p>The voice in which his master spoke was so significant, that William's
+face flushed to crimson. Mr. Ashley noticed it.</p>
+
+<p>"Did that ambition ever occur to you?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir, never. That honour is looked upon as being destined for Cyril
+Dare."</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed!" calmly repeated Mr. Ashley. "If you could transform your
+nature into Cyril, I do not say but that it might be so in time."</p>
+
+<p>"He expects it himself, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Would he be a worthy associate for me, think you?" inquired Mr.
+Ashley, bending his gaze full on William.</p>
+
+<p>William made no reply. Perhaps none was expected, for his master
+resumed:</p>
+
+<p>"I do not recommend you to indulge that particular dream of ambition; I
+cannot see sufficiently into the future. It is my intention to push you
+somewhat on in the world. I have no son to advance," he added, an
+expression of sadness crossing his face. "All I can do for my boy is to
+leave him at ease after me. Therefore I may, if I live, advance you in
+his stead. Provided, William, you continue to deserve it."</p>
+
+<p>A smile parted William's lips. That, he would ever strive for, heaven
+helping him.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Ashley again laid his hand on William, and gazed into his face. "I
+have had a wonderful account of you from Samuel Lynn. And it is not
+often the Friend launches into decided praise."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, have you, sir?" returned William with animation. "I am glad he was
+pleased with me."</p>
+
+<p>"He was more than pleased. But I must not forget that I was charged with
+a message from Henry. He is outrageous at your not having gone to him
+last night. I shall be sending him to France one of these days, under
+your escort, William. It may do him good, in more ways than one."</p>
+
+<p>"I will come to Henry this evening, sir. I must leave him, though, for
+half an hour, to go round to East's."</p>
+
+<p>"Your conscience is engaged, I see. You know what Henry accused you of,
+the last time you left him to go to East's?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of being enamoured of Charlotte," said William, laughing in answer to
+Mr. Ashley's smile. "I will come, at any rate, sir, and battle the other
+matter out with Henry."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VC" id="CHAPTER_VC"></a>CHAPTER V.</h2>
+
+<h3>A BRUISED HEART.</h3>
+
+
+<p>If it were a hopeless task to attempt to describe the consternation of
+Helstonleigh at the death of Anthony Dare, far more difficult would it
+be to picture that of Anna Lynn. Believe Herbert guilty, Anna did not;
+she could scarcely have believed that, had an angel come down from
+heaven to affirm it. Her state of mind was not to be envied; suspense,
+sorrow, anxiety filled it, causing her to be in a grievous state of
+restlessness. She had to conceal this from the eyes of Patience; from
+the eyes of the world. For one thing, she could not get at the correct
+particulars; newspapers did not come in her way, and she shrank, in her
+self-consciousness, from asking. Her whole being&mdash;if we may dare to say
+it here&mdash;was wrapt in Herbert Dare; father, friends, home, country; she
+could have sacrificed them all to save him. She would have laid down her
+life for his. Her good sense was distorted, her judgment warped; she saw
+passing events, not with the eye of dispassionate fact, or with any fact
+at all, but through the unhealthy tinge of fond, blind prejudice. The
+blow had almost crushed her; the dread suspense was wearing out her
+heart. She seemed no longer the same careless child as before; in a few
+hours she had overstepped the barrier of girlish timidity, and had
+gained the experience which is bought with sorrow.</p>
+
+<p>On the evening mentioned in the last chapter, just before William went
+out to keep his appointment with Henry Ashley, he saw from the window
+Anna in his mother's garden, bending over the flowers, and glancing up
+at him. Glancing, as it struck William, with a strangely wistful
+expression. He went out to her.</p>
+
+<p>"Tending the flowers, Anna?"</p>
+
+<p>She turned to him, her fair young face utterly colourless. "I have been
+so wanting to see thee, William! I came here, hoping thee wouldst come
+out. At dinner time I was here, and thee only nodded to me from the
+window. I did not like to beckon to thee."</p>
+
+<p>"I am sorry to have been so stupid, Anna. What is it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Thee hast heard what has happened&mdash;that dreadful thing! Hast thee heard
+it all?"</p>
+
+<p>"I believe so. All that is known."</p>
+
+<p>"I want thee to tell it me. Patience won't talk of it; Hester only
+shakes her head; and I am afraid to ask Gar. <i>Thee</i> tell it to me."</p>
+
+<p>"It would not do you good to know, Anna," he gravely said. "Better try
+and not think&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"William, hush thee!" she feverishly exclaimed. "Thee knew there was
+a&mdash;a friendship between me and <i>him</i>. If I cannot learn all there is to
+be learnt, I shall die."</p>
+
+<p>William looked down at the changing cheek, the eyes full of pain, the
+trembling hands, clasped in their eagerness. It might be better to tell
+her than to leave her in this state of suspense.</p>
+
+<p>"William, there is no one in the wide world that knows he cared for me,
+but thee," she imploringly resumed. "Thee must tell me; thee <i>must</i> tell
+me!"</p>
+
+<p>"You mean that you want to hear the particulars of&mdash;of what took place
+on Thursday night?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. All. Then, and since. I have but heard snatches of the wicked
+tale."</p>
+
+<p>He obeyed her: telling her all the broad facts, but suppressing a few of
+the details. She leaned against the garden-gate, listening in silence;
+her face turned from him, looking through the bars into the field.</p>
+
+<p>"Why do they not believe him?" was her first comment, spoken sharply and
+abruptly. "He says he was not near the house at the time the act must
+have been done: why do they not believe him?"</p>
+
+<p>"It is easy to assert a thing, Anna. But the law requires proof."</p>
+
+<p>"Proof? That he must declare to them where he has been?"</p>
+
+<p>"Undoubtedly. And corroborative proof must also be given."</p>
+
+<p>"But what sort of proof? I do not understand their laws."</p>
+
+<p>"Suppose Herbert Dare asserted that he had spent those hours with me,
+for instance; then I must go forward at the trial and confirm his
+assertion. Also any other witnesses who may have seen him with me, if
+there were any. It would be establishing what is called an <i>alibi</i>."</p>
+
+<p>"And would they acquit him then? Suppose there were only one witness to
+speak for him? Would one be sufficient?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly. Provided the witness were trustworthy."</p>
+
+<p>"If a witness went forward and declared it now, would they release him?"</p>
+
+<p>"Impossible. He is committed to take his trial at the assizes, and he
+cannot be released beforehand. It is exceedingly unwise of him not to
+declare where he was that evening&mdash;if he can do so."</p>
+
+<p>"Where do the public think he was? What do they say?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am afraid the public, Anna, think that he was not out anywhere. At
+any rate, after eleven or half-past."</p>
+
+<p>"Then they are very cruel!" she passionately exclaimed. "Do they <i>all</i>
+think that?"</p>
+
+<p>"There may be a few who judge that it was as he says; that he was really
+away, and is, consequently, innocent."</p>
+
+<p>"And where do <i>they</i> think he was?" eagerly responded Anna again. "Do
+they suspect any place where he might have been?"</p>
+
+<p>William made no reply. It was not at all expedient to impart to her all
+the gossip or surmises of the town. But his silence seemed to agitate
+her more than any reply could have done. She turned to him, trembling
+with emotion, the tears streaming down her face.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, William! tell me what is thought! Tell me, I implore thee! Thee
+cannot leave me in this trouble. Where is it thought he was?"</p>
+
+<p>He took her hands; he bent over her as tenderly as any brother could
+have done; he read all too surely how opposite to the truth had been her
+former assertion to him&mdash;that she did not care for Herbert Dare.</p>
+
+<p>"Anna, child, you must not agitate yourself in this way: there is no
+just cause for doing so. I assure you I do not know where it is thought
+Herbert Dare may have been that night; neither, so far as can be learnt,
+does any one else know. It is the chief point&mdash;where he was&mdash;that is
+puzzling the town."</p>
+
+<p>She laid her head down on the gate again, closing her eyes, as in very
+weariness. William's heart ached for her.</p>
+
+<p>"He may not be guilty, Anna," was all the consolation he could find to
+offer.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>May</i> not be guilty!" she echoed in a tone of pain. "He <i>is</i> not
+guilty. William, I tell thee he is not. Dost thee think I would defend
+him if he could do so wicked a thing?"</p>
+
+<p>He did not dispute the point with her; he did not tell her that her
+assumption of his innocence was inconsistent with the facts of the case.
+Presently Anna resumed.</p>
+
+<p>"Why must he remain in gaol till the trial? There was that man who stole
+the skins from Thomas Ashley&mdash;they let him out, when he was taken, until
+the sessions came on, and then he went up for trial."</p>
+
+<p>"That man was out on bail. But they do not take bail in cases so grave
+as this."</p>
+
+<p>"I may not stay longer. There's Hester coming to call me in. I rely upon
+thee to tell me anything fresh that may arise," she said, lifting her
+beseeching eyes to his.</p>
+
+<p>"One word, Anna, before you go. And yet, I see how worse than useless it
+is to say it to you now. You must forget Herbert Dare."</p>
+
+<p>"I shall forget him, William, when I cease to have memory," she
+whispered. "Never before. Thee wilt keep my counsel?"</p>
+
+<p>"Truly and faithfully."</p>
+
+<p>"Fare thee well, William; I have no friend but thee."</p>
+
+<p>She ran swiftly into their own premises. William turned to pursue his
+way to Mr. Ashley's, the thought of Henry Ashley's misplaced attachment
+lying on his mind as an incubus.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIC" id="CHAPTER_VIC"></a>CHAPTER VI.</h2>
+
+<h3>ONE DYING IN HONEY FAIR.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Mrs. Buffle stood in what she called her "back'us," practically
+superintending a periodical wash. The day was hot, and the steam was
+hot, and, as Mrs. Buffle rubbed away, she began to think she should
+never be cool again.</p>
+
+<p>"Missis," shrieked out a young voice from the precincts of the shop,
+"Ben Tyrrett's wife says will you let her have a gill o' vinegar? Be I
+to serve it?"</p>
+
+<p>The words came from the small damsel who was had in to help on cleaning
+and washing days. Mrs. Buffle kept her hands still in the soapsuds, and
+projected her hot face over the tub to answer.</p>
+
+<p>"Matty, tell Mary Ann Tyrrett as she promised faithful to bring me
+something off her score this week, but I've not seen the colour of it
+yet."</p>
+
+<p>"She says as it's to put to his head," called back Matty, alluding to
+the present demand. "He's bad a-bed, and have fainted right off."</p>
+
+<p>"Serve him right," responded Mrs. Buffle. "You may give her the vinegar,
+Matty. Tell her as it's a penny farthing. I heered he had been drinking
+again," she added to herself and the washing tub, "and laid hisself down
+in the wet road the night afore last, and was found there in the
+morning."</p>
+
+<p>Later in the day, it happened that William Halliburton was passing
+through Honey Fair, and met Charlotte East. She stopped him. "Have you
+heard, sir, that Tyrrett is dying?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Tyrrett dying!" repeated William in amazement. "Who says he is?"</p>
+
+<p>"The doctor says it, I believe, sir. I must say he looks like it. Mary
+Ann sent for me, and I have been down to see him."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, what can be the matter with him?" asked William. "He was at work
+the day before yesterday!"</p>
+
+<p>"He was at work, sir, but he could not speak, they tell me, for that
+illness that has been hanging about him so long, and had settled on his
+chest. That night, after leaving work, instead of going home and getting
+a basin of gruel, or something of that sort, he went to the Horned Ram,
+and drank there till he couldn't keep upright."</p>
+
+<p>"With his chest in that state!"</p>
+
+<p>"And that was not the worst," resumed Charlotte. "It had been a wet day,
+if you remember, sir, and he somehow strayed into Oxlip Lane, and fell
+down, and lay there till morning. What with drink, and what with
+exposure to the wet, his chest grew dangerously inflamed, and now the
+doctor says he has not many hours to live."</p>
+
+<p>"I am sorry to hear it," cried William. "Is he sensible?"</p>
+
+<p>"Too sensible, sir, in one sense," replied Charlotte. "His remorse is
+dreadful. He is saying that if he had not misspent his life, he might
+have died a good man, instead of a bad one."</p>
+
+<p>William passed on, much concerned at the news. His way led him past Ben
+Tyrrett's lodgings, and he turned in. Mary Ann was sobbing and wailing,
+in the midst of as many curious and condoling neighbours as the kitchen
+would contain. All were in full gossip&mdash;as might be expected. Mrs. Cross
+had taken home the three little children, by way of keeping the place
+quiet; and the sick man was lying in the room above, surrounded by
+several of his fellow-workmen, who had heard of his critical state.</p>
+
+<p>Some of the women sidled off when William entered, rather ashamed of
+being caught chattering vehemently. It was remarkable the deference that
+was paid him, and from no assumption of his own&mdash;indeed, the absence of
+assumption may have partially accounted for it. But, though ever
+courteous and pleasant with them all, he was a thorough gentleman: and
+the working classes are keen to distinguish this.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Mrs. Tyrrett, this is sad news!" he said. "Is your husband so
+ill?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, he must die, he must die, sir!" she answered in a frantic tone.
+Uncomfortably as they had lived together, the man was still her
+husband, and there is no doubt she was feeling the present crisis; was
+shrinking with dread from the future. A widow with three young children,
+and the workhouse for an asylum! It was the only prospect before her.
+"He must die, anyways; but he might have lasted a few hours longer, if I
+could have got what the doctor ordered."</p>
+
+<p>William did not understand.</p>
+
+<p>"It was a blister and some physic, sir," explained one of the women.
+"The doctor wrote it on a paper, and said it was to be took to the
+nearest druggist's. But when they got it there, Darwin said he couldn't
+trust the Tyrretts, and they must send the money if they wanted the
+things."</p>
+
+<p>"It was not Mr. Parry, then, who was called in?"</p>
+
+<p>"It were a strange doctor, sir, as was fetched. There was Tyrrett's last
+bout of illness owing for to Parry, and so they didn't like to send for
+him. As to them druggists, they be some of 'em a cross-grained set,
+unless you goes with the money in your hand."</p>
+
+<p>William asked to see the prescription. It was produced, and he read its
+contents&mdash;he was as capable of doing so and of understanding it as the
+best doctor in Helstonleigh. He tore a leaf from his pocket-book, wrote
+a few words in pencil, folded it with the prescription, and desired one
+of the women to take it to the chemist's again. He then went up to the
+sick room.</p>
+
+<p>Tyrrett was lying on a flock mattress, on an ugly brown bedstead, the
+four posts upright and undraped. A blanket and a checked blue cotton
+quilt covered him. His breathing was terribly laboured, his face
+painfully anxious. William approached him, bending his head, to avoid
+contact with the ceiling.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm a-going, sir," cried the man, in tones as anxious as his face. "I'm
+a-going at last."</p>
+
+<p>"I hope not," said William. "I hope you will get better. You are to have
+a blister on your chest, and&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"No he ain't, sir," interrupted one of the men. "Darwin won't send it."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes, he will, if he is properly asked. They have gone again to him.
+Are you in much pain, Tyrrett?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm in an agony of pain here, sir," pointing to his chest. "But that
+ain't nothing to my pain of mind. Oh, Mr. Halliburton, you're good, sir;
+you haven't nothing to reproach yourself with; can't you do nothing for
+me? I'm going into the sight of my Maker, and He's angry with me!"</p>
+
+<p>In truth, William knew not what to answer. Tyrrett's voice was as a wail
+of anguish; his hands were stretched out beseechingly.</p>
+
+<p>"Charlotte East were here just now, and she told me to go to
+Christ&mdash;that He was merciful and forgiving. But how am I to go to Him?
+If I try, sir, I can't, for there's my past life rising up before me. I
+have been a bad man: I have never once in all my life tried to please
+God."</p>
+
+<p>The words echoed through the stillness of the room; echoed with a sound
+that was terribly awful. <i>Never once to have tried to please God!</i>
+Throughout a whole life, and throughout all its blessings!</p>
+
+<p>"I have never thought of God," he continued to reiterate. "I have never
+cared for Him, or tried to please Him, or done the least thing for Him.
+And now I'm going to face His wrath, and I can't help myself!"</p>
+
+<p>"You may be spared yet," said William; "you may indeed. And your future
+life must atone for the past."</p>
+
+<p>"I shan't be spared, sir; I feel that the world's all up with me," was
+the rejoinder. "I'm going fast, and there's nobody to give me a word of
+comfort! Can't <i>you</i>, sir? I'm going away, and God's angry with me!"</p>
+
+<p>William leaned over him. "I can only say as Charlotte East did," he
+whispered. "Try and find your Saviour. There is mercy with Him at the
+eleventh hour."</p>
+
+<p>"I have not the time to find Him," breathed forth Tyrrett, in agony. "I
+might find Him if I had time given me; but I have not got it."</p>
+
+<p>William, shrinking in his youth and inexperience from arguing upon
+topics so momentous, was not equal to the emergency. Who was? He did
+what he could; and that was to despatch a message for a clergyman, who
+answered the summons with speed.</p>
+
+<p>The blister also came, and the medicine that had been prescribed.
+William went home, hoping all might prove as a healing balm to the sick
+man.</p>
+
+<p>A fallacious hope. Tyrrett died the following morning. When William went
+round early on his mission of inquiry, he found him dead. Some of the
+men, whom he had seen with Tyrrett the previous night, were assembled in
+the kitchen.</p>
+
+<p>"He is but just gone, sir," they said, "The women be up with him now.
+They have took his wife round screeching to her mother's. He died with
+that there blister on his chest."</p>
+
+<p>"Did he die peacefully?" was William's question.</p>
+
+<p>"Awful hard, sir, toward the last; moaning, and calling, and clenching
+his hands in mortal pain. His sister, she come round&mdash;she's a hard one,
+is that Liza Tyrrett&mdash;and she set on at the wife, saying it was her
+fault that he'd took to go out drinking. That there parson couldn't do
+nothing with him," concluded the speaker, lowering his voice.</p>
+
+<p>William's breath stood still. "No!"</p>
+
+<p>The man shook his head. "Tyrrett weren't in a frame o' mind for it, sir.
+He kep' crying out as he had led a bad life, and never thought of
+God&mdash;and them was his last words. It ain't happy, sir, to die like
+that. It have quite cowed down us as was with him: one gets thinking,
+sir, what sort of a place it may be, t'other side, where he's gone to."</p>
+
+<p>William lifted his head, a sort of eager hope on his countenance,
+speaking cheerily. "Could you not let poor Tyrrett's death act as a
+warning to you?"</p>
+
+<p>There was a dead silence. Five men were present; every one of them
+leading careless lives. Somehow they did not much like to hear of
+"warning," although the present moment was one of unusual seriousness.</p>
+
+<p>"Religion is so dreadful dull and gloomy, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Religion dull and gloomy!" echoed William. "Well, perhaps some people
+do make a gloomy affair of it; but then I don't think theirs can be the
+right religion. I do not believe people were sent into the world to be
+gloomy: time enough for that when troubles come."</p>
+
+<p>"What <i>is</i> religion?" asked one of the men.</p>
+
+<p>"It is a sort of thing that's a great deal better to be felt than talked
+about," answered William. "I am no parson, and cannot pretend to
+enlighten you. We might never come to an understanding over it, were we
+to discuss it all day long. I would rather talk to you of life, and its
+practical duties."</p>
+
+<p>"Tyrrett said as he had never paid heed to any of his duties. It were
+his cry over and over again, sir, in the night. He said he had drunk,
+and swore, and beat his wife, and done just what he oughtn't to ha'
+done."</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, I fear it was so," replied William. "Poor Tyrrett's existence was
+divided into three phrases&mdash;working, drinking, quarrelling:
+dissatisfaction attending all. I fear a great many more in Honey Fair
+could say the same."</p>
+
+<p>The men's consciences were pricking them; some of them began to stand
+uncomfortably on one leg. <i>They</i> tippled; <i>they</i> quarrelled; they <i>had</i>
+been known to administer personal correction to their wives on
+provocation.</p>
+
+<p>"Times upon times I asked Tyrrett to come round of an evening to Robert
+East's," continued William. "He never did come. But I can tell you this,
+my men; had he taken to pass his evenings there twelve months ago, when
+the society&mdash;as they call it&mdash;was first formed, he might have been a
+hale man now, instead of lying there, dead."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you mean that he'd have growed religious, sir?"</p>
+
+<p>"I tell you we will put religion out of the discussion: as you don't
+seem to like the word. Had Tyrrett taken to like rational evenings,
+instead of public-houses, it would have made a wonderful difference in
+his mode of thought, and difference in conduct would have followed. Look
+at his father-in-law, Cross. He was living without hope or aim, at
+loggerheads with his wife and with the world, and rather given to
+wishing himself dead. All that's over. Do you think I should like to go
+about with a dirty face and holes in my coat?"</p>
+
+<p>The men laughed. They thought not.</p>
+
+<p>"Cross used to do so. But you see nothing of that now. Many others used
+to do so. Many do so still."</p>
+
+<p>Rather conscience-stricken again, the men tried to hide their elbows.
+"It's true enough," said one. "Cross, and some more of 'em, are getting
+smart."</p>
+
+<p>"Smart inside as well as out," said William. "They are acquiring
+self-respect; one of the best qualities a man can find. They wouldn't be
+seen in the street now in rags, or the worse for drink, or in any other
+degrading position; no, not if you bribed them with gold. Coming round
+to East's has done that for them. They are beginning to see that it's
+just as well to lead pleasant lives here, as unpleasant ones. In a short
+time, Cross will be getting furniture about him again, towards setting
+up the home he lost. He&mdash;and many more&mdash;will also, as I truly believe,
+be beginning to set up furniture of another sort."</p>
+
+<p>"What sort's that, sir?"</p>
+
+<p>"The furniture that will stand him in need for the next life; the life
+that Tyrrett has now entered upon," replied William in deeper tones. "It
+is a life that <i>must</i> come, you know; our little span of time here, in
+comparison with eternity, is but as a drop of water to the great river
+that runs through the town; and it is as well to be prepared for it.
+Now, the next five I am going to get round to East's are you."</p>
+
+<p>"Us, sir?"</p>
+
+<p>"Every one of you; although I believe you have been in the habit of
+complimenting your friends who go there with the title of 'milksops.' I
+want to take you there this evening. If you don't like it, you know you
+need not repeat the visit. You will come, to oblige me, won't you?"</p>
+
+<p>They said they would. And William went out satisfied, though he hardly
+knew how Robert East would manage to stow away the new comers. Not many
+steps from the door he encountered Mrs. Buffle. She stopped him to talk
+of Tyrrett.</p>
+
+<p>"Better that he had spent his loose time at East's than at the publics,"
+remarked that lady.</p>
+
+<p>"It is the very thing we have been saying," answered William. "I wish we
+could get all Honey Fair there; though, indeed there's no room for more
+than we have now. I cast a longing eye sometimes to that building at the
+back, which they say was built for a Mormon stronghold, and has never
+been fitted up, owing to a dispute among themselves about the number of
+wives each elder might appropriate to his own share."</p>
+
+<p>"Disgraceful pollagists!" struck in Mrs. Buffle, apostrophizing the
+Mormon elders. "One husband is enough to have at one's fireside,
+goodness knows, without being worried with an unlimited number."</p>
+
+<p>"That is not the question," said William, laughing. "It is, how many
+wives are enough? However, I wish we could get the building. East will
+have to hold the gathering in his garden soon."</p>
+
+<p>"There's no denying that it have worked good in Honey Fair,"
+acknowledged Mrs. Buffle. "It isn't alone the men that have grown more
+respectable, them as have took to go, but their wives too. You see, sir,
+in sitting at the public-houses, it wasn't only that they drank
+themselves quarrelsome, but they spent their money. Now their tempers
+are saved, and their money's saved. The wives see the benefit of it, and
+of course try to be better-behaved theirselves. Not but what there's
+plenty of room for improvement still," added Mrs. Buffle, in a tone of
+patronage.</p>
+
+<p>"It will come in time," said William.</p>
+
+<p>"What we must do now, is to look out for a larger room."</p>
+
+<p>"One with a chimbley in it, as'll draw?" suggested Mrs. Buffle.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes. What would they do without fire on a winter's night? The great
+point is, to have things thoroughly comfortable."</p>
+
+<p>"If it hadn't been for the chimbley, I might have offered our big
+garret, sir. But it's the crankiest thing ever built, is that chimbley;
+the minute a handful of fire's lighted, the smoke puffs it out again.
+And then again&mdash;there'd be the passing through the shop, obstructing the
+custom."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course there would," assented William. "We must try for that failure
+in the rear, after all."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIIC" id="CHAPTER_VIIC"></a>CHAPTER VII.</h2>
+
+<h3>COMING HOME TO THE DARES.</h3>
+
+
+<p>The Pyramids of Egypt grew, in the course of time, into pyramids, as was
+oracularly remarked by Sergeant Delves; but that official's exertions,
+labour as hard as he would, grew to nothing&mdash;when applied to the cause
+with which he had compared the pyramids. All inquiry, all searching
+brought to bear upon it by him and his co-adherents, did not bring
+anything to light of Herbert Dare's movements on that fatal night. Where
+he had passed the hours remained an impenetrable mystery; and the
+sergeant had to confess himself foiled. He came, not unnaturally, to the
+conclusion that Herbert Dare was not anywhere, so far as the outer world
+was concerned: that he had been at home, committing the mischief. A
+conclusion the sergeant had drawn from the very first, and it had never
+been shaken. Nevertheless, it was his duty to put all the skill and
+craft of the local police force into action; and very close inquiries
+were made. Every house of entertainment in the city, of whatever
+nature&mdash;whether a billiard-room or an oyster-shop; whether a chief hotel
+or an obscure public-house&mdash;was visited and keenly questioned; but no
+one would acknowledge to having seen Herbert Dare on the particular
+evening. In short, no trace of him could be unearthed.</p>
+
+<p>"Just as much out as I was," said the sergeant to himself. And
+Helstonleigh held the same conviction.</p>
+
+<p>Pomeranian Knoll was desolate: with a desolation it had never expected
+to fall upon it. A shattering blow had been struck to Mr. and Mrs. Dare.
+To lose their eldest son in so terrible a manner, seemed, of itself,
+sufficient agony for a whole lifetime. Whatever may have been his
+faults&mdash;and Helstonleigh knew that he was somewhat rich in faults&mdash;he
+was dear to them; dearer than her other children to Mrs. Dare. Herbert
+had remarked, in conversing with Anna Lynn, that Anthony was his
+mother's favourite. It was so. She had loved him deeply, had been blind
+to his failings. Neither Mr. Dare nor his wife was amongst the religious
+of the world. Religious thoughts and reflections, they, in common with
+many others in Helstonleigh, were content to leave to a remote
+death-bed. But they had been less than human, worse than heathen, could
+they be insensible to the fate of Anthony&mdash;hurled away with his sins
+upon his head. He was cut off suddenly from this world, and&mdash;what of the
+next? It was a question, an uncertainty, that they dared not follow; and
+they sat, one on each side their desolate hearth, and wailed forth their
+vain anguish.</p>
+
+<p>This would, in truth, have been tribulation enough to have overshadowed
+a life; but there was more beyond it. Hemmed in by pride, as the Dares
+had been, playing at being great and grand in Helstonleigh, the
+situation of Herbert, setting aside their fears or their sympathy for
+himself, was about the most complete checkmate that could have fallen
+upon them. It was the cup of humiliation drained to its dregs. Whether
+he should be proved guilty or not, he was thrown into prison as a common
+felon, awaiting his trial for murder; and that disgrace could not be
+wiped out. Did they believe him guilty? They did not know themselves. To
+suspect him of such a crime was painful in the last degree to their
+feelings; but why did he persist in refusing to state where he was on
+the eventful night? There was the point that staggered them.</p>
+
+<p>A deep gloom overhung the house, extending to all its inmates. Even the
+servants went about with sad faces and quiet steps. The young ladies
+knew that a calamity had been dealt to them from which they should never
+wholly recover. Their star of brilliancy, in its little sphere of light
+at Helstonleigh, had faded into dimness, if not wholly gone down below
+the horizon. Should Herbert be found guilty, it could never rise again.
+Adelaide rarely spoke; she appeared to possess some inward source of
+vexation or grief, apart from the general tribulation. At least, so
+judged Signora Varsini; and she was a shrewd observer. She, Miss Dare,
+spent most of her time shut up in her own room. Rosa and Minny were
+chiefly with their governess. They were getting of an age to feel it in
+an equal degree with the rest. Rosa was eighteen, and had begun to go
+out with Mrs. Dare and Adelaide: Minny was anticipating the same
+privilege. It was all stopped now&mdash;visiting, gaiety, pleasure; and it
+was felt as a part of the misfortune.</p>
+
+<p>The first shock of the occurrence subsided, the funeral over, and the
+family settled down in its mourning, the governess exacted their studies
+from her two pupils as before. They were loth to recommence them, and
+appealed to their mother. "It was cruel of mademoiselle to wish it of
+them," they said. Mademoiselle rejoined that her motive was anything but
+cruel: she felt sure that occupation for the mind was the best
+counteraction to grief. If they would not study, where was the use of
+her remaining, she demanded. Madame Dare had better allow her to leave.
+She would go without notice, if madame pleased. She should be glad to
+get back to the Continent. They did not have murders there in society;
+at least, she, mademoiselle, had never encountered personal experience
+of it.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Dare did not appear willing to accede to the proposition. The
+governess was a most efficient instructress; and six or twelve months
+more of her services would be essential to her pupils, if they were to
+be turned out as pupils ought to be. Besides, Sergeant Delves had
+intimated that the signora's testimony would be necessary at the trial,
+and therefore she could not be allowed to depart. Mr. Dare thought if
+they did allow her to depart, they might be accused of wishing to
+suppress evidence, and it might tell against Herbert. So mademoiselle
+had to resign herself to remaining. "Très bien," she equably said; "she
+was willing; only the young ladies must resume their lessons." A mandate
+in which Mrs. Dare acquiesced.</p>
+
+<p>Sometimes Minny, who was given to be incorrigibly idle, would burst into
+tears over the trouble of her work, and then lay it upon her distress
+touching the uncertain fate of Herbert. One day, upon doing this, the
+governess broke out sharply.</p>
+
+<p>"He deserves to lie in prison, does Monsieur Herbert!"</p>
+
+<p>"Why do you say that, mademoiselle?" asked Minny resentfully.</p>
+
+<p>"Because he is a fool," politely returned mademoiselle. "He say, does he
+not, that he was not home at the time. It is well; but why does he not
+say where he was? I think he is a fool, me."</p>
+
+<p>"You may as well say outright, mademoiselle, that you think him guilty!"
+retorted Minny.</p>
+
+<p>"But I not think him guilty," dissented mademoiselle. "I have said from
+the first that he was not guilty. I think he is not one capable of doing
+such an injury, to his brother or to any one else. I used to be great
+friends with Monsieur Herbert once, when I gave him those Italian
+lessons, and I never saw to make me believe his disposition was a
+cruel."</p>
+
+<p>In point of fact, the governess, more explicitly than any one else in
+the house, had unceasingly declared her belief in Herbert's innocence.
+Truly and sincerely she did not believe him capable of so grievous a
+crime. He was not of a cruel or revengeful disposition: certainly not
+one to lie in wait, and attack another savagely and secretly. She had
+never believed that he was, and would not believe it now. Neither had
+his family. Sergeant Delves' opinion was, that whoever had attacked
+Anthony <i>had</i> lain in wait for him in the dining room, and had sprung
+upon him as he entered. It is possible, however, that the same point
+staggered mademoiselle that staggered the rest&mdash;Herbert Dare's refusal
+to state where he was at the time. Believing, as she did, that he could
+account for it if he chose, she deemed herself perfectly justified in
+applying to him the complimentary epithet you have just heard. She
+expressed true sympathy and regret at the untimely fate of Anthony,
+lamenting him much and genuinely.</p>
+
+<p>Upon Cyril and George the punishment also fell. With one brother not
+cold in his grave, and the other thrown into gaol to await his trial for
+murder, they could not, for shame, pursue their amusements as formerly;
+and amusements to Cyril and George Dare had become a necessity of daily
+life. Their friends and companions were growing shy of them&mdash;or they
+fancied it. Conscience is all too suggestive. They fancied people
+shunned them when they walked along the street: Cyril, even, as he stood
+in Samuel Lynn's room at the manufactory, thought the men, as they
+passed in and out, looked askance at him. Very likely it was only
+imagination. George Dare had set his heart upon a commission; one of the
+members for the city had made a half-promise to Mr. Dare that he would
+"see what could be done at the Horse Guards." Failing available interest
+in that quarter, George was in hope that his father would screw out
+money to purchase one. But, until Herbert was proved innocent (if that
+time should ever arrive), the question of his entering the army must
+remain in abeyance. This state of things altogether did not give
+pleasure to Cyril and George Dare. But there was no remedy for it, and
+they had to content themselves with sundry private explosions of temper,
+by way of relief to their minds.</p>
+
+<p>Yes, the evil fell upon all; upon the parents and upon the children. Of
+course, the latter suffered nothing in comparison with Mr. and Mrs.
+Dare. Unhappy days, restless nights, were their portion now: the world
+seemed to be growing too miserable to live in.</p>
+
+<p>"There must be a fatality upon the boys!" Mr. Dare exclaimed one day, in
+the bitterness of his spirit, as he paced the room with restless steps,
+his wife sitting moodily, her elbow on the centre-table, her cheek
+pressed upon her hand. "Unless there had been a fatality upon them, they
+never could have turned out as they have."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Dare resented the speech. In her unhappy frame of mind, which told
+terribly upon her temper, it seemed a sort of relief to resent
+everything. If Mr. Dare spoke against their sons, she stood up for them.
+"Turned out!" she repeated angrily.</p>
+
+<p>"Let us say, as things have turned out, then, if you will. They appear
+to be turning out pretty badly, as it seems to me. The boys have had
+every indulgence in life: they have enjoyed a luxurious home; they have
+ruined me to supply their extravagances&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Ruined you!" again resented Mrs. Dare.</p>
+
+<p>"Ay; ruined. It has all but come to it. And yet, what good has the
+indulgence or have the advantages brought them? Far better&mdash;I begin to
+see it now&mdash;that they had been reared to self-denial; made to work for
+their daily bread."</p>
+
+<p>"How can you give utterance to such things!" rejoined Mrs. Dare, in a
+chafed tone.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dare stopped in his restless pacing, and confronted his wife. "Are
+we happy in our sons? Speak the truth."</p>
+
+<p>"How could any one be happy, overwhelmed with a misfortune such as
+this?"</p>
+
+<p>"Put that aside: what are they without it? Rebellious to us; badly
+conducted in the sight of the world."</p>
+
+<p>"Who says they are badly conducted?" asked Mrs. Dare, an undercurrent of
+consciousness whispering that she need not have made the objection.
+"They may be a little wild; but it is a common failing with those of
+their age and condition. Their faults are only faults of youth and of
+uncurbed spirits."</p>
+
+<p>"I wish, then, their spirits had been curbed," was Mr. Dare's reply. "It
+is useless now to reproach each other," he continued, resuming his walk;
+"but there must have been something radically wrong in their
+bringing-up. Anthony, gone: Herbert, perhaps, to follow him by almost a
+worse death, certainly a more disgraceful one: Cyril&mdash;&mdash;" Mr. Dare
+stopped abruptly in his catalogue, and went on more generally. "There is
+no comfort in them for us: there never will be any."</p>
+
+<p>"What can you bring against Cyril?" sharply asked Mrs. Dare. It may be,
+that these complaints of her husband fretted her temper; chafed,
+perhaps, her conscience. Certain it was, they rendered her irritable;
+and Mr. Dare had latterly indulged in them frequently. "If Cyril is a
+little wild, it is a gentlemanly failing. There's nothing else to urge
+against him."</p>
+
+<p>"Is theft gentlemanly?"</p>
+
+<p>"Theft!" repeated Mrs. Dare.</p>
+
+<p>"Theft. I have concealed many things from you, Julia, wishing to spare
+your feelings. But it may be as well now that you should know a little
+more of what your sons really are. Cyril might have stood where Herbert
+will stand&mdash;at the criminal bar; though for a crime of lesser degree.
+For all I can tell, he may stand at it still."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Dare looked scared. "What has he done?" she asked, her tone growing
+timid.</p>
+
+<p>"I say that I have kept these things from you. I wish I could have kept
+them from you always; but it seems to me that exposure is arising in
+many ways, and it is better that you should be prepared for it, if it
+must come. I awake now in the morning to apprehension; I am alarmed
+throughout the day at my own shadow, dreading what unknown fate may not
+be falling upon them. Herbert in peril of the hangman: Cyril in peril of
+a forced voyage to the penal settlements."</p>
+
+<p>A sensation of utter fear stole over Mrs. Dare. For the moment, she
+could not speak. But she rallied her powers to defend Cyril.</p>
+
+<p>"I think Cyril is hardly used, what with one thing and another. He was
+to have gone on that French journey, and at the last moment was pushed
+out of it for Halliburton. I felt more vexed at it, almost, than Cyril
+himself, and I spoke a word of my mind to Mrs. Ashley."</p>
+
+<p>"You did?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. I did not speak of it in the light of disappointment to Cyril; the
+actual fact of not taking the journey; so much as of the vexation he
+experienced at being supplanted by one whom he&mdash;whom we all&mdash;consider
+inferior to himself, William Halliburton. I let Mrs. Ashley know that we
+regarded it as a most unmerited and uncalled-for slight; and I took care
+to drop a hint that we believed Halliburton to have been guilty in that
+cheque affair."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dare paused. "What did Mrs. Ashley say?" he presently asked.</p>
+
+<p>"She said very little. I never saw her so frigid. She intimated that Mr.
+Ashley was a competent judge of his own business&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I mean as to the cheque?" interrupted Mr. Dare.</p>
+
+<p>"She was more frigid over that than over the other. She preferred not to
+discuss it, she answered; who might have stolen it; or who not."</p>
+
+<p>"I can set you right on both points," said Mr. Dare. "Cyril came to me,
+complaining of being superseded in this French journey, and I complied
+with his request, that I should go and remonstrate with Mr.
+Ashley&mdash;being a simpleton for my pains. Mr. Ashley informed me that he
+never had entertained the slightest intention of despatching Cyril, and
+why Cyril should have taken up the notion, he could not tell. Mr. Ashley
+went on to say that he did not consider Cyril sufficiently steady to be
+intrusted abroad alone&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Steady!" echoed Mrs. Dare. "What has steadiness to do with executing
+business? And, as to being alone, Quaker Lynn went over also."</p>
+
+<p>"But at the outset, which was the time I spoke to him, Mr. Ashley's
+intention was to dispatch only one&mdash;Halliburton. He said that Cyril's
+want of steadiness would always have been a bar to his thinking of him.
+Shall I go on and enlighten you on the other point&mdash;the cheque?" Mr.
+Dare added, after a pause.</p>
+
+<p>"Y&mdash;es," she answered, a nervous dread causing her to speak with
+hesitation. Had she a foreshadowing of what was coming?</p>
+
+<p>"It was Cyril who took it," said Mr. Dare, dropping his voice to a
+whisper.</p>
+
+<p>"Cyril!" she gasped.</p>
+
+<p>"Our son, Cyril. No other."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Dare took her hand from her cheek, and leaned back in the chair.
+She was very pale.</p>
+
+<p>"He was traced to White's shop, where he changed the cheque for gold. He
+had put on Herbert's cloak, the plaid lining outside. When he began to
+fear detection, he ripped the lining out, and left the cloak in the
+state it is; now in the possession of the police. Some of the jags and
+cuts have been sewn up, I suppose by one of the servants: I made no
+close inquiries. That cloak," he added, with a passing shiver, "might
+tell queer tales of our sons, if it were able to speak."</p>
+
+<p>"How did you know it was Cyril?" breathed Mrs. Dare.</p>
+
+<p>"From Delves."</p>
+
+<p>"Delves! Does <i>he</i> know it?"</p>
+
+<p>"He does. And the man is keeping the secret out of consideration for us.
+Delves is good-hearted at bottom. Not but that I spoke a friendly word
+for him when he was made sergeant. It all tells."</p>
+
+<p>"And Mr. Ashley?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"There is no doubt that Ashley has some suspicion: the very fact of his
+not making a stir in it proves that he has. It would not please him that
+a relative&mdash;as Cyril is&mdash;should stand his trial for felony."</p>
+
+<p>"How harshly you put it!" exclaimed Mrs. Dare, bursting into tears.
+"Felony."</p>
+
+<p>"Nay; what else can I call it?"</p>
+
+<p>A pause ensued. Mr. Dare resumed his restless pacing. Mrs. Dare sat with
+her handkerchief to her face. Presently she looked up.</p>
+
+<p>"They said it was Halliburton's cloak that the person wore who went to
+change the cheque."</p>
+
+<p>"It was not Halliburton's. It was Herbert's turned inside out. Herbert
+knew nothing about it, for I questioned him. He had gone out that night,
+leaving his cloak hanging in his closet. I asked him how it happened
+that his cloak, on the inside, should resemble Halliburton's, and he
+said it was a coincidence. I don't believe him. I entertain little doubt
+that it was so contrived with a view to enacting some mischief. In fact,
+what with one revelation and another, I live, as I say, in constant
+dread of new troubles turning up."</p>
+
+<p>Bitter, most bitter were these revelations to Mrs. Dare; bitter had they
+been to her husband. Too swiftly were the fruits of their children's
+rearing coming home to them, bringing their recompense. "There must be a
+fatality upon the boys!" he reiterated. Possibly. But had neither
+parents nor children done aught to invoke it?</p>
+
+<p>"Since these evils have come upon our house&mdash;the fate of Anthony, the
+uncertainty overhanging Herbert, the certain guilt of Cyril," resumed
+Mr. Dare: "I have asked myself whether the money we inherited from old
+Mr. Cooper may not have wrought ill for us, instead of good."</p>
+
+<p>"Have wrought ill?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ay! Brought with it a curse, instead of a blessing."</p>
+
+<p>She made no remark.</p>
+
+<p>"He warned us that if we took Edgar Halliburton's share it would not
+bring us good. Do you remember how eagerly he spoke it? We did take it,"
+Mr. Dare added, dropping his voice to the lowest whisper. "And I believe
+it has just acted as a curse upon us."</p>
+
+<p>"You are fanciful!" she cried, her hands shivering, as she raised her
+handkerchief to her pale face.</p>
+
+<p>"No; there's no fancy in it. We should have done well to attend to the
+warning of the dying. Heaven is my witness that at the time, such a
+thought as that of appropriating it ourselves never crossed my mind. We
+launched out into expense, and the other share became a necessity to us.
+It is that expense which has ruined our children."</p>
+
+<p>"How can you say it?" she rejoined, lifting her hands in a passionate
+sort of manner.</p>
+
+<p>"It has been nothing else. Had they been reared more plainly, they would
+not have acquired those extravagant notions which have proved their
+bane. Without that inheritance and the style of living we allowed it to
+entail upon us, the boys must have understood that they would have to
+earn money before they spent it, and they would have put their shoulders
+to the wheel. Julia," he continued, halting by her, and stretching forth
+his troubled face until it nearly touched hers, "it might have been
+well now, well with them and with us, had our children been obliged to
+battle with the poverty to which we condemned the Halliburtons."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIIIC" id="CHAPTER_VIIIC"></a>CHAPTER VIII.</h2>
+
+<h3>AN UGLY VISION.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Mr. Dare had not taken upon himself the legal conduct of his son
+Herbert's case. It had been intrusted to the care of a solicitor in
+Helstonleigh, Mr. Winthorne. This gentleman, more forcibly than any one
+else, urged upon Herbert Dare the necessity of declaring&mdash;if he could
+declare&mdash;where he had been on the night of the murder. He clearly
+foresaw that, if his client persisted in his present silence, there was
+no chance of any result but the worst.</p>
+
+<p>He could obtain no response. Deaf to him, as he had been to others,
+Herbert Dare would disclose nothing. In vain Mr. Winthorne pointed to
+consequences; first, by delicate hints; next, by hints not delicate;
+then, by speaking out broadly and fully. It is not pleasant to tell your
+client, in so many words, that he will be hanged and nothing can save
+him, unless he compels you to it. Herbert Dare so compelled Mr.
+Winthorne. All in vain. Mr. Winthorne found he might just as well talk
+to the walls of the cell. Herbert Dare declared, in the most positive
+manner, that he had been out the whole of the time stated; from
+half-past eight o'clock, until nearly two; and from this declaration he
+never swerved.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Winthorne was perplexed. The prisoner's assertions were so uniformly
+earnest, bearing so apparently the stamp of truth, that he could not
+disbelieve him; or rather, sometimes he believed and sometimes he
+doubted. It is true that Herbert's declarations did wear an air of
+entire truth; but Mr. Winthorne had been engaged for criminal offenders
+before, and knew what the assertions of a great many of them were worth.
+Down deep in his heart he reasoned very much after the manner of
+Sergeant Delves: "If he had been absent, he'd confess it to save his
+neck." He said so to Herbert.</p>
+
+<p>Herbert took the matter, on the whole, coolly; he had done so from the
+beginning. He did not believe that his neck was really in jeopardy.
+"They'll never find me guilty," was his belief. He could not avoid
+standing his trial: that was a calamity from which there was no escape:
+but he steadily refused to look at its results in a sombre light.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Can</i> you tell me where you were?" Mr. Winthorne one morning
+impulsively asked him, when June was drawing to its close.</p>
+
+<p>"I could if I liked," replied Herbert Dare. "I suppose you mean by that,
+to throw discredit on what I say, Winthorne; but you are wrong. I could
+point out to you and to all Helstonleigh where I was that night; but I
+will not do so. I have my reasons, and I will not."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you will fall," said the lawyer. "The very fact of there being no
+other quarter than yourself on which to cast a shadow of suspicion, will
+tell against you. You have been bred to the law, and must see these
+things as plainly as I can put them to you."</p>
+
+<p>"There's the point that puzzles me&mdash;who it can have been that did the
+injury. I'd give half my remaining life to know."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Winthorne thought that the whole of it, to judge by present
+appearances, might not be an inconveniently prolonged period; but he did
+not say so. "What is your objection to speak?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"You have put the same question about fifty times, Winthorne, and you'll
+never get any different answer from the one you have had already&mdash;that I
+don't choose to state it."</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose you were not committing murder in another quarter of the
+town, were you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose I was not," equably returned Herbert.</p>
+
+<p>"Then, failing that crime, there's no other in the decalogue that I'd
+not confess to, to save my life. Whether I was robbing a bank, or
+setting a church on fire, I'd tell it out rather than be hanged by the
+neck until I was dead."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, but I was not doing either," said Herbert.</p>
+
+<p>"Then there's the less reason for your persisting in the observance of
+so much mystery."</p>
+
+<p>"My doing so is my own business," returned Herbert.</p>
+
+<p>"No, it is not your own business," objected Mr. Winthorne. "You assert
+that you are innocent of the crime with which you are charged&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I assert nothing but the truth," interrupted Herbert.</p>
+
+<p>"Good. Then, if you are innocent, and if you can prove your innocence,
+it is your duty to your family to do it. A man's duties in this life are
+not owing to himself alone: above all, a son's. He owes allegiance to
+his father and mother; his consideration for them should be above his
+consideration for himself. If you can prove your innocence it will be an
+unpardonable sin not to do it; a sin inflicted on your family."</p>
+
+<p>"I can't help it," replied Herbert in his obstinacy. "I have my reasons
+for not speaking, and I shall not speak."</p>
+
+<p>"You will surely suffer the penalty," said Mr. Winthorne.</p>
+
+<p>"Then I must suffer it," returned the prisoner.</p>
+
+<p>But it is one thing to talk, and another to act. Many a brave spirit,
+ready and willing to undergo hanging in theory, would find his heart
+fail and his bravery altogether die out, were he really required to
+reduce it to practice.</p>
+
+<p>Herbert Dare was only human. After July had come in and the time for the
+opening of the assizes might be counted by hours, then his courage began
+to flinch. He spent a night in tossing from side to side on his pallet
+(a wide difference between that and his comfortable bed at home), during
+which a certain ugly apparatus, to be erected for his especial use
+within the walls of the prison some fine Saturday morning, on which he
+might figure by no means gracefully, had mentally disturbed his rest.</p>
+
+<p>He arose unrefreshed. The vision of that possible future was not a
+pleasant one. Herbert remembered once, when he had been a college boy,
+that the Saturday morning's occasional drama had been enacted for the
+warning and edification of the town, and of the country people flocking
+into it for market. The college boys had determined for once in their
+lives to see the sight&mdash;if they could accomplish it. The ceremony was
+invariably performed at eight o'clock; the exhibition closed at nine;
+and the boys' difficulty was, how to arrive at the scene in time,
+considering that it was only at the striking of the latter hour that
+they were let loose down the steps of the school. They had tried the
+<i>time</i> between the cloisters and the county prison; and found that by
+dint of taking the shorter way through the back streets, tearing along
+at the fleetest pace, and knocking over every obstruction&mdash;human,
+animal, or material&mdash;that might unfortunately be in their path, they
+could do the distance in four minutes. Arriving rather out of wind, it's
+true: but that was nothing.</p>
+
+<p>Four minutes! they did not see their way. If the curtain descended at
+nine, sharp, as good be forty minutes after the hour, as four, in point
+of practical effect. But the Helstonleigh college boys&mdash;as you may
+sometimes have heard remarked before&mdash;were not wont to allow
+difficulties to overmaster them. If there was a possible way of
+overcoming obstacles, they were sure to find it. Consultations had been
+anxious. To request the head-master to allow them as a favour to depart
+five or ten minutes before the usual time, would be worse than useless.
+It was a question whether he ever would have accorded it; but there was
+no chance of it on <i>that</i> morning. Neither could the whole school be
+taken summarily with spasms, or croup, or any other excruciating malady
+necessitating compassion and an early dismissal.</p>
+
+<p>They came to the resolve of applying to the official who had the
+cathedral clock under his charge: or, as they phrased it, "coming over
+the clock-man." By dint of coaxing, or bribery, or some other element of
+persuasion, they got this functionary to promise to put the clock on
+eight minutes on that particular morning. And it was done. And at eight
+minutes before nine by the sun, the cathedral clock rang out its nine
+strokes. But, instead of the master lifting his finger&mdash;the signal for
+the boys to tear forth&mdash;the master sat quiet at his desk, and never gave
+it. He sat until the eight minutes had gone by, when the other churches
+in the town gave out their hour; he sat <i>four minutes after that</i>: and
+then he nodded them their dismissal.</p>
+
+<p>The twelve minutes had seemed to the boys like twelve hours. Where the
+hitch was, they never knew; they never have known to this day; as they
+would tell you themselves. Whether the master had received an inkling of
+what was in the wind; or whether, by one of those extraordinary
+coincidences that sometimes occur in life, he, for that one morning,
+allowed the hour to slip by unheeded&mdash;had not heard it strike&mdash;they
+could not tell. He gave out no explanation, then or afterwards. The
+clock-man protested that he had been true; had not breathed a hint to
+any one living of the purposed advancement; and the boys had no reason
+to disbelieve him.</p>
+
+<p>However it might have been, they could not alter it. It was four minutes
+past nine when they clattered <i>pêle-mêle</i> down the school-room steps.
+Away they tore, full of fallacious hope, out at the cloisters, through
+the cathedral precincts, along the nearest streets, and arrived within
+the given four minutes, rather than over it.</p>
+
+<p>Alas, for human expectations! The prison was there, it is true,
+formidable as usual; but all trace of the morning's jubilee had passed
+away. Not only had the chief actor been removed, but also that ugly
+apparatus which Herbert Dare had dreamt of. <i>That</i> might have afforded
+them some gratification to contemplate, failing the greater sight. The
+college boys, dumb in the first moment of their disappointment, gave
+vent to it at length with three dismal groans, the echoes of which might
+have been heard as far off as the cathedral. Groans not intended for the
+unhappy mortal, then beyond hearing of that or any other earthly sound;
+not for the officials of the county prison, all too quick-handed that
+morning; but given as a compliment to the respected gentleman at that
+time holding the situation of head-master.</p>
+
+<p>Herbert Dare remembered this: it was rising up in his mind with strange
+distinctness. He himself had been one of the deputation chosen to "come
+over" the clock-man; had been the chief persuader of that functionary.
+Would the college boys hasten down if <i>he</i> were to&mdash;&mdash;In spite of his
+bravery, he broke off the speculation with a shudder; and, calling the
+turnkey to him, he despatched a message for Mr. Winthorne. Was it the
+remembrance of his old school-fellows, of what <i>they</i> would think of
+him, that brought about what no other consideration had been able to
+effect?</p>
+
+<p>As much indulgence as it was possible to allow a prisoner was accorded
+to Herbert Dare. Indeed, it may be questioned whether any previous
+prisoner, incarcerated within the walls of the county prison, had ever
+enjoyed so much. The governor of the prison and Mr. Dare had lived on
+intimate terms. Mr. Dare and his two elder sons had been familiar, in
+their legal capacity, with both its civil and criminal prisoners; and
+the turnkeys had often bowed Herbert in and out of cells, as they now
+bowed out Mr. Winthorne. Altogether, what with the governor's friendly
+feeling, and the turnkey's reverential one, Herbert Dare obtained more
+privileges than the ordinary run of prisoners. The message was at once
+taken to Mr. Winthorne, and it brought that gentleman back again.</p>
+
+<p>"I have made up my mind to tell," was Herbert's brief salutation when he
+entered.</p>
+
+<p>"A very sensible resolution," replied the lawyer. Doubts, however,
+crossed his mind as he spoke, whether the prisoner was not about to set
+up some plea which had never had place in fact. In like manner to
+Sergeant Delves, Mr. Winthorne had arrived at the firm belief that there
+was nothing to tell. "Well?" said he.</p>
+
+<p>"That is, conditionally," resumed Herbert Dare. "It would be of little
+use my saying I was at such and such a place, unless I could bring
+forward confirmatory evidence."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course it would not."</p>
+
+<p>"Well; there are witnesses who could give this satisfactory evidence:
+but the question is, will they be willing to do it?"</p>
+
+<p>"What motive or excuse could they have for refusing?" returned Mr.
+Winthorne. "When a fellow-creature's life is at stake, surely there is
+no man so lost to humanity as not to come forward and save it, if it be
+in his power."</p>
+
+<p>"Circumstances alter cases," was the curt reply of Herbert Dare.</p>
+
+<p>"Was it your doubt, as to whether they would come forward, that caused
+your hesitation to call on them to do so?" asked Mr. Winthorne,
+something not pleasant in his tones.</p>
+
+<p>"Not altogether. I foresaw a difficulty in it; I foresee it still.
+Winthorne, you look at me with a face full of doubt. There is no need
+for it&mdash;as you will find."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, go on," said the lawyer; for Herbert had stopped.</p>
+
+<p>"The thing must be gone about in a very cautious manner; and I don't
+quite see how it can be done," resumed Herbert slowly. "Winthorne, I
+think I had better make a confidant of you, and tell you the whole story
+from beginning to end."</p>
+
+<p>"If I am to do you any good, I must hear it, I expect. A man can't work
+in the dark."</p>
+
+<p>"Sit down then, and I'll begin. Though, mind&mdash;I tell it you in
+confidence. It's not for Helstonleigh. But you will see the expediency
+of being silent when you have heard it."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IXC" id="CHAPTER_IXC"></a>CHAPTER IX.</h2>
+
+<h3>SERGEANT DELVES "LOOKS UP."</h3>
+
+
+<p>The following Saturday was the day fixed for the opening of the
+commission at Helstonleigh. It soon came round, and the streets in the
+afternoon wore their usual holiday appearance. The high sheriff's
+procession went out to meet the judges, and groups stood about, waiting
+and watching for its return. Amongst other people blocking up the way,
+might be observed the portly person of Sergeant Delves. He strolled
+along, seeming to look at nothing, but his keen eye was everywhere. It
+suddenly fell upon Mr. Winthorne, who was picking his way through the
+crowd as fast as he could do so, apparently in a hurry. Hurry or not,
+Sergeant Delves stopped him, and drew him to a safe spot beyond the
+reach of curious ears.</p>
+
+<p>"I was looking for you, Mr. Winthorne," said Delves in a confidential
+tone. "I say&mdash;this tale, that Dare will succeed in establishing an
+<i>alibi</i>, is it reliable?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why&mdash;who the mischief can have been setting that afloat?" returned the
+lawyer, in tones of the utmost astonishment, not unmixed with vexation.</p>
+
+<p>"Dare himself was my informant," replied the sergeant. "I was in the
+prison just now, and saw him in the yard with the turnkey. He called me
+aside, and told me he was as good as acquitted."</p>
+
+<p>"Then he is an idiot for his pains. He had no right to talk of it, even
+to you."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>I</i> am dark," carelessly returned Delves. "I don't wish ill to the
+Dares, and wouldn't work it to them; as perhaps some of them could tell
+you," he added significantly. "What about this acquittal that he talks
+of?"</p>
+
+<p>"There's no doubt he will be acquitted. He will prove an <i>alibi</i>."</p>
+
+<p>"Is it a got-up <i>alibi</i>?" asked the plain-speaking sergeant.</p>
+
+<p>"No. And as far as I go, I would not lend myself to getting up anything
+false," observed the solicitor. "He has said from the first, you know,
+that he was not near the house at the time, and so it will turn out."</p>
+
+<p>"Has he confessed where he was, after all his standing out?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; to me: it will be disclosed at the trial."</p>
+
+<p>"He was after no good, I know," nodded the sergeant oracularly.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Winthorne raised his eyebrows, and slightly jerked his shoulders.
+The movement may have meant anything or nothing. He did not reply in
+words.</p>
+
+<p>Sergeant Delves fell into a reverie. He roused himself from it to take a
+searching gaze at the lawyer. "Sir," said he, and he could hardly have
+spoken more earnestly had his life depended on it, "tell me the truth
+out-and-out. Do you, yourself, from the depths of your own judgment,
+believe Herbert Dare to have been innocent?"</p>
+
+<p>"Delves, as truly as that you and I now stand here, I honestly believe
+that he had no more to do with his brother's death than we had."</p>
+
+<p>"Then I'm blest if I don't take up the other scent!" exclaimed Mr.
+Delves, slapping his thigh. "I did think of it once, but I dropped it
+again, so sure was I that it was Master Herbert."</p>
+
+<p>"What scent is that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Look here," said the sergeant&mdash;"but now it's my turn to warn you to be
+dark. There was a young woman met Anthony Dare the night of the murder,
+when he was going down to the Star and Garter. It's a young woman he did
+not behave genteel to some time back, as the ghost says in the song. She
+met him that night, and she gave him a bit of her tongue; not much, for
+he wouldn't stop to listen. But now, Mr. Winthorne, it has crossed my
+mind many times whether she might not have watched for his going home
+again, and followed him; followed him right into the dining-room, and
+done the mischief. I'll lay a guinea it was her!" added the sergeant,
+arriving at a hasty conclusion. "I shall look up again now."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you mean that young woman in Honey Fair?" asked Mr. Winthorne.</p>
+
+<p>"Just so. Her, and nobody else. The doubt has crossed me; but, as I say,
+I was so certain it was the brother, that I did not follow it up."</p>
+
+<p>"Could a woman's feeble hand inflict such injuries?" debated the
+solicitor.</p>
+
+<p>"'Feeble' be hanged!" politely rejoined the sergeant. "Some women have
+the fists of men; and the strength of 'em, too. You don't know 'em as we
+do. A desperate woman will do anything. And Anthony Dare, remember, had
+not his strength in him that night."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Winthorne shook his head. "That girl has no look of ferocity about
+her. I should question it being her. Let's see&mdash;what is her name?"</p>
+
+<p>"Listen!" returned the sergeant. "When you have had half as much to do
+with people as I have, you'll have learnt not to go by looks. Her name
+is Caroline Mason."</p>
+
+<p>At that moment the cathedral bells rang out, announcing the return of
+the procession, the advent of the judges. As if the sound reminded the
+lawyer of the speed of time, he hastily went on his way; leaving the
+sergeant to use his eyes and ears at the expense of the crowd.</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder how the prisoners in the gaol feels?" remarked a woman whom
+the sergeant recognised as being no other than Mrs. Cross. She had just
+come out of a warehouse with her supply of work for the ensuing week.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, poor creatures!" responded another of the group, and <i>that</i> was
+Mrs. Brumm. "I wonder how young Dare likes it!"</p>
+
+<p>"Or how old Dare likes it&mdash;if he can hear 'em all the way up at his
+office. They'll know their fate soon, them two."</p>
+
+<p>In close vicinity to this colloquy was a young woman, drawn against the
+wall, under shelter of a projecting doorway. Her once good-looking face
+was haggard, and her clothes were scanty. It was for this reason,
+perhaps, that she appeared to shun observation. Sergeant Delves,
+apparently without any other design than that of working his way
+leisurely through the throng, edged himself up to her.</p>
+
+<p>"Looking out for the show, Miss Mason?"</p>
+
+<p>Caroline turned her spiritless eyes upon him. "I'm waiting till there's
+a way cleared for me to get through, without pushing against folks and
+contaminating 'em. What's the show to me, or me to it?"</p>
+
+<p>"At the last assizes, in March, when the judges came in, young Anthony
+Dare made one in the streets, looking on," resumed the sergeant,
+chatting affably. "I saw him and spoke to him. And now he is gone where
+there's no shows to see."</p>
+
+<p>She made no reply.</p>
+
+<p>"The women there," pointing his thumb at the group of talkers hard by,
+"are saying that Herbert Dare won't like the sound of the college
+bells.&mdash;Hey, me! Look at those young toads of college boys, just let out
+of school!" broke off the sergeant, as a tribe of some twenty of the
+king's scholars came fighting and elbowing their way through the throng
+to the front. "They are just like so many wild colts! Maybe the
+prisoner, Herbert Dare, is now casting his thoughts back to the time
+when he made one of the band, and was as free from care as they are.
+It's not so long ago."</p>
+
+<p>Caroline Mason asked a question somewhat abruptly. "Will he be found
+guilty, sir, do you think?"</p>
+
+<p>The sergeant turned the tail of his keen eye upon her, and answered the
+question by asking another. "Do you?"</p>
+
+<p>She shook her head. "I don't think he was guilty."</p>
+
+<p>"You don't?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I don't. Why should one brother kill another?"</p>
+
+<p>"Very true," coughed the sergeant. "But somebody must have done it. If
+Herbert Dare did not, who did?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! who did? I'd like to know," she passionately added. "He had folks
+in this town that owed him grudges, had Mr. Anthony Dare."</p>
+
+<p>"If my vision didn't deceive me, I saw you talking to him that very
+same night," carelessly observed the sergeant.</p>
+
+<p>"Did you see me?" she rejoined, apparently as much at ease as the
+sergeant himself. "I had to do an errand at that end of the town, and I
+met him, and told him what he was. I hadn't spoke to him for months and
+months; for years, I think. I had slipped into doors, down entries,
+anywhere to avoid him, if I saw him coming; but a feeling came over me
+to speak to him then. I'm glad I did. I hope the truths I said to him
+went along with him to enliven him on his journey!"</p>
+
+<p>"Did you see him after that, later in the evening?" resumed the
+inspector, putting the question sociably, and stretching his neck up to
+obtain a view of something at a distance.</p>
+
+<p>"No, I didn't," she replied. "But I would, if I had thought it was going
+to be his last. I'd have bade him remember all his good works where he
+was going to. I'd almost have went with him, I would, to have heard how
+he answered for them, up there."</p>
+
+<p>Caroline Mason glanced upwards to indicate the sky, when a loud flourish
+of trumpets from the advancing heralds sounded close upon them. As they
+rode up at a foot pace, they dropped their trumpets, and the mounted
+javelin-men quickly followed, their javelins in rest. A carriage or two;
+a few more officials; and then advanced the equipage of the high
+sheriff. Only one of the judges was in it, fully robed: a fine man, with
+a benign countenance. A grave smile was on it as he spoke to the
+sheriff, who sat opposite to him, his chaplain by his side.</p>
+
+<p>Sergeant Delves's attention was distracted for an instant, and when he
+looked round again, Caroline Mason had disappeared. He just caught sight
+of her in the distance, winding her way through the crowd, her head
+down.</p>
+
+<p>"Did she do it, or did she not?" cried the sergeant, in soliloquy. "Go
+on, go on, my lady, for the present; you are about to be a bit looked
+after."</p>
+
+<p>How <i>did</i> the prisoners feel, and Herbert Dare amongst them, as the
+joyous sounds, outside, fell upon their ears; the blast of the trumpets,
+the sweetness of the bells, the stir of life: penetrating within the
+walls of the city and county prisons? Did they feel that the pomp and
+show, run after as a holiday sight, was only a cruel advent to
+them?&mdash;that the formidable and fiery vision in the scarlet robe and
+flowing wig, who sat in the carriage, bending his serene face upon the
+mob, collected to stare and shout, might prove the pronouncer of their
+doom?&mdash;a doom that should close the portals of this world upon them, and
+open those of eternity!</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XC" id="CHAPTER_XC"></a>CHAPTER X.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE TRIAL.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Tuesday morning was the day fixed for the trial of Herbert Dare. You
+might have walked upon the people's heads in the vicinity of the
+Guildhall, for all the town wished to get in to hear it. Of course only
+a very small portion of the town, relatively speaking, could have its
+wish, or succeed in fighting a way to a place. Of the rest, some went
+back to their homes, disappointed and exploding; and the rest collected
+outside and blocked up the street. The police had their work cut out
+that day; whilst the javelin-men, heralding in the judges, experienced
+great difficulty in keeping clear the passages. The heat in court would
+be desperate as the day advanced.</p>
+
+<p>Sir William Leader, as senior judge, took his seat in the criminal
+court. It was he whom you saw in the sheriff's carriage on Saturday. The
+same benignant face was bent upon the crowded court that had been bent
+upon the street mob; the same penetrating eye; the same grave, calm
+bearing. The prisoner was immediately placed at the bar, and all eyes,
+strange or familiar, were strained to look at him. They saw a tall,
+handsome young man, looking too gentlemanly to stand in the felon's
+dock. He was habited in deep mourning. His countenance, usually somewhat
+conspicuous for its bright complexion, was pale, probably from the
+moment's emotion, and his white handkerchief was lifted to his mouth as
+he moved forward; otherwise he was calm. Old Anthony Dale was in court,
+looking far more agitated than his son. Preliminaries were gone through,
+and the trial began.</p>
+
+<p>"Prisoner at the bar, how say you? Are you guilty, or not guilty?"</p>
+
+<p>Herbert Dare raised his eyes fearlessly, and pleaded in a firm tone:</p>
+
+<p>"Not Guilty!"</p>
+
+<p>The leading counsel for the prosecution, Serjeant Seeitall, stated the
+case. His address occupied some time, and he then proceeded to call
+witnesses. One of the first examined was Betsy Carter. She deposed to
+the facts of having sat up with the lady's-maid and Joseph, until the
+return of Mr. and Mrs. Dare and their daughter; to having then gone into
+the dining-room with a light to look for Mr. Dare's pipe, which she had
+left there in the morning, when cleaning the room. "In moving forward
+with the candle, I saw something dark on the ground," continued Betsy,
+who, when her first timidity had gone off, seemed inclined to be
+communicative. "At the first glance, I thought it was one of the
+gentlemen gone to sleep there; but when I stooped down with the light, I
+saw it was the face of the dead. Awful, it looked!"</p>
+
+<p>"What did you next do?" demanded the examining counsel.</p>
+
+<p>"Screeched out, gentlemen," responded Betsy.</p>
+
+<p>"What else?"</p>
+
+<p>"I went out of the room, screeching to Joseph in the hall, and master
+came in from outside the front door, where he was waiting, all peaceful
+and ignorant, for his pipe, little thinking what there was so close to
+him. I screeched out all the more, gentlemen, when I remembered the
+quarrel that had took place at dinner that afternoon, and I knew it was
+nobody but Mr. Herbert that had done the murder."</p>
+
+<p>The witness was sharply told to confine herself to evidence.</p>
+
+<p>"It couldn't be nobody else," retorted Betsy, who, once set going, was a
+match for any cross-examiner. "There was the cloak to prove it. Mr.
+Herbert had gone out in the cloak that very night, and the poor dead
+gentleman was lying on it. Which proves it must have come off in the
+scuffle between 'em."</p>
+
+<p>The fact of the quarrel, the facts connected with the cloak, as well as
+all other facts, had been mentioned by the learned Serjeant Seeitall in
+his opening address. The witness was questioned as to what she knew of
+the quarrel: but it appeared that she had not been present; consequently
+could not testify to it. The cloak she could say more about, and spoke
+of it confidently as Mr. Herbert's.</p>
+
+<p>"How did you know the cloak, found under the dead man, was Mr.
+Herbert's?" interposed the prisoner's counsel, Mr. Chattaway.</p>
+
+<p>"Because I did," returned the witness.</p>
+
+<p>"I ask you how you knew it?"</p>
+
+<p>"By lots of tokens," she answered. "By the shining black clasp, for one
+thing, and by the tears and jags in it, for another. Nobody has ever
+pretended it was not the cloak. I have seen it fifty times hanging up in
+Mr. Herbert's closet."</p>
+
+<p>"You saw the prisoner going out in it that evening?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I did," she answered. "I was looking out at Miss Adelaide's
+chamber window, and I saw him come out of the dining-room window, and go
+off towards the front gates. The gentlemen often went out through the
+dining-room window, instead of at the hall door."</p>
+
+<p>"The prisoner says he came back immediately, and left his cloak in the
+dining-room, going out finally without it. Did you see him come back?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I didn't," replied Betsy.</p>
+
+<p>"How long did you remain at the window?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not long."</p>
+
+<p>"Did you remain long enough for him to cross the lawn to the front
+entrance gates, and come back again?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I don't think I did, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"The court will please take note of that answer," said Mr. Chattaway,
+who was aware that a great deal had been made of the fact of the
+housemaid's having seen him go out in the cloak. "You left the window
+then, immediately?"</p>
+
+<p>"Pretty near immediately. I don't think I stayed long enough at it for
+him to come back from the front gates&mdash;if he did come. I have never said
+I did," she resentfully continued.</p>
+
+<p>"What time was it that you saw him go out?"</p>
+
+<p>"I hadn't took particular notice of the time. It was dusk. I was turning
+down my beds; and I generally do that a little before nine. The next
+room I went into was Mr. Anthony's."</p>
+
+<p>"The deceased was in it, was he not?"</p>
+
+<p>"He was in it, stretched full length upon the sofa. He had his head down
+on the cushion, and his feet up over the arm at the foot, all
+comfortable and easy, with a cigar in his mouth, and some glasses and
+things on the table near him. 'What are you come bothering in here for?'
+he asked. So I begged his pardon; for you see, gentlemen, I didn't know
+he was there, and I went out again, and met Joseph carrying up a note to
+him. A little while after that, he went out."</p>
+
+<p>The witness's propensity to degenerate into gossip appeared
+irrepressible. Several times she was stopped; once by the judge.</p>
+
+<p>"Of how many servants did the household of Mr. Dare consist?" she was
+asked.</p>
+
+<p>"There were four of us, gentlemen."</p>
+
+<p>"Did you all sit up that night?"</p>
+
+<p>"All but the cook. She went to bed."</p>
+
+<p>"And the family, those who were at home, went to bed?"</p>
+
+<p>"All of them, sir. The governess went early; she was not well; and Miss
+Rosa and Miss Minny went, and the two young gentlemen went when they
+came home from playing cricket."</p>
+
+<p>"In point of fact, then, no one was up except you three servants in the
+kitchen?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nobody, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"And you heard no noise in the house until the return of Mr. and Mrs.
+Dare?"</p>
+
+<p>"We never heard nothing," responded Betsy. "We were sitting quietly in
+the kitchen; me and the lady's-maid at work, and Joseph asleep. We never
+heard any noise at all."</p>
+
+<p>This was the substance of what was asked her. Joseph was next called,
+and gave his testimony. He deposed to having fastened up the house at
+eleven o'clock, with the exception of the dining-room window: that was
+left open in obedience to orders. All other facts within his knowledge
+he also testified to. The governess, Signorina Varsini, was called, and
+questioned upon two points: what she had seen and heard of the quarrel,
+and of the subsequent conduct of Anthony and Herbert to each other in
+the drawing-room. But her testimony amounted to nothing, and she might
+as well not have been troubled. She was also asked whether she had heard
+any noise in the house between eleven o'clock and the return of Mr. and
+Mrs. Dare. She replied that she did not hear any, for she had been
+asleep. She went to sleep long before eleven, and did not wake up until
+aroused by the commotion caused by the finding of the body. The witness
+was proceeding to favour the court with her own conviction that the
+prisoner was innocent, but was brought up with a summary notice that
+that was not evidence, and that, if she knew nothing more, she might
+withdraw. Upon which, she honoured the bench with an elaborate curtsey,
+and retired. Not a witness throughout the day gave evidence with more
+absolute equanimity.</p>
+
+<p>Lord Hawkesley was examined; also Mr. Brittle&mdash;the latter coming to
+Helstonleigh on his subp&oelig;na. But to give the testimony of all the
+witnesses in length, would only be to repeat what has already been
+related. It will be sufficient to extract a few questions here and
+there.</p>
+
+<p>"What were the games played in your rooms that evening?" was asked of
+Mr. Brittle.</p>
+
+<p>"Some played whist; some écarté."</p>
+
+<p>"At which did the deceased play?"</p>
+
+<p>"At whist."</p>
+
+<p>"Was he a loser, or a gainer?"</p>
+
+<p>"A loser; but to a very trifling amount. We were playing half-crown
+points. He and myself played against Lord Hawkesley and Captain Bellew.
+We broke up because he, the deceased, was not sufficiently sober to
+play."</p>
+
+<p>"Was he sober when he joined you?"</p>
+
+<p>"By no means. He appeared to have been drinking rather freely; and he
+took more in my rooms, which made him worse."</p>
+
+<p>"Why did you accompany him home?"</p>
+
+<p>"He was scarcely in a state to proceed alone: and I felt no objection to
+a walk. It was a fine night."</p>
+
+<p>"Did he speak, during the evening, of the dispute which had taken place
+between him and his brother?" interposed the judge.</p>
+
+<p>"He did not, my lord. A slight incident occurred, as we were going to
+his home, which it may be perhaps as well to mention&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You must mention everything which bears upon this unhappy case, sir,"
+interrupted the judge. "You are sworn to tell the whole truth."</p>
+
+<p>"I do not suppose it does bear upon it directly, my lord. Had I attached
+importance to it, I should have spoken of it before. In passing the
+turning which leads to the race-course, a man met us, and began to abuse
+the deceased. The deceased was inclined to stop and return it, but I
+drew him on."</p>
+
+<p>"Of what nature was the abuse?" asked the counsel.</p>
+
+<p>"I do not recollect the precise terms. It was to the effect that he, the
+deceased, tippled away his money instead of paying his debts. The man
+backed against the wall as he spoke: he appeared to have had rather too
+much himself. I drew the deceased on, and we were soon out of hearing."</p>
+
+<p>"What became of the man?"</p>
+
+<p>"I do not know. We left him standing against the wall. He called loudly
+after the deceased to know when his bill was to be paid. I judged him to
+be some petty tradesman."</p>
+
+<p>"Did he follow you?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. At least, we heard no more of him afterwards. I saw the deceased
+safely within his own gate, and left him."</p>
+
+<p>"What state, as to sobriety, was the deceased in then?"</p>
+
+<p>"He was what may be called half-seasover," replied the witness. "He
+could talk, but his words were not very distinct."</p>
+
+<p>"Could he walk alone?"</p>
+
+<p>"After a fashion. He stumbled as he walked."</p>
+
+<p>"What time was this?"</p>
+
+<p>"About half-past eleven. I think the half-hour struck directly after I
+left him, but I am not quite sure."</p>
+
+<p>"As you returned, did you see anything of the man who had accosted the
+deceased?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not anything."</p>
+
+<p>Strange to say the very man thus spoken of was in court, listening to
+the trial. Upon hearing the evidence given by Mr. Brittle, he
+voluntarily came forward as a witness. He said he had been "having a
+drop," and it had made him abusive, but that Anthony Dare had owed him
+money long for work done, mending and making. He was a jobbing tailor,
+and the bill was a matter of fourteen pounds. Anthony Dare had only put
+him off and off; he was a poor man, with a wife and family to keep, and
+he wanted the money badly; but now, he supposed, he should never be
+paid. He lived close to the spot where he met the deceased and the
+gentleman who had just given evidence, and he could prove that he went
+home as soon as they were out of sight, and was in bed at half-past
+eleven. What with debts and various other things, he concluded the town
+had had enough to rue in young Anthony Dare. Still, the poor fellow
+didn't deserve such a shocking fate as murder, and he would have been
+the first to protect him from it.</p>
+
+<p>That the evidence was given in good faith, was undoubted. He was known
+to the town as a harmless, inoffensive man, addicted, though upon rare
+occasions, to taking more than was good for him, when he was apt to
+dilate upon his grievances.</p>
+
+<p>The constable who had been on duty that night near Mr. Dare's residence
+was the next witness called. "Did you see the deceased that night?" was
+asked of him.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir, I did," was the reply. "I saw him walking home with the
+gentleman who has given evidence&mdash;Mr. Brittle. I noticed that young Mr.
+Dare talked thick, as if he had been drinking."</p>
+
+<p>"Did they appear to be on good terms?"</p>
+
+<p>"Very good terms, sir. Mr. Brittle was laughing when he opened the gate
+for the deceased, and told him to mind he did not kiss the grass; or
+something to that effect."</p>
+
+<p>"Were you close to them?"</p>
+
+<p>"Quite close, sir. I said 'Good night' to the deceased, but he seemed
+not to notice it. I stood and watched him over the grass. He reeled as
+he walked."</p>
+
+<p>"What time was this?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nigh upon half-past eleven, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Did you detect any signs of people moving within the house?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not any, sir. The house seemed quite still, and the blinds were down
+before the windows."</p>
+
+<p>"Did you see any one enter the gate that night besides the deceased?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not any one."</p>
+
+<p>"Not the prisoner?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not any one," repeated the policeman.</p>
+
+<p>"Did you see anything of the prisoner later, between half-past one and
+two, the time he alleges as that of his going home?"</p>
+
+<p>"I never saw the prisoner at all that night, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"He could have gone in, as he states, without your seeing him?"
+interposed the prisoner's counsel.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, certainly, a dozen times over. My beat extended to half-a-mile
+beyond Mr. Dare's."</p>
+
+<p>One witness, who was placed in the box, created a profound sensation:
+for it was the unhappy father, Anthony Dare. Since the deed was
+committed, two months ago, Mr. Dare had been growing old. His brow was
+furrowed, his cheeks were wrinkled, his hair was turning white, and he
+looked, as he obeyed the call to the witness-box, as a man sinking under
+a heavy weight of care. Many of the countenances present expressed deep
+commiseration for him.</p>
+
+<p>He was sworn, and various questions were asked him. Amongst others,
+whether he knew anything of the quarrel which had taken place between
+his two sons.</p>
+
+<p>"Personally, nothing," was the reply. "I was not at home."</p>
+
+<p>"It has been testified that when they were parted, your son Herbert
+threatened his brother. Is he of a revengeful disposition?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," replied Mr. Dare, with emotion; "that, I can truly say, he is not.
+My poor son, Anthony, was somewhat given to sullenness; but Herbert
+never was."</p>
+
+<p>"There had been a great deal of ill-feeling between them of late, I
+believe."</p>
+
+<p>"I fear there had been."</p>
+
+<p>"It is stated that you yourself, upon leaving home that evening, left
+them a warning not to quarrel. Was it so?"</p>
+
+<p>"I believe I did. Anthony entered the house as we were leaving it, and I
+did say something to him to that effect."</p>
+
+<p>"The prisoner was not present?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. He had not returned."</p>
+
+<p>"It is proved that he came home later, dined, and went out again at
+dusk. It does not appear that he was seen afterwards by any member of
+your household, until you yourself went up to his room and found him
+there, after the discovery of the body. His own account is, that he had
+only recently returned. Do you know where he was, during his absence?"</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>"Or where he went to?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," repeated the witness in sadly faltering tones, for he knew that
+this was the one weak point in the defence.</p>
+
+<p>"He will not tell you?"</p>
+
+<p>"He declines to do so. But," the witness added, with emotion, "he has
+denied his guilt to me from the first, in the most decisive manner: and
+I solemnly believe him to be innocent. Why he will not state where he
+was, I cannot conceive; but not a shade of doubt rests upon my mind that
+he could state it if he chose, and that it would be the means of
+establishing the fact of his absence. I would not assert this if I did
+not believe it," said the witness, raising his trembling hand. "They
+were both my boys: the one destroyed was my eldest, perhaps my dearest;
+and I declare that I would not, knowingly, screen his assassin, although
+that assassin were his brother."</p>
+
+<p>The case for the prosecution concluded, and the defence was entered
+upon. The prisoner's counsel&mdash;two of them eminent men, Mr. Chattaway
+himself being no secondary light in the forensic world&mdash;laboured under
+one disadvantage, as it appeared to the crowded court. They exerted all
+their eloquence in seeking to divert the guilt from the prisoner: but
+they could not&mdash;distort facts as they might, call upon imagination as
+they would&mdash;they could not conjure up the ghost of any other channel to
+which to direct suspicion. There lay the weak point, as it had lain
+throughout. If Herbert Dare was not guilty, who was? The family, quietly
+sleeping in their beds, were beyond the pale of suspicion; the household
+equally so; and no trace of any midnight intruder to the house could be
+found. It was a grave stumbling-block for the prisoner's counsel; but
+such stumbling-blocks are as nothing to an expert pleader. Bit by bit
+Mr. Chattaway disposed, or seemed to dispose, of every argument that
+could tell against the prisoner. The presence of the cloak in the
+dining-room, from which so much appearance of guilt had been deduced, he
+converted into a negative proof of innocence. "Had he been the one
+engaged in the struggle," argued the learned Q.C., "would he have been
+mad enough to leave his own cloak there, underneath his victim, a
+damning proof of guilt? No! that, at any rate, he would have taken away.
+The very fact of the cloak being under the murdered man was a most
+indisputable proof, as he regarded it, that the prisoner remained
+totally ignorant of what had happened&mdash;ignorant of his unfortunate
+brother's being at all in the dining-room. Why! had he only surmised
+that his brother was lying, wounded or dead, in the room, would he not
+have hastened to remove his cloak out of it, before it should be seen
+there, knowing, as he must know, that, from the very terms on which he
+and his brother had been, it would be looked upon as a proof of his
+guilt?" The argument told well with the jury&mdash;probably with the judge.</p>
+
+<p>Bit by bit, so did he thus dispose of the suspicious circumstances: of
+all, except one. And that was the great one, the one that nobody could
+get over: the refusal of the prisoner to state where he was that night.
+"All in good time, gentlemen of the jury," said Mr. Chattaway, some
+murmured words reaching his ear that the omission was deemed ominous. "I
+am coming to that later; and I shall prove as complete and distinct an
+<i>alibi</i> as it was ever my lot to submit to an enlightened court."</p>
+
+<p>The court listened, the jury listened, the spectators listened, and
+"hoped he might." He had spoken, for the most part, to incredulous ears.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIC" id="CHAPTER_XIC"></a>CHAPTER XI.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE WITNESSES FOR THE ALIBI.</h3>
+
+
+<p>When the speech of the counsel ended, and the time came for the
+production of the witness or witnesses who were to prove the <i>alibi</i>,
+there appeared to be some delay. The intense heat of the court had been
+growing greater with every hour. The rays of the afternoon sun, now
+sinking lower and lower in the heavens, had only brought with them a
+more deadly feeling of suffocation. But, to go out for a breath of air,
+even had the thronged state of the passages permitted the movement,
+appeared to enter into no one's thoughts. Their suspense was too keen,
+their interest too absorbing. Who were those mysterious witnesses, that
+would testify to the innocence of Herbert Dare?</p>
+
+<p>A stir at the extreme end of the court, where it joined the other
+passage. Every eye was strained to see, every ear to listen, as an usher
+came clearing the way. "By your leave there&mdash;by your leave; room for a
+witness!"</p>
+
+<p>The spectators looked, and stretched their necks, and looked again. A
+few among them experienced a strange thrill of disappointment, and felt
+that they should have much pleasure in being allowed the privilege of
+boxing the usher's ears, for he preceded no one more important than
+Richard Winthorne, the lawyer. Ah, but wait a bit! What short and slight
+figure is it that Mr. Winthorne is guiding along? The angry crowd have
+not caught sight of her yet.</p>
+
+<p>But, when they do&mdash;when the drooping, shrinking form is at length in the
+witness-box; her eyes never raised, her lovely face bent in timid
+dread&mdash;then a murmur arises, and shakes the court to its foundation. The
+judge feels for his glasses&mdash;rarely used&mdash;and puts them across his nose,
+and gazes at her. A fair girl, attired in the simple, modest garb
+peculiar to the sect called Quakers, not more modest than the lovely and
+gentle face. She does not take the oath, only the affirmation peculiar
+to her people.</p>
+
+<p>"What is your name?" commenced the prisoner's counsel.</p>
+
+<p>That she spoke words in reply, was evident, by the moving of her lips:
+but they could not be heard.</p>
+
+<p>"You must speak up," interposed the judge, in tones of kindness.</p>
+
+<p>A deep struggle for breath, an effort of which even those around could
+see the pain, and the answer came. "They call me Anna. I am the daughter
+of Samuel Lynn."</p>
+
+<p>"Where do your live?"</p>
+
+<p>"I live with my father and Patience, in the London Road."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you know of the prisoner at the bar?"</p>
+
+<p>A pause. She probably did not understand the sort of answer required.
+One came that was unexpected.</p>
+
+<p>"I know him to be innocent of the crime of which he is accused."</p>
+
+<p>"How do you know this?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because he could not have been near the spot at the time."</p>
+
+<p>"Where was he then?"</p>
+
+<p>"With me."</p>
+
+<p>But the reply came forth in so faint a whisper that again she had to be
+enjoined to speak louder, and she repeated it, using different words.</p>
+
+<p>"He was at our house."</p>
+
+<p>"At what hour did he go to your house?"</p>
+
+<p>"It was past nine when he came up first."</p>
+
+<p>"And what time did he leave?"</p>
+
+<p>"It was about one in the morning."</p>
+
+<p>The answer appeared to create some stir. A late hour for a sober little
+Quakeress to confess to.</p>
+
+<p>"Was he spending the evening with your friends?"</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>"Did they not know he was there?"</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>"It was a clandestine visit to yourself, then? Where were they?"</p>
+
+<p>A pause, and a very trembling answer. "They were in bed."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! You were entertaining him by yourself, then?"</p>
+
+<p>She burst into tears. The judge let fall his glasses as though under the
+pressure of some annoyance, every feature of his fine face expressive of
+compassion: it may be, his thoughts had flown to daughters of his own.
+The crowd stood with open mouths, gaping with undisguised astonishment,
+and the burly Queen's counsel proceeded.</p>
+
+<p>"And so he prolonged his visit until one o'clock in the morning?"</p>
+
+<p>"I was locked out," she sobbed. "That is how he came to stay so late."</p>
+
+<p>Bit by bit, with question and cross-questioning, it all came out: that
+Herbert Dare had been in the habit of paying stolen visits to the field,
+and that Anna had been in the habit of meeting him there. That she had
+gone in on this night just before ten, which was later than she had ever
+stayed out before: but, finding Hester had to go out for medicine for
+Patience, she had run to the field again to take a book to the prisoner;
+and that upon attempting to enter soon afterwards, she found the door
+locked, Hester having met the doctor's boy, and come back at once. She
+told it all, as simply and guilelessly as a child.</p>
+
+<p>"What were you doing all that time? From ten o'clock until one in the
+morning?"</p>
+
+<p>"I was sitting on the door-step, crying."</p>
+
+<p>"Was the prisoner with you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. He stood by me part of the time, telling me not to be afraid; and
+the rest of the time&mdash;more than an hour, I think&mdash;he was working at the
+wires of the pantry window, to try to get in."</p>
+
+<p>"Was he all that time at the wires?"</p>
+
+<p>"It was a long time before I remembered the pantry window. He wanted to
+knock up Hester, but I was afraid to let him. I feared she might tell
+Patience, and they would have been so angry with me. He got in, at last,
+at the pantry window, and he opened the kitchen window for me, and I
+went in by it."</p>
+
+<p>"And you mean to say he was all that time, till one o'clock in the
+morning, forcing the wires of a pantry window?" cried Sergeant Seeitall.</p>
+
+<p>"It was nearly one. I am telling thee the truth."</p>
+
+<p>"And you did not lose sight of the prisoner from the time he first came
+to the field, at nine o'clock, until he left you at one?"</p>
+
+<p>"Only for the few minutes&mdash;it may have been four or five&mdash;when I ran in
+and came out again with the book. He waited in the field."</p>
+
+<p>"What time was that?"</p>
+
+<p>"The ten o'clock bell was going in Helstonleigh. We could hear it."</p>
+
+<p>"He was with you all the rest of the time."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, all. When he was working at the pantry window I could not see him,
+because he was round the angle of the house, but I could hear him at the
+wires. Not a minute of the time but I heard him. He was more than an
+hour at the wires, as I have told thee."</p>
+
+<p>"And until he began at the wires?"</p>
+
+<p>"He was standing up by me, telling me not to be afraid."</p>
+
+<p>"All the time? You affirm this?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am affirming all that I say to thee. I am speaking as before my
+Maker."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you think it is a pretty confession for a young lady to make?"</p>
+
+<p>She burst into fresh tears. The judge turned his grave face upon
+Sergeant Seeitall. But the sergeant had impudence enough for ten.</p>
+
+<p>"Pray, how many times had that pretty little midnight drama been
+enacted?" he continued, whilst Anna sobbed in distress.</p>
+
+<p>"Never before," burst forth a deep voice. "Don't you see it was a pure
+accident, as she tells you? How dare you treat her as you might a
+shameless witness?"</p>
+
+<p>The interruption&mdash;one of powerful emotion&mdash;had come from the prisoner.
+At the sound of his voice, Anna started, and looked round hurriedly to
+the quarter whence it came. It was the first time she had raised her
+eyes to the court since entering the witness-box. She had glanced up to
+answer whoever questioned her, and that was all.</p>
+
+<p>"Well?" said Sergeant Seeitall, as if demanding what else she might have
+to communicate.</p>
+
+<p>"I have no more to tell. I have told thee all I know. It was nearly one
+o'clock when he went away, and I never saw him after."</p>
+
+<p>"Did the prisoner wear a cloak when he came to the field that night?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. He wore one sometimes, but he did not have it on that night. It was
+very warm&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>But, at that moment, Anna Lynn became conscious that a familiar face was
+strained upon her from the midst of the crowd: familiar, and yet not
+familiar; for the face was distorted from its natural look, and was
+blanched, as of one in the last agony&mdash;the face of Samuel Lynn. With a
+sharp cry of pain&mdash;of dread&mdash;Anna fell on the floor in a fainting fit.
+What the shame of being before that public court, of answering the
+searching questions of the counsel, had failed to take away&mdash;her
+senses&mdash;the sight of her father, cognizant of her disgrace, had
+effected. Surely it was a disgrace for a young and guileless maiden to
+have to confess to such an escapade&mdash;an escapade that sounded worse to
+censuring ears than it had been in reality. Anna fainted. Mr. Winthorne
+stepped forward, and she was borne out.</p>
+
+<p>Another Quakeress was now put into the witness-box, and the court looked
+upon a little middle-aged woman, whose face was sallow, and who showed
+her defective teeth as she spoke. It was Hester Dell. She wore a brown
+silk bonnet, lined with white, and a fawn-coloured shawl. She was told
+that she must state what she knew, relative to the visit of Herbert Dare
+that night.</p>
+
+<p>"I went to rest at my usual hour, or, maybe, a trifle later, for I had
+waited for the arrival of some physic, never supposing but that the
+child, Anna, had gone to her room before me, and was safe in bed. I had
+been asleep some considerable time, as it seemed, when I was awakened by
+what sounded like the raising of the kitchen window underneath. I sat up
+in bed and listened, and was convinced that the window was being raised
+slowly and cautiously, as if the raiser did not want it to be heard. I
+was considerably startled, the more so as I knew I had left the window
+fastened: and my thoughts turned to house-breakers. While I deliberated
+what to do, seeing I was but a lone woman in the house, save for the
+child Anna, and Patience who was disabled in her bed, I heard what
+appeared to be the voice of the child, and it sounded in the yard. I
+went to my window, but I could not see anything, it being right over the
+kitchen, and I not daring to open it. But I still heard Anna's voice:
+she was speaking in a low tone, and I believed I caught other tones
+also&mdash;those of a man. I thought I must be asleep and dreaming: next I
+thought it must be young Gar from the next door, Jane Halliburton's son.
+Her other sons I knew to be not at home; the one being abroad, the other
+at the University of Oxford. I deliberated, could anything be the matter
+at their house, and the boy have come for help. Then I reflected that
+that was most unlikely, for why should he be stealthily opening the
+kitchen window, and why should Anna be whispering with him? In short, to
+tell thee the truth"&mdash;raising her eyes to the judge, whom she appeared
+to address, to the ignoring of everyone else&mdash;"I did not know what to
+think, and I grew more disturbed. I quietly put on a few things, and
+went softly down the stairs, deeming it well, for my own sake, to feel
+my way, as it were, and not to run headlong into danger. I stood a
+moment at the kitchen door, listening; and there I distinctly heard Anna
+laugh&mdash;a little, gentle laugh. It reassured me, though I was still
+puzzled; and I opened the door at once."</p>
+
+<p>Here the witness made a dead pause.</p>
+
+<p>"What did you see when you opened the door?" asked the judge.</p>
+
+<p>"I would not tell thee, but that I am bound to tell thee," she frankly
+answered. "I saw the prisoner, Herbert Dare. He appeared to have been
+laughing with Anna, who stood near him, and he was preparing to get out
+at the window as I entered."</p>
+
+<p>"Well? what next?" inquired the counsel in an impatient tone; for Hester
+had stopped again.</p>
+
+<p>"I can hardly tell what next," replied the witness. "Looking back, it
+appears nothing but confusion in my mind. It seemed nothing but
+confusion at the time. Anna cried out, and hid her face in fear; and the
+prisoner attempted some explanation, which I would not listen to. To see
+a son of Anthony Dare's in the house with the child at that midnight
+hour, filled me with anger and bewilderment. I ordered him away; I
+believe I pushed him through the window; I threatened to call in a
+policeman. Finally he went away."</p>
+
+<p>"Saying nothing?"</p>
+
+<p>"I tell you all, I would not listen to it. I remembered scraps of what
+he said afterwards. That Anna was not to blame&mdash;that I had no cause to
+scold her or to acquaint Patience with what happened&mdash;that the fault, if
+there was any fault, was mine, for locking the back door so quickly. I
+refused to hear farther, and he departed, saying he would explain when I
+was less angry. That is all I saw of him."</p>
+
+<p>"Did you mention this affair to anyone?" asked the counsel for the
+prosecution.</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>"Why not?"</p>
+
+<p>"The child clung about me in tears after he was gone, giving me the
+explanation that I would not hear from him, and beseeching me not to
+acquaint Patience. She told me how it had happened. That upon my going
+out to see after the sleeping-draught for Patience, she had taken the
+opportunity to run to the field with a book, where Herbert Dare waited:
+and that upon attempting to come in again she found the door locked."</p>
+
+<p>"You returned sooner than she expected?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. I met the doctor's boy near our house, bringing the physic, and I
+took it from him and went home again directly. Not seeing Anna about, I
+never thought but that she had retired to bed. I went up also, trying
+the back door as I passed it, which to my surprise I found unfastened."</p>
+
+<p>"Why to your surprise?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because I had, as I believed, previously turned the key of it. Finding
+it unlocked, I concluded I must have been mistaken. Afterwards, when the
+explanation came, I learnt that Anna had undone it. She clung about me,
+as I tell thee, sobbing and crying, saying, as he had said, that there
+was no cause to be angry with her: that she could not help what had
+happened; and that she had sat crying on the door-step the whole of the
+time, until he had effected an entrance for her. I went to the pantry
+window, and saw where the wires had been torn away, not roughly, but
+neatly; and I knew it must have taken a long time to accomplish. I fell
+in with the child's prayer, and did not speak of what had occurred; not
+even to Patience. This is the first time it has escaped my lips."</p>
+
+<p>"So you deemed it desirable to conceal such an adventure, and give the
+prisoner opportunity to renew his midnight visits?" retorted the counsel
+for the prosecution.</p>
+
+<p>"What was done could not be undone," said the witness. "I was willing to
+spare the scandal to the child, and not be the means of spreading it
+abroad. While I was deliberating whether to tell Patience, seeing she
+was in so suffering a state, news came that Herbert Dare was a prisoner.
+He had been arrested the following morning, on the accusation of
+murdering his brother, and I knew that he was safe for several weeks to
+come. Hence I held my tongue."</p>
+
+<p>The witness had given her evidence in a clear, straightforward,
+uncompromising manner, widely at variance with the distressed timidity
+of Anna. Not a shade of doubt rested on the mind of any person in court
+that both had spoken the exact truth. But the counsel seemed inclined to
+question still.</p>
+
+<p>"Since when did you know you were coming here to give this evidence?"</p>
+
+<p>"Only when I did come. Richard Winthorne, the man of law, came to our
+house in a fly this afternoon, and brought us away with him. By some
+remarks he exchanged with Anna when we were in it, I found that she had
+known of it this day or two. They feared to avert me, I suppose, lest,
+maybe, I might refuse to attend."</p>
+
+<p>"One question more, witness. Did the prisoner wear a cloak that night?"</p>
+
+<p>"No; I did not see any."</p>
+
+<p>This closed the evidence, and the witness was allowed to withdraw.
+Richard Winthorne went in search of Samuel Lynn, and found him seated on
+a bench in the outer hall surrounded by gentlemen of his persuasion,
+many of them of high standing in Helstonleigh. Tales of marvel, you
+know, never lose anything in spreading; neither are people given to
+placing a light construction on public gossip, when they can, by any
+stretch of imagination, give it a dark one. In this affair, however, no
+very great stretch was required. The town jumped to the charitable
+conclusion that Anna Lynn must be one of the naughtiest girls under the
+sun; imprudent, ungrateful, disobedient; I don't know what else. Had she
+been guilty of scattering poison in Atterly's field, and so killed all
+the lambs, they could not have said, or thought, worse than they did.
+All joined in it, charitable and uncharitable; all sorts of evil notions
+were spread, and were taken up. Herbert Dare, you may be very sure, came
+in for <i>his</i> share.</p>
+
+<p>The news had been taken to Mr. Ashley's manufactory, sent by the
+astounded Patience, that Richard Winthorne had come and taken away Anna
+and Hester Dell to give testimony at the trial of Herbert Dare. The
+Quaker, perplexed and wondering, believed Patience must be demented;
+that the message could have no foundation in truth. Nevertheless, he
+bent his steps to the Guildhall, accompanied by William Halliburton, and
+was witness to the evidence. He, strict and sober-minded, was not likely
+to take up a more favourable construction of the general facts than the
+town was taking up. It may be guessed what it was for him.</p>
+
+<p>He sat now on a bench in the outer hall, surrounded by friends, who, on
+hearing the crying scandal whispered, touching a young member of their
+body, had come flocking down to the Guildhall. When they spoke to him,
+he did not appear to hear; he sat with his hands on his knees, and his
+head sunk on his breast, never raising it. Richard Winthorne approached
+him.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Lynn and her servant will not be wanted again," said the lawyer.
+"I have sent for a fly."</p>
+
+<p>The fly came. Anna was placed in it by Mr. Winthorne; Hester Dell
+followed; and Samuel Lynn came forward and stumbled into it. It is the
+proper word. He appeared to have no power left in his limbs.</p>
+
+<p>"Thou wilt not be harsh with her, Samuel," whispered an influential
+Friend, who had a benevolent countenance. "Some of us will confer with
+thee to-morrow; but, meanwhile, do not be harsh with her. Thou wilt call
+to mind that she is thy child, and motherless."</p>
+
+<p>Samuel Lynn made no reply. He did not appear to hear. He sat opposite
+his daughter, his eyes never lifted, and his face assuming a leaden hue.
+Hester suddenly leaned from the door, and beckoned to William
+Halliburton.</p>
+
+<p>"Will thee please be so obliging as go up with us in the fly?" she said
+in his ear. "I do not like his look."</p>
+
+<p>William stepped in, and the fly drove away with closed blinds, to the
+intense chagrin of the curious mob. Before it was out of the town,
+William and Hester, with a simultaneous movement, supported the Quaker.
+Anna screamed. "What is it?" she uttered, terrified at the sight of his
+drawn, distorted face.</p>
+
+<p>"It is thy work," said Hester, less placidly than she would have spoken
+in a calmer moment. "If thee hast saved the life of thy friend, Herbert
+Dare, thee hast probably destroyed that of thy father."</p>
+
+<p>They were close to the residence of Mr. Parry, and William ordered the
+fly to stop. The surgeon was at home, and took William's place in it.
+Samuel Lynn had been struck down with paralysis.</p>
+
+<p>William was at the house before they were, preparing Patience. Patience
+was so far restored to health herself as to be able to walk about a
+little; she was very lame still.</p>
+
+<p>They carried Mr. Lynn to his room. Anna in her deep humiliation and
+shame&mdash;having to give evidence, and such evidence, in the face of that
+open court, had been nothing less to her&mdash;flew to her own chamber, and
+flung herself, dressed as she was, on the carpet, in desperate
+abandonment. William saw her there as he passed it from her father's
+room. There was no one to attend to her, for they were occupied with Mr.
+Lynn. It was no moment for ceremony, and William entered and attempted
+to raise her.</p>
+
+<p>"Let me be, William; let me be! I only want to die."</p>
+
+<p>"Anna, child, this will not mend the past. Do not give way like this."</p>
+
+<p>But she resolutely turned from him, sobbing more wildly. "Only to die!
+only to die!"</p>
+
+<p>William went for his mother, and gave her the outline of the tale,
+asking her to go to the house of distress and see what could be done.
+Jane, in utter astonishment, sought further explanation. She could not
+understand him in the least.</p>
+
+<p>"I assure you, I understand it nearly as little," replied William. "Anna
+was locked out through some mistake of Hester's, it appears, and Herbert
+Dare stayed with her. That it will be the means of acquitting him, there
+is no doubt; but Helstonleigh is making its comments very freely."</p>
+
+<p>Jane went in, her senses bewildered. She found Patience in a state not
+to be described; she found Anna where William had left her, reiterating
+the same cry, "Oh, that I were dead! that I were dead!"</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, the trial at the Guildhall was drawing to its close, and the
+judge proceeded to sum up. Not with the frantic bursts of oratory
+indulged in by those eloquent gentlemen, the counsel, but in a tone of
+dispassionate reasoning. He placed the facts concisely before the jury,
+not speaking in favour of the prisoner, but candidly avowing that he did
+not see how they could get over the evidence of the prisoner's two
+witnesses, the young Quaker lady and her maid. If that was to be
+believed&mdash;and for himself he fully believed it&mdash;then the prisoner could
+not have been guilty of the murder, and was clearly entitled to an
+acquittal. It was six o'clock when the jury retired to deliberate.</p>
+
+<p>The judge, the bar, the spectators, sat on, or stood, with what patience
+they might, in the crowded and heated court. On the fiat of those twelve
+men hung the life of the prisoner: whether he was to be discharged an
+innocent man, or hanged as a guilty one. Reposing in the pocket of Sir
+William Leader was a certain little cap, black in colour, innocuous in
+itself, but of awful significance when brought forth by the hand of the
+presiding judge. Was it destined to be brought forth that night?</p>
+
+<p>The jury were coming in at last. Only an hour had they remained in
+deliberation, for seven o'clock was booming out over the town. It had
+seemed to the impatient spectators more than two hours. What must it
+have seemed to the prisoner? They ranged themselves in their box, and
+the crier proclaimed silence.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you agreed upon your verdict, gentlemen of the jury?"</p>
+
+<p>"We have."</p>
+
+<p>"How say you, gentlemen, guilty or not guilty?"</p>
+
+<p>The foreman advanced an imperceptible step and looked at the judge,
+speaking deliberately:</p>
+
+<p>"My lord, we find the prisoner <span class="smcap">Not Guilty</span>."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIIC" id="CHAPTER_XIIC"></a>CHAPTER XII.</h2>
+
+<h3>A COUCH OF PAIN.</h3>
+
+
+<p>"William, I have had my death-blow! I have had my death-blow!"</p>
+
+<p>The speaker was Henry Ashley. Four days had elapsed since the trial of
+Herbert Dare, and William Halliburton saw him now for the first time
+after that event. What with mind and body, Henry was in a grievous state
+of pain: all William's compassion was called forth, as he leaned over
+his couch.</p>
+
+<p>It has been hinted that Helstonleigh, in its charity, took up the very
+worst view of the case that could be taken up, with regard to Anna Lynn.
+Had she gone about with a blazing torch and set all the houses on fire,
+their inhabitants could not have mounted themselves on higher stilts.
+Somehow, <i>everybody</i> took it up. It was like those apparently
+well-authenticated political reports that arrive now and then by
+telegram, driving the Stock Exchange, or the Paris Bourse, into a state
+of mad credulity. No one <i>thought</i> to doubt it; people caught up the
+notion from one another as they catch a fever. If even Samuel Lynn had
+looked upon it in the worst light, bringing to him paralysis, little
+chance was there that others might gaze through a brighter glass. It had
+half killed Henry Ashley: and the words were not, in point of fact, so
+wild as they sounded. "I have had my death-blow! I have had my
+death-blow!"</p>
+
+<p>"No, you have not," was William's answer. "It is a blow&mdash;I know it&mdash;but
+not one that you cannot outlive."</p>
+
+<p>"Why did you not come to me? Four whole days, and you have never been
+near the house!"</p>
+
+<p>"Because I feared that you would be throwing yourself into the state of
+agitation that you are now doing," replied William, candidly. "Mr.
+Ashley said to me on the Wednesday, 'Henry has one of his bad attacks
+again.' I knew it to be more of mind than body this time, and I thought
+it well that you should be left in quiet. There's no one you can talk
+about it to, except me."</p>
+
+<p>"Your staying away has not served your purpose, then. My father came to
+me with the details, thinking to divert me for a moment from my physical
+pain; never supposing that each word was a dagger plunged into my very
+being. My mother came, with this scrap of news, or the other scrap. Mary
+came, wondering and eager, asking information at second-hand: mamma was
+mysterious over it, and would not tell her. Mary cannot credit ill of
+Anna: she has as great a trust in her still as I had. As I had! Oh,
+William! she was my object in life. She was all my future&mdash;my world&mdash;my
+heaven!"</p>
+
+<p>"Now you know you will suffer for this excitement," cried William,
+almost as he would have said it to a wayward child.</p>
+
+<p>He might as well have talked to the wind. Henry neither heard nor heeded
+him. He continued, his manner as full of agitation as his mind.</p>
+
+<p>"I am not as other men. You can go forth, all of you, into the world, to
+your pleasures, your amusements. I am confined here. But what mattered
+it? Did I envy you? No. While I had her to think of, I was happier than
+you."</p>
+
+<p>"Had this not happened, you might have been crossed in some other way,
+and so it would have come to the same thing."</p>
+
+<p>"And now it is over," reiterated Henry, paying no attention to the
+remark. "It is over, and gone; and I&mdash;I wish, William, I had gone with
+it."</p>
+
+<p>"I wish you would be reasonable."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't preach. You active men, with your innumerable objects and
+interests in life, cannot know what it is for one like me, shut out from
+the world, to <i>love</i>. I tell you, William, it was literally my life; the
+core of my life; my all. I am not sure but that I have been mad ever
+since."</p>
+
+<p>"I am not sure but that you are mad now," returned William, believing
+that to humour him might be the worst plan he could adopt.</p>
+
+<p>"I dare say I am," was the unsatisfactory answer. "Four days, and I have
+had to bury it all within me! I could not wail it out to my own pillow
+at night; for they concluded it was one of my bad attacks, and old nurse
+was posted in the bed in the next room with the door open. There's no
+one I can rave to but you, and you must let me do it, unless you would
+have me go quite mad, I hope I shan't be here long to be a trouble to
+any of you."</p>
+
+<p>William did not know what to say. He believed there was nothing for it
+at present but to let him "rave himself out." "But I wish," he said,
+aloud, continuing the bent of his own thoughts, "that you would be a
+little rational over it."</p>
+
+<p>"Stop a bit. Did you ever experience a blow such as this?"</p>
+
+<p>"No indeed."</p>
+
+<p>"Then don't hold forth to me, I say. You do not understand. It was all
+the joy I had on earth."</p>
+
+<p>"You must learn to find other joys, other&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"The despicable villain!" broke forth Henry, the heat-drops welling to
+his brow, as they had welled to Anna's when before the judge. "The
+shame-faced, cowardly villain! Was she not Samuel Lynn's child, and my
+sister's friend? What possessed the jury to acquit him? Did they think a
+rope's-end too good for his neck?"</p>
+
+<p>"He was proved innocent of the murder. If he has any conscience&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"What?" fiercely interrupted Henry Ashley. "<i>He</i> a conscience! I don't
+know what you are dreaming of. Is he going to stop in Helstonleigh?"</p>
+
+<p>"I conclude so. He resumed his place quietly in his father's office the
+day after the trial. He is in London now, but only temporarily."</p>
+
+<p>"Resumed his place quietly! What was the mob about, then?"</p>
+
+<p>The question was put so quaintly, in such confiding simplicity, that a
+smile rose to William's face. "In awe of the police, I expect," he
+answered. "The Dares, while his fate was uncertain, have been
+rusticating. Cyril told me to-day, that now that the accusation was
+proved to have been false, they were 'coming out' again."</p>
+
+<p>"Coming out in what? Villainy?"</p>
+
+<p>"He left the 'what' to be inferred. In grandeur, I expect. The
+established innocence of Herbert&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"If you apply that word to the man, William Halliburton, you are as
+black as he is."</p>
+
+<p>William remembered Henry's tribulation both of mind and body, and went
+on without the shadow of a retort.</p>
+
+<p>"I apply it to him in relation to the crime of which he was charged. His
+acquittal and release have caused the Dares to hold up their heads
+again. But they have lost caste in Helstonleigh."</p>
+
+<p>"Caste!" was the scornful ejaculation of Henry Ashley. "They never had
+any caste to lose. Does the master intend to retain Cyril in the
+manufactory?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have heard nothing to the contrary. If he retained him whilst the
+accusation was hanging over Herbert Dare's head, he will not be likely
+to discard him now it is removed."</p>
+
+<p>"Removed!" shrieked Henry. "If one accusation has been removed, has not
+a worse taken its place?"</p>
+
+<p>"Would it be just to visit on one brother the sins of another?"</p>
+
+<p>"A nice pair of brothers they are!" cried Henry in the sharp, petulant
+manner habitual to him, when racked with pain. "How will Samuel Lynn
+like the company of Cyril Dare by his side in the manufactory, when he
+gets well again?"</p>
+
+<p>William shook his head. These considerations were not for him. They were
+Mr. Ashley's.</p>
+
+<p>"You heard her give her evidence?" resumed Henry, breaking a pause.</p>
+
+<p>"Most of it."</p>
+
+<p>"Tell it me."</p>
+
+<p>"No, Henry; it would not do you good to hear it."</p>
+
+<p>"Tell it me, I say," persisted Henry wilfully. "I know it in substance.
+I want to have it repeated over to me, word for word."</p>
+
+<p>"But&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Henry suddenly raised his hand and laid it on William's lips, with a
+warning movement. He turned and saw Mary Ashley.</p>
+
+<p>"Take her back to the drawing-room, William," he whispered. "I can bear
+no one but you about me now. Not yet, Mary," he added aloud, motioning
+his sister away with his hand. "Not now."</p>
+
+<p>Mary halted in indecision. William advanced, placed her hand within his
+arm, and led her, somewhat summarily, from the room.</p>
+
+<p>"I am only obeying orders, Miss Ashley," said he. "They are to see you
+back to the drawing-room."</p>
+
+<p>"If Henry can bear you with him, he might bear me."</p>
+
+<p>"You know what his whims and fancies are, when he is suffering."</p>
+
+<p>"Is there not a particularly good understanding between you and Henry?"
+she pointedly asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; we understand each other perfectly."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, then, tell me&mdash;what is it that is the matter with him this time?
+I do not like to say so to mamma, because she might call me fanciful,
+but it appears to me that Henry's illness is more on the mind than on
+the body."</p>
+
+<p>William made no reply.</p>
+
+<p>"And yet, I cannot imagine it possible for Henry to have picked up any
+annoyance or grief," resumed Mary. "How can he have done so? He is not
+like one who goes out into the world&mdash;who has to meet with cares and
+cheeks. You do not speak," she added, looking at William. "Is it that
+you will not tell me? or do you know nothing?"</p>
+
+<p>William lowered his voice. "I can only say that, should there be
+anything of the sort you mention, the kinder course for Henry&mdash;indeed
+the only course&mdash;will be, not to allow him to perceive that you suspect
+it. Conceal the suspicion both from him and from others. Remember his
+excessive sensitiveness. When he sees cause to hide his feelings, it
+would be almost death to him to have them scrutinized."</p>
+
+<p>"I think you must be in his full confidence," observed Mary, looking at
+William.</p>
+
+<p>"Pretty well so," he answered, with a passing smile.</p>
+
+<p>"Then, if he has any secret grief, will you try and soothe it to him?"</p>
+
+<p>"With all my best endeavours," earnestly spoke William. But there was
+not the least apparent necessity for his taking Mary Ashley's hand
+between his own, and pressing it there while he said it, any more than
+there was necessity for that vivid blush of hers, as she turned into the
+drawing-room.</p>
+
+<p>But you must be anxious to hear of Anna Lynn. Poor Anna! who had fallen
+so terribly into the black books of the town, without really very much
+deserving it. It was a most unlucky <i>contretemps</i>, having been locked
+out; it was a still more unfortunate sequel, having to confess to it at
+the trial. She was not a pattern of goodness, it must be confessed: had
+not yet attained to that perfect model, which expects, as of a right, a
+niche in the saintly calendar. She was reprehensibly vain; she delighted
+in plaguing Patience; and she took to running out into the field, when
+it had been far better that she had remained at home. That running out
+entailed deceit and some stories: but it entailed nothing worse, and
+Helstonleigh need not have been so very severe in its judgment.</p>
+
+<p>Never had there been a more forcible illustration of the old saying,
+"Give a dog a bad name, and hang him," than in this instance. When
+William Halliburton had told Anna that Herbert Dare was not a good man,
+and did not bear a good name, he had told her the strict truth. For that
+very reason a secret intimacy with him was undesirable, however innocent
+it might be, however innocent it <i>was</i>, in itself: and for that very
+reason did Helstonleigh look at it through clouded spectacles. Had she
+been locked out all night, instead of half a one, with some one in
+better odour, Helstonleigh had not set up its scornful crest. It is
+quite impossible to tell you what Herbert Dare had done, to have such a
+burden on his back as people seemed inclined to lay there. Perhaps they
+did not know themselves. Some accused him of one thing, some of another;
+ill reports never lose by carrying: the two cats on the tiles, you know,
+were magnified into a hundred. No one is as black as he is
+painted&mdash;there's a saying to that effect&mdash;neither, I dare say, was
+Herbert Dare. At any rate&mdash;and that is what we have to do with&mdash;he was
+not so in this particular instance. He was as vexed at the locking out
+as any one else could have been; and he did the best (save one thing)
+that he could for Anna, under the circumstances, and got her in again.
+The only proper thing to have done, was to knock up Hester. He had
+wished to do it, but had yielded to Anna's entreaties, that were born of
+fear.</p>
+
+<p>Not a soul seemed to cast so much as a good word or a charitable thought
+to him in the matter. Did he deserve none? However thoughtless or
+reprehensible his conduct was, in drawing Anna into those field
+excursions, when the explosion came, he met it as a gentleman. Many a
+one, more renowned for the cardinal graces than was Herbert Dare, might
+have spoken out at once, and cleared himself at the expense of making
+known Anna's unlucky escapade. Not so he. A doubt may have been upon him
+that were it betrayed Helstonleigh might cast a taint on her fair name:
+and he strove to save it. He suffered the brand of a murderer to be
+attached to him&mdash;he languished for many weeks in prison as a
+criminal&mdash;all to save it. He all but went to the scaffold to save it. He
+might have called Anna and Hester Dell forward at the inquest, at the
+preliminary examination before the magistrates, and thus have cleared
+himself; but he would not do so. Whilst there was a chance of his
+innocence being brought to light in any other manner, he would not call
+on Anna. He allowed the odium to settle upon his own head. He went to
+prison, hoping that he should be cleared in some other way. There was a
+generous, chivalric feeling in this, which Helstonleigh could not
+understand when emanating from Herbert Dare, and they declined to give
+him credit for it. They preferred to look at the affair altogether in a
+different light, and to lavish hard names upon it. Every soul was alike:
+there was no exception: Samuel Lynn, and all else in Helstonleigh. They
+caught the epidemic, I say, one from another.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIIIC" id="CHAPTER_XIIIC"></a>CHAPTER XIII.</h2>
+
+<h3>A RAY OF LIGHT.</h3>
+
+
+<p>The first sharpness of the edge worn off, Anna grew cross. She did not
+see why every one should be blaming her. What had so sadly prostrated
+herself was the shame of having to appear before the court; to stand in
+it and give her evidence. The excitement, the shame, combined with the
+terrifying illness of her father, brought on, as Hester told her,
+through her, had sent her into a wild state of contrition and alarm.
+Little wonder that she wished herself dead! The mood passed away as the
+days went on, and Anna became tolerably herself again. When Friends
+called at the house to inquire after or to see her father, she ran and
+hid herself in her room, fearful lest a lecture on those field
+recreations might be delivered to her gratuitously. She shunned
+Patience, too, as much as she could. Patience had grown cold and silent;
+and Anna rather liked the change.</p>
+
+<p>She sat for the most part in her father's room, never moving from his
+bedside, unless disturbed from it; never speaking; eating only when food
+was placed before her. Anna was in grievous fear lest a public reprimand
+should be in store for her, delivered at meeting on First Day: but she
+saw no reason why every one should continue to be cross with her at
+home.</p>
+
+<p>She happened to be alone with her father when he first recovered
+consciousness. Some fifteen days had elapsed since the trial. But for
+the fact of her being with him, a difficulty might have been experienced
+to get her there. She dreaded his anger, his reproach, more than
+anything. So long as he lay without his senses, knowing her not, so long
+was she content to sit, watching. She was seated by the bedside in her
+usual listless attitude, head and eyes cast down, when her father's
+hand, not the one affected, was suddenly lifted and laid upon hers,
+which rested on the counterpane. Startled, Anna turned her gaze upon
+him, and she saw that his intellects were restored. With a suppressed
+cry of dismay she would have flown away, but he clasped his fingers
+round hers.</p>
+
+<p>"Anna!"</p>
+
+<p>She sank down on her knees, shaking as if with ague, and buried her face
+in the clothes. Samuel Lynn stretched forth his hand and put it on her
+head.</p>
+
+<p>"Thou art my own child, Anna; thy mother left thee to me for good and
+for ill; and I will stand by thee in thy sorrow."</p>
+
+<p>She burst into a storm of hysterical tears. He let it have its course;
+he drew her wet face to his and kissed it; he talked to her soothingly,
+never speaking a single word of reproach; and Anna overcame her fear and
+her sobs. She knelt down by the bed still, and let her cheek rest on the
+counterpane.</p>
+
+<p>"It has nearly killed me," he murmured, after a while. "But I pray for
+life: I will struggle hard to live, that thee mayst have one protector.
+Friends and foes may cast reproach to thee, but I will not."</p>
+
+<p>"Why should <i>they</i> cast reproach to me, father?" returned Anna, with a
+little spice of resentment. "I have not harmed them."</p>
+
+<p>"No, child; thee hast not; only thyself. I will help thee to bear the
+reproach. Thou art my own child."</p>
+
+<p>"But there's nothing for <i>them</i> to reproach me with," she reiterated,
+her face buried deeper in the counterpane. "It was not pleasant to stand
+there; but it is over. And they need not reflect upon me for it."</p>
+
+<p>"What is over? To stand where?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"At the Guildhall, on the trial."</p>
+
+<p>"It is not <i>that</i> that people will reproach thee with, Anna. It was not
+a nice thing for thee; but that, in itself, brings no reproach."</p>
+
+<p>Anna lifted her head wonderingly. "What does, then?" she uttered.</p>
+
+<p>He did not answer. He only closed his eyes, a deep groan bursting from
+the very depths of his heart. It came into Anna's mind that he must be
+thinking of her previous acquaintance with Herbert Dare; of her stolen
+meetings in the field by twilight.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, father, don't thee be angry with me!" she implored, the tears
+streaming from her eyes. "It was no harm; it was not indeed. Thee
+mightst have been present always, for all the harm there was, and I wish
+thee hadst been. Why should thee think anger of it? There was no more
+harm in my talking with him now and then in the field, than there was in
+my talking with him in Margaret Ashley's drawing-room."</p>
+
+<p>Something in the simple words, in the tone, in the manner altogether,
+caused the Quaker's heart to leap within him. Had he been making a
+molehill into a mountain? Surely, yes! But what else he would have said
+or done, what questions asked, cannot be known, for they were
+interrupted by a visit from William Halliburton. Anna stole away.</p>
+
+<p>William was full of hearty congratulation on the visible
+improvement&mdash;the, so far, restoration to health. The Quaker murmured
+some half-inarticulate words, indicating something to the effect that he
+might not have been ill, but for taking up a worse view of the case
+than, as he believed now, it really merited.</p>
+
+<p>William leaned over him; a glad look in his eye; a glad sound in his low
+voice.</p>
+
+<p>"My mother has been telling Patience so to-day. She, my mother, is
+convinced now that very exaggerated blame was cast upon Anna. It was
+foolish of her, of course, to fall into the habit of running to the
+field; but the locking out might have happened to anyone. My mother told
+me this not half an hour ago. She has seen and talked to Anna frequently
+this last day or two, and has drawn her own positive deductions. My
+mother is vexed with herself for having fallen into the popular
+condemnation."</p>
+
+<p>"Ay!" uttered Samuel Lynn. "There <i>is</i> condemnation abroad, then? I
+thought there was."</p>
+
+<p>"People will come to their senses in good time," was William's answer.
+"Never doubt it."</p>
+
+<p>The Quaker raised his feeble hand, and laid it upon William's. "The
+Ashleys&mdash;have <i>they</i> blamed her?"</p>
+
+<p>"I fear they have," was the only reply he could make, in his strict
+truth.</p>
+
+<p>"Then, William, thee go to them. Go to them now, and set them right."</p>
+
+<p>He was already going, for he was engaged to the Ashleys that evening.
+Between Henry Ashley, the men at East's, and his own studies, which he
+would not wholly neglect, William's evenings had a tolerably busy time
+of it. He had assumed Samuel Lynn's place in the manufactory by Mr.
+Ashley's orders, head of all things, under the master. Cyril ground his
+teeth at this; he looked upon it as a slight to himself; but Cyril had
+no power to alter it.</p>
+
+<p>William found Mr. and Mrs. Ashley alone. Mary was out. He sat with them
+for a few minutes, talking of Anna, and then rose to go to Henry. "How
+is he this evening?" he inquired.</p>
+
+<p>"Ill and very fractious," was Mr. Ashley's reply. "William, you have
+great influence over him. I wish you could persuade him to <i>give way</i>
+less. He is not ill enough, so far as we can see, to keep his room; but
+we cannot get him out of it."</p>
+
+<p>Henry was in one of his depressed moods, excessively dispirited and
+irritable. "Oh! so you have come!" he burst forth as William entered. "I
+should be ashamed to neglect a sick fellow as you neglect me. If I were
+well and strong, and you ill, you would find it different."</p>
+
+<p>"I know I am late," acknowledged William. "Samuel Lynn took up a little
+of my time; and I have been sitting some minutes in the drawing-room."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course!" was the fractious answer. "Any one before me."</p>
+
+<p>"Samuel Lynn is a great deal better," continued William. "His mind is
+restored."</p>
+
+<p>Henry received the news ungraciously, making no rejoinder; but his side
+was twitching with pain. "How is <i>she</i>?" he asked. "Is the shame
+fretting out her life?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not at all. She is very well. As to shame&mdash;as you call it&mdash;I believe
+she has not taken much to herself."</p>
+
+<p>"It will kill her: you'll see. The sooner the better for her I should
+say."</p>
+
+<p>William sat down on the edge of the sofa, on which the invalid was
+lying. "Henry, I would set you right upon a point, if I thought it would
+be expedient to do so. You do go into fits of excitement so great, that
+it is dangerous to speak."</p>
+
+<p>"Tell out anything you have to tell. Tell me, if you choose, that the
+house is on fire, and I must be pitched out of window to escape it. It
+would make no impression upon me. My fits of excitement have passed away
+with Anna Lynn."</p>
+
+<p>"My news relates to Anna."</p>
+
+<p>"What if it does? She has passed away <i>for me</i>."</p>
+
+<p>"Helstonleigh, in its usual hasty fashion of jumping to conclusions, has
+jumped to a false one," continued William. "There have been no grounds
+for the great blame cast to Anna; except in the minds of a charitable
+public."</p>
+
+<p>"A fact?" asked Henry, after a pause.</p>
+
+<p>"There's not a shade of doubt about it."</p>
+
+<p>He received the answer with equanimity; it may be said, with apathy. And
+turning on his couch, he drew the cover over him, repeating the words
+previously spoken: "She has passed away for me."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIVC" id="CHAPTER_XIVC"></a>CHAPTER XIV.</h2>
+
+<h3>MR. DELVES ON HIS BEAM ENDS.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Samuel Lynn grew better, and Mr. Ashley, in his considerate kindness,
+proposed that he should reside abroad for a few months in the
+neighbourhood of Annonay, to watch the skin market, and pick up skins
+that would be suitable for their use. Anna and Patience were to
+accompany him. Anna had somewhat regained her footing in the good graces
+of the gossipers. That she did so, was partly owing to the indignant
+defence of her, entered upon by Herbert Dare. Herbert did behave well in
+this case, and he must have his due. Upon his return from London,
+whither he had gone soon after the termination of the trial, remaining
+away a week or two, he found what a very charitable ovation Helstonleigh
+was bestowing upon Anna Lynn. He met it with a storm of indignation; he
+bade them think as badly of him as they chose; believe him a second
+Burke if they liked; but to keep their mistaken tongues off Anna. What
+with one thing and another, some of the scandal-mongers did begin to
+think they had been too hasty, and withdrew their censure. Some (as a
+matter of course) preferred to doubt still; and opinions remained
+divided.</p>
+
+<p>Helstonleigh took up the gossip on another score&mdash;that of Mr. Ashley's
+sending Samuel Lynn abroad, as his skin-buyer, for an indefinite period.
+"A famous trade Ashley must be doing, to go to that expense!" grumbled
+some of the envious manufacturers. True; he <i>had</i> a famous trade. And if
+he had not had one, he might have sent him all the same. Helstonleigh
+never knew the benevolence of Thomas Ashley's heart. The journey was
+fully decided upon; and Samuel Lynn had an application from a member of
+his own persuasion, to rent his house, furnished, for the term of his
+absence. He was glad to accept the accommodation.</p>
+
+<p>But, before Mr. Lynn and his family started, Helstonleigh was fated to
+sustain another loss, in the person of Herbert Dare. Herbert contrived
+to get some sort of mission entrusted to <i>him</i> abroad, and made rather a
+summary exit from Helstonleigh to enter upon it. A friend of Herbert's,
+who had gone over to live in Holland, and with whom he was in frequent
+correspondence, wrote and offered him a situation in a merchant's house
+in Rotterdam, as "English clerk." The offer came in answer to a hint, or
+perhaps more than a hint, from Herbert, that a year or two's sojourn
+abroad would be acceptable to him. He would receive a good salary, if he
+proved himself equal to the duties, the information stated, and might
+rise in it, if he chose to remain. Herbert wrote off-hand to secure it,
+and then told his father what he had done.</p>
+
+<p>"Enter a house at Rotterdam, as English clerk!" repeated Mr. Dare,
+unable to credit his own ears. "<i>You</i> a clerk!"</p>
+
+<p>"What am I to do?" asked Herbert. "Since I came out of there," pointing
+in the direction of the county prison, "claims have thickened upon me. I
+do owe a good deal, and that's a fact&mdash;what with my own scores, and that
+for which I am liable for&mdash;for poor Anthony. People won't wait much
+longer; and I have no fancy to try the debtor's side of the prison."</p>
+
+<p>They were standing in the front room of the office. Mr. Dare's business
+appeared to be considerably falling off, and the office had often
+leisure on its hands now. Of the two clerks kept, one had holiday, the
+other was out. Somehow, what with one untoward thing and another, people
+were growing shy of the Dares. Mr. Dare leaned against the corner of the
+window-frame, watching the passers-by, his hands in his pockets, and a
+blank look on his face.</p>
+
+<p>"You say you can't help me, sir?" Herbert continued.</p>
+
+<p>"You know I can't; sufficiently to do any good," returned Mr. Dare. "I
+am too much pressed for money myself. Look at the expenses attending the
+trial: and I was embarrassed enough before. I <i>cannot</i> help you."</p>
+
+<p>"It seems to me, too, that you want me gone from here."</p>
+
+<p>"I have not said so," curtly responded Mr. Dare.</p>
+
+<p>"You told me the other day that it was my presence in the office which
+scared clients from it."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dare could not deny the fact. He <i>had</i> said it. What's more, he had
+thought it; and did so still. "I cannot tell what else it is that is
+keeping clients away," he rejoined. "We have not had a dozen in since
+the trial."</p>
+
+<p>"It is a slack season of the year."</p>
+
+<p>"Maybe," shortly answered Mr. Dare. "Slack as it is, there's some
+business astir, but people are going elsewhere to get it done; those,
+too, who have never for years been near anyone but us. The truth is,
+Herbert, you fell into bad odour with the town on the day of the trial;
+and that you must know. Though acquitted of the murder, all sorts of
+other things were laid to your charge. Quaker Lynn's stroke amongst the
+rest."</p>
+
+<p>"Carping sinners!" ejaculated Herbert.</p>
+
+<p>"And I suppose it turned people against the office," continued Mr.
+Dare. "My belief is, they won't come back again as long as you are in
+it."</p>
+
+<p>"That's precisely what I meant you had hinted to me" said Herbert.
+"Therefore, I thought I had better leave it. Pattison says he can get me
+this berth, and I should like to try it."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>You</i>'ll not like to turn merchant's clerk," repeated Mr. Dare with
+emphasis.</p>
+
+<p>"I shall like it better than being nailed for debt here," somewhat
+coarsely answered Herbert. "It is not so agreeable at home now,
+especially in this office, that I should cry to stay in it. You have
+changed, sir, amongst the rest: many a day through, you don't give me a
+civil word."</p>
+
+<p>Again Mr. Dare felt that he <i>had</i> changed to Herbert. When he found that
+he&mdash;Herbert&mdash;might have cleared himself at first from the terrible
+accusation of fratricide, had he so chosen, instead of allowing the
+obloquy to rest upon himself and his family for so long a period, he had
+become bitterly angry. Mrs. Dare and the whole family joined in the
+feeling, and Herbert suffered.</p>
+
+<p>"As to civility, Herbert, I must first get over the soreness left by
+your conduct. You acted very badly in allowing the case to go on to
+trial. If you had no objection to sit down quietly under the crime
+yourself, you had no right to throw the disgrace and expense upon your
+family."</p>
+
+<p>"If it were to come over again, I would not do so," acknowledged
+Herbert. "I thought then I was acting for the best."</p>
+
+<p>"Pshaw!" was the peevish ejaculation of Mr. Dare.</p>
+
+<p>"Altogether," resumed Herbert, "I think I had better go away. After a
+time, something or other may turn up to make things smoother here, and
+then I can come home again; unless I find a better opening abroad. I may
+do so; and I believe I shall like living there."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well," said Mr. Dare, after some minutes' silence. "It may be for
+the best. At all events, it will give time for things here to blow over.
+If you don't find it what you like, you can only return."</p>
+
+<p>"I shall be sure not to return, unless I can square up some of my
+liabilities here," returned Herbert. "You must help me to get there,
+sir."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you want?" asked Mr. Dare.</p>
+
+<p>"Fifty pounds."</p>
+
+<p>"I can't do it, Herbert," was the prompt answer.</p>
+
+<p>"I must have it if I am to go," was Herbert's firm reply. "There are two
+or three trifles here which I will not leave unsettled, and I cannot go
+over there with pockets absolutely empty. Fifty pounds is not so great a
+sum, sir, to pay to get rid of me."</p>
+
+<p>Old Anthony Dare knit his brow in perplexity. He supposed he must
+furnish the money, though he did not in the least see how it was to be
+done.</p>
+
+<p>The matter settled, Herbert took his hat and went out. The first object
+his eyes alighted on outside was Sergeant Delves. That worthy, pacing
+through the town, had brought himself to an anchor opposite the office
+of Mr. Dare, and was regarding it, lost in a brown study. The sergeant
+was in a state of discomfiture, touching the affair of the late Anthony
+Dare. He had lost no time in "looking after" Miss Caroline Mason, as he
+had promised himself; and the sequence had been&mdash;defeat. Without any
+open stir on the part of the police&mdash;without allowing Caroline herself
+to know that she was doubted&mdash;the sergeant contrived to put himself in
+full possession of her movements on that night. The result proved that
+she must be exempt from the suspicion; or, as the sergeant expressed it,
+"was out of the hole;" and that gentleman remained at fault again.</p>
+
+<p>Herbert crossed over to him. "What are you looking at, Delves?"</p>
+
+<p>"I wasn't looking at anything in particular," was the answer. "Coming in
+sight of your office naturally brought my thoughts back to that
+unsatisfactory business. I never was so baffled before."</p>
+
+<p>"It is very strange who it could have been," observed Herbert. "I often
+think of it."</p>
+
+<p>"Never so baffled before," continued the sergeant, as if there had been
+no interruption to his own words. "I could almost have been upon oath at
+the time, that the murderer was in the house; hadn't left it. And
+yet&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You could have been upon oath that it was I," interrupted Herbert.</p>
+
+<p>"That's true. I could. But you had yourself chiefly to thank for it, Mr.
+Herbert Dare, through making a mystery of your movements that night.
+After you were cleared, my mind turned to that girl; and that, I found,
+was no go."</p>
+
+<p>"What girl?" interrupted Herbert.</p>
+
+<p>"The one in Honey Fair: your brother Anthony's old sweetheart. It wasn't
+her, though; I have proofs. Charlotte East had her at her house that
+evening, and kept her till twelve o'clock, when she went home to bed in
+her garret. Charlotte's going to try to make something of her again. And
+now I am baffled, and I don't deny it."</p>
+
+<p>"To suspect any girl is ridiculous," observed Herbert Dare. "No girl, it
+is to be hoped, would possess the courage or the strength to accomplish
+such a deed as that."</p>
+
+<p>"You don't know 'em as we police do," nodded the sergeant. "I was asking
+your father only a day or two ago, whether he could make sure of his
+servants, that they had not been in it&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Of our servants?" interrupted Herbert, in surprise. "What an idea!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I have gone round to my old opinion&mdash;that it <i>was</i> some one in
+the house," returned the sergeant. "But it seems the servants are all on
+the square. I can't make it out."</p>
+
+<p>"Why on earth should you suppose it to be any one in the house?"
+questioned Herbert, in considerable wonderment.</p>
+
+<p>"Because I do," was the answer. "We police see and note down what others
+pass over. There was odds and ends of things at the time that made us
+infer it; and I can't get it out of my mind."</p>
+
+<p>"It is an impossibility that it could have been a resident of the
+house," dissented Herbert. "Every one in it is above suspicion."</p>
+
+<p>"Who do <i>you</i> fancy it might have been?" asked the sergeant, abruptly,
+almost as if he wished to surprise Herbert out of an incautious answer.</p>
+
+<p>But Herbert had nothing to tell him; no suspicion was on his mind to be
+surprised out of. "If I could fancy it was, or might be, any particular
+individual, I should come to you and say so, without asking," he
+replied. "I am as much at fault as you can be. Anthony may have made
+slight enemies in the town, what with his debts and his temper, and one
+thing or another; but no enemies of that terrible nature&mdash;capable of
+killing him. I wish I could see cause for a reasonable suspicion," he
+added with emotion. "I would give my right arm"&mdash;stretching it out&mdash;"to
+solve the mystery. As well for my sake as for my dead brother's."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, all I can say is, that I am down on my beam ends," concluded the
+sergeant.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile Henry Ashley was getting little better. He had fallen into a
+state of utter prostration. Mental anguish had told upon him physically,
+and his bodily weakness was no doubt great: but he made no effort to
+rouse himself. He would lie for hours, his eyes half-closed, noticing no
+one. The medical men said they had seen nothing like it, and Mr. and
+Mrs. Ashley grew alarmed. The only one to remonstrate with him&mdash;he alone
+held the key to its cause&mdash;was William Halliburton.</p>
+
+<p>William's influence over him was very great: he yielded to no one, not
+even to his father, as he would yield to William. Henry gave the reins
+to his tongue, and said all sorts of irritating things to William, as he
+did to every one else. It only masked the deep affection, the lasting
+friendship, which had taken possession of his heart for William.</p>
+
+<p>"Let me be; let me be," he said to William one day, in answer to a
+remonstrance that he should rouse himself. "I told you that my life had
+passed out with <i>her</i>."</p>
+
+<p>"But your life has not passed out with her," argued William; "your life
+is in you, just as much as it ever was. And it is your duty to make some
+use of your life; not to let it run to waste&mdash;as you are doing."</p>
+
+<p>"It does not affect you," was the tart reply.</p>
+
+<p>"It does very much affect me. I am grieved to see you hug your pain,
+instead of shaking it off; vexed to think that a man should so bury his
+days. It is an unfortunate thing that no one is cognizant of this matter
+but myself."</p>
+
+<p>"Is it though!" retorted Henry. "You are a fine Job's comforter!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, it is. Were it known to those about you, you would not for shame
+lie here, and indulge regrets after an imprudent and silly girl."</p>
+
+<p>Henry flashed an angry glance at him from his soft dark eyes. "Take
+care, my good fellow! I can stand some things; but I don't stand all."</p>
+
+<p>"An imprudent, silly girl, who does not care a rush for you,"
+emphatically repeated William: "whose wild and ill-judged affection is
+given to another. Was ever infatuation like unto yours!"</p>
+
+<p>"Have a care, I tell you!" burst forth Henry. "By what right do you say
+these things to me?"</p>
+
+<p>"I say them for your good&mdash;and I intend that you should feel them. When
+a surgeon's knife probes a wound, the patient groans and winces; but it
+is done to cure him."</p>
+
+<p>"You are a man of eloquence!" sarcastically rejoined Henry. "Pity but
+you could flourish at the Bar, and take the anticipated shine out of
+Frank!"</p>
+
+<p>"Answer me one plain question, Henry. Do you still indulge a hope
+towards Anna Lynn?&mdash;to her becoming your wife?"</p>
+
+<p>With a shriek of anger, Henry caught up his slipper, and sent it flying
+through the air at William's head.</p>
+
+<p>"What's that for?" equably demanded William, dodging his head out of the
+way.</p>
+
+<p>"How dare you hint at such a thing? I told you there were some things I
+wouldn't stand. Is it fitting that one who has figured in such an
+escapade should be made the wife of an Ashley? If we were left by our
+two selves upon the earth, all else gone dead and out of it, I wouldn't
+marry her."</p>
+
+<p>"Precisely so. I have judged you rightly. Then, under this state of
+things, what in the name of fortune is the use of your lying here and
+thinking about her?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think about her," fractiously returned Henry. "You are always
+fancying things."</p>
+
+<p>"You do think about her. I can see that you do. I should be above it,"
+quaintly continued William.</p>
+
+<p>"Go and pick up my slipper."</p>
+
+<p>"Will you come down to tea this evening?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I won't. You come here and preach up this morality, or divinity, or
+whatever you may please to term it, to me; but, wait and see how you'd
+act, if you should ever get struck on the keen edge as I have been."</p>
+
+<p>"Come! let me help you up."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't bother. I am not going to get up. I&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>At that moment, Mr. Ashley opened the door. His errand likewise was to
+induce Henry to leave his sofa and his room, and join them below. Henry
+could not be brought to comply.</p>
+
+<p>"No. I have just told William. I cannot think why he did not go back and
+say so. He only stops here to worry me. There! get along, William; and
+come back when you have swallowed enough tea."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Ashley laid his hand on William's arm, as they walked together along
+the corridor, and brought him to a halt. "What <i>is</i> this illness of
+Henry's? There is some secret connected with it, I am sure, and you are
+cognizant of it. I must know what it is."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Ashley's tone was a decided one; his manner firm. William made no
+reply.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me what it is, William."</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot," said William. "Certainly not without Henry's permission; and
+I do not think he will give it. If it were my secret, sir, instead of
+his, I would tell it at your bidding."</p>
+
+<p>"Is it of the mind or the body?"</p>
+
+<p>"The mind. I think the worst is over. Do not speak to him about it, I
+pray you, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"William, is it anything that can be remedied? By money?&mdash;by any means
+at command?"</p>
+
+<p>"It can never be remedied," replied William earnestly, "Were the whole
+world brought to bear upon it, it could do nothing. Time and his own
+good sense must effect the cure."</p>
+
+<p>"Then I may as well not ask about it if I cannot aid. You are fully in
+his confidence."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. And all that another can do, I am doing. We have a daily battle. I
+want to rouse him out of his apathy."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, that you could!" aspirated Mr. Ashley.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVC" id="CHAPTER_XVC"></a>CHAPTER XV.</h2>
+
+<h3>A LOSS FOR POMERANIAN KNOLL.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Pomeranian Knoll had scarcely recovered its equanimity after the shock
+of the departure of Herbert Dare for foreign parts, when it found itself
+about to be shorn of another inmate. The word "shock" is used to express
+the suddenness of the affair, rather than in its enlarged and more
+ordinary sense. Herbert, what with one thing and another, had brought a
+good deal of vexation upon the paternal home; Helstonleigh also had not
+been holding him in extensive favour since the trial; and that home was
+not sorry that he should absent himself from it for a time. But it
+certainly did not bargain for his announcing his departure one night,
+and being off the next morning. Yet such was the course he pursued: and
+in that light his departure may be said to have been a shock to the
+town. Mr. Dare had known of it longer; but he had not proclaimed it any
+more than Herbert had: it may be that Herbert feared being stopped, if
+the intended journey got wind.</p>
+
+<p>A week or two after this, Signora Varsini received a letter with a
+foreign post-mark on it. The fact was nothing extraordinary in itself:
+the signora did occasionally receive letters bearing foreign post-marks;
+but this one threw her into a state of commotion, the like of which had
+never been witnessed. Thrusting the letter into the deepest pocket of
+her dress when it was delivered to her, she finished giving the music
+lesson to Minny, which she was occupied upon, and then retired to her
+room to peruse it. From this she emerged a short time after, with a long
+face of consternation, uttering frantic ejaculations. Mrs. Dare was
+quite alarmed. What was the matter with mademoiselle?</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, what misère! what désolation! what tristes nouvelles!" The letter
+was from her aunt in Paris, who was thrown upon her death-bed; and she,
+mademoiselle, must hasten thither without delay. If she could not start
+by a train that day, she must go by the first one the next. She was
+désolée to leave madame at a coup; her heart would break in bidding
+adieu to the young ladies; but necessity was stern. She must make her
+baggage forthwith, and would be obliged to madame for her salary.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Dare was taken&mdash;as the saying runs&mdash;all of a heap. She had not
+cared to part with mademoiselle so soon, although the retaining her
+entailed an additional expense, which they could ill afford in their
+gradually increasing embarrassments and straitening means: but the chief
+point that puzzled her was the paying up of the salary. Between thirty
+and forty pounds were due. There appeared, however, to be no help for
+it, and she applied to Mr. Dare.</p>
+
+<p>"You may as well ask me for my head as for that sum to-day," was that
+gentleman's reply, thinking he was destined never to find peace on
+earth. "Tell her you will send it after her, if she must go."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Dare shook her head. It would not be of the least use, she was
+sure. Mademoiselle was not one to be put off in that way, or to depart
+without her money.</p>
+
+<p>How Mr. Dare managed it he perhaps hardly knew himself; but he brought
+home the money at night, and the governess was paid in full. On the
+following morning there was a ceremonious leave-taking, loud and
+suggestive on the part of mademoiselle. She saluted them all on both
+cheeks, and promised to write every week, at least. A fly came to the
+door for her and her luggage, and George Dare mounted the box to escort
+her to the station. Mademoiselle politely invited him inside; but he had
+just lighted a cigar, and preferred to stop where he was.</p>
+
+<p>"I say, mademoiselle," cried he, after she was seated in the railway
+carriage, "if you should happen to come across Herbert, I wish you'd
+tell him&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Mademoiselle interrupted with a burst of indignation. <i>She</i> come across
+Monsieur Herbert! What should bring her coming across <i>him</i>? Monsieur
+George must be <i>fou</i> to think it. Monsieur Herbert was not in Paris, was
+he? She had understood he was in Holland.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, well, it's all on the other side of the Channel," answered George,
+whose geographical notions of the Continent were not very definite.
+"Perhaps you won't see him, though, mademoiselle; so never mind."</p>
+
+<p>Mademoiselle replied by telling him to take care of himself; for the
+whistle was sounding. George drew back, and watched the train off;
+mademoiselle nodding her farewell to him from the window.</p>
+
+<p>And that was the last that Helstonleigh saw of Mrs. Dare's Italian
+governess, the Signora Varsini. Helstonleigh might not have been any the
+worse had it never seen the first of her. Mrs. Dare, after her
+departure, suddenly remembered that mademoiselle had once told her she
+had not a single relative in the world. Who could this aunt be, to whom
+she was hastening?</p>
+
+<p>And Henry Ashley? As the weeks and the months went on, Henry began to
+rouse himself from his prostration; his apathy. William Halliburton made
+no secret of it to Henry that it was suspected he was suffering from
+some inward grief which he was concealing, and that he had been
+questioned on the point by Mr. Ashley. "You know," said William, "I
+shall have no resource but to <i>tell</i>, unless you show yourself a
+sensible man, and come out of this nonsense."</p>
+
+<p>It alarmed Henry; rather than have his secret feelings betrayed for the
+family benefit, he could have died. In a grumbling and discontented sort
+of mood, he went about again, and resumed his idle occupations (such as
+they were) as usual. One evening William enticed him out for a walk,
+took possession of his arm, and pounced into Robert East's, before Henry
+well knew where he was. He sat down, apathetic and indifferent, after
+nodding carelessly to the respectful salutation of the men. "I must give
+just ten minutes to them, as I am here," observed William. "You can go
+to sleep the while."</p>
+
+<p>The ten minutes lengthened into twenty, and Henry's attention was so far
+roused that he came to the table in his impulsive way, and began talking
+on his own account. When William was ready to go, he was not; and he
+actually told the men that he would come round again. It was a great
+point gained.</p>
+
+<p>Small beginnings, it has been remarked, lead to great endings. The
+humble, confined way in which the class had begun at Robert East's; the
+vague ideas of William upon the subject; the doubtings of East and
+Crouch, were looked back upon with a smile. For the little venture had
+swollen itself into a great undertaking&mdash;an undertaking that was
+destined to effect a revolution throughout the whole of Honey Fair, and
+might probably even extend to Helstonleigh itself. The drawback now was
+want of room; numbers were being kept away by it. Henry Ashley did go
+again; and finding that books of the right kind ran short, he, the day
+after his second visit, wrote off an order for a whole cargo.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Ashley was in a state of inward delight. Anything to rouse him! "You
+think it will succeed, that movement, do you, Henry?" he carelessly
+observed.</p>
+
+<p>"It's safe to succeed," was the answer. "William, with his palavering,
+has gained the ear of the fellows. I don't believe there's William
+Halliburton's equal in the whole world!" he added, with enthusiasm.
+"Fancy his sacrificing his time to such a thing, and for no benefit to
+himself! It will bear a rich crop of fruit too. If I have the gift&mdash;I'll
+give you a long word for once&mdash;of ratiocination, this reform of
+William's will be more extensive than we now foresee."</p>
+
+<p>The chief thing in these evenings was to keep alive the interest of the
+men. Not to lead them to abstruse things, which they had a difficulty in
+understanding, and remained strange to at best; but rather to plunge
+them into familiar home topics&mdash;the philosophy, if you will, of everyday
+life. There is a right and a wrong way of doing most things, and it
+often happens that people, from ignorance, pursue the wrong. Of the
+plain sanitary laws, relating to physical health, Honey Fair was
+intensely ignorant: of the ventilation of rooms, of cleanliness, of the
+most simple rules by which the body can be kept in order, they knew no
+more than they did of the moon. When a man was, to use Honey Fair
+phraseology, "took bad," he generally neglected the symptoms altogether,
+thereby laying the foundation of worse illness: or else he went to a
+doctor, and ran himself into expense. A little familiarity with ordinary
+complaints and ordinary antidotes would have remedied this. An
+acquaintance with sanitary laws would have prevented it. When children
+were down with measles or scarlatina, the careless of the land allowed
+the maladies to take their own course, and the sufferers to air
+themselves in the gutters, as usual. The cautious ones smothered the
+patients in a hot room, keeping up a fire as large as the stock of coals
+would allow, and borrowing all the blankets from the houses on either
+side, to heap upon them. No wonder the supply of little coffins was
+great to Honey Fair.</p>
+
+<p>All these things would be talked of and discussed, and a little
+enlightenment imparted to the men, as a guidance for the future. No one
+who did not witness it can imagine the delighted satisfaction with which
+these and similar practical topics were welcomed; for they bore for them
+a personal interest&mdash;they concerned themselves, their families, and
+their homes.</p>
+
+<p>One evening the way in which Honey Fair rather liked to spend its
+Sundays was under discussion; namely, the men in smoking; the women
+slatternly and dirty; the children fighting and quarrelling in the dirt
+outside.</p>
+
+<p>William Halliburton was asking them in a half-earnest, half-joking
+manner, what particular benefit they found in it, that it should not be
+remedied? Could they impart its pleasures to him? If so&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>His voice suddenly faltered and stopped. Standing just inside the door
+of the room, a quiet spectator and listener of the proceedings, was
+Thomas Ashley. The men followed William's gaze, saw who was amongst
+them, and rose in respectful silence.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Ashley came forward, signing to William to continue. But William's
+eloquence had died out, leaving only a heightened colour in its place.
+In the presence of Mr. Ashley, whom he so loved and respected, he had
+grown timid as a child.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know," said Mr. Ashley, addressing the men, "it gives me greater
+pleasure to see you here than it would do were I to hear that you had
+come into a fortune."</p>
+
+<p>They smiled and shook their heads. "Fortunes didn't come to the like o'
+them."</p>
+
+<p>"Never mind," replied Mr. Ashley: "fortunes are not the best gifts in
+life."</p>
+
+<p>He stayed talking with them some little time, quiet words of
+encouragement, and then withdrew, wishing them good luck. William left
+with him: and as they passed through Honey Fair, the women ran to their
+doors to gaze after them. Mr. Ashley, slightly bent with his advancing
+years, leaned upon William's arm, but his face was fresh as ever, and
+his dark hair showed no signs of age. William erect, noble; his height
+greater than Mr. Ashley's, his forehead broader, his deep grey eyes
+strangely earnest and sincere; and a flitting smile playing on his lips.
+He was listening to Mr. Ashley's satisfaction at what he had witnessed.</p>
+
+<p>"How long do you intend to sacrifice your evenings to them?"</p>
+
+<p>"It is no sacrifice, Mr. Ashley. I am glad to do it. I consider it one
+of the best uses to which my evenings could be given. I intend to enlist
+Henry for good in the cause, if I can do so."</p>
+
+<p>"You will be an ingenious persuader if you do," returned Mr. Ashley. "I
+would give half I am worth," he abruptly added, "to see the boy take an
+interest in life."</p>
+
+<p>"It will be sure to come, sir. One of these days I shall surprise him
+into reading a good play to the men. Something to laugh at. It will be a
+beginning."</p>
+
+<p>"He is very much better," observed Mr. Ashley. "All that listless apathy
+is going."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes. He is all but cured."</p>
+
+<p>"What was it, William?"</p>
+
+<p>William was taken by surprise. He did not answer, and Mr. Ashley
+repeated the question.</p>
+
+<p>"It is his secret, sir, not mine."</p>
+
+<p>"You must confide it to me," said Mr. Ashley, in his tone of quiet
+firmness. "You know me, William. When I promise that neither it nor the
+fact of its having been disclosed to me, shall ever escape me, directly
+or indirectly, to any living person, you know that you may depend upon
+me."</p>
+
+<p>He paused. William did not speak: he was debating with himself what he
+<i>ought</i> to do.</p>
+
+<p>"William, it is a relief that I must have. Since my suspicions, that
+there was a secret, were confirmed, I cannot tell you what improbable
+fancies and fears have not run riot in my brain. For prostration so
+excessive to have overtaken him, one would almost think he had been
+guilty of murder, or some other unaccountable crime. <i>You must relieve
+my mind</i>: which, in spite of my uncontrollable fancies, I do not doubt
+the truth will do. It will make no difference to any one; it will only
+be an additional bond between myself and you; and you, my almost son."</p>
+
+<p>William's duty rose before him, clear and distinct. But when he spoke,
+it was in a whisper.</p>
+
+<p>"He loved Anna Lynn."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Ashley walked on without comment. William resumed.</p>
+
+<p>"Had that unhappy affair not taken place, Henry's intention was to make
+her his wife, provided you could have been brought to consent to it. His
+whole days used to be spent, I believe, in planning how he could best
+invent a chance of obtaining it."</p>
+
+<p>"And now?" very sharply asked Mr. Ashley.</p>
+
+<p>"Now the thing is at an end for ever. Henry's good sense has come to his
+aid; I suppose I may say his pride; his self-esteem. Innocent of actual
+ill as Anna was in the affair, there was sufficient reflection cast upon
+her to prove to Henry that his hopeful visions could never be carried
+out. That was Henry's secret, sir: and I almost feared the blow would
+have killed him. But he is getting over it."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Ashley drew a deep breath. "William, I thank you. You have relieved
+me from a nightmare: and you may forget having given me the confidence
+if you like, for it will never be abused. What are you going to do about
+space?" he continued, in a different tone.</p>
+
+<p>"About space, sir?"</p>
+
+<p>"For those protégés of yours, at East's. They seem to me to be tolerably
+confined for it, there?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, and that is not the worst," said William. "Men are asking to join
+every day, and they cannot be taken in."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>I</i> can't think how you manage to get so many&mdash;and to keep them."</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose the chief secret is, that their interest enters into it. We
+contrive to keep that up. Most of them would not go back to the Horned
+Ram for the world."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, where shall you stow them?"</p>
+
+<p>"It is more than I can say, sir. We must manage it somehow."</p>
+
+<p>"Henry told me you were ambitious enough to aspire to the Mormon
+failure."</p>
+
+<p>"I was foolish enough to do so," replied William, with a laugh. "Seeing
+it was very much in the condition of the famed picture taken of the good
+Dr. Primrose and his family&mdash;useless&mdash;I went and offered a rent for
+it&mdash;only a trifling sum, it is true; but if our fires only kept it from
+damp, one would think the builder might have been glad to let it, thrown
+as it is upon his hands. I told him so."</p>
+
+<p>"What did he say?"</p>
+
+<p>"He stood out for thirty pounds. But that's more than I&mdash;than we can
+afford."</p>
+
+<p>"And who was going to find the money? You?"</p>
+
+<p>William hesitated; but did not see any way out of the dilemma.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, sir, you know it is a sad pity for the good work to be stopped,
+through so insignificant a trifle as want of room."</p>
+
+<p>"I think it is," replied Mr. Ashley. "You can hire it to-morrow, and
+move your forms and tables and books into it as soon as you like. I will
+find the rent."</p>
+
+<p>The words took William by surprise. "Oh, Mr. Ashley, do you really mean
+it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Really mean it? It is little enough, compared with what you are doing.
+A few years, William, and your name may be great in Helstonleigh. You
+are working on for it."</p>
+
+<p>William walked with Mr. Ashley as far as his house, and then turned back
+to his own. He found sorrow there. Not having been home since
+dinner-time, for he had taken tea at Mr. Ashley's, he was unconscious of
+some tidings which had been brought by the afternoon's post. Jane sat
+and grieved while she told him. Her brother Robert was dead. Very rarely
+indeed did she hear from the New World; Margaret appeared to be too full
+of cares and domestic bustle to write often. She might not have written
+now, but to tell of the death of Robert.</p>
+
+<p>"I have lost myself sometimes in a vision of seeing Robert home again,"
+said Jane, with a sigh. "And now he is gone!"</p>
+
+<p>"He was not married, was he?" asked William.</p>
+
+<p>"No. I fear he never got on very well. Never to be at his ease."</p>
+
+<p>Gar came in noisily, and interrupted them. The death of an uncle whom he
+had never seen, and who had lived thousands of miles away, did not
+appear to Gar to be a matter calling for any especial amount of grief.
+Gar was in high spirits on his own account; for Gar was going to
+Cambridge. Not in all the pomp and pride of an unlimited purse, however,
+but as a humble sizar.</p>
+
+<p>Gar, not seeing his way very clearly, had been wise enough to pluck up
+courage and apply for counsel to the head master of the college school.
+He had told him that he meant to go to college, and how he meant to go,
+and he asked Mr. Keating if he could help him to a situation, where he
+might be useful between terms. "A school where I might become a junior
+assistant," suggested Gar. "Or any family who would take me to read with
+their sons? If I only earned my food, it would be so much the less
+weight upon my mother," added he, in the candid spirit peculiar to the
+family.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you forgotten that you ought to work, yourself, out of terms,
+nearly as hard as in them?" asked Mr. Keating.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no, sir, I have not forgotten it. I will take care to accomplish my
+own work as well. That should not suffer."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Keating looked at the cheerful, hopeful face, a sure index of the
+brave hopeful spirit. He had taken unusual interest in the two
+Halliburtons, so clever and persevering. It had been impossible for him
+not to do so; for, if Mr. Keating had a weakness, it was for a good
+classical scholar.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll see about it, Gar," said he. "But you are rather young to read
+with students. And I do not suppose any school would be willing to
+engage you on account of the interruption that keeping your terms would
+cause. If nothing better turns up, you can remain in the college
+school-room here, and undertake one of the junior desks. I should give
+you nothing for it," added the master, "except your meals. Those you
+would be welcome to take at my house with my private pupils, sleeping at
+your own home. And I think that, for you, it would be a better
+arrangement than any other, for it would leave you plenty of time for
+your own studies, and I could still superintend them."</p>
+
+<p>Gar thought the arrangement would be first-rate. It would be the very
+thing. "Not that I ever thought of it," he ingenuously said. "I did not
+know the college school admitted assistants."</p>
+
+<p>"Neither does it," replied the master. "You would be ostensibly my
+private pupil. And if I choose to set a private pupil to keep the desks
+to their work, that is my affair."</p>
+
+<p>Gar could only reiterate his thanks.</p>
+
+<p>"I am pleased to give you this little encouragement," remarked Mr.
+Keating. "When I see boys hopefully plodding on in the teeth of
+difficulties, of brave heart, of sterling conduct, they deserve all the
+encouragement that can be given to them. If you and your brothers only
+go on as you have hitherto gone on, you will stand in after-years as
+bright examples of what industry and perseverance can achieve."</p>
+
+<p>So that, altogether, Gar was in spirits, and did not by any means put on
+superfluous mourning for a gentleman who had died in the backwoods of
+Canada, although he was his mother's brother.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIC" id="CHAPTER_XVIC"></a>CHAPTER XVI.</h2>
+
+<h3>AN OFFER OF MARRIAGE.</h3>
+
+
+<p>"Mary," said Mr. Ashley, "I have received an offer of marriage for you."</p>
+
+<p>A somewhat abrupt announcement to make to a young lady, and Mr. Ashley
+spoke in the gravest tone. They were seated round the breakfast table,
+Mary by her mother's side, who was pouring out the coffee. Mary looked
+surprised, rather amused; but that was the only emotion discernible in
+her countenance.</p>
+
+<p>"It is fine to be you, Miss Mary!" struck in Henry, before anyone could
+speak. "Pray, sir, who is the venturer?"</p>
+
+<p>"He assures me that his happiness is bound up in his offer being
+accepted," resumed Mr. Ashley. "I fancy he felt inclined to assure me
+that Mary's was also. Of course, all I can do, is, to lay the proposal
+before her."</p>
+
+<p>"What <i>is</i> it that you are talking about, Thomas?" interposed Mrs.
+Ashley, unable until then to say a word, and speaking with some
+irritability. "I do not consider Mary old enough to be married. How can
+you think of saying such things to her?"</p>
+
+<p>"Neither do I, mamma," said Mary, with a laugh. "I like my home too well
+to leave it."</p>
+
+<p>"And while you are talking sentiment, my curiosity is on the rack,"
+cried Henry. "I have inquired the name of the bridegroom, and I should
+like to be answered."</p>
+
+<p>"The would-be bridegroom," put in Mary.</p>
+
+<p>"Mary, I am ashamed of you!" went on Henry. "I blush for your manners.
+Nice credit she does to your bringing up, mamma! When young ladies of
+condition receive a celestial offer, they behave with due propriety,
+hang their heads with a blush, and subdue their voice to a whisper. And
+here's Mary&mdash;look at her!&mdash;talking quite loudly and making merry over
+it. Once more, sir, who is the adventurous gentleman? Is it good old
+General Wells, our gouty neighbour opposite, who is lifted in and out of
+his chariot for his daily airing? I have told Mary repeatedly that she
+was setting her cap at him."</p>
+
+<p>"It is not so advantageous a proposal in a financial point of view,"
+observed Mr. Ashley, maintaining his impassibility. "It proceeds from
+one of my dependents at the manufactory."</p>
+
+<p>Mary had the sugar-basin in her hand at the moment, and a sudden tremor
+seemed to seize her. She set it down; but so clumsily, that half the
+lumps fell out. Her face had turned to a glowing crimson. Mr. Ashley
+noticed it.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Ashley only noticed the sugar. "Mary, how came you to do that? Very
+careless, my dear."</p>
+
+<p>Mary began meekly to pick up the sugar, the flush giving way to pallor.
+She lifted her handkerchief to her face and held it there, as if she had
+a cold.</p>
+
+<p>"The honour comes from Cyril Dare," said Mr. Ashley.</p>
+
+<p>"Cyril Dare!"</p>
+
+<p>"Cyril Dare!"</p>
+
+<p>In different tones of scorn, but each expressing it most fully, the
+repetition broke from Mrs. Ashley and Henry. Mary, on the contrary,
+recovered her equanimity and her countenance. She laughed out, as if she
+were glad.</p>
+
+<p>"What did you say to him, papa?"</p>
+
+<p>"I gave him my opinion only. That I thought he had mistaken my daughter,
+if he entertained hopes that she would listen to his suit. The question
+rests with you, Mary."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh papa, what nonsense! rests with me! Why you know I would never have
+Cyril Dare."</p>
+
+<p>A smile crossed Mr. Ashley's face. He probably <i>had</i> known it.</p>
+
+<p>"Cyril Dare!" repeated Mary, as if unable to overcome her astonishment.
+"He must have turned silly. I would not have Cyril Dare if he were worth
+his weight in gold."</p>
+
+<p>"And he must be worth a great deal more than his weight in gold, Mary,
+before I would consent to your having him," quietly rejoined Mr. Ashley.</p>
+
+<p>"Have <i>him</i>!" echoed Henry. "If I feared there was a danger of the
+daughter of all the Ashleys so degrading herself, I should bribe cook to
+make an arsenic cake, cut the young lady a portion myself, and stand by
+while she ate it."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't talk foolishly, Henry," rebuked Mrs. Ashley.</p>
+
+<p>"Mamma, I must say I do not think it would be half so foolish as Cyril
+Dare was," cried Mary, with spirit.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Ashley, relieved from any temporary fear of losing Mary, was
+comfortably going on with her breakfast. "Did Cyril say how he meant to
+provide for Mary, if he obtained her?" asked she, with an amused look.</p>
+
+<p>"He did not touch upon ways and means. I conclude that he intended I
+should have the honour of keeping them both."</p>
+
+<p>Henry Ashley leaned back in his chair, and laughed. "If this is not the
+richest joke I have heard for a long while! Cyril Dare! the kinsman of
+Herbert the beautiful! Confound his im-pu-dence!"</p>
+
+<p>"Then you decline the honour of the alliance, Mary?" said Mr. Ashley.
+"What am I to tell him?"</p>
+
+<p>"What you please, papa. Tell him, if you like, that I would rather marry
+a chimney-sweep. I <i>would</i>, if it came to a choice between the two. How
+very senseless of Cyril to think of such a thing!"</p>
+
+<p>"How very shrewd, I think, Mary&mdash;if he could only have got you," was the
+reply of Mr. Ashley.</p>
+
+<p>"If!" saucily put in Mary.</p>
+
+<p>Henry bent over the table to his sister. "I tell you what, Mary. You go
+this morning and offer yourself to our gouty friend, the general. He
+will jump at it, and we'll have the banns put up. We cannot, you know,
+be subjected to such shocks as these, on your account; it is
+unreasonable to expect it. I assure you it will be the most effectual
+plan to set Cyril Dare, and those of his tribe, at rest. No, thank you,
+ma'am," turning to Mrs. Ashley&mdash;"no more coffee. This has been enough
+breakfast for me."</p>
+
+<p>"Who is this?" asked Mr. Ashley, as footsteps were heard on the
+gravel-walk.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Ashley lifted her eyes. "It is William Halliburton."</p>
+
+<p>"William Halliburton!" echoed Henry. "Ah! if you could have put his
+heart and intellect into Cyril's form, now, it might have done."</p>
+
+<p>He spoke with that freedom of speech which characterized him, and in
+which, from his infirmity, he had not been checked. No one made any
+remark in answer, and William entered. He had come to ask some business
+question of Mr. Ashley.</p>
+
+<p>"I will walk down with you," said Mr. Ashley, "and see to it. Take a
+seat, William."</p>
+
+<p>"It is getting late, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I suppose you can afford to be late for once," replied Mr.
+Ashley. And William smiled as he sat down.</p>
+
+<p>"We have had a letter from Cambridge, this morning. From Gar."</p>
+
+<p>"And how does Mr. Gar get on?" asked Henry.</p>
+
+<p>"First rate. He takes a leaf out of Frank's book; determined to see no
+difficulties in his way. Frank's letters are always cheering. I really
+believe he cares no more for being a servitor than he would for wearing
+a hat at Christchurch. All his wish is to get on: he looks to the
+future."</p>
+
+<p>"But he does his duty in the present," quietly remarked Mr. Ashley.</p>
+
+<p>William smiled. "It is the only way to insure the future, sir. Frank and
+Gar have been learning that all their lives."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Ashley, telling William not to get the fidgets, for he was not ready
+yet, withdrew to the next room with his wife. They had some weighty
+domestic matter to settle, touching a dinner party. Henry linked his arm
+within William's and drew him to the window, throwing it open to the
+early spring sunshine. Mary remained at the breakfast table.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you think Cyril Dare, the presuming, has had the conscience to
+ask?" began he.</p>
+
+<p>"I know," replied William. "I heard him say he should ask it yesterday."</p>
+
+<p>"The deuce you did?" uttered Henry. "And you did not knock him down?"</p>
+
+<p>"Knock him down! Was it any business of mine?"</p>
+
+<p>"You might have done it as my friend, I think. A slight correction of
+his impudence."</p>
+
+<p>"I do not see that it is your business either," returned William. "It is
+Mr. Ashley's."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, indeed! Perhaps you would like it carried out?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have no right to say it shall not be."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you!" chafed Henry. "Mary," he called out to his sister, "here's
+Halliburton recommending that that business we know of shall be carried
+out."</p>
+
+<p>William only laughed. He was accustomed to Henry's exaggerations. "It is
+what Cyril has been expecting for years," said he.</p>
+
+<p>Henry gazed at him. "What is? What are you talking of?"</p>
+
+<p>"Being taken into partnership by Mr. Ashley."</p>
+
+<p>"Is it <i>that</i> you are blundering over? Does he expect it?" continued
+Henry, after a pause.</p>
+
+<p>"Cyril said, yesterday, the firm would soon be Ashley and Dare."</p>
+
+<p>"Did he indeed! He had better not count upon it so as to disturb his
+digestion. That's presumption enough, goodness knows; but it is a mere
+flea-bite compared with the other. He has asked for Mary. It is true as
+that we are standing here."</p>
+
+<p>William turned his questioning gaze on Henry. He did not understand.
+"Asked for her for what? What to do?"</p>
+
+<p>"To be his wife."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" The strange sound was not a burst of indignation, or a groan of
+pain: it was a mixture of both. William thrust his head out of the
+window.</p>
+
+<p>"He actually asked the master for her yesterday!" went on Henry. "He
+said his heart, or liver, or some such part of him was bound up in her:
+as she was bound up in him. Fancy the honour of her becoming Mrs.
+Cyril!"</p>
+
+<p>William did not turn his head: not a glimpse of his face could be
+caught. "Will she have him?" he asked, at length.</p>
+
+<p>The question exasperated Henry. "Yes, she will. There! Go and
+congratulate her. You are a fool, William."</p>
+
+<p>The sound of his angry voice, not his words, reached Mary's ears. She
+came forward. "What is the matter, Henry?"</p>
+
+<p>"So he is a fool," was Henry's answer. "He wants to know if you are
+going to marry Cyril Dare. I tell him yes. No one but an idiot would
+have asked it."</p>
+
+<p>William turned, his face full of an emotion that Henry had never seen
+there: a streak of scarlet on his cheeks, his earnest eyes strangely
+troubled. And Mary?&mdash;her face seemed to have borrowed the same flush, as
+she stood there, her head and eyelashes bent.</p>
+
+<p>Henry Ashley gazed, first at one, next at the other, and then turned and
+leaned from the window himself. In contrition for having spoken so
+openly of his sister's affairs? Not at all. Whistling the bars of a
+renowned comic song of the day called "The Steam Arm."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Ashley put in his head. "I am ready, William."</p>
+
+<p>William touched Mary's hand in silence by way of adieu, and halted as he
+passed Henry. "Shall you come round to the men to-night?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I shan't," retorted Henry. "I am upset for the day."</p>
+
+<p>He was halfway down the path when he heard himself called by Henry,
+still leaning from the window. He went back to him.</p>
+
+<p>"She said she'd rather have a chimney-sweep than Cyril Dare. Don't go
+and make a muff of yourself again."</p>
+
+<p>William turned away without any answer. Mr. Ashley, who had waited, put
+his arm within his, and they proceeded to the manufactory.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you heard this rumour, respecting Herbert Dare, that has been
+wafted over from Germany within the last day or two?" inquired Mr.
+Ashley, as they walked along.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir," replied William.</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder if it is true?"</p>
+
+<p>William did not answer. William's private opinion was, that it was true.
+It had been tolerably well authenticated. A rumour that need not be very
+specifically enlarged upon here. Helstonleigh never came to the bottom
+of it: never knew for certain how much of it was true, and how much
+false, and we cannot expect to be better favoured than Helstonleigh, in
+the point of enlightenment. It was not a pleasant rumour, and the late
+governess's name was unaccountably mixed up in it. For one thing, it
+said that Herbert Dare, finding commercial pursuits not congenial to his
+taste, had given them up, and was roaming about Germany. Mademoiselle
+also. It was a report that did not do credit to Herbert, or tend to
+reflect respectability on his family; yet Mr. Ashley fully believed that
+to that report he owed the application of Cyril with regard to Mary,
+strange as it may appear at a first glance, to say it. The application
+had astonished Mr. Ashley beyond expression. He could only come to the
+conclusion that Cyril must have entertained the hope for some time, but
+had been induced to disclose it prematurely. So prematurely&mdash;even
+allowing that other circumstances favoured it&mdash;that Mr. Ashley was
+tempted to laugh. A man without means, without a home, without any
+definite prospects, merely a workman, as might be said, in his
+manufactory, upon a very small salary; it was ridiculous in the extreme
+for <i>him</i> to offer marriage to Miss Ashley. Mr. Ashley, of upright
+conduct in the sight of day, was not one to wink at folly; any escapade
+such as that, now flying about Helstonleigh as attributed to Herbert,
+would not be an additional recommendation in Cyril's favour. Had he
+hastened to speak <i>before</i> it should reach Mr. Ashley's ears? Mr. Ashley
+thought so. An hour after Cyril had spoken, he heard the scandal; and it
+flashed over his mind that to that he was indebted for the premature
+honour. Cyril would have liked to secure his consent before anything
+unpleasant transpired.</p>
+
+<p>As Mr. Ashley came in view of the manufactory, Cyril Dare observed him.
+Cyril was lounging in an indolent manner at the entrance doors,
+exchanging greetings with the various passers-by. He ought to have been
+inside at his business; but oughts went for little with Cyril. Since
+Samuel Lynn's departure, Cyril had been living in clover; enjoying as
+much idleness as he liked. William assumed no authority over him, though
+full authority had been given to William over the manufactory in
+general; and Cyril, except when he just happened to be under Mr.
+Ashley's eye, passed his time agreeably. Cyril stared as he caught sight
+of the master, and then went in, his spirits going down a little. To see
+the master thus walking confidentially with William, seemed to argue
+unfavourably for his suit; though why it should seem so, Cyril did not
+know. Cyril's staring was occasioned by that fact. He had never been
+promoted to the honour of thus walking familiarly with Mr. Ashley. In
+fact, for the master, a reserved and proud man with all his good
+qualities, to link his arm within a dependant's, astonished Cyril
+considerably.</p>
+
+<p>When they entered, Cyril was at work in his apron, standing at the
+counter in the master's room, steady and assiduous, as though he had
+been there for the last half-hour. The master came in, but William
+remained in Mr. Lynn's room.</p>
+
+<p>"Good morning, sir," said Cyril.</p>
+
+<p>"Good morning," replied the master.</p>
+
+<p>He sat down to his desk, and opened a letter that was lying on it.
+Presently he looked up.</p>
+
+<p>"Cyril!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Step here."</p>
+
+<p>Cyril approached the desk, feeling what a lady might call nervous. The
+decisive moment had come: should he be provided for, for life; enjoy a
+good position and the means of living as a gentleman? Or would his
+unlucky star prevail, and consign him to&mdash;he did not quite foresee to
+what?</p>
+
+<p>"I have spoken to Miss Ashley. She was excessively surprised at your
+application, and begs to decline it in the most unequivocal manner.
+Allow me to add a recommendation from myself, that you bury in oblivion
+the fact of your having made it."</p>
+
+<p>Cyril hesitated for a moment, and looked foolish. "Why?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Why?</i>" repeated Mr. Ashley. "I think you could answer that query for
+yourself, and save me the trouble. I do not wish to go too closely into
+facts and causes, past and present, unless you desire it. One thing you
+must be aware of, Cyril, that such a proposition from you to my daughter
+was utterly out of place. I should have rejected it point-blank
+yesterday; in fact, in the surprise of the moment, I almost spoke out
+more plainly than you would have liked, but that I thought it as well
+for you to have Miss Ashley's opinion as well as my own."</p>
+
+<p>"Why am I rejected, sir?" continued Cyril.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Ashley waved his hand with dignity. "Return to your employment,
+Cyril. It is quite sufficient for you to know that you are rejected,
+without my going into motives and reasons. They might not, I say, be
+palatable to you."</p>
+
+<p>Cyril did not venture to press it further. He returned to the counter,
+and stood there, ostensibly going on with his work, and boiling over
+with rage. The master sat some little time longer and then left the
+room. Soon after, William came in. His eye caught Cyril's employment.</p>
+
+<p>"Cyril," cried he, hastily advancing to him, "you must not make up those
+gloves. I told you yesterday not to touch them."</p>
+
+<p>A dangerous speech. Cyril was not unlike touchwood at that moment,
+liable to go off at the slightest contact. "You told me!" he burst
+forth. "Do you think I am going to do what you choose to tell me? Try it
+on for the future, that's all. <i>You</i> tell <i>me</i>!"</p>
+
+<p>"They are the very best gloves, and must be sorted with nicety,"
+returned William. "Don't you know that the sorting of the last parcel
+was found fault with in London? It vexed the master; and he desired me
+to do all the sorting myself, until Mr. Lynn should be at home."</p>
+
+<p>"I choose to sort," returned Cyril.</p>
+
+<p>"But you must not sort in the face of the master's orders; or, if you
+do, I must go over them again."</p>
+
+<p>"That's right; praise up yourself!" foamed Cyril. "Of course you are an
+efficient sorter, and I am a bad one."</p>
+
+<p>"You might be as good a sorter as any one, if you chose to give it
+proper time and attention. What a temper you are in this morning! What's
+the matter?"</p>
+
+<p>"The matter is, that I have submitted to your rule long enough, but I'll
+do it no longer," was the reply of Cyril, whose anger was gathering
+strength, and whose ill feeling towards William, deep down in his heart
+from long ago, had had envy added to it of late.</p>
+
+<p>William made no reply. He carefully swept the dozens that Cyril had made
+up, farther down the counter, that they might be in a stronger light.</p>
+
+<p>"What's that for?" cried Cyril. "How dare you meddle with my work? They
+are done as well as you can do them, any day."</p>
+
+<p>"Now, where's the use of flying into this passion, Cyril? What's it for?
+Do you suppose I go over your work again for pleasure, or to find fault
+with it? I do it because the master has ordered me to make up every
+dozen that goes out; and if you do it first of all, it is sheer waste of
+time. See here," added William, holding two or three pairs towards him,
+"<i>these</i> will not do for firsts."</p>
+
+<p>Angry Cyril! He was quite beside himself with anger. It was not this
+trifling matter in the daily business that would have excited him; but
+Mr. Ashley's rejection, his words altogether, had turned Cyril's blood
+into gall; and this was made the outlet. He dashed the gloves out of
+William's hand to the farthest corner of the room, and struck him a
+powerful blow on the chest. It caused William to stagger: he was
+unprepared for it; but whether he would have returned it must remain
+uncertain. Before there was time or opportunity, Cyril found himself
+whirled backwards by a hand as powerful as his own; and a voice of stern
+authority was demanding the meaning of the scene.</p>
+
+<p>The hand, the voice, were those of the master.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIIC" id="CHAPTER_XVIIC"></a>CHAPTER XVII.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE EXPLOSION.</h3>
+
+
+<p>"What is the meaning of this, Cyril Dare?"</p>
+
+<p>Had Cyril supposed that the master was so close at hand, he had subdued
+his passion to something short of striking a blow. He stood against the
+counter, his brow lowering, his eye furious; William looked angry too.
+Mr. Ashley, calm and dignified, waited for an answer.</p>
+
+<p>None came. Cyril was too excited to speak.</p>
+
+<p>"Will you explain it?" said the master, turning to William. "Fighting in
+my counting-house!"</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot, sir," replied William, recovering his equanimity. "I do not
+understand it. I did nothing to provoke him, that I am aware of. It is
+true I said I must go over the gloves again that he had made up."</p>
+
+<p>"What are those gloves flung there?"</p>
+
+<p>"I was showing them to him&mdash;that they were not fit for firsts."</p>
+
+<p>"They are fit for firsts!" retorted Cyril, breaking his silence. "I know
+I did put a pair in that was not up to the mark."</p>
+
+<p>The master went and picked up the gloves himself. Taking them to the
+light, he turned them about in his hands.</p>
+
+<p>"I should put two of these pairs as seconds, and one as thirds,"
+remarked he. "You must have been asleep when you put this one among the
+firsts," he continued, indicating the latter pair, and speaking to Cyril
+Dare. "It has a flaw in it."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course you will uphold Halliburton, sir, whatever he may say. That
+has been the case for a long time past."</p>
+
+<p>He spoke in an insolent tone; such as none within the walls of that
+manufactory had ever dared to use to the master. The master turned upon
+him, speaking quietly and significantly.</p>
+
+<p>"You forget yourself, Cyril Dare."</p>
+
+<p>"All he does is right, and all I do is wrong," persisted Cyril. "You
+treat him, sir, just as though you considered him the gentleman, instead
+of me."</p>
+
+<p>A half-smile, which had too much mockery in it to please Cyril, crossed
+the lips of Mr. Ashley. "What's that you say about being a gentleman,
+Cyril? Repeat it, will you? I should like to hear it again."</p>
+
+<p>Mockery and double mockery! Cyril's suggestive ears detected it in the
+tone, if no other ears could do so. It did not improve his temper. "The
+thing is this, sir: I won't submit to this state of affairs any longer.
+I was not placed here to be ruled over by him; and if things can't be
+put upon a better footing, one of us must leave."</p>
+
+<p>"Then, as it has come to this explosion, I say the same," struck in
+William. "It is high time that things were put upon a better footing.
+Cyril, you have forced me to speak, and you must take the consequences.
+Sir," turning to the master, "my authority over the men is ridiculed in
+their hearing. It ought not to be so."</p>
+
+<p>"By whom?" demanded the master.</p>
+
+<p>"You can ask that question of Cyril, sir."</p>
+
+<p>The master did ask it of Cyril. "Have you done this?"</p>
+
+<p>"Possibly I have," innocently returned Cyril.</p>
+
+<p>"You know you have," rejoined William.</p>
+
+<p>"Only yesterday, when I was giving directions to the stainers, he
+derided all I said, and one of them inquired whether I had received
+orders for what I was telling them. If the authority vested in me is to
+be undermined, the men will soon set it at naught."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Ashley looked provoked; more so than William ever remembered to have
+seen him. He paused a moment, his lips quivering angrily, and then flung
+open the counting-house door.</p>
+
+<p>"Dick!"</p>
+
+<p>Dick, a young tinker of ten, black in clothes and in skin, came flying
+at the summons and its unusually stern tone. "Please, sir?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ring the large bell."</p>
+
+<p>Dick stared with all his eyes at hearing the words. To ring the large
+bell between ten and eleven o'clock in the morning was a marvel that had
+never happened in Dick's experience. But the master's orders were to be
+obeyed, not questioned; and Dick, rang out a prolonged peal. The master
+looked into the serving-room.</p>
+
+<p>"James Meeking, I have ordered the bell rung for the men. Pass the word
+for them to come into my room; and do you and East come with them."</p>
+
+<p>The men appeared, flocking from all parts of the premises, their
+astonishment certainly not inferior to Dick's. What could be the meaning
+of the wholesale summoning to the presence of the master? They stood
+there crowding, a sea of curious faces. Dick, consigned to the
+background, climbed up the door-post, and held on by it in a mysterious
+manner.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Ashley drew William to his side, and laid his hand upon him.</p>
+
+<p>"It has been told to me that the authority vested in Mr. Halliburton has
+not been implicitly obeyed by every one in the manufactory. I have
+called you before me to give you my instructions personally upon the
+point, that there may be no misunderstanding in the future. Whatever
+directions he may see well to give, you will receive them from him, as
+you would from myself. I invest him with full and complete power. And in
+all my absences from the manufactory, whether they may be of an hour's,
+a day's, or any longer duration, Mr. Halliburton is its master."</p>
+
+<p>They touched their hair, turned and went out as far as the serving-room,
+collecting there to talk. In a short time, one of them was seen coming
+back again; a grey-haired man, a sorter of leather. He addressed himself
+to Mr. Ashley.</p>
+
+<p>"We have not disputed his orders, please, sir, that we can call to mind;
+and if we have done it unintentional, we'd ask pardon for it, for it's
+what we never thought to do. Next to yourself, sir, we couldn't wish for
+a better master than young Mr. Halliburton. We think as much of him,
+sir, as we should if he was your own son."</p>
+
+<p>"All right, my men," cheerfully responded Thomas Ashley.</p>
+
+<p>But was not Cyril put in the background by this? As badly as Dick had
+been; and Cyril had no door-post to climb, and so obtain vantage ground.
+He had stood with his back to the crowd and his face to the counter.
+When the men were out of hearing, he turned and walked up to the
+master.</p>
+
+<p>"It is the place I thought to fill," said he. "It is the place that was
+promised me."</p>
+
+<p>"Not promised," replied Mr. Ashley. "Not thought to be promised. A very
+long time ago, you may have been spoken of conditionally, as likely to
+fill it. Conditionally, I say."</p>
+
+<p>"Conditionally on what, sir?"</p>
+
+<p>"On your fitness for it. By conduct and by capability."</p>
+
+<p>"What is the matter with my conduct, sir?" returned Cyril, his tone a
+sharp one.</p>
+
+<p>"It is bad," curtly replied Mr. Ashley. "Deceitful in public; bad in
+private. I have told you once before this morning, that I do not care to
+go into details; you must know that there is no necessity for my doing
+so."</p>
+
+<p>Cyril paused. "I have been led to expect, sir, that you would take me
+into partnership."</p>
+
+<p>"Not by me," said the master.</p>
+
+<p>"My father and mother had given me the hope ever since I came here."</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot help that. They had no authority for it from me."</p>
+
+<p>"They have always said I should be made your partner and son-in-law,"
+persisted Cyril.</p>
+
+<p>"They have! It is very obliging of them, I am sure, to settle my affairs
+for me, even to the disposal of my daughter! Pray what nice little
+destiny may they have carved out for Mrs. Ashley or for my son?"</p>
+
+<p>Cyril chafed at the words. He would have liked, just then, to strike Mr.
+Ashley, as he had struck William. "Would I ever have demeaned myself to
+enter a glove manufactory, disgracing my family, had I known I was to be
+only a workman in it?" he cried. "No, sir, that I never would. I am
+rightly served, for putting myself out of my position as a gentleman."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Ashley, but for the pity he felt, could have laughed outright. He
+really did feel pity for Cyril. He believed that the unhappy way in
+which the young Dares were turning out might be laid to the fault of
+their rearing, and this had rendered him considerate to Cyril. <i>How</i>
+considerate he had for a long while been, he himself alone knew: Cyril
+perhaps suspected.</p>
+
+<p>"It is a shame!" cried Cyril. "To be dealt with in this way is nothing
+less than a fraud upon me. I was led to expect that I should be made
+your partner."</p>
+
+<p>"Wait a bit, Cyril. I am willing to put you right upon the point. The
+proposal, that you should be placed here, emanated in the first instance
+from your father. He came to me one day, here, in this very room,
+saying that he concluded I should not put Henry to business, and thought
+it would be a fine opening for his son Cyril. He hinted that I should
+want some one to succeed me; and that you might come to it with that
+view. But I most distinctly disclaimed endorsing that hint in the
+remotest degree. I would not subscribe to it so much as by a vague
+'Perhaps it may be so.' All that I conceded upon the point was this. I
+told Mr. Dare that when the time came for me to be looking out for some
+one to succeed me&mdash;if it ever did come&mdash;and I found his son&mdash;you&mdash;had
+served me faithfully, was upright in conduct and in heart&mdash;one, in
+short, whom I could thoroughly confide in&mdash;why, then he should have the
+preference over any other. So much I did say, Cyril, but no more."</p>
+
+<p>"And why won't you give me the preference, sir?"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Ashley looked at him, apparently in surprise that he could ask the
+question. He bent his head forward, and spoke in a low tone, but one
+full of meaning.</p>
+
+<p>"Upright in conduct and in heart, I said, Cyril. It was an absolute
+condition."</p>
+
+<p>Cyril's gaze fell before Mr. Ashley's. His conscience may have pricked
+him, and he had the grace to look ashamed of himself. There ensued a
+pause.</p>
+
+<p>Presently Cyril looked up. "Then I am to understand, sir, that all hope
+of being your partner and successor is over?"</p>
+
+<p>"It is. It has been over this many a year, Cyril. I should do wrong to
+deal otherwise than perfectly plainly with you. Were you to reform
+anything there may have been amiss in your conduct, to become a model of
+excellence in the sight of Helstonleigh, I could never admit your name
+to be associated with mine. The very notion is offensive to me."</p>
+
+<p>Cyril&mdash;it was a great wonder&mdash;restrained his passion. "Perhaps I had
+better leave, then?" he said.</p>
+
+<p>"You are welcome to stay until you can find a situation more agreeable
+to you," replied Mr. Ashley. "Provided you undertake to behave
+yourself."</p>
+
+<p>"Stay! and for nothing in the end!" echoed Cyril. "No, that I never
+will! If I must remain a dependant, I'll try it on at something else. I
+am sick of this."</p>
+
+<p>He untied his apron, dashed it on to the floor, and went out without
+another word. So furiously did he stamp through the serving-room, that
+James Meeking turned round to look at him, and Dick, taking a recreative
+balance at that moment on the edge of an upright coal-scuttle, thought
+he must be running for the fire-engines. Dick's speculations were
+disturbed by the sound of the master's voice, calling to him.</p>
+
+<p>He hastened to the counting-house, and was ordered to "take that apron
+away." Dick picked it up and withdrew with it, folding it carefully
+against Mr. Cyril should come in. Dick little thought the manufactory
+had seen the last of him.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Ashley was indulging in a quiet laugh. "Demeaning himself by
+entering my manufactory! Disgracing his family&mdash;the high blood of the
+Dares! Poor Cyril! William, do you look at it in the same light?"</p>
+
+<p>William had remained in the room, taking no part whatever in the final
+contest. He had stood with his back to them, following his occupation.
+He turned round now.</p>
+
+<p>"Sir, you know I do not."</p>
+
+<p>"You once told me it presented no field for getting on. What was the
+word you used?&mdash;was it ambition? Truly, there's not much ambition
+attached to it. Nevertheless, I am satisfied with my career, William,
+although I am only the glove manufacturer, Thomas Ashley."</p>
+
+<p><i>He</i> satisfied! How many a one would be proud to be in the position of
+Thomas Ashley! William did not say so. He began to speak of Cyril Dare.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think he will come back again, sir?"</p>
+
+<p>"I do not think he will. Should he do so, the doors are closed to him.
+He has left of his own accord, and I shall not allow him to return."</p>
+
+<p>"I am very sorry," remarked William. "It has been partly my fault."</p>
+
+<p>"Do not make yourself uneasy. I have <i>tolerated</i> Cyril Dare here; have
+allowed him to remain on sufferance: and that is the best that can be
+said of it."</p>
+
+<p>"He may feel it as a blow."</p>
+
+<p>"As a jubilee, you mean. It will be nothing less to him. He has hated
+the manufactory with all his heart from the moment he first entered it,
+and is now, if we could see him, kicking up his heels with delight at
+the emancipation. Cyril Dare my partner!"</p>
+
+<p>William continued his work, saying nothing. Mr. Ashley resumed:</p>
+
+<p>"I must be casting my thoughts around for a fitting substitute to
+succeed to the post of ambition Cyril coveted. Can you direct me to any
+quarter, William?"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Ashley was now standing at William's side, looking at him as he went
+over the gloves left by Cyril. He saw the red flush mount to his face.
+Mr. Ashley laid his hand on William's shoulder, and spoke in low tones,
+full of emotion.</p>
+
+<p>"It may come, my boy; my almost son! And when Thomas Ashley's head shall
+be low in the grave, the leading manufacturer of this city may be
+William Halliburton."</p>
+
+<p>A loud rapping at the door with a thick stick interrupted the master's
+words. He turned to behold Mr. Dare. It appeared that Cyril had by
+chance met his father in the street almost immediately after going out;
+he had volunteered to him a most exaggerated account, and Mr. Dare had
+come, as he said, to learn the rights of it.</p>
+
+<p>William left the room. He could not avoid remarking the bowed, broken
+appearance of the man. Mr. Ashley related the particulars, and the
+listener was obliged to acknowledge that Cyril had been to blame&mdash;had
+been too hasty.</p>
+
+<p>"I confess it appears so," he said. "He must have been led away by
+temper. But, Mr. Ashley, you ought to stretch a point, and make a
+concession. We are kinsmen."</p>
+
+<p>"What concession?"</p>
+
+<p>"Discharge William Halliburton. Things can never go on smoothly between
+him and Cyril. Stretch a point to oblige us, and send him away."</p>
+
+<p>"Discharge William Halliburton!" echoed Mr. Ashley in surprise. "I could
+as soon discharge myself. William is the right hand of the business. It
+could go on without me, but I am not sure that it could do so without
+him."</p>
+
+<p>"Cyril can take his place."</p>
+
+<p>"Cyril is not qualified for it. And&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Cyril declares he will never enter the place again, so long as
+Halliburton is in it."</p>
+
+<p>"Cyril never will enter it again," quietly rejoined Mr. Ashley. "Cyril
+and I have parted. I will give you his wages for this week, now that you
+are here; legally, though, he could not claim them."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dare looked sad&mdash;gloomy. It was only what he had expected for some
+time past. "You promised to do well by him, Mr. Ashley; to take him into
+partnership."</p>
+
+<p>"You must surely remember that I promised nothing of the sort," said Mr.
+Ashley. "I have been telling the same thing to Cyril. All I said&mdash;and a
+shrewd, business man, as you are, could not fail thoroughly to
+understand me," he pointedly added&mdash;"was, that I would choose Cyril in
+preference to others, provided he proved himself worthy of the
+preference. Circumstances appear to have worked entirely against
+carrying out that idea, Mr. Dare."</p>
+
+<p>"What circumstances?"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Ashley did not immediately reply, and the question was repeated in a
+hasty, almost an imperative tone. Then Mr. Ashley answered it.</p>
+
+<p>"I do not wish to say a word that should unnecessarily hurt your
+feelings; but in a matter of business I believe there is no resource but
+to speak plainly. The unfortunate notoriety acquired, in one way or
+other, by your sons, has rendered the name of Dare so conspicuous, that,
+were there no other reason, it could never be associated with mine."</p>
+
+<p>"Conspicuous? How?" interposed Mr. Dare.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Ashley would not have believed the words were uttered as a question,
+but that the answer was evidently waited for. "You ask <i>how</i>," he said.
+"Surely I need not remind you. The scandal which, in more ways than one,
+attached to Anthony&mdash;though I am sorry to allude to him, poor fellow,
+in any such way; the circumstances attending the trial of Herbert;
+the&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Herbert was innocent," interrupted Mr. Dare.</p>
+
+<p>"Innocent of the murder, no doubt; as innocent as you or I. But people
+made free with his name in other ways; had often made free with it. And
+look at this last report, wafted over to us from Germany, that is just
+now astonishing the city!"</p>
+
+<p>"Hang him for a simpleton!" burst forth Mr. Dare.</p>
+
+<p>"It is all so much discredit to the name&mdash;to the family altogether,"
+concluded Mr. Ashley, as if his sentence had not been interrupted.</p>
+
+<p>"The faults of his brothers ought to be no good reason for your
+rejecting Cyril."</p>
+
+<p>"They are not my reason for rejecting him," quietly returned Mr. Ashley.</p>
+
+<p>"No? You have just said they were."</p>
+
+<p>"I said the notoriety given by your sons to the name of Dare would bar
+its association with mine. In saying 'your sons,' I included Cyril
+himself. <i>He</i> interposes the greatest barrier of all. Were the rest of
+them of good report in the sight of day, Cyril is not so."</p>
+
+<p>"What's the matter with him?" asked Mr. Dare.</p>
+
+<p>"I do not care to tell you. A great deal of it you must know."</p>
+
+<p>"Go on," cried Anthony Dare, who was leaning forward in his chair, his
+chin resting on his stick, as one who sets himself calmly to hear the
+whole.</p>
+
+<p>"Cyril's private conduct is bad. He&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Follies of youth only," cried old Anthony. "He will outlive them."</p>
+
+<p>"Youth's follies sometimes end in manhood's crimes," was the reply. "I
+am thankful that my son is free from them."</p>
+
+<p>"Your son!" returned Anthony Dare, coughing down his slighting tone.
+"Your son is one apart. He has not the health to be knocking about. If
+young men are worth anything, they are sure to be a bit wild."</p>
+
+<p>A frown passed over the master's brow. "You are mistaken, Mr. Dare.
+Young men who are worth anything keep themselves from such folly.
+Opinions have taken a turn. Society is becoming more sensible of the
+world's increased enlightenment; and ill conduct, although its pursuer
+may be a fashionable young man, is beginning to be called by its right
+name. Would you believe that Cyril has, more than once, come here&mdash;I
+hesitate to say the word, it is so ugly a one&mdash;drunk? Drunk, Mr. Dare!"</p>
+
+<p>"No!"</p>
+
+<p>"He has."</p>
+
+<p>"Then he must have been a fool for his pains," was the angry retort of
+old Anthony.</p>
+
+<p>"He is untruthful; he is idle; he is deceitful&mdash;but I do not, I say,
+care to go into this. Were you cognizant of the application Cyril made
+to me yesterday, respecting my daughter?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know of any application."</p>
+
+<p>"He did me the honour to make her an offer of marriage."</p>
+
+<p>Old Anthony lifted his head sharply, not speaking. The master continued:</p>
+
+<p>"He said yesterday that he was acting by your advice. He repeated
+to-day, that you and Mrs. Dare had led him to look to Mary."</p>
+
+<p>"Well?" returned Mr. Dare. "But I did not know he had spoken."</p>
+
+<p>"How could you&mdash;excuse me, I again say, if I am to speak plainly&mdash;how
+could you ever have entertained so wild an idea?"</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps you would like to call it a presumptuous one?" chafed Mr. Dare.</p>
+
+<p>"I do call it so," returned Mr. Ashley. "It can be regarded as nothing
+less; any impartial person would tell you so. I put out of the
+discussion altogether the want of means on the part of Cyril; I speak of
+its suitability. That Cyril should have aspired to an alliance with Mary
+Ashley was presumption in the highest degree. It has displeased me very
+much, and Henry looks upon it in the light of an insult."</p>
+
+<p>"Who's Henry?" scornfully returned Mr. Dare. "A dreamy hypochondriac!
+Pray is Cyril not as well born as Mary Ashley?"</p>
+
+<p>"Has he been as well reared? Is he proving that he has been? A man's
+conduct is of far more importance than his birth."</p>
+
+<p>"It would seem that you care little about birth, or rearing either, or
+you would not exalt Halliburton to a level with yourself."</p>
+
+<p>The master fixed his expressive eyes on Anthony Dare. "Halliburton's
+birth is, at any rate, as good as your family's and mine. His father's
+mother and your wife's father were brother and sister."</p>
+
+<p>Old Anthony looked taken by surprise. "I don't know anything about it,"
+said he, somewhat roughly. "I know a little of how he has been bred, he
+and his brothers."</p>
+
+<p>"So do I," said Mr. Ashley. "I wish a few more in the world had been
+bred in the same way."</p>
+
+<p>"Why! they have been bred to work!" exclaimed old Anthony, in
+astonishment. "They have not been bred as gentlemen. They have not had
+enough to eat."</p>
+
+<p>The concluding sentence elicited an involuntary laugh from the master.
+"At any rate, the want does not appear to have stinted their growth, or
+injured them in a physical point of view," he rejoined, a touch of
+sarcasm in his tone. "They are fine-grown men; and, Mr. Dare, they are
+<i>gentlemen</i>, whether they have been bred as such or not. Gentlemen in
+looks, in manners, and in mind and heart."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't care what they are," again repeated old Anthony. "I did not
+come here to talk about them, but about Cyril. Your exalting Halliburton
+into the general favour that ought legitimately to have been Cyril's is
+a piece of injustice. Cyril says you have this morning announced
+publicly that Halliburton is master, under you. It is flagrant
+injustice."</p>
+
+<p>"No man living has ever had cause to tax me with injustice,"
+impressively answered Thomas Ashley. "I have been far more just to Cyril
+than he deserves. Stay: 'just' is a wrong word. I have been far more
+<i>lenient</i> to him. Shall I tell you that I have kept him on here out of
+compassion, in the hope that the considerate way in which I treated him
+might be an inducement to him to turn over a new leaf, and discard his
+faults? I would not turn him away to be a town's talk. Deep down within
+the archives of my memory, my own sole knowledge, I buried the great
+fault of which he was guilty here. He was young; and I would not take
+from him his fair fame on the very threshold of his commercial life."</p>
+
+<p>"Great fault?" hesitated Mr. Dare, looking half frightened.</p>
+
+<p>Thomas Ashley inclined his head, and lowered his voice to a deeper
+whisper.</p>
+
+<p>"When he robbed my desk of the cheque, I fancy your own suspicions of
+him were to the full as much awakened as mine."</p>
+
+<p>There was no reply, unless a groan from Anthony Dare could be called
+one. His hands, supporting his chin, rested on his stick still. Mr.
+Ashley resumed:</p>
+
+<p>"I became convinced, though not in the first blush of the affair that
+the transgressor was no other than Cyril; and I deliberated what my
+course should be. Natural impulse would have led me to turn him away, if
+not to prosecute. The latter would scarcely have been palatable towards
+one of my wife's kindred. What was I to do with him? Turn him adrift
+without a character? and a character that would get him any other
+situation of confidence, I could not give him. I resolved to keep him
+on. For his own sake I would give him a chance of redeeming what he may
+have done in a moment's thoughtless temptation. I spoke to him
+privately. I did not tell him in so many words that I knew him to be
+guilty; but he could not well misunderstand that my suspicions were
+awakened. I told him his conduct had not been good&mdash;not such that I
+could approve; but that I was willing, for his own sake, to bury the
+past in silence, and retain him, as a last chance. I very distinctly
+warned him what would be the consequences of the smallest repetition of
+his fault: that no consideration for myself or for him would induce me
+to look over it a second time. Thus he stayed on: I, continually giving
+an eye to his conduct, and taking due precautions for the protection of
+my property, and keeping fast my keys. James Meeking received my orders
+that Mr. Cyril should never be called upon to help pay the men, or to
+count the packets of halfpence; and when the man looked wonderingly at
+me in return, I casually added that there was no necessity to put Mr.
+Cyril to an employment he particularly disliked, while he could call
+upon East to help him, or in case of need, upon Mr. Halliburton. Never
+think again, Mr. Dare, that I have been unjust to your son. If I have
+erred at all, it has been on the side of kindness."</p>
+
+<p>There was a long pause. Anthony Dare probably was feeling the kindness,
+in spite of himself.</p>
+
+<p>"What have you had to complain of in him since?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Not of any more robbery: but of his general conduct a great deal. He is
+deceitful: he has appeared here in the state I have hinted to you; he is
+incorrigibly idle. He probably fancies, because I do not take a very
+active part in the management of my business and my workpeople, that I
+sit here with my eyes shut, seeing little and knowing less of what goes
+on around me. He is essentially mistaken: I am cognizant of all; as much
+so, or nearly as much so, as Samuel Lynn would be, were he at his post
+again. Look at his sorting of gloves, for instance&mdash;the very thing about
+which the disturbance occurred just now. Cyril <i>can</i> sort if he pleases;
+he is as capable of sorting them properly as I should be; perhaps more
+so: but he does not do it; and every dozen he attempts to make up has to
+be done over again. In point of fact, he has been of no real use here;
+for nothing that he attempts to do will he do well. A fitting hand to
+fill the post of manager! Taking all these facts into consideration,"
+added the master, "you will not be surprised that an offer of marriage
+from Cyril Dare to my daughter bears an appearance little removed from
+insult."</p>
+
+<p>So it was all known to Mr. Ashley, and there was an end of Cyril and his
+hopes! It may be said of his prospects.</p>
+
+<p>"What is he to do now?" broke from the lips of Anthony Dare.</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed I do not know. Unless he changes his habits, he will do no good
+at anything."</p>
+
+<p>"Won't you take him back again?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," unequivocally pronounced Mr. Ashley. "He has left of his own
+accord, and he must abide by it. Stay&mdash;hear me out. Were I to allow him
+to return, he would not remain here a week; I am certain of it. That
+Cyril has been acting a part, to beguile me of my favour with regard to
+those foolish hopes of his, there is no doubt. The hopes gone, he would
+not keep up even the semblance of good conduct; neither would he submit
+to the rule of William Halliburton. It is best as it is; he is gone, and
+he cannot return. My opinion is, that were the offer of return made to
+him, he would reject it."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dare's opinion was not far different, although he had pleaded for
+the concession.</p>
+
+<p>"Then you will not make him your partner?" he resumed.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Dare!"</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose you will take in Halliburton?"</p>
+
+<p>"It is very probable. Whoever I take must be a man of probity and
+honour: and a gentleman," he added, with a stress upon the word.
+"William Halliburton is all that."</p>
+
+<p>Anthony Dare rose with a groan. He could contend no longer.</p>
+
+<p>"My sons have been my bane," he uttered from between his bloodless lips.
+"I wonder, sometimes, whether they were born bad."</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Thomas Ashley. "The badness has come with their training."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIIIC" id="CHAPTER_XVIIIC"></a>CHAPTER XVIII.</h2>
+
+<h3>"CALLED."</h3>
+
+
+<p>And now there occurs another gap in the story&mdash;a gap of years, and we
+have entered on the third and last part.</p>
+
+<p>The patient well-doing of the Halliburtons was approaching fruition,
+their struggles were well-nigh over, and they were ready to play their
+part, for success or for failure, in the great drama of life. Jane's
+troubles were at an end.</p>
+
+<p>Did you ever remark how some things, when they draw towards a close,
+seem to advance with rapid strides, unlike the slow, crawling pace that
+characterized their beginning? Life: in its childhood, its youth, nay,
+in its middle age, how slowly it seems to pass! how protracted its
+distinctive periods appear to be! But when old age approaches then time
+moves with giant strides. Undertake a work, whether of the hands or the
+head, very, very slow does the progress appear to be, until it is far
+advanced; and then the conclusion is attained fast and imperceptibly.
+Thus does it seem to be in the history of the young Halliburtons. To
+them the race may have been tedious, the labour as hard at the close of
+their preparatory career as at its commencement; but not so to those who
+were watching them.</p>
+
+<p>There has not been space to trace the life of Frank and Gar at the
+Universities, to record word by word how they bore onward with
+unflinching perseverance, looking towards the goal in view. Great praise
+was due to them; and they won it from those who knew what hard work
+meant. Patiently and steadily had they laboured on, making of themselves
+sound and brilliant scholars, resisting temptations that lead so many
+astray, and <i>bearing</i> the slights and mortifications incidental to their
+subordinate position. "I'll take it all out, when I am Lord Chancellor
+of England," Frank would say, in his cheery way. Of course Frank had
+always intended to go up for honours; and of course Frank gained them.
+He went to Oxford as a humble servitor, and he left it a man of note.
+Francis Halliburton had obtained a double-first, and gained his
+fellowship.</p>
+
+<p>He had entered himself a student of the Middle Temple long before his
+college career was over. The expenses of qualifying for the Bar are
+considerable, and Frank's fellowship did not suffice for all. He
+procured literary employment: writing a leading article for one of the
+daily papers, and contributing to sundry reviews.</p>
+
+<p>Gar, too, had quitted Cambridge with unusual credit, though he was <i>not</i>
+senior wrangler. No one but Gar, perhaps, knew that he had aspired to
+that proud distinction, so it did not signify. A more solid scholar, or
+one with a higher character in the best sense of the term, never left
+the University to be ordained by the Bishop of Helstonleigh&mdash;or by any
+other prelate on the bench. He had a choice of a title to orders. His
+uncle, the Reverend Francis Tait&mdash;who, like his father before him, had,
+after many years' service, obtained a living&mdash;had offered Gar his title.
+But a clergyman in the county of Helstonleigh had also offered him one,
+and Gar, thanking his uncle, chose Helstonleigh.</p>
+
+<p>William's dream of ambition was fulfilled; the dream which he had <i>not</i>
+indulged; for it had seemed all too high and vague for possibility. He
+was Mr. Ashley's partner. The great firm in Helstonleigh was Ashley and
+Halliburton.</p>
+
+<p>Ashley and Halliburton! And the event had been so gradually, so
+naturally led up to, that Helstonleigh was not surprised when it was
+announced. Of course William received as yet only a small share of the
+profits: how small or how large was not known. Helstonleigh racked its
+curiosity to learn particulars, and racked it in vain. One fact was
+assumed beyond doubt: that a portion of the profits was secured to Henry
+in the event of Mr. Ashley's death.</p>
+
+<p>William was now virtually sole master of the business. Mr. Ashley had
+partially retired from the manufactory: at least, his visits to it were
+of occurrence so rare as almost to amount to retirement. Samuel Lynn was
+manager, as of old; William had assumed Mr. Ashley's place and desk in
+the counting-house&mdash;as master. Mr. Ashley had purchased an estate,
+Deoffam Hall, some two to three miles distant from the city, close to
+the little village of Deoffam: and there he and his family had gone to
+reside. He retained his old house in the London Road, and they would
+visit it occasionally, and pass a week there. The change of abode did
+not appear to give unqualified gratification to Henry Ashley. He had
+become so attached to William that he could not bear to be far away from
+him. In the old home William's visits had been daily; or rather,
+nightly: in this he did see him so often. William contrived to go over
+twice or thrice a week; but that did not appear to be often enough for
+Henry. Mary Ashley was not married; to the surprise of Helstonleigh: but
+Mary somewhat obstinately refused to leave the paternal home. William
+and his mother lived on together in the old house. But they were alone
+now: for he could afford to keep up its expenses, and he had insisted
+upon doing so; insisted that she who had worked so hard for them, should
+have rest, now they could work for her.</p>
+
+<p>Yes, they had all worked; worked on for the end, and gained it. Looking
+back, Jane wondered how she had struggled on. It seemed now next to an
+impossibility that she could have done it. Verily and truly she believed
+that God alone had borne her up. Had it been a foreshadowing of what was
+to come, when her father, years back, had warned her, on the very day of
+her marriage with Mr. Halliburton had been decided, that it might bring
+many troubles upon her? Perhaps so. One thing was certain: that it had
+brought them, and in no common degree. But the troubles were surmounted
+now: and Jane's boys were turned out just as well as though she had had
+thousands a year to bring them up upon. Perhaps better.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps better! How full of force is the suggestion! I wonder if no one
+will let this history of the young Halliburtons read a lesson to them?
+Many a student, used worse by fortune and the world than he thinks he
+deserves, might take it to himself with profit. Do not let it be flung
+away as a fancy picture; endeavour to make it your reality. A career,
+worked out as theirs was, insures success as a necessity. "Ah!" you may
+think, "I am poor; I can't hope to achieve such things." Poor! What were
+they? What's that you say? "There are so many difficulties in the way!"
+Quite true; there are difficulties in the way of attaining most things
+worth having; but they are only placed there to be overcome. Like the
+hillocks and stumbling-blocks in that dream that came to Mr. Halliburton
+when he was dying, they are placed there to be subdued, not to be
+shunned in fear, or turned from in idleness. Whatever may be your object
+in life, work on for it. Be you heir to a dukedom, or be your heritage
+that of daily toil, an object you must have: a man who has none is the
+most miserable being on the face of the earth. Bear manfully onward and
+attain the prize. Toil may be hard, but it will grow lighter as you
+advance; impediments may be disheartening, but they are not
+insurmountable; privations may be painful, but you are working on to
+plenty; temptations to indolence, to flagging, to that many-headed
+monster, sin, may be pulling at you; but they will not stir you from
+your path an inch, unless you choose to let them do so. Only be
+resolute; only regard trustingly the end, and labour for it; and it will
+surely come. It may look in the distance so far off that the very hope
+of attaining it seems but a chimera. Never mind; bear hopefully on, and
+the distance will lessen palpably with every step. No real good was ever
+attained to in this world without working for it. No real good, as I
+honestly believe, was ever gained, unless God's blessing went with the
+endeavours to attain it. <i>Make a friend of God.</i> Do that, and fight your
+way on, doing your duty, and you will find the goal: as the sons of Mrs.
+Halliburton did.</p>
+
+<p>Jane was sitting alone one afternoon in her parlour. She was little
+changed. None, looking at her, could believe her old enough to be the
+mother of those three great men, her sons. Not that Gar was
+particularly great; he was only of middle height. Jane wore a shaded
+silk dress; and her hair looked as smooth and abundant as in the old
+days of her girlhood. It was remarkable how little her past troubles had
+told upon her good looks; how little she was aging.</p>
+
+<p>She saw the postman come to the door, and Dobbs brought in a letter.
+"It's Mr. Frank's writing," growled Dobbs.</p>
+
+<p>Jane opened it, and found that Frank had been "called." Half his care
+was over.</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>"<span class="smcap">My darling Mother</span>,&mdash;I am made a barrister at last. I really
+am; and I beg you will all receive the announcement with
+appropriate awe and deference. I was called to-day: and I
+intend to have a photograph taken of myself in my wig and gown,
+and send it down to you as a confirmation of the fact. When you
+see the guy the wig makes of me, you will say you never saw an
+ugly man before. Tell Dobbs so; it will gladden her heart:
+don't you remember how she used to assure us, when boys, that
+we ought to be put under a glass case, as three ultra specimens
+of ugliness?</p>
+
+<p>"I shall get on now, dearest mother. It may be a little up-hill
+work at first: but there's no fear. A first-rate law firm has
+promised me some briefs: and one of these speedy days I shall
+inevitably take the ears of some court by storm&mdash;the jury
+struck into themselves with the learned counsel's astounding
+eloquence, and the bar dumb&mdash;and then my fortune's made. I need
+not tell you what circuit I shall patronize, or in how short a
+time afterwards I intend to be leading it: but I will tell you
+that my first object in life, when I am up in the world, shall
+be the ease and comfort of my dear mother. William is not going
+to do everything, and have you all to himself.</p>
+
+<p>"Talking about William, ask him if he cannot get up some chance
+litigation, that I may have the honour of appearing for him
+next assizes. I'll do it all free, <i>gratis</i>, for nothing. Ever
+your own son,</p>
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">Frank</span>."</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>Jane started up from her chair at the news, almost as a glad child. Who
+could she find to share it with her? She ran into the next house to
+Patience. Patience limped a little in her walk still; she would limp
+always. Anna, in her sober Quaker's cap, the border resting on her fair
+forehead, looked up from her drawing, and Jane told them the news, and
+read the letter.</p>
+
+<p>"That is nice," said Patience. "It must be a weight off thy mind."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know that it is that," replied Jane. "I have never doubted his
+success. I don't doubt it still. But I am very glad."</p>
+
+<p>"I wish I had a cause to try," cried Anna, who had recovered all her old
+spirits and her love of chatter. "I would let Frank plead it for me."</p>
+
+<p>"Will you come back with me, Anna, and take tea?" said Jane. "I shall be
+alone this evening. William is going over to Deoffam Hall."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll come," replied Anna, beginning to put up her pencils with
+alacrity. Truth to say, she was just as fond of going out and of taking
+off her cap, that her curls might fall, as she used to be. She had quite
+recovered caste in the opinion of Helstonleigh. In fact, when the
+reaction set in, Helstonleigh had been rather demonstrative in its
+expression of repentance for having taken so harsh a view of the case.
+Nevertheless, it had been a real lesson to Anna, and had rendered her
+more sober and cautious in conduct.</p>
+
+<p>Dobbs was standing at the kitchen door as they went in. "Dobbs," said
+Jane, in the gladness of her heart, "Mr. Frank is called."</p>
+
+<p>"Called?" responded Dobbs, staring with all her might.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. He was called yesterday."</p>
+
+<p>"Him called!" repeated Dobbs, evidently doubting the fact. "Then, ma'am
+you'll excuse me, but I'm not a-going to believe it. It's a deal more
+likely he's gone off t'other way, than that he's called to grace."</p>
+
+<p>Anna nearly choked with laughter. Jane laughed so that she could not at
+once speak. "Oh, Dobbs, I don't mean that sort of calling. He is called
+to the Bar. He has become a barrister."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh&mdash;that," said Dobbs ungraciously. "Much good may it do him, ma'am!"</p>
+
+<p>"He wears a wig and gown now, Dobbs," put in Anna. "He says his mother
+is to tell thee that it makes a guy of him, and so gladden thy heart."</p>
+
+<p>"Ugh!" grunted Dobbs.</p>
+
+<p>"We will make him put them on when he comes down, won't we! Dobbs, if
+thee'd like his picture in them, he'll send it thee."</p>
+
+<p>"He'd better keep it," retorted Dobbs. "I never yet saw no good in young
+chaps having their picturs took, Miss Anna. They're vain enough without
+that. Called! That would have been a new flight for <i>him</i>."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIXC" id="CHAPTER_XIXC"></a>CHAPTER XIX.</h2>
+
+<h3>A GLIMPSE OF A BLISSFUL DREAM.</h3>
+
+
+<p>A prettier place than Deoffam Hall could not well be conceived. "For its
+size," carping people would add. Well, it was not so large as Windsor
+Castle; but it was no smaller than the bishop's palace at
+Helstonleigh&mdash;if it has been your good fortune to see that renowned
+edifice. Deoffam Hall was a white, moderate-sized, modern villa, rising
+in the midst of charming grounds; grassy lawns smooth as velvet, winding
+rivulets, groves of trees affording shelter on a summer's day. On the
+terrace before the windows a stately peacock was fond of spreading its
+plumes, and in the small park&mdash;it was only a small one&mdash;the deer rubbed
+their antlers on the fine old trees. The deer and the peacock were the
+especial pets of Henry Ashley. Deoffam itself was an insignificant
+village; a few gentlemen's houses and a good many cottages comprised it.
+It was pleasantly and conveniently situated; within a walk of
+Helstonleigh for those who liked walking, or within a short drive. But,
+desirable as it was as a residence, Henry Ashley was rather addicted to
+grumbling at it. He would often wish himself back in his old home.</p>
+
+<p>One lovely morning in early summer, when they were assembled together
+discussing plans for the day, he suddenly broke into one of his
+grumbling humours. "You bought Deoffam for me, sir," he was beginning,
+"but&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I bought it for myself and your mother," interposed Mr. Ashley.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course. But to descend to me afterwards&mdash;you know what I mean. I
+have made up my mind, when that time shall come, to send gratitude to
+the winds, and sell it. Stuck out here, alone with the peacock, you and
+the mother gone, I should&mdash;&mdash;I don't like to outrage your feelings by
+saying what I might do."</p>
+
+<p>"There's Mary," said Mrs. Ashley.</p>
+
+<p>"Mary! I expect she'll have gone into fresh quarters by that time. She
+has only stopped here so long out of politeness to me."</p>
+
+<p>Mary lifted her eyes, a smile and a glow on her bright face. A lovely
+picture, she, in her delicate summer muslin dress.</p>
+
+<p>"I tell every one she is devoted to me," went on Henry, in his quaint
+fashion. "'Very strange that handsome girl, Mary Ashley, does not get
+married!' cries Helstonleigh. Mary, my dear, I know your vanity is
+already as great as it can be, so I don't fear to increase it. 'My
+sister get married!' I say to them. 'Not she; she has resolved to make a
+noble sacrifice of herself for my sake, and live at home with me, a
+vestal virgin, and see to the puddings.'"</p>
+
+<p>The smile left Mary's face&mdash;the glow remained. "I do wish you would not
+talk nonsense, Henry! As if Helstonleigh troubled itself to make
+remarks upon me. It is not so rude as you are."</p>
+
+<p>"Just hark at her!" returned Henry. "Helstonleigh not trouble itself to
+make remarks! When you know the town was up in arms when you refused Sir
+Harry Marr, and sent him packing. Such an honour had never fallen to its
+luck before&mdash;that one of its fair citizens, born and bred, should have
+the chance of becoming a real live My Lady."</p>
+
+<p>Mary was cutting a pencil at the moment, and broke the point off.
+"Papa," cried she, turning her hot face to his, "can't you make Henry
+talk sense?&mdash;if he must talk at all."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Ashley interposed. It was quite true that Mary had had, as Henry
+phrased it, a chance of becoming a "real live My Lady"; and there lurked
+in Mrs. Ashley's heart a shadow of grievance, of disappointment, that
+she should have refused the honour. She spoke rather sharply, taking
+Henry's part, not Mary's.</p>
+
+<p>"Henry is talking nothing but sense. My opinion is that you behaved
+quite rudely to Sir Harry. It is an offer you will not have again, Mary.
+Still," added Mrs. Ashley, subduing her tone a little, "it is no
+business of Helstonleigh's; neither do I see whence the town could have
+derived its knowledge."</p>
+
+<p>"As if any news could be stirring, good or bad, that Helstonleigh does
+not ferret its way to!" returned Henry.</p>
+
+<p>"My belief is that Henry went and told," retorted Mary.</p>
+
+<p>"I! what next?" cried Henry. "As if I should tell of the graceless
+doings of my sister; it is bad enough to lie under the weighty knowledge
+one's self."</p>
+
+<p>"And as if I should ever consent to marry Sir Harry Marr!" returned
+Mary, with a touch of her brother's spirit.</p>
+
+<p>"Mary," said Mr. Ashley, quietly, "you seemed to slip out of that
+business, and of all questioning over it, as smoothly as an eel. I never
+came to the bottom of it. What was your objection to Sir Harry?"</p>
+
+<p>"Objection, papa?" she faltered, with a crimsoned face. "I&mdash;I did not
+care for him."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, that was it, was it?" returned Mr. Ashley.</p>
+
+<p>"Is it always to go on so, my dear?" asked her mother.</p>
+
+<p>Poor Mary was in sad confusion, scarcely knowing whether to burst into
+anger or into tears. "What do you mean, mamma? How 'go on'?"</p>
+
+<p>"This rejection of every one. You have had three good offers&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Not counting the venture of Cyril Dare," put in Henry.</p>
+
+<p>"And you say 'No' to all," concluded Mrs. Ashley. "I fear you must be
+very fastidious."</p>
+
+<p>"And she's growing into an old maid, and&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Be quiet, Henry. Can't you leave me in peace?"</p>
+
+<p>"My dear, it is true," cried Henry, who was in one of his teasing moods.
+"Of course I have not kept count of your age since you were eighteen&mdash;it
+wouldn't be polite to do so; but my private conviction is that you are
+four-and-twenty this blessed summer."</p>
+
+<p>"If I were four-and-thirty," answered Mary, "I wouldn't marry Sir Harry
+Marr. I am not <i>obliged</i> to marry, I suppose, am I?"</p>
+
+<p>"My dear, no one said you were," said Henry, flinging a rose at her,
+which he took from his button-hole. "But don't you see that this brings
+round my argument, that you have resolved to make yourself a noble
+sisterly sacrifice, and stop at home with me? Don't you take to cats
+yet, though!"</p>
+
+<p>Mary thought she was getting the worst of it, and left the room. Soon
+afterwards Mrs. Ashley was called out by a servant.</p>
+
+<p>"Did you receive a note from William this morning, sir?" asked Henry.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," replied Mr. Ashley, taking it from his pocket. "He mentions in it
+that there is a report in the town that Herbert Dare is dead."</p>
+
+<p>"Herbert Dare! I wonder if it's true?"</p>
+
+<p>"It is to be hoped not. I fear he was not very fit to die. I am going
+into Helstonleigh, and shall probably hear more."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! are you going in to-day, sir? Despatch William back, will you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know, Henry. They may be busy at the manufactory. If so, I am
+sure he will not leave it."</p>
+
+<p>"What a blessing if that manufactory were up in the clouds!" was Henry's
+rejoinder. "When I want William particularly, it is sure to be&mdash;that
+manufactory!"</p>
+
+<p>"It is well William does not think as you do," remarked Mr. Ashley.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, sir, he must certainly think Samuel Lynn a nonentity, or he would
+not stick himself so closely to business. You never applied yourself in
+such a way."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I did. But you must please to remember, Master Henry, that the
+cases are not on a parallel. I was head and chief of all, accountable to
+none. Had I chosen to take a twelvemonth's holiday, and let the business
+go, it would have been my own affair exclusively. Whether the business
+went right, or whether it went wrong, I was accountable to none. William
+is not in that position."</p>
+
+<p>"I know he is often in the position of not being to be had when he is
+wanted," was Henry's reply, as he listlessly turned over some books
+that lay on the table.</p>
+
+<p>"Will you go into town with me?"</p>
+
+<p>"I could not stand it to-day. My hip is giving me twinges."</p>
+
+<p>"Is it? I had better bring back Parry."</p>
+
+<p>"No. I won't have him, unless I find there's actual need. The mother
+knows what to do with me. I don't suppose it will come to anything; and
+I have been so much better of late."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, you have. Although you quarrel with Deoffam, it is the change to
+it&mdash;the air of the place&mdash;that has renewed your health, you ungrateful
+boy!"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Ashley's eyes were bent lovingly on Henry's as he said it. Henry
+seized his father's hands, his half-mocking tone exchanged for one of
+earnestness.</p>
+
+<p>"Not ungrateful, sir&mdash;far from it. I know the value of my dear father:
+that a kinder or a better one son could not possess. I shall grumble on
+to my life's end. It is my amusement. But the grumbling is from my lips
+only: not from my fractious spirit, as it was in days gone by."</p>
+
+<p>"I have remarked that: remarked it with deep thankfulness. You have
+acquired a victory over that fractious spirit."</p>
+
+<p>"For which the chief thanks are due to William Halliburton. Sir, it is
+so. But for him, most probably I should have gone, a discontented
+wretch, to the&mdash;let me be poetical for once&mdash;silent tomb: never seeking
+out either the light or the love that may be found in this world."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Ashley glanced at his son. He saw that he was contending with
+emotion, although he had reassumed his bantering tone.</p>
+
+<p>"Henry, what light&mdash;what love?"</p>
+
+<p>"The light and the love that a man may take into his own spirit.
+He&mdash;William&mdash;told me, years ago, that I might make even my life a
+pleasant and a useful one; and measureless was the ridicule I gave him
+for it. But I have found that he was right. When William came to the
+house one night, a humble errand-boy, sent by Samuel Lynn with a
+note&mdash;do you remember it, sir?&mdash;and offered to help me, dunce that I
+was, with my Latin exercise&mdash;a help I graciously condescended to
+accept&mdash;we little thought what a blessing had entered the dwelling."</p>
+
+<p>"We little thought what a brave, honest, indomitable spirit was
+enshrined in the humble errand-boy," continued Mr. Ashley.</p>
+
+<p>"He has got on as he deserved. He will be a worthy successor to you,
+sir: a second Thomas Ashley; a far better one than I should ever have
+been, had I possessed the rudest health. There's only one thing more for
+William to gain, and then I expect he will be at rest."</p>
+
+<p>"What's that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, it's no concern of mine, sir. If folks can't manage for themselves,
+they need not come to me to help them."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Ashley looked keenly at his son. Henry passed to another topic.</p>
+
+<p>"Do send him here, sir, when you get in; or else drive him back with
+you."</p>
+
+<p>"I shall see," said Mr. Ashley. "Do you know where your mother went to?"</p>
+
+<p>"After some domestic catastrophe, I expect. Martha came to the door,
+with a face as green as the peacock's tail, and beckoned her out. The
+best dinner-service come to grief, perhaps."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Ashley rang, and ordered the pony-carriage to be got ready: one
+bought chiefly for Henry, that he might drive into town. Before he
+started, he came across Mary, who stood at one of the corridor windows
+upstairs, and had evidently been crying.</p>
+
+<p>"What is your grief, Mary?"</p>
+
+<p>She turned to the sheltering arm open to her, and tried to choke the
+tears down, which were again rising. "I wish you and mamma would not
+keep so angry at my refusing Sir Harry Marr."</p>
+
+<p>"Who told you I was angry, Mary?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, papa, I fancied so this morning. Mamma is angry about it, and it
+pains me. It is as though you wanted me gone."</p>
+
+<p>"My dear child! Gone! For our comfort I should wish you might never go,
+Mary. But for your own, it may be different."</p>
+
+<p>"I do not wish to go," she sobbed. "I want to stay at home always. It
+was not my fault, papa, if I could not like Sir Harry."</p>
+
+<p>"You should never, with my consent, marry any one you did not like,
+Mary; not if it were the greatest match in the three kingdoms. Why this
+distress, my dear? Mamma's vexation will blow over. She hoped&mdash;as Henry
+tells us&mdash;to see you converted into a 'real live My Lady.' 'My daughter,
+Lady Marr!' It will blow over, child."</p>
+
+<p>Mary cried in silence. "And you will not let me be driven away, papa?
+You will keep me at home always?"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Ashley shook his head. "Always is a long day, Mary. Some one may be
+coming, less distasteful than Sir Harry Marr, who will induce you to
+leave it."</p>
+
+<p>"No, never!" cried she, somewhat more vehemently than the case seemed to
+warrant. "Should any one be asking you for me, you can tell them 'No,'
+at once; do not trouble to bring the news to me."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Any one</i>, Mary?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, papa, no matter who. Do not drive me away from you."</p>
+
+<p>He stooped and kissed her. She stood at the window still, in a dreamy
+attitude, and watched the carriage drive off with Mr. Ashley. Presently
+Henry passed.</p>
+
+<p>"Has the master gone, do you know, Mary?"</p>
+
+<p>"Five minutes ago."</p>
+
+<p>"I hope and trust he'll send back William."</p>
+
+<p>It was striking half-past two when Mr. Ashley entered the manufactory.
+Samuel Lynn was in his own room, sorting gloves; William was in the
+counting house, seated at his desk. His, now; formerly Mr. Ashley's; the
+very desk from which the cheque had disappeared; but William took a more
+active part in the general management than Mr. Ashley had ever done. He
+rose, shook hands with the master, and placed a chair for him. The
+"master" still he was called; indeed, he actually was so; William, "Mr.
+Halliburton."</p>
+
+<p>A short time given to business details, and then Mr. Ashley referred to
+the report of Herbert Dare's death. Poor Herbert Dare had never returned
+from abroad, and it was to be feared he had been getting lower and lower
+in the scale of society. Under happier auspices, and with different
+training, Herbert might have made a happier and a better man.
+Helstonleigh did not know how he lived abroad, or why he stayed there.
+Possibly the free and easy continental life had become necessary to him.
+Homburg, Baden-Baden, Wiesbaden, wherever there were gaming-tables,
+there might be found Herbert Dare. That he must find a living at them in
+some way seemed pretty evident. It was a great pity.</p>
+
+<p>"How did you hear that he was dead?" inquired Mr. Ashley.</p>
+
+<p>"From Richard Winthorne," replied William. "I met him yesterday evening
+in Guild Street, and he told me a report had come over that Herbert Dare
+had died of fever."</p>
+
+<p>As William spoke, a gentleman entered the room, and interrupted them; a
+Captain Chambers. "Have you heard that Herbert Dare's dead?" was his
+first greeting.</p>
+
+<p>"Is it certain?" asked Mr. Ashley.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know. Report says it is certain; but report is not always to be
+believed. How that family has gone down!" continued Captain Chambers.
+"Anthony first; now Herbert; and Cyril will be next. He will go out of
+the world in some discreditable way. A wretched scamp! Shocking habits!
+Old Dare, too, unless I am mistaken, is on his last legs."</p>
+
+<p>"Is he ill?" inquired Mr. Ashley.</p>
+
+<p>"No; no worse than usual; but I never saw a man so broken. I alluded to
+the legs of prosperity. Talk about reports, though," and Captain
+Chambers suddenly wheeled round on William, "there's one going the round
+of the town to-day about you."</p>
+
+<p>"What's that?" asked William. "Not that I am dead, I suppose, or on my
+last legs?"</p>
+
+<p>"Something better. That you are going to marry Sophy Glenn."</p>
+
+<p>William looked all amazement, an amused smile stealing over his lips.
+"Well, I never!" uttered he, using a phrase just then in vogue in
+Helstonleigh. "What has put that into the town's head?"</p>
+
+<p>"You should best know that," said Captain Chambers. "Did you not, for
+one thing, beau Miss Sophy to a concert last night? Come, Master
+William! guilty or not guilty?"</p>
+
+<p>"Guilty of the beauing," answered William. "I called on the Glenns
+yesterday evening, and found them starting for the concert; so I
+accompanied them. I did give my arm to Sophy."</p>
+
+<p>"And whispered the sweet words, 'Will you be my charming wife?'"</p>
+
+<p>"No, that I did not," said William, laughing. "And I dare say I shall
+never whisper them to any woman yet born: if it will give Helstonleigh
+satisfaction to know so much."</p>
+
+<p>"You might go farther and fare worse, than in taking Sophy Glenn, I can
+tell you that, Master William," returned Captain Chambers. "Remember,
+she is the lucky one of three sisters, and had the benignant godmother.
+Sophy Glenn counts five thousand pounds to her fortune."</p>
+
+<p>When Captain Chambers took his departure, Mr. Ashley looked at William.
+"I have heard Henry joke you about the Glenn girls&mdash;nice little girls
+they are too! Is there anything in it, William?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sir! How can you ask such a thing?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think, with Chambers, that a man might do worse than marry Sophy
+Glenn."</p>
+
+<p>"So do I, sir. But I shall not be the man."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I think it is time you contemplated something of the sort. You
+will soon be thirty years of age."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir, but I do not intend to marry."</p>
+
+<p>"Why not?" asked Mr. Ashley.</p>
+
+<p>"Because&mdash;I fear my wishes would lead me to soar too high. That is,
+I&mdash;I&mdash;mean&mdash;&mdash;" He stopped; and seemed to be falling into inextricable
+confusion. A notable thing for the self-possessed William Halliburton.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you mean that you have an attachment in some quarter?" resumed Mr.
+Ashley.</p>
+
+<p>William's face turned fiery red. "I cannot deny it, sir," he answered,
+after considerable hesitation.</p>
+
+<p>"And that she is above your reach?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"In what manner? In position?&mdash;or by any insurmountable obstacle? I
+suppose she is not some one else's wife?"</p>
+
+<p>William smiled. "Oh, no. In position."</p>
+
+<p>"Shall I give you my opinion, William, without knowing the case in
+detail?"</p>
+
+<p>William was standing at one corner of the mantel-piece, his arm leaning
+on its narrow shelf. He did not lift his eyes. "Yes, sir, if you
+please."</p>
+
+<p>"Then I think there is scarcely any marriageable girl in the county, to
+whom you might not aspire, and in time win."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Mr. Ashley!"</p>
+
+<p>"Is it the daughter of the lord-lieutenant?"</p>
+
+<p>William laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"Is it the bishop's daughter?"</p>
+
+<p>William shook his head. "She seems to be quite as far removed from me."</p>
+
+<p>"Come, I must know. Who is it?"</p>
+
+<p>"It is impossible that I can tell you, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"I must know. I don't think I have ever asked you in vain, since the
+time when, a boy, you confessed your thoughts about the found shilling.
+Secrets from me! I will know, William!"</p>
+
+<p>William did not answer. The upper part of his face was concealed by his
+hand; but Mr. Ashley marked the sweet smile that played around his
+mouth.</p>
+
+<p>"Come, I will help you. Is it the charming Dobbs?"</p>
+
+<p>Amused, he took his hand from his face. "Well, sir&mdash;no."</p>
+
+<p>"It cannot be Charlotte East; because she is married."</p>
+
+<p>William seemed as impervious as ever. The master suddenly laid his hand
+upon his shoulder, and confronted him face to face.</p>
+
+<p>"Is it Mary Ashley?"</p>
+
+<p>The burning flush of scarlet that dyed his face, even to the very roots
+of his hair, told Mr. Ashley the truth, far more effectually than words
+could have done. There ensued a pause. Mr. Ashley was the first to break
+it.</p>
+
+<p>"How long have you loved her?"</p>
+
+<p>"For years. <i>That</i> has been the wild dream of my aspirations: one that I
+knew would never be realized," he answered, suffering his eyes to meet
+for a moment Mr. Ashley's.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you spoken to her of it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Never."</p>
+
+<p>"Or led her to believe you loved her?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir. Unless my looks and tones may have betrayed me. I fear they
+have; but it was not intentionally done."</p>
+
+<p>"Honest in this, as in all else," thought Mr. Ashley. "What am I to say
+to you?" he asked aloud.</p>
+
+<p>"I do not know," sighed William. "I expect, of course, sir, that you
+will forbid me Deoffam Hall: but I can still meet Henry at the house in
+town. I hope you will forgive me!" he added in an impassioned tone. "I
+could not help loving her. Before I knew what my new feelings meant,
+love had come. Such love! Had I been in a position to marry her, I would
+have made her life one dream of happiness! When I awoke to it all&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"What awoke you?" was the interruption.</p>
+
+<p>"I think it was Cyril Dare's asking for her. I debated with myself
+then, whether I ought to give up going to your house; but I came to the
+conclusion that, so long as I was able to hide my feelings from her, I
+need not banish myself. My judgment was wrong, I know; but the
+temptation to see her occasionally was great, and I did not resist it."</p>
+
+<p>"And so you continued to go, feeding the flame?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Feeding it passionately and hopelessly; never forgetting that the
+pain of separation must come!"</p>
+
+<p>"Did you hear of Sir Harry Marr's offer?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I heard of it."</p>
+
+<p>William swept his hand across his face as he spoke. It wore a <i>wrung</i>
+expression. Mr. Ashley changed his tone.</p>
+
+<p>"William, I cannot decide this matter, one way or the other. You must
+ask Mary to do that!"</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Sir!</i>"</p>
+
+<p>"If Mary chooses to favour you more than she does other suitors, I will
+not forbid her doing it. Only this very day she begged me, with tears,
+to keep all such troublesome customers away from her; to refuse them of
+my own accord. But it strikes me that you may as well have an answer
+from herself!"</p>
+
+<p>William, his whole soul in his eyes, was gazing at Mr. Ashley. He could
+not tell whether he might believe what he heard; whether he was awake or
+dreaming.</p>
+
+<p>"Did I deliver you a message from Henry?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir," was the abstracted response.</p>
+
+<p>"He wants you to go over to him. I said I would send you if you were not
+busy. He is not very well to-day."</p>
+
+<p>"But&mdash;Mr. Ashley&mdash;did you mean what you said?"</p>
+
+<p>"Should I have said it had I not meant it?" was the quiet answer. "Have
+you a difficulty in believing it?"</p>
+
+<p>The ingenuous light rose to William's eyes, as he raised them to his
+master's. "I have no money," he whispered. "I cannot settle a farthing
+upon her."</p>
+
+<p>"You have something better than money, William&mdash;worth. And I can make
+settlements. Go and hear what Mary says. You will catch the half-past
+three o'clock coach, if you make haste."</p>
+
+<p>William went out, believing still that he must be in a trance. His
+deeply buried dream of the long past years: was it about, indeed, to
+become reality?</p>
+
+<p>But in the midst of it he could not help casting a thought to a less
+pleasing subject&mdash;the Dares. Herbert was young to die; he was, no doubt,
+unprepared to die; and William sincerely hoped that the report would
+prove untrue. The Dares were going down sadly in the social scale; Cyril
+especially. He was just what Captain Chambers had called him&mdash;a scamp.
+After leaving Mr. Ashley's, he had entered his father's office; as a
+temporary thing, it was said; but he had never left it for anything
+else. A great deal of his time was passed in public-houses. George,
+whose commission never came, had gone out, some two or three years ago,
+to Sydney. His sister Julia and her husband had settled there, and they
+had found an opening for George. William walked on, thinking of the
+Dares' position and of his own.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXC" id="CHAPTER_XXC"></a>CHAPTER XX.</h2>
+
+<h3>WAYS AND MEANS.</h3>
+
+
+<p>When William reached Deoffam Hall, he found Henry Ashley alone, lying in
+the drawing-room, the sofa near the open window.</p>
+
+<p>"That's good!" cried he. "Good of the master for sending you, and of you
+for coming."</p>
+
+<p>"You don't look well to-day," observed William. "Your brow has the old
+lines of pain in it."</p>
+
+<p>"Thanks to my hip, which is giving me threatening twinges. What's this
+report about Dare? Is it confirmed?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not absolutely. It was Winthorne told me. Captain Chambers came into
+the manufactory, and spoke of it this afternoon."</p>
+
+<p>"I dare say it's true," said Henry. "I wonder if Anna Lynn will put on
+weeds for him?" he sarcastically added.</p>
+
+<p>"Quakers don't wear weeds."</p>
+
+<p>"Teach your grandmother," returned Henry, lapsing into one of those
+free, popular phrases he indulged in, and <i>was</i> indulged in. "How you
+stare at me! Do you think I am not <i>cured</i>? Ay; years ago."</p>
+
+<p>"You'd have no objection to see Anna marry, I suppose?"</p>
+
+<p>"She's welcome to marry, for me. You may go and propose to her yourself,
+if you like. I'll be groomsman at the wedding."</p>
+
+<p>"Would the alliance give you pleasure?"</p>
+
+<p>Henry laughed. "You'd deserve hanging in chains, if you did enter upon
+it; that's all."</p>
+
+<p>"I have had one wife assigned to me to-day," remarked William.</p>
+
+<p>"Whom may she be?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sophy Glenn."</p>
+
+<p>"Sophy Glenn?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sophy Glenn. Chambers gravely assured me that Helstonleigh had settled
+the match. He, Chambers, considers that I may go farther and fare worse.
+Mr. Ashley said the same."</p>
+
+<p>"But what do <i>you</i> say?" cried Henry, rising up on his sofa, and
+speaking quite sharply.</p>
+
+<p>"I? Oh, I shall consider of it."</p>
+
+<p>At that moment Mary Ashley appeared on the terrace outside; a small
+basket and a pair of scissors in her hand. Henry called to her. "Are you
+going to cut more flowers?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Mamma has sent the others away. She said they were fading." Seeing
+William there, she nodded to him, her colour rising.</p>
+
+<p>"I say, Mary&mdash;he has come here to bring some news," went on Henry. "What
+do you suppose it is?"</p>
+
+<p>"Mamma has told me. About Herbert Dare."</p>
+
+<p>"Not that. He is going to make himself into a respectable man, and marry
+Sophy Glenn. He came here to announce it. Don't cut too much of that
+syringa; its sweetness is overpowering in a room."</p>
+
+<p>Mary walked away. William felt excessively annoyed. "You are more
+dangerous than a child," he exclaimed. "What made you say that?"</p>
+
+<p>And Henry, like a true child, fell back, laughing aloud. "I say, though,
+comrade, where are you off to?" he called after William, who was leaving
+the room.</p>
+
+<p>"To cut the flowers for your sister, of course."</p>
+
+<p>But when William reached Mary Ashley, she had apparently forgotten her
+errand. Standing in a dark spot against the trunk of the acacia tree,
+her face was white and still, and the basket lay on the ground. She
+picked it up, and would have hastened away, but William caught her hand
+and placed it within his arm, little less agitated than she was.</p>
+
+<p>"Not to tell him that news," he whispered. "I did indeed come here,
+hoping to solicit one to be my wife; but it was not Sophy Glenn. Mary,
+you cannot mistake what my feelings have long been."</p>
+
+<p>"But&mdash;papa?" she gasped, unable to control her emotion.</p>
+
+<p>He looked at her; he made her look at him. What strange, happy light was
+that in his earnest eyes, causing her heart to bound? "Mr. Ashley sent
+me to you," he softly whispered.</p>
+
+<p>Henry lay and waited till he was tired. No William; no Mary; no flowers;
+no anything. Had they both gone to sleep? He arose; and, taking his
+stick, limped away to see after them. But he searched the flower-garden
+in vain.</p>
+
+<p>In the sheltered shrubbery, pacing it leisurely, as closely together as
+they could well be linked, were they; a great deal too much occupied
+with each other to pay attention to anything else. The basket lay on the
+ground, empty of all, except the scissors.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you two are a nice lot for a summer's day!" began Henry, after
+his old fashion, and using his own astonished eyes. "What of the
+flowers?"</p>
+
+<p>Mary would have flown, but William held her tightly, and led her up to
+her brother. He strove to speak jestingly; but his voice betrayed his
+emotion.</p>
+
+<p>"Henry, shall it be your sister, or Sophy Glenn?"</p>
+
+<p>"So! you have been settling it for yourselves, have you! I would not be
+in your shoes, Miss Ashley, when the parental thunderbolts shall
+descend. Was this what you flung Sir Harry over for? There never was any
+accounting for taste in this world, and there never will be. I ask you
+where the flowers are, and I should like an answer."</p>
+
+<p>"I will cut them now," said William. "Will you come?" he asked, holding
+out his arm to Henry.</p>
+
+<p>"No," replied Henry, sitting down on the shrubbery bench, "I must
+digest this shock first. You two will be enough to cut them, I dare
+say."</p>
+
+<p>They walked away towards the flower-garden. But ere they had gone many
+steps he called out; and they turned.</p>
+
+<p>"Mary! before you tie yourself up irrevocably, I hope you will reflect
+upon the ignominy of his being nothing on earth but a manufacturer. A
+pretty come down, that, for the Lady Marr who might have been!"</p>
+
+<p>He was in one of his most ironical moods; a sure sign that his inward
+state was that of glowing satisfaction. This had been his hope for
+years&mdash;his plan, it may be said; but he had kept himself silent and
+neutral. As he sat there ruminating, he heard the distant sound of the
+pony carriage; and, taking a short cut, met it in the park. Mr. Ashley
+handed the reins to his groom, got out, and gave his arm to Henry.</p>
+
+<p>"How are you by this time?"</p>
+
+<p>"Better, sir. Nothing much to brag of."</p>
+
+<p>"I thought William would have been with you. Is he not come?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, he is come. But I am second with him to-day. Miss Mary's first."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh indeed!" returned Mr. Ashley.</p>
+
+<p>"They are gone off somewhere, under the pretext of cutting flowers. I
+don't think the flowers were quite the object, though."</p>
+
+<p>He stole a glance at his father as he spoke. But he gathered nothing.
+And he dashed at once into the subject he had at heart.</p>
+
+<p>"Father, you will not stand in their light! It will be a crushing blow
+to both, if you do. Let him have her! There's not a man in the world
+half as worthy."</p>
+
+<p>But still Mr. Ashley made no rejoinder. Henry scarcely gave him time to
+make one.</p>
+
+<p>"I have seen it a long time. I have seen how Halliburton kept down his
+feelings, not being sure of the ground with you. I fear that to-day they
+must have overmastered him; for he has certainly spoken out. Dear
+father, don't make two of the best spirits in the world miserable, by
+withholding your consent!"</p>
+
+<p>"Henry," said Mr. Ashley, turning to him with a smile, "do you fancy
+William Halliburton is one to have spoken out without my consent?"</p>
+
+<p>Henry's thin cheek flushed. "Did you give it him? Have you already given
+it him?"</p>
+
+<p>"I gave it him to-day. I drew from him the fact of his attachment to
+Mary: not telling him in so many words that he should have her, but
+leaving it for her to decide."</p>
+
+<p>"Then it will be: for I have seen where Miss Mary's love has been. How
+immeasurably you have relieved me!" continued Henry. "The last half-hour
+I have been seeing nothing but perplexity and cross-grained guardians."</p>
+
+<p>"Have you?" returned Mr. Ashley. "You should have brought a little
+common sense to bear upon the subject, Henry."</p>
+
+<p>"But my fear was, sir, that you would not bring the common sense to
+bear," freely spoke Henry.</p>
+
+<p>"You do not quite understand me. Had I entertained an insuperable
+objection to Mary's becoming his wife, do you suppose I should have been
+so wanting in prudence and forethought as to have allowed opportunity
+for an attachment to ripen? I have long believed that there was no man
+within the circle of my acquaintance, or without it, so deserving of
+Mary, except in fortune: therefore I suffered him to come here, with my
+eyes open as to what might be the result. A very probable result, it has
+appeared to me. I would forgive any girl who fell in love with William
+Halliburton."</p>
+
+<p>"And what about ways and means?"</p>
+
+<p>"William's share shall be increased, and Mary will not go to him
+dowerless. They must live in our house in Helstonleigh; and when we want
+to go there we must be their guests."</p>
+
+<p>"It will be the working-out of my visions," said Henry in low deep
+tones. "I have seen them in it in fancy; in that very house; and myself
+with them, my home when I please. I think you have been planning for me,
+as much as for them."</p>
+
+<p>"Not exactly, Henry. I have not planned. I have only let things take
+their course. It will be happier for you, my boy, than if she had gone
+from us to be Lady Marr."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! if ever I felt inclined to smother a man, it was that Marr. I
+never, you know, brought myself to be decently civil to him. There's no
+answering for the vanity of maidens, and I thought it just possible he
+might put William's nose out of joint. What will the mother say?"</p>
+
+<p>"The mother will be divided," said Mr. Ashley, a smile crossing his
+face. "She likes William; but she likes a title. We must allow her a day
+or two to get over it. I will go and give her the tidings now, if Mary
+has not done so."</p>
+
+<p>"Mary is with her lovier," returned Henry. "She can't have dragged
+herself away from him yet."</p>
+
+<p>Mary, however, was not with her "lovier." As Mr. Ashley crossed the
+hall, he met her. She stopped in hesitation, and coloured vividly.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Mary, I soon sent you a candidate; though it was in defiance of
+your express orders. Did I do right?"</p>
+
+<p>Mary burst into tears, and Mr. Ashley drew her face to him. "May God
+bless your future and his, my child!"</p>
+
+<p>"I am afraid to tell mamma," she sobbed. "I think she will be angry. I
+could not help liking him."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, that is the very excuse he made to me! Neither can I help liking
+him, Mary. I will tell mamma."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Ashley received the tidings not altogether with equanimity. As Mr.
+Ashley had surmised, she was divided between conflicting opinions. She
+liked and admired William; but she equally liked and admired a title and
+fortune.</p>
+
+<p>"Such a position to relinquish&mdash;the union with Sir Harry!"</p>
+
+<p>"Had she married Sir Harry we should have lost her," said Mr. Ashley.</p>
+
+<p>"Lost her!"</p>
+
+<p>"To be sure we should. She would have gone to her new home, twelve miles
+on the other side of Helstonleigh, amidst her new connections, and have
+been lost to us, excepting for a formal visit now and then. As it is, we
+shall keep her; at her old home."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, there's a great deal to be said on both sides," acknowledged Mrs.
+Ashley. "What does Henry say?"</p>
+
+<p>"That he thinks I have been planning to secure his happiness. Had Mary
+married away, we&mdash;when we quit this scene&mdash;must have left him to his
+lonely self: now, we shall leave him to them. Things are wisely
+ordered," impressively added Mr. Ashley: "in this, as in all else.
+Margaret, let us accept them, and be grateful."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Ashley went to seek William. "You will be a loving husband to her,"
+she said with agitation. "You will take care of her and cherish her?"</p>
+
+<p>"With the best endeavours of my whole life," he fervently answered, as
+he took Mrs. Ashley's hands in his.</p>
+
+<p>It was a happy group that evening. Henry lay on his sofa in complacent
+ease, Mary drawn down beside him, and William leaning over the back of
+it, while Mr. and Mrs. Ashley sat at a distance, partially out of
+hearing.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you heard what the master says?" asked Henry. "He thinks you have
+been getting up your bargain out of complaisance to me. You are aware, I
+hope, Mr. William, that whoever takes Mary must take me?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am perfectly willing."</p>
+
+<p>"It is well you are! And&mdash;do you know where you are to live?"</p>
+
+<p>William shook his head. "You can understand how all these future
+considerations have weighed me down," he said, glancing at Mary.</p>
+
+<p>"You are to live at the house in Helstonleigh. It's to be converted into
+yours by some patent process. The master had an eye to this, I know,
+when he declined to take out any of the furniture, upon our removal
+here. The house is to be yours, and the run of it is to be mine; and I
+shall grumble away to my heart's content at you both. What do you answer
+to that, Mr. William? I don't ask her; she's nobody."</p>
+
+<p>"I can only answer that the more you run into it, the better pleased we
+shall be. And we can stand any extent of grumbling."</p>
+
+<p>"I am glad you can. You ought to by this time, for you have been pretty
+well seasoned to it. So, in the Helstonleigh house, remember, my old
+rooms are mine; and I intend to be the plague of your lives. After a
+time&mdash;may it be a long time!&mdash;I suppose it will be 'Mr. Halliburton of
+Deoffam Hall.'"</p>
+
+<p>"What nonsense you talk, Henry!"</p>
+
+<p>"Nonsense? I shall make it over to you. Catch me sticking myself out
+here in solitary state to the admiration of the peacock! What's the
+matter with you now, you two! Oh, well, if you turn up your noses at
+Deoffam, it shall never be yours. I'll leave it to the eldest
+chickabiddy. And mark you, please! I shall have him named 'Ashley,' and
+stand godfather to him; and, he'll be mine, and not yours. I shall do
+just as I like with the whole lot, if they count a score, and spoil them
+as much as I choose."</p>
+
+<p>"What <i>is</i> the matter there?" exclaimed Mrs. Ashley, perceiving a
+commotion on the sofa.</p>
+
+<p>Mary succeeded in freeing herself, and went away with a crimsoned face.
+"Mamma, I think Henry must be going out of his mind! He is talking so
+absurdly."</p>
+
+<p>"Absurdly! Was what I said absurd, William?"</p>
+
+<p>William laughed. "It was premature, at any rate."</p>
+
+<p>Henry stretched up his hands and laid hold of William's. "It is true
+what Mary says&mdash;that I must be going out of my mind. So I am: with joy."</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>But the report of Herbert Dare's death proved to be a false one.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIC" id="CHAPTER_XXIC"></a>CHAPTER XXI.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE DREAM REALIZED.</h3>
+
+
+<p>The approaching marriage of William Halliburton gave rise to a dispute.
+A dispute of love, though, not bitterness. Frank and Gar contended which
+should have their mother. William no longer wanted her; he was going to
+a home of his own. Frank wished to take larger chambers where she would
+find sufficient accommodation; he urged a hundred reasons; his
+grievances with his laundress, and his buttonless shirts. Gar, who was
+in priest's orders now, had remained in that same first curacy, at a
+hundred a year and the parsonage house to live in. He said he had been
+wanting his mother all along, and could not do without her.</p>
+
+<p>Jane inclined to Gar. She said she had an idea that old ladies&mdash;how they
+would have rebelled at hearing her call herself old!&mdash;were out of place
+in a young barrister's chambers; and she had a further idea that
+chambers were comfortless quarters to live in. The question was to be
+decided when they met at William's wedding. Frank was getting on well;
+better than the ordinary run of aspirants; he had come through
+Helstonleigh two or three times on circuit, and had picked up odds and
+ends of briefs there.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile William took possession of Mr. Ashley's old house, and the
+wedding day approached. Besides her boys, Jane had another visitor for
+the time; her brother Francis, who came down to marry them. Perhaps
+because the Vicar of Deoffam had recently died. He might have come all
+the same, had that gouty old gentleman been still alive.</p>
+
+<p>All clear and cloudless rose the September sun on Deoffam; never a
+brighter sun shone on a wedding. It was a quiet wedding: only a few
+guests were invited to it. Mary, in her white lace robes and floating
+veil&mdash;flushed, timid, lovely&mdash;stood with her bridesmaids; not more
+lovely than one of those bridesmaids, for one was Anna Lynn.</p>
+
+<p>Anna Lynn! Yes; Anna Lynn. To the lasting scandal of Patience, Anna
+stood in the open church, dressed in bridesmaid's attire. Mary, who had
+not been permitted the same intimacy with Anna since that marked and
+unhappy time, but who had loved her all along, had been allowed by Mrs.
+Ashley to choose her for one of her bridesmaids. The invitation was
+proffered, and Samuel Lynn did not see reason to decline it. Patience
+was indignantly rebellious; Anna, wild with delight. Look at her, as she
+stands there! flowing robes of white around her, not made after the
+primitive fashion of <i>her</i> robes, but in the fashion of the day. Her
+falling hair shades her carmine cheeks, and her blue eyes seek modestly
+the ground. A fair picture; and a dangerous one to Henry Ashley, had
+those old feelings of his remained in the ascendant. But he was cured;
+as he told William: and he told it in truth.</p>
+
+<p>A short time, and Anna would want bridesmaids on her own account; though
+that may be speaking metaphorically of a Quakeress. Anna's pretty face
+had pierced the heart of one of their male body; and he had asked for
+Anna in marriage. A very desirable male was he, in a social point of
+view; and female Helstonleigh turned up its nose in envy at Anna's
+fortune. He was considerably older than Anna; a fine-looking man and a
+wealthy one, engaged in wholesale business. His name was Gurney; his
+residence, outside the city, was a handsome one, replete with every
+comfort; and he drove a carriage-and-pair. He had been for some time a
+visitor at Samuel Lynn's, and Anna had learned to like him. That his
+object in visiting there could only be Anna, every one had been sure of,
+his position being so superior to Samuel Lynn's. Every one but Anna.
+Somehow, since that past escapade, Anna had not cast a thought to
+marrying, or to the probability of anyone asking her; and she did not
+suspect his intentions. If she had suspected them, she might have set
+herself against him; for there was a little spice of opposition in her,
+which she loved to indulge. However, before that suspicion came to her
+she had grown to care for him too much to play the coquette. Strange to
+say, there was something in his figure and in the outline of his face,
+which reminded people of Herbert Dare; but his features and their
+expression were quite different.</p>
+
+<p>It was a most excellent match for Anna; there was no doubt of that; but
+it did not afford complete satisfaction to Patience. Patience felt a
+foreboding that he would be a good deal more indulgent to Anna than she
+considered was wholesomely good for her: Patience had a misgiving that
+Anna would be putting off her caps as she chose, then, and would not be
+reprimanded for it. Not unlikely; could that future bridegroom, Charles
+Gurney, catch sight of Anna as she stands now! for a more charming
+picture never was seen.</p>
+
+<p>William, quiet and self-possessed, received Mary from the hands of her
+father, who gave her away. The Reverend Francis Tait read the service,
+and Gar, in his white canonicals, stood with him, after the new fashion
+of the day. Jane's tears dropped on her pearl-grey damask dress; Frank
+made himself very busy amongst the bridesmaids; and Henry Ashley was in
+his most mocking mood. Thus they were made man and wife; and Mr. Tait's
+voice rose high and echoed down the aisles of the little old church at
+Deoffam, as he spoke the solemn injunction&mdash;"<span class="smcap">Those whom God hath joined
+together, let no man put asunder.</span>"</p>
+
+<p>Helstonleigh's streets were lined that day, and Helstonleigh's windows
+were alive with heads. It was known that the bride and bridegroom would
+pass through the town, on the first stage of their bridal tour, whose
+ultimate destination was to be the Continent. The whole crowd of the
+Ashley workpeople had gathered outside the manufactory, neglecting their
+afternoon's work; a neglect which Samuel Lynn not only winked at, but
+participated in, for he stood with them. As the carriage, which was Mr.
+Ashley's, came in sight, its four horses urged by the postillions to a
+sharp trot, one deafening cheer arose from the men. William laughed and
+nodded to them; but they did not get half a good view of the master's
+daughter beside him: nothing but a glimpse of a flushed cheek, and a
+piece of a white veil.</p>
+
+<p>Slouching at the corner of a street, in a seedy coat, his eyes
+bloodshot, was Cyril Dare. Never did one look more of a <i>mauvais sujet</i>
+than he, as he watched the chariot pass. The place now occupied by
+William might have been his, had he so willed it and worked for it. Not,
+perhaps, that of Mary's husband; he could not be sure of that, but as
+Mr. Ashley's partner. A bitter cloud of disappointment, of repentance,
+crossed his face as he looked at them. They both saw him standing there.
+Did Mary think what a promising husband he would have made her? Cyril
+flung a word after them; and it was not a blessing.</p>
+
+<p>Dobbs had also flung something after them, and in point of time and
+precedence this ought to have been mentioned first. Patience, watching
+from her window, curious as every one else, had seen Dobbs come out with
+something under her apron, and take up her station at the gate, where
+she waited patiently for just an hour and a quarter. As the carriage had
+come into view, Dobbs sheltered herself behind the shrubs, nothing to be
+seen of her above them, but her cap and eyes. The moment the carriage
+was past, out flew Dobbs to the middle of the road. Bringing forth from
+their hiding-place a pair of shoes considerably the worse for wear, the
+one possessing no sole, and the other no upper leather, Dobbs dashed
+them with force after the chariot, very much discomposing the manservant
+in the rear, whose head they struck.</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing like old shoes to bring 'em luck," grunted Dobbs to Patience,
+as she retired indoors. "I never knew good come of a wedding that didn't
+get 'em."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>I</i> wish them luck; the luck of a safe arrival home from those
+unpleasant foreign parts," emphatically remarked Patience, who had found
+her residence amongst the French nothing less than a species of
+terrestrial purgatory.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIIC" id="CHAPTER_XXIIC"></a>CHAPTER XXII.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE BISHOP'S LETTER.</h3>
+
+
+<p>A day or two after the wedding, a letter was delivered at Mrs.
+Halliburton's residence, addressed to Gar. Its seal, a mitre, prepared
+Gar to find that it came from the Bishop of Helstonleigh. Its contents
+proved to be a mandate, commanding his attendance the following morning
+at the palace at nine o'clock. Gar turned nervous. Had he fallen under
+his bishop's displeasure, and was about to be reprimanded? Mr. Tait had
+gone back to London; Gar was to leave on the following day, Saturday;
+Frank meant to stay on for a week or two. It was his vacation.</p>
+
+<p>"That's Gar all over!" cried Frank, who had perched himself on a side
+table. "Gar is sure to look to the dark side of things, instead of the
+bright. If the Lord Chancellor sent for me, I should set it down that my
+fortune was about to be made. His lordship's going to present you with a
+living, Gar."</p>
+
+<p>"That's good!" retorted Gar. "What interest have I with the bishop?"</p>
+
+<p>"He has known you long enough."</p>
+
+<p>"As he has many others. If the bishop interested himself for all the
+clergymen who have been educated at Helstonleigh college school, he
+would have enough upon his hands. I expect it is to find fault with me
+for some unconscious offence."</p>
+
+<p>"Go it, Gar! You'll get no sleep to-night."</p>
+
+<p>"Frank, I must say the note appears a peremptory one," remarked Jane.</p>
+
+<p>"Middling for that. It's short, if not sweet."</p>
+
+<p>Whether Gar had any sleep or not that night, he did not say; but he
+started to keep the appointment punctually. His mother and Frank
+remained together, and Jane fell into a bit of quiet talk over the
+breakfast table.</p>
+
+<p>"Frank," said she, "I am often uneasy about you."</p>
+
+<p>"About me!" cried Frank in considerable wonderment.</p>
+
+<p>"If you were to go wrong! I know what the temptations of a London life
+must be. Especially to a young man who has, so to say, no home."</p>
+
+<p>"I steer clear of them. Mother darling, I am telling you the truth," he
+added earnestly. "Do you think we could ever fall away from such
+training as yours? No. Look at what William is; look at Gar; and for
+myself, though I don't like to boast, I assure you, the Anti-evil-doing
+Society&mdash;if you have ever heard of that respected body&mdash;might hoist me
+on a pedestal at Exeter Hall as their choicest model. You don't like my
+joking! Believe me, then, in all seriousness, that your sons will never
+fail you. We did not battle on in our duty as boys, to forget it as men.
+You taught us the bravest lesson that a mother can teach, or a child
+learn, when you contrived to impress upon us the truth that God is our
+witness always, ever present."</p>
+
+<p>Jane's eyes filled with tears: not of grief. She knew that Frank was
+speaking from his heart.</p>
+
+<p>"And you are getting on well?"</p>
+
+<p>"What with stray briefs that come to me, and my literary work, and the
+fellowship, I make six or seven hundred a year already."</p>
+
+<p>"I hope you are not spending it all?"</p>
+
+<p>"That I am not. I put by all I can. It is true that I don't live upon
+bread and potatoes six days in the week, as you know we have done; but I
+take care that my expenses are moderate. It is keeping hare-brained
+follies at arm's-length that enables me to save."</p>
+
+<p>"And now, Frank, for another question. What made you send me that
+hundred-pound note?"</p>
+
+<p>"I shall send you another soon," was all Frank's answer. "The idea of my
+gaining a superfluity of money, and sending none to my darling mother!"</p>
+
+<p>"But indeed I don't know what to do with it, Frank. I do not require
+it."</p>
+
+<p>"Then put it by to look at. As long as I have brains to work with, I
+shall think of my mother. Have you forgotten how she worked for us? I
+wish you would come and live with me?"</p>
+
+<p>Jane entered into all her arguments for deeming that she should be
+better with Gar. Not the least of them was, that she should still be
+near Helstonleigh. Of all her sons, Jane, perhaps unconsciously to
+herself, most loved her eldest: and to go far away from him would have
+been another trouble.</p>
+
+<p>By-and-by, they saw Gar coming back. And he did not look as if he had
+been receiving a reprimand: quite the contrary. He came in almost as
+impulsively as he used to do in his schoolboy days.</p>
+
+<p>"Frank, you were right! The bishop is going to give me a living. Mother,
+it is true."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course," said Frank. "I always am right."</p>
+
+<p>"The bishop did not keep me waiting a minute, although I was there
+before my time. He was very kind, and&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But about the living?" cried impatient Frank.</p>
+
+<p>"I am telling you, Frank. The bishop said he had watched us grow
+up&mdash;meaning you, as well&mdash;and he felt pleased to tell me that he had
+never seen anything but good in either of us. But I need not repeat all
+that. He went on to ask me whether I should be prepared to do my duty
+zealously in a living, were one given to me. I answered that I hoped I
+should&mdash;and the long and the short of it is, that I am going to be
+appointed to one."</p>
+
+<p>"Long live the bishop!" cried Frank. "Where's the living situated! In
+the moon?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, where indeed? Guess what living it is, mother."</p>
+
+<p>"Gar, dear, how can I?" asked Jane. "Is it a minor canonry?"</p>
+
+<p>They both laughed. It recalled Jane to her absence of mind. The bishop
+had nothing to do with bestowing the minor canonries. Neither could a
+minor canonry be called a "living."</p>
+
+<p>"Mother, it is Deoffam."</p>
+
+<p>"Deoffam! Oh, Gar!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, it is Deoffam. You will not have to go far away from Helstonleigh,
+now."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll lay my court wig that Mr. Ashley has had his finger in the pie!"
+cried quick Frank.</p>
+
+<p>But, in point of fact, the gift had emanated from the prelate himself.
+And a very good gift it was: four hundred a year, and the prettiest
+parsonage house within ten miles. The brilliant scholarship of the
+Halliburtons, attained by their own unflagging industry, the high
+character they had always borne, had not been lost upon the Bishop of
+Helstonleigh. Gar's conduct as a clergyman had been exemplary; Gar's
+preaching was of no mean order, and the bishop deemed that such a one as
+Gar ought not to be overlooked. The day has gone by for a bishop to know
+nothing of the younger clergy of his diocese, and he of Helstonleigh had
+Gar Halliburton down in his preferment book. It is just possible that
+the announcement of his name in the local papers, as having helped to
+marry his brother at Deoffam, may have put that particular living into
+the bishop's head. Certain it was, that, a few hours after the bishop
+read it, he ordered his carriage, and went to pay a visit at Deoffam
+Hall. During his stay, he took Mr. Ashley's arm, and drew him out on to
+the terrace, very much as though he wished to take a nearer view of the
+peacock.</p>
+
+<p>"I have been thinking, Mr. Ashley, of bestowing the living of Deoffam
+upon Edgar Halliburton. What should you say to it?"</p>
+
+<p>"That I should almost feel it as a personal favour paid to myself," was
+the reply of Mr. Ashley.</p>
+
+<p>"Then it is done," said the bishop. "He is young, but I know a great
+many older men who are less deserving than he."</p>
+
+<p>"Your lordship may rely upon it that there are few men, young or old,
+who are so intrinsically deserving as the Halliburtons."</p>
+
+<p>"I know it," said the bishop. "They interested me as lads, and I have
+watched them ever since."</p>
+
+<p>And that is how Gar became Vicar of Deoffam.</p>
+
+<p>"You will be trying for a minor canonry now, Gar, I suppose, living so
+near to it?" observed Jane.</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Halliburton, will you be so kind as not to put unsuitable notions
+into his head?" interrupted Frank. "The Reverend Gar must look out for a
+canonry, not a minor. And he won't stop there. When I am on the
+woolsack, in my place in the Lords, Gar may be opposite to me, a
+spiritual peer."</p>
+
+<p>Jane laughed, as did Frank. Who knew, though? It all lay in the future.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIIIC" id="CHAPTER_XXIIIC"></a>CHAPTER XXIII.</h2>
+
+<h3>A DYING CONFESSION.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Meanwhile William Halliburton and his wife had crossed the Channel.
+Amongst other letters, written home to convey news of them, was the
+following. It was written by Mary to Mrs. Ashley, after they had been
+abroad a week or two.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>"<i>Hôtel du Chapeau Rouge, Dunkerque</i>,</p>
+<p>"<i>September 24th.</i></p>
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">My ever dear Mamma</span>,</p>
+
+
+<p>"You have heard from William how it was that we altered our
+intended route. I thought the sea-side so delightful that I was
+unwilling to leave it, even for Paris, and we determined to
+remain on the coast, especially as I shall have other
+opportunities of seeing Paris with William. Boulogne was
+crowded and noisy, so we left it for less frequented towns,
+staying a day or two in each place. We went to Calais and to
+Gravelines; also to Bourbourg, and to Cassel&mdash;the two latter
+<i>not</i> on the coast. The view from Cassel&mdash;which you must not
+confound with Cassel in Germany&mdash;is magnificent. We met some
+English people on the summit of the hill, and they told us the
+English called it the Malvern of France. I am not sure which
+affords the finer view, Cassel or Malvern. They say that eighty
+towns or villages may be counted from it; but I cannot say that
+we made out anything like so many. We can see the sea in the
+far distance&mdash;as we can, on a clear day, catch a glimpse from
+Malvern of the Bristol Channel. The view from some of the
+windows of the Hôtel de Sauvage was so beautiful that I was
+never tired of looking at it. William says he shall show me
+better views when he takes me to Lyons and Annonay, but I
+scarcely think it possible. At a short distance rises a
+monastery of the order of La Trappe, where the monks never
+speak, except the 'Memento mori' when they meet each other.
+Some of the customs of the hotel were primitive; they gave us
+tablespoons in our coffee-cups for breakfast.</p>
+
+<p>"From Cassel we came to Dunkerque, and are staying at the
+Chapeau Rouge, the only large hotel in the place. The other
+large hotel was made into a convent some time back; both are in
+the Rue des Capucins. It is a fine and very clean old fortified
+town, with a statue of Jean Bart in the middle of the Place.
+Place Jean Bart, it is called; and the market is held in it on
+Wednesdays and Saturdays, as it is at Helstonleigh. Such a
+crowded scene on the Saturday! and the women's snow-white caps
+quite shine in the sun. I cannot tell you how much I like to
+look at these old Flemish towns! By moonlight, they look
+exactly like the towns you are familiar with in old pictures.
+There is a large basin here, and a long harbour and pier. One
+English lady, whom we met at the table d'hôte, said she had
+never been to the end of the pier yet, and she had lived in
+Dunkerque four years. It was too far for a walk, she said. The
+country round is flat and poor, and the lower classes mostly
+speak Flemish.</p>
+
+<p>"On Monday we went by barge to a place called Bergues, four
+miles off. It was market day there, and the barge was crowded
+with passengers from Dunkerque. A nice old town, with a fine
+church. They charged us only five sous for our passage. But I
+must leave all these descriptions until I return home, and come
+to what I have chiefly to tell you.</p>
+
+<p>"There is a piece of enclosed ground here, called the Pare. On
+the previous Saturday, which was the day we first arrived here,
+I and William were walking through it, and sat down on one of
+the benches facing the old tower. I was rather tired, having
+been to the end of the pier&mdash;for its length did not alarm us.
+Some one was seated at the other end of the bench, but we did
+not take particular notice of her. Suddenly she turned to me,
+and spoke: 'Have I not the honour of seeing Miss Ashley?'
+Mamma, you may imagine my surprise. It was that Italian
+governess of the Dares, Mademoiselle Varsini, as they used to
+call her. William interposed: I don't think he liked her
+speaking to me. I suppose he thought of that story about her,
+which came over from Germany. He rose and took me on his arm to
+move away. 'Formerly Miss Ashley,' he said to her: 'now Mrs.
+Halliburton.' But William's anger died away&mdash;if he had felt
+any&mdash;when he saw her face. I cannot describe to you how
+fearfully ill she looked. Her cheeks were white, and drawn, and
+hollow; her eyes were sunk within a dark circle, and her lips
+were open and looked black. 'Are you ill?' I asked her. 'I am
+so ill that a few days will be the finish of me,' she answered.
+'The doctor gave me to the falling of the leaves, and many are
+already strewing the grass; in less than a week's time from
+this, I shall be lower than they are.' 'Is Herbert Dare with
+you?' inquired William&mdash;but he has said since that he spoke in
+the moment's impulse. Had he taken thought, he would not have
+put the question. 'No, he is not with me,' she answered, in an
+angry tone. 'I know nothing of him. He is just a vagabond on
+the face of the earth.' 'What is it that is the matter with
+you?' William asked her. 'They call it decay,' she answered. 'I
+was in Brussels, getting my living by daily teaching. I had to
+go out in all weathers, and I did not take heed to the colds I
+caught. I suppose they settled on my lungs.' 'Have you been in
+this town long?' we inquired of her. 'I came in August,' she
+answered. 'The Belgian doctor said if I had a change, it might
+do something for me, and I came here; it was the same to me
+where I went. But it did me harm instead of good. I grew worse
+directly I came; and the doctor here said I must not move away
+again; the travelling would injure me. What mattered it? As
+good die here as elsewhere.' That she had death written plainly
+in her face, was evident. Nevertheless, William tried to say a
+word of hope to her: but she interrupted him. 'There's no
+recovery for me; I am sure to die; and the time, it's to be
+hoped, will not be long in coming, or my money will not hold
+out.' She spoke in a matter-of-fact tone shocking to hear: and
+before I could call up any answer, she turned to William. 'You
+are the William Halli&mdash;I never could say the name&mdash;who was at
+Mr. Ashley's with Cyril Dare. May I ask where you have
+descended in Dunkerque?' 'At the Chapeau Rouge,' replied
+William. 'Then, if I should send there to ask you to come and
+speak with me, will you come?' she continued. 'I have something
+that I should like to tell you before I die.' William informed
+her that we should remain a week; and we wished her good
+morning and moved away into another walk. Soon afterwards, we
+saw a Sister of Charity, one of those who go about nursing the
+sick, come up to her and lead her away. She could scarcely
+crawl, and halted to take breath between every few steps.</p>
+
+<p>"This, I have told you, was last Saturday. This evening,
+Wednesday, just as we were rising from table, a waiter came to
+William and called him out, saying he was wanted. It proved to
+be the Sister of Charity that we had seen in the park; she told
+William that Madame Varsini was near death, and had sent her
+for him. So William went with her, and I have been writing this
+to you since his departure. It is now ten o'clock, and he has
+not yet returned. I shall keep this open to tell you what she
+wanted with him. I cannot imagine.</p>
+
+<p>"Past eleven. William has come in. He thinks she will not live
+over to-morrow. And I have kept my letter open for nothing, for
+William will not tell me. He says she has been talking to him
+about herself and the Dares; but that the tale is more fit for
+papa's ears than for yours or mine.</p>
+
+<p>"My sincerest love to papa and Henry. We are so glad Gar is to
+be at Deoffam!&mdash;And believe me, your ever-loving child,</p>
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">Mary Halliburton.</span>"</p>
+
+<p>"Excuse the smear. I had nearly put 'Mary Ashley.'"</p></blockquote>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>This meeting, described in Mary's letter, must have been one of those
+remarkable coincidences that sometimes occur during a lifetime. Chance
+encounters they are sometimes called. Chance! Had William and his wife
+not gone to Dunkerque&mdash;and they went there by accident, as may be said,
+for the original plan had been to spend their absence in Paris&mdash;they
+would not have met. Had the Italian lady not gone to Dunkerque when
+ordered change&mdash;and she chose it by accident, she said&mdash;they would not
+have met. But somehow both parties <i>were</i> brought there, and they did
+meet. It was not chance that led them there.</p>
+
+<p>When William went out with the sister, she conducted him to a small
+lodging in the Rue Nationale, a street not far from the hotel. The
+accommodation appeared to consist of a small ante-room and a
+bed-chamber. Signora Varsini was in the latter, dressed in a <i>peignoir</i>,
+and sitting in an arm-chair, supported by cushions. A washed-out, faded
+<i>peignoir</i>, possibly the very one she had worn years ago, the night of
+the death of Anthony Dare. William was surprised; by the sister's
+account he had expected to find her in bed, almost in the last
+extremity. But hers was a restless spirit. She was evidently weaker, and
+her breath seemed to come irregularly. William sat down in a chair
+opposite to her: he could not see very much of her face, for the small
+lamp on the table had a green shade over it, which cast its gloom on the
+room.</p>
+
+<p>The sister retired to the ante-room and closed the door between with a
+caution. "Madame was not to talk much." For a few moments after the
+first greeting, she, "Madame," kept silence; then she spoke in English.</p>
+
+<p>"I should not have known you. I never saw much of you. But I knew Miss
+Ashley in a moment. You must have prospered well."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I am Mr. Ashley's partner."</p>
+
+<p>"So! That is what Cyril Dare coveted for himself. Miss Ashley also.
+'Bah, Monsieur Cyril!' said I sometimes to my mind; 'neither the one nor
+the other for thee.' Where is he?"</p>
+
+<p>"Cyril? He is at home. Doing no good."</p>
+
+<p>"He never do good," she said with bitterness. "He Herbert's own brother.
+And the other one&mdash;George?"</p>
+
+<p>"George is in Australia. He has a chance, I believe, of doing pretty
+well."</p>
+
+<p>"Are the girls married?"</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>"Not Adelaide?"</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>Something like a smile curled her dark and fevered lips. "Mademoiselle
+Adelaide was trying after that vicomte. 'Bah!' I would say to myself as
+I did by Cyril, 'there's no vicomte for her; he is only playing his
+game.' Does he go there now?"</p>
+
+<p>"Lord Hawkesley? Oh, no. All intimacy has ceased."</p>
+
+<p>"They have gone down, have they not? They are very poor?"</p>
+
+<p>"I fear they are poor now. Yes, they have very much gone down. May I
+inquire what it is you want with me?"</p>
+
+<p>"You inquire soon," she answered in resentful tones. "Do you fear I
+should contaminate you?&mdash;as you feared for your wife on Saturday?"</p>
+
+<p>"If I can aid you in any way I shall be happy and ready to do so," was
+William's answer, spoken soothingly. "I think you are very ill."</p>
+
+<p>"The doctor was here this afternoon. 'Ma chère,' said he, 'to-morrow
+will about end it. You are too weak to last longer; the inside is
+gone.'"</p>
+
+<p>"Did he speak to you in that way?&mdash;a medical man!"</p>
+
+<p>"He is aware that I know as much about my own state as he does. He might
+not be so plain with all his patients. Then I said to the sister, 'Get
+me up and make the bed, for I must see a friend.'&mdash;And I sent her for
+you. I told you I wanted you to do me a little service. Will you do it?"</p>
+
+<p>"If it is in my power."</p>
+
+<p>"It is not much. It is this," she added, drawing from beneath the
+<i>peignoir</i> a small packet, sealed and stamped, looking like a thick
+letter. "Will you undertake to put this surely in the post after I am
+dead? I do not want it posted before."</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly I will," he answered, taking it from her hand, and glancing
+at the superscription. It was addressed to Herbert Dare at Dusseldorf.
+"Is he there?" asked William.</p>
+
+<p>"That was his address the last I heard of him. He is now here, now
+there, now elsewhere; a vagabond, as I told you, on the face of the
+earth. He is like Cain," she vehemently continued. "Cain wandered abroad
+over the earth, never finding rest. So does Herbert Dare. Who wonders?
+Cain killed his brother: what did <i>he</i> do?"</p>
+
+<p>William lifted his eyes to her face; as much of it as might be
+distinguished under the dark shade cast by the lamp. That she appeared
+to be in a very demonstrative state of resentment against Herbert Dare
+was indisputable.</p>
+
+<p>"He did not kill his brother, at any rate," observed William. "I fear he
+is not a good man; and you may have cause to know that more conclusively
+than I; but he did not kill his brother. You were in Helstonleigh at the
+time, mademoiselle, and must remember that he was cleared," added
+William, falling into the style of address used by the Dares.</p>
+
+<p>"Then I say he did kill him."</p>
+
+<p>She spoke with slow distinctness. William could only look at her in
+amazement. Was her mind wandering? She sat glaring at him with her light
+blue eyes, so glazed, yet glistening; just the same eyes that used to
+puzzle old Anthony Dare.</p>
+
+<p>"What did you say?" asked William.</p>
+
+<p>"I say that Herbert Dare is a second Cain," she answered.</p>
+
+<p>"He did not kill Anthony," repeated William. "He could not have killed
+him. He was in another place at the time."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. With that Puritan child in the dainty dress&mdash;fit attire only for
+your folles in&mdash;what you call the place?&mdash;Bedlam! I know he was in
+another place," she continued: and she appeared to be growing terribly
+excited, between passion and natural emotion.</p>
+
+<p>"Then what are you speaking of?" asked William. "It is an impossibility
+that Herbert could have killed his brother."</p>
+
+<p>"He caused him to be killed."</p>
+
+<p>William felt a nameless dread creeping over him. "What do you mean?" he
+breathed.</p>
+
+<p>"I send that letter, which you have taken charge of, to Herbert the bad;
+but he moves about from place to place, and it may never reach him. So I
+want to tell you in substance what is written in the letter, that you
+may repeat it to him when you come across him. He may be going back to
+Helstonleigh some day; if he not die off first, with his vagabond life.
+Was it not said there, once, that he was dead?"</p>
+
+<p>"Only for a day or two. It was a false report."</p>
+
+<p>"And when you see him&mdash;in case he has not had that packet&mdash;you will tell
+him this that I am now about to tell you."</p>
+
+<p>"What is its nature?" asked William.</p>
+
+<p>"Will you promise to tell him?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not until I first hear what it may be," fearlessly replied William.
+"Intrust it to me, if you will, and I will keep it sacred; but I must
+use my own judgment as to imparting it to Herbert Dare. It may be
+something that would be better left unsaid."</p>
+
+<p>"I do not ask you to keep it sacred," she rejoined. "You may tell it to
+the world if you please; you may tell it to your wife; you may tell it
+to all Helstonleigh. But not until I am dead. Will you give that
+promise?"</p>
+
+<p>"That I will readily give you."</p>
+
+<p>"On your honour?"</p>
+
+<p>William's truthful eyes smiled into hers. "On my honour&mdash;if that shall
+better satisfy you. It was not necessary."</p>
+
+<p>She remained silent a few moments, and then burst forth vehemently.
+"When you see him, that cochon, that vaurien&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I beg you to be calm," interrupted William. "This excitement must be
+most injurious to one in your weak state; I cannot sit and listen to
+it."</p>
+
+<p>"Tell him," said she, leaning forward, and speaking in a somewhat calmer
+tone, "tell him that it was he who caused the death of his brother
+Anthony."</p>
+
+<p>William could only look at her. Was she wandering? "<i>I</i> killed him," she
+went on. "Killed him in mistake for Monsieur Herbert."</p>
+
+<p>Barely had the words left her lips, when all that had been strange in
+that past tragedy seamed to roll away as a cloud from William's mind.
+The utter mystery there had been as to the perpetrator: the almost
+impossibility of pointing accusation to any, seemed now accounted for:
+and a conviction that she was speaking the dreadful truth fell upon him.
+Involuntarily he recoiled from her.</p>
+
+<p>"He used me ill; yes, he used me ill, that wicked Herbert!" she
+continued in agitation. "He told me stories; he was false to me; he
+mocked at me! He had made me care for him; I cared for him&mdash;ah, I not
+tell you how. And then he turned round to laugh at me. He had but amused
+himself&mdash;pour faire passer la temps!"</p>
+
+<p>Her voice had risen to a shriek; her face and lips grew ghastly, and she
+began to twitch as one falling into convulsion. William grew alarmed,
+and hastened to her support. He could not help it, much as his spirit
+revolted from her.</p>
+
+<p>"Y a-t-il quelque chose qu'on peut donner à madame pour la soulager?" he
+called out hastily to the sister in his fear.</p>
+
+<p>The woman glided in. "Mais oui, monsieur. Madame s'agite, n'est-ce pas?"</p>
+
+<p>"Elle s'agite beaucoup."</p>
+
+<p>The sister poured some drops from a phial into a wine-glass of water,
+and held it to those quivering lips. "Si vous vous agitez comme cela,
+madame, c'est pour vous tuer, savez-vous?" cried she.</p>
+
+<p>"I fear so too," added William in English to the invalid. "It would be
+better for me not to hear this, than for you to put yourself into this
+state."</p>
+
+<p>She grew calmer, and the sister quitted them. William resumed his seat
+as before; there appeared to be no help for it, and she continued her
+tale.</p>
+
+<p>"I not agitate myself again," she said. "I not tell you all the details,
+or what I suffered: à quoi bon? Pain at morning, pain at midday, pain at
+night; I think my heart turned dark, and it has never been right
+again&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Hush, mademoiselle! The sister will hear you."</p>
+
+<p>"What matter? She not speak English."</p>
+
+<p>"I really cannot, for your sake, remain here, if you put yourself into
+this state," he rejoined.</p>
+
+<p>"You must remain; you must listen! You have promised to do it," she
+answered.</p>
+
+<p>"I will, if you will be calm."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll be calm," she rejoined, the check having driven back the rising
+passion. "The worst is told. Or rather, I do not tell you the
+worst&mdash;that mauvais Herbert! Do you wonder that my spirit was turned to
+revenge?"</p>
+
+<p>Perceiving somewhat of her fierce and fiery nature, William did not
+wonder at it. "I do not know what I am to understand yet?" he whispered.
+"Did <i>you</i>&mdash;<i>kill</i>&mdash;Anthony?"</p>
+
+<p>She leaned back on her pillow, clasping her hands before her. "Ah me! I
+did! Tell him so," she continued again passionately; "tell him that I
+killed Anthony&mdash;thinking it was <i>him</i>."</p>
+
+<p>"It is a dreadful story!" shuddered William.</p>
+
+<p>"I did not mean it to be so dreadful," she answered, speaking quite
+equably. "No, I did not; and I am telling you as true as though it were
+my confession before receiving the <i>bon dieu</i>. I only meant to wound
+him&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Herbert?"</p>
+
+<p>"Herbert! Of course; who else but Herbert?" she retorted, giving signs
+of another relapse. "Had I cause of anger against that pauvre Anthony?
+No; no. Anthony was sharp with the rest sometimes, but he was always
+civil to me; I never had a mis-word with him. I not like Cyril; but I
+not dislike George and Anthony. Why, why," she continued, wringing her
+hands, "did Anthony come forth from his chamber that night and go out,
+when he said he had retired to it for good? That is where all the evil
+arose."</p>
+
+<p>"Not all," dissented William in low tones.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, all," she sharply repeated. "I had only meant to give Mr. Herbert
+a little prick in the dark, just to repay him, to stop his pleasant
+visits to that field for a term. I never thought to kill him. I liked
+him better than that, ill as he was behaving to me. I never thought to
+kill him; I never thought much to hurt him. And it would not have hurt
+Anthony; but that he was what you call tipsy, and fell on the point of
+the&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Scissors?" suggested William, for she had stopped. How could he, even
+with this confession before him, speak to a lady&mdash;or one who ought to
+have been a lady&mdash;of any uglier weapon?</p>
+
+<p>"I had something by me sharper than scissors. But never you mind what.
+That, so far, does not matter. The little hurt I had intended for
+Herbert he escaped; and poor Anthony was killed."</p>
+
+<p>There was a long pause. William broke it, speaking out his thoughts
+impulsively.</p>
+
+<p>"And yet you went to Rotterdam afterwards to make friends with Herbert!"</p>
+
+<p>"When he write and tell me there good teaching in the place, could I
+know it was untrue? Could I know that he would borrow all my money from
+me? Could I know that he turn out a worse&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Mademoiselle, I pray you, be calm."</p>
+
+<p>"There, then. I will say no more. I have outlived it. But I wish him to
+know that that fine night's work was <i>his</i>. It was the right man who lay
+in prison for it. The letter I have given you may never reach him; and I
+ask you tell him, for his pill, should it not."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you have never hinted this to him?" asked William.</p>
+
+<p>"Never. I was afraid. Will you tell him?"</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot make the promise. I must use my own discretion. I think it is
+very unlikely that I shall ever see him."</p>
+
+<p>"You meet people that you do not look for. Until last Saturday, you
+might have said it was unlikely that you would meet me."</p>
+
+<p>"That is true."</p>
+
+<p>Now that the excitement of the disclosure was over, she lay back in a
+grievous state of exhaustion. William rose to leave, and she held out
+her hand to him. Could he shun it&mdash;guilty as she had confessed herself
+to him? No. Who was he, that he should set himself up to judge her? And
+she was dying!</p>
+
+<p>"Can nothing be done to alleviate your sufferings?" he inquired in a
+kindly tone.</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing. The sooner death comes to release me from them, the better."</p>
+
+<p>He lingered yet, hesitating. Then he bent closer to her, and spoke in a
+whisper.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you thought much of that other life? Of the necessity of
+repentance&mdash;of seeking earnestly the pardon of God?"</p>
+
+<p>"That is your Protestant fashion," she answered with equanimity. "I have
+made my confession to a priest and he has given me absolution. A good
+fat old man; he was very kind to me; he saw how I had been tossed and
+turned about in life. He will bring the <i>bon dieu</i> to me the last thing,
+and cause a mass to be said for my soul."</p>
+
+<p>"I thought I had heard that you were a Protestant."</p>
+
+<p>"I was either. I said I was a Protestant to Madame Dare. But the Roman
+Catholic religion is the most convenient to take up when you are
+passing. <i>Your</i> priests say they cannot pardon sins."</p>
+
+<p>The interview took longer in acting than it has in telling, and William
+returned to the hotel to find Mary tired, wondering at his absence, and
+a letter to Mrs. Ashley&mdash;with which you have been favoured&mdash;lying on the
+table, awaiting its conclusion.</p>
+
+<p>"You are weary, my darling. You should not have remained up."</p>
+
+<p>"I thought you were never coming, William. I thought you must have gone
+off by the London steamer, and left me here! The hotel omnibus took some
+passengers to it at ten o'clock."</p>
+
+<p>William sat down on the sofa, and drew her to him; the full tide of
+thankfulness going up from his heart that all women were not as the one
+he had just left.</p>
+
+<p>"And what did Mademoiselle Varsini want with you, William? Is she really
+dying?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think she is dying. You must not ask me what she wanted, Mary. It was
+to tell me something&mdash;to speak of things connected with herself and the
+Dares. They would not be pleasant to your ears."</p>
+
+<p>"But I have been writing an account of all this to mamma, and have left
+my letter open, to send word what the governess could have to say to
+you. What can I tell her?"</p>
+
+<p>"Tell her as I tell you, my dearest: that what I have been listening to
+is more fit for Mr. Ashley's ears than for yours or hers."</p>
+
+<p>Mary rose and wrote rapidly the concluding lines. William stood and
+watched her. He laughed at the "smear."</p>
+
+<p>"I am not familiar with my new name yet: I was signing myself 'Mary
+Ashley.'"</p>
+
+<p>"Would you go back to the old name, if you could?" cried he, somewhat
+saucily.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, William!"</p>
+
+<p>Saturday came round again: the day they were to leave&mdash;just a week since
+they had come, since the encounter in the park. They were taking an
+early walk in the market, when certain low sounds, as of chanting,
+struck upon their ears. A funeral was coming along; it had just turned
+out of the great church of St. Eloi, at the other corner of the Place.
+Not a wealthy funeral&mdash;quite the other thing. On the previous day they
+had seen a grand interment, attended by its distinguishing marks; seven
+or eight banners, as many priests. Some sudden feeling prompted William
+to ask whose funeral this was, and he made inquiry of a shopkeeper, who
+was standing at her door.</p>
+
+<p>"Monsieur, c'est l'enterrement d'une étrangère. Une Italienne, l'on dit:
+Madame Varsini."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, William! do they bury her already?" was Mary's shocked
+remonstrance. "It was only yesterday at midday the sister came to you to
+say she had died. What a shame!"</p>
+
+<p>"Hush, love! Many of the people here understand English. They bury
+quickly in these countries."</p>
+
+<p>They stood on the pavement, and the funeral came quickly on. One black
+banner borne aloft in a man's hand, two boys in surplices with lighted
+candles, and the priest chanting with his open book. Eight men, in white
+corded hats and black cloaks, bore the coffin on a bier, and there was a
+sprinkling of impromptu followers&mdash;as there always is at these foreign
+funerals. As the dead was borne past him on its way to the cemetery,
+William, following the usage of the country, lifted his hat, and
+remained uncovered until it had gone by.</p>
+
+<p>And that was the last of Bianca Varsini.</p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIVC" id="CHAPTER_XXIVC"></a>CHAPTER XXIV.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE DOWNFALL OF THE DARES.</h3>
+
+
+<p>It was a winter's morning, and the family party round the breakfast
+table at William Halliburton's looked a cheery one, with its adjuncts of
+a good fire and good fare. Mr. and Mrs. Ashley and Henry were guests.
+And I can tell you that in Mr. Ashley they were entertaining no less a
+personage than the high sheriff of the county.</p>
+
+<p>The gentlemen nominated for sheriffs, that year, for the county of
+Helstonleigh, whose names had gone up to the Queen, were as follows:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>Humphrey Coldicott, Esquire, of Coldicott Grange;</p>
+
+<p>Sir Harry Marr, Bart., of The Lynch;</p>
+
+<p>Thomas Ashley, Esquire, of Deoffam Hall. And her Majesty had been
+pleased to pick the latter name.</p>
+
+<p>The gate of the garden swung open, and some one came hastily round the
+gravel-path to the house. Mary, who was seated at the head of the table,
+facing the window, caught a view of the visitor.</p>
+
+<p>"It is Mrs. Dare!" she exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Dare!" repeated Mr. Ashley, as a peal at the hall-bell was heard.
+"Nonsense, child!"</p>
+
+<p>"Papa, indeed it is."</p>
+
+<p>"I think you must be mistaken, Mary," said her husband. "Mrs. Dare would
+scarcely be out at this early hour."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, you disbelievers all!" laughed Mary. "As if I did not know Mrs.
+Dare! She looked scared and flurried."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Dare, looking indeed scared and flurried, came into the
+breakfast-room. The servant had been showing her into another room, but
+she put him aside, and appeared amidst them.</p>
+
+<p>What brought her there? What had she come to tell them? Alas! of their
+unhappy downfall. How the Dares had contrived to go on so long, without
+the crash coming, they alone knew. They had promised to pay here, they
+had promised to pay there; and people, tradespeople especially, did not
+much like to begin compulsory measures with old Anthony Dare, who had so
+long held sway in Helstonleigh. His professional business had almost
+left him&mdash;perhaps because there was no efficient head to carry it on.
+Cyril was just what mademoiselle had called Herbert, a vagabond; and
+Cyril was an irretrievable one. No good to the business was he&mdash;not half
+as much good as he was to the public-houses. Mr. Dare, with white hair,
+bent form, and dim eyes, would go creeping to his office most days; but
+his memory was leaving him, and it was evident to all that he was
+relapsing into his second childhood. Latterly they had lived entirely by
+privately disposing of their portable effects&mdash;as Honey Fair used to do
+when it fell out of work. They owed money everywhere; rent, taxes,
+servants' wages, large debts, small debts&mdash;it was universal. And now the
+landlord had put in his claim after the manner of landlords, and it had
+brought on the climax. They were literally without resource; they knew
+not where to turn; they had not a penny, or the worth of it, in the wide
+world. Mrs. Dare, in the alarm occasioned by the unwelcome visitor&mdash;for
+the landlord's man had made good his entrance that morning&mdash;came flying
+off to Mr. Ashley, some extravagant hope floating in her mind that help
+might be obtained from him.</p>
+
+<p>"Here's trouble! Here's trouble!" she exclaimed by way of salutation,
+wringing her hands frantically.</p>
+
+<p>They rose in consternation, believing she must have gone wild. William
+handed her a chair.</p>
+
+<p>"There, don't come round me," she cried, as she flung herself into it.
+"Go on with your breakfast. I have concealed our troubles until I am
+heart-sick, and now they can be concealed no longer, and I have come for
+help to you. Don't press anything upon me, Mrs. William Halliburton; to
+attempt to eat would choke me!"</p>
+
+<p>She sat there and entered on her grievances. How they had long been
+without money, had lived by credit, and by pledging things out of their
+house; how they owed more than she could tell; how a "horrible man" had
+come into their house that morning, as an emissary of the landlord.</p>
+
+<p>"What are we to do?" she wailed. "Will you help us? Mr. Ashley, will
+you?&mdash;your wife is my husband's cousin, you know. Mr. Halliburton, will
+<i>you</i> help us? Don't you know that I have a right to claim kindred with
+you? Your father and I were first cousins, and lived for some time under
+the same roof."</p>
+
+<p>William remembered the former years when she had not been so ready to
+own the relationship. He remembered the day when Mr. Dare had put a
+seizure into their house, and his mother had gone, craving grace of him.
+Mr. Ashley remembered it, and his eye met William's. How marvellously
+had the change been brought round! the right come to light!</p>
+
+<p>"What is it that you wish me to do?" inquired Mr. Ashley. "I do not
+understand."</p>
+
+<p>"Not understand!" she sharply echoed, in her grief. "I want the landlord
+paid out. You have ample means at command, Mr. Ashley, and might do this
+much for us."</p>
+
+<p>A modest request, certainly! The rent due was for three years:
+considerably more than two hundred pounds. Mr. Ashley replied to it
+quietly.</p>
+
+<p>"A moment's reflection might convince you, Mrs. Dare, that to pay this
+money would be fruitless waste. The instant this procedure gets
+wind&mdash;and in all probability it has already done so&mdash;other claims, as
+pressing, will be enforced."</p>
+
+<p>"Tradespeople must wait," she answered, with irritation.</p>
+
+<p>"Wait for what?" asked Mr. Ashley. "Do you expect to drop into a
+fortune?"</p>
+
+<p>Wait for what, indeed? For complete ruin? There was nothing else to wait
+for. Mrs. Dare sat beating her foot against the carpet.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Dare has grown useless," she said. "What he says one minute, he
+forgets the next; he is almost in a state of imbecility. I have no one
+to consult with, and therefore I come to you. Indeed, you must help me."</p>
+
+<p>"But I do not see what I can do for you," rejoined Mr. Ashley. "As to
+paying your debts, it is&mdash;it is&mdash;in fact, it is not to be thought of. I
+have my own payments to make, my expenses to keep up. I could not do it,
+Mrs. Dare."</p>
+
+<p>She paused again, playing nervously with her bonnet strings. "Will you
+go back with me, and see what you can make of Mr. Dare? Perhaps between
+you something may be arranged. I don't understand things."</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot go back with you," replied Mr. Ashley. "I must attend the
+meeting which takes place this morning at the Guildhall."</p>
+
+<p>"In your official capacity," remarked Mrs. Dare in not at all a pleasant
+tone of voice. "I forgot that you preside at it. How very grand you have
+become!"</p>
+
+<p>"Very grand indeed, I think, considering the lowly estimation in which
+you held the glove manufacturer, Thomas Ashley," he answered, with a
+good-humoured laugh. "I will call upon your husband in the course of the
+day, Mrs. Dare."</p>
+
+<p>She turned to William. "Will you return with me? I have a claim on you,"
+she reiterated eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>He shook his head. "I accompany Mr. Ashley to the meeting."</p>
+
+<p>She was obliged to be satisfied, turned abruptly, and left the room,
+William attending her to the door.</p>
+
+<p>"What d'you call that?" asked Henry, lifting his voice for the first
+time.</p>
+
+<p>"Call it?" repeated his sister.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Mrs. Mary; call it. Cheek, I should say."</p>
+
+<p>"Hush, Henry," said Mr. Ashley.</p>
+
+<p>"Very well, sir. It's cheek all the same, though."</p>
+
+<p>As Mr. Ashley surmised, the misfortune had already got wind, and the
+unhappy Dares were besieged that day by clamorous creditors. When Mr.
+Ashley and William arrived there, for they walked up at the conclusion
+of the public meeting, they found Mr. Dare seated alone in the
+dining-room; that sad dining-room which had witnessed the tragical end
+of Anthony. He cowered over the fire, his thin hands stretched out to
+the blaze. He was not altogether childish; but his memory failed, and he
+was apt to fall into fits of wandering. Mr. Ashley drew forward a chair
+and sat down by him.</p>
+
+<p>"I fear things do not look very bright," he observed. "We called in at
+your office as we came by, and found a seizure was also put in there."</p>
+
+<p>"There's nothing much for 'em to take but the desks," returned old
+Anthony.</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Dare wished me to come and talk matters over with you, to see
+whether anything could be done. She does not understand them, she said."</p>
+
+<p>"What <i>can</i> be done, when things come to such a pass as this?" returned
+Anthony Dare, lifting his head sharply. "That's just like women&mdash;'seeing
+what's to be done!' I am beset on all sides. If the bank sent me a
+present of three or four thousand pounds, we might go on again. But it
+won't, you know. The things must go, and we must go. I suppose they'll
+not put me in prison; they'd get nothing by doing it."</p>
+
+<p>He leaned forward and rested his chin on his stick, which was stretched
+out before him as usual. Presently he resumed, his eyes and words alike
+wandering:</p>
+
+<p>"He said the money would not bring us good if we kept it. And it has
+not: it has brought a curse. I have told Julia so twenty times since
+Anthony went. Only the half of it was ours, you know, and we took the
+whole."</p>
+
+<p>"What money?" asked Mr. Ashley, wondering what he was saying.</p>
+
+<p>"Old Cooper's. We were at Birmingham when he died, I and Julia. The will
+left it all to her, but he charged us&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dare suddenly stopped. His eye had fallen on William. In these fits
+of wandering he partially lost his memory, and mixed things and people
+together in the most inextricable confusion.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you Edgar Halliburton?" he went on.</p>
+
+<p>"I am his son. Do you not remember me, Mr. Dare?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, ay. Your son-in-law," nodding to Mr. Ashley. "But Cyril was to have
+had that place, you know. He was to have been your partner."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Ashley made no reply. It might not have been understood. And Mr.
+Dare resumed, confounding William with his father.</p>
+
+<p>"It was hers in the will, you know, Edgar, and that's some excuse, for
+we had to prove it. There was not time to alter the will, but he said it
+was an unjust one, and charged us to divide the money; half for us, half
+for you; to divide it to the last halfpenny. And we took it all. We did
+not mean to take it, or to cheat you, but somehow the money went; our
+expenses were great, and we had heavy debts, and when you came
+afterwards to Helstonleigh and died, your share was already broken
+into, and it was too late. Ill-gotten money brings nothing but a curse,
+and that money brought it to us. Will you shake hands and forgive?"</p>
+
+<p>"Heartily," replied William, taking his wasted hand.</p>
+
+<p>"But you had to struggle, and the money would have kept struggle from
+you. It was many thousands."</p>
+
+<p>"Who knows whether it would or not?" cheerily answered William. "Had we
+possessed money to fall back upon, we might not have struggled with a
+will; we might not have put out all the exertion that was in us, and
+then we should never have got on as we have done."</p>
+
+<p>"Ay; got on. You are looked up to now; you have become gentlemen. And
+what are my boys? The money was yours."</p>
+
+<p>"Dismiss it entirely from your memory, Mr. Dare," was William's answer,
+given in true compassion. "I believe that our not having had it may have
+been good for us in the long-run, rather than a drawback. The utter want
+of money may have been the secret of our success."</p>
+
+<p>"Ay," nodded old Dare. "My boys should have been taught to work, and
+they were only taught to spend. We must have our luxuries indoors,
+forsooth, and our show without; our servants, and our carriages, and our
+confounded pride. What has it ended in?"</p>
+
+<p>What had it! They made no answer. Mr. Dare remained still for a while,
+and then lifted his haggard face, and spoke in a whisper, a shrinking
+dread in his face and tone.</p>
+
+<p>"They have been nothing but my curses. It was through Herbert that she,
+that wicked foreign woman, murdered Anthony."</p>
+
+<p>Did he know of <i>that</i>? How had the knowledge come to him! William had
+not betrayed it, except to Mr. Ashley and Henry. And they had buried the
+dreadful secret down deep in the archives of their breasts. Mr. Dare's
+next words disclosed the puzzle.</p>
+
+<p>"She died, that woman. And she wrote to Herbert on her death-bed and
+made a confession. He sent a part of it on here, lest, I suppose, we
+might doubt him still. But his conduct led to it. It is dreadful to have
+such sons as mine!"</p>
+
+<p>His stick fell to the ground. Mr. Ashley held him, while William picked
+it up. He was gasping for breath.</p>
+
+<p>"You are not well," cried Mr. Ashley.</p>
+
+<p>"No; I think I am going. One can't stand these repeated shocks. Did I
+see Edgar Halliburton here? I thought he was dead. Is he come for his
+money?" he continued in a shivering whisper. "We acted according to the
+will, sir: according to the will, tell him. He can see it in Doctors'
+Commons. He can't proceed against us; he has no proof. Let him go and
+look at the will."</p>
+
+<p>"We had better leave him, William," murmured Mr. Ashley. "Our presence
+only excites him."</p>
+
+<p>In the opposite room sat Mrs. Dare. Adelaide passed out of it as they
+entered. Never before had they remarked how sadly worn and faded she
+looked. Her later life had been spent in pining after the chance of
+greatness she had lost, in missing Viscount Hawkesley. Irrevocably lost
+to her; for the daughter of a neighbouring earl now called him husband.
+They sat down by Mrs. Dare, but could only condole with her: nothing but
+the most irretrievable ruin was around.</p>
+
+<p>"We shall be turned from here," she wailed. "How are we to find a
+home&mdash;to earn a living?"</p>
+
+<p>"Your daughters must do something to assist you," replied Mr. Ashley.
+"Teaching, or&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Teaching! in this overdone place!" she interrupted.</p>
+
+<p>"It has been somewhat overdone in that way, certainly of late years," he
+answered. "If they cannot get teaching, they may find some other
+employment. Work of some sort."</p>
+
+<p>"Work!" shrieked Mrs. Dare. "My daughters <i>work</i>!"</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed, I don't know what else is to be done," he answered. "Their
+education has been good, and I should think they may obtain daily
+teaching: perhaps sufficient to enable you to live quietly. I will pay
+for a lodging for you, and give you a trifle towards housekeeping, until
+you can turn yourselves round."</p>
+
+<p>"I wish we were all dead!" was the response of Mrs. Dare.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Ashley went a little nearer to her. "What is this story that your
+husband has been telling about the misappropriation of the money that
+Mr. Cooper desired should be handed to Edgar Halliburton?"</p>
+
+<p>She threw her hands before her face with a low cry. "Has he been
+betraying <i>that</i>? What will become of us?&mdash;what shall we do with him? If
+ever a family was beaten down by fate, it is ours."</p>
+
+<p>Not gratuitously by fate, thought Mr. Ashley. Its own misdoings have
+brought the evil upon it. "Where is Cyril?" he asked aloud. "He ought to
+bestir himself to help you, now."</p>
+
+<p>"Cyril!" echoed Mrs. Dare, a bitter scowl rising to her face. "<i>He</i> help
+us! You know what Cyril is."</p>
+
+<p>As they went out, they met Cyril. What a contrast the two cousins
+presented, side by side!&mdash;he and William might be called such. The
+one&mdash;fine, noble, intellectual; his countenance setting forth its own
+truth, candour, honour; making the best in his walk of life, of the
+talents entrusted to him by God. The other&mdash;slouching, untidy, all but
+ragged; his offensive doings too plainly shown in his bloated face, his
+inflamed eyes: letting his talents and his days run to worse than waste;
+a burden to himself and to those around him. And yet, in their boyhood
+days, how great had been Cyril's advantages over William Halliburton's!</p>
+
+<p>They walked away arm-in-arm, William and Mr. Ashley. A short visit to
+the manufactory in passing, and then they continued their way home,
+taking it purposely through Honey Fair.</p>
+
+<p>Honey Fair! Could <i>that</i> be Honey Fair? Honey Fair used to be an
+unsightly, inodorous place, where mud, garbage, and children ran riot
+together: a species, in short, of capacious pigsty. But look at it now.
+The paths are well kept, the road is clean and cared for. Her Majesty's
+state coach-and-eight might drive down it, and the horses would not have
+to tread gingerly. The houses are the same; small and large bear
+evidence of care, of thrift, of a respectable class of inmates. The
+windows are no longer stuffed with rags, or the palings broken. And that
+little essay&mdash;the assembling at Robert East's, and William
+Halliburton&mdash;had led to the change.</p>
+
+<p>Men and women had been awakened to self-respect; to the duty of striving
+to live well and to do well; to the solemn thought that there is another
+world after this, where their works, good or bad, would follow them.
+They had learned to reflect that it <i>might</i> be possible that one phase
+of a lost soul's punishment after death, will lie in remembering the
+duties it ought to have performed in life. They knew, without any effort
+of reflection, that it is a remembrance which makes the sting of many a
+death-bed. Formerly, Honey Fair had believed (those who had thought
+about it) that their duties in this world and any duties which lay in
+preparing for the next, were as wide apart as the two poles. Of that
+they had now learned the fallacy. Honey Fair had grown serene. Children
+were taken out of the streets to be sent to school; the Messrs. Bankes
+had been discarded, for the women had grown wiser; and, for all the
+custom the "Horned Ram" obtained from Honey Fair, it might have shut
+itself up. In short, Honey Fair had been awakened, speaking from a
+moderate point of view, to enlightenment; to the social improvements of
+an advancing and a thinking age.</p>
+
+<p>This was a grand day with Honey Fair, as Mr. Ashley and William knew,
+when they turned to walk through it. Mr. Ashley had purchased that
+building you have heard of, for a comparative trifle, and made Honey
+Fair a present of it. It was very useful. It did for their schools,
+their night meetings, their provident clubs; and to-night a treat was to
+be held in it. The men expected that Mr. Ashley would look in, and Henry
+Ashley had sent round his chemical apparatus to give them some
+experiments, and had bought a great magic-lantern. The place was now
+called the "Ashley Institute." Some thought&mdash;Mr. Ashley for one&mdash;that
+the "Halliburton Institute" would have been more consonant with fact;
+but William had resolutely withstood it. The piece of waste land behind
+it had been converted into a sort of playground and garden. The children
+were not watched in it incessantly, and screamed at:&mdash;"You'll destroy
+those flowers!" "You'll break that window!" "You are tearing up the
+shrubs!" No: they were made to understand that they were <i>trusted</i> not
+to do these things; and they took the trust to themselves, and were
+proud of it. You may train a child to this, if you will.</p>
+
+<p>As they passed the house of Charlotte East, she was turning in at her
+garden gate; and, standing at the window, dandling a baby, was Caroline
+Mason. Caroline was servant to Charlotte now, and that was Charlotte's
+baby; for Charlotte was no longer Charlotte East, but Mrs. Thorneycroft.
+She curtsied as they came up.</p>
+
+<p>"Good afternoon, gentlemen. I have been round to the rooms to show them
+how to arrange the evergreens. I hope they will have a pleasant
+evening!"</p>
+
+<p>"They!" echoed Mr. Ashley. "Are you not coming yourself?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think not, sir. Adam and Robert will be there, of course; but I can't
+well leave baby!"</p>
+
+<p>"Nonsense, Charlotte!" exclaimed William. "What harm will happen to the
+baby? Are you afraid of its running away?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, sir, you don't understand babies yet."</p>
+
+<p>"That has to come," laughed Mr. Ashley.</p>
+
+<p>"I understand enough about babies to pronounce that one a most exacting
+infant, if you can't leave it for an hour or two," persisted William.
+"You must come, Charlotte. My wife intends to be there."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, sir,&mdash;I know I should like it. Perhaps I can manage to run round
+for an hour, leaving Caroline to listen."</p>
+
+<p>"How does Caroline go on?" inquired Mr. Ashley.</p>
+
+<p>"Sir, never a better young woman went into a house. That was a dreadful
+lesson to her, and it has taught her what nothing else could. I believe
+that Honey Fair will respect her in time."</p>
+
+<p>"My opinion is, that Honey Fair would not be going far out of its way to
+respect her now," remarked William. "Once a false step is taken, it is
+very much the fashion to go tripping over others. Caroline, on the
+contrary, has been using all her poor endeavours ever since to retrieve
+that first mistake."</p>
+
+<p>"I could not wish for a better servant," said Charlotte. "Of course, I
+could not keep a servant for housework alone, and Caroline nearly earns
+her food helping me at the gloves. I am pleased, and she is grateful.
+Yes, sir, it is as you say&mdash;Honey Fair ought to respect her. It will
+come in time."</p>
+
+<p>"As most good things come, that are striven for in the right way,"
+remarked Mr. Ashley.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVC" id="CHAPTER_XXVC"></a>CHAPTER XXV.</h2>
+
+<h3>ASSIZE TIME.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Once more, in this, the almost concluding chapter of the history, are we
+obliged to take notice of Assize Saturday. Once more had the high
+sheriff's procession gone out to receive the judges; and never had the
+cathedral bells rung out more clearly, or the streets and windows been
+so thronged.</p>
+
+<p>A blast, shrill and loud, from the advancing heralds, was borne on the
+air of the bright March afternoon, as the cavalcade advanced up East
+Street. The javelin-men rode next, two abreast, in the plain dark Ashley
+livery, the points of their javelins glittering in the sunshine,
+scarcely able to advance for the crowd. A feverish crowd. Little cared
+they to-day for the proud trumpets, the javelin-bearers, the various
+attractions that made their delight on other of those days; they cared
+only for that stately equipage in the rear. Not for its four prancing
+horses, its silver ornaments, its portly coachman on the hammer-cloth;
+not even for the very judges themselves; but for the master of that
+carriage, the high sheriff, Thomas Ashley.</p>
+
+<p>He sat in it, its only plainly attired inmate. The scarlet robes, the
+flowing wigs of the judges, were opposite to him; beside him were the
+rich black silk robes of his chaplain, the vicar of Deoffam. A crowd of
+gentlemen on horseback followed&mdash;a crowd Helstonleigh had rarely seen.
+William was one of them. The popularity of a high sheriff may be judged
+by the number of his attendants, when he goes out to meet the judges.
+Half Helstonleigh had placed itself on horseback that day, to do honour
+to Thomas Ashley.</p>
+
+<p>Occupying a conspicuous position in the street were the Ashley workmen.
+Clean and shaved, they had surreptitiously conveyed their best coats to
+the manufactory; and, with the first peal of the college bells, had
+rushed out, dressed&mdash;every soul&mdash;leaving the manufactory alone in its
+glory, and Samuel Lynn to take care of it. The shout they raised, as the
+sheriff's carriage drew near, deafened the street. It was out of all
+manner of etiquette or precedence to cheer the sheriff when in
+attendance on the judges; but who could be angry with them? Not Mr.
+Ashley. Their lordships looked out astonished. One of the judges you
+have met before&mdash;Sir William Leader; the other was Mr. Justice Keene.</p>
+
+<p>The judges gazed from the carriage, wondering what the shouts could
+mean. They saw a respectable-looking body of men&mdash;not respectable in
+dress only, but in face&mdash;gathered there, bareheaded, and cheering the
+carriage with all their might and main.</p>
+
+<p>"What can that be for?" cried Mr. Justice Keene.</p>
+
+<p>"I believe it must be meant for me," observed Mr. Ashley, taken by
+surprise as much as the judges were. "Foolish fellows! Your lordships
+must understand that they are the workmen belonging to my manufactory."</p>
+
+<p>But his eyes were dim, as he leaned forward and acknowledged the
+greeting. Such a shout followed upon it! The judges, used to shouting as
+they were, had rarely heard the like, so deep and heartfelt was it.</p>
+
+<p>"There's genuine good-feeling in that cheer," said Sir William Leader.
+"I like to hear it. It is more than lip deep."</p>
+
+<p>The dinner party for the judges that night was given at the deanery. Not
+a more honoured guest had it than the high sheriff. His chaplain was
+with him, and William and Frank were also guests. What did the Dares
+think of the Halliburtons now?</p>
+
+<p>The Dares, just then, were too much occupied with their own concerns to
+think of them at all. They were planning how to get out to Australia.
+Their daughter Julia, more dutiful than some daughters might prove
+themselves, had offered an asylum to her father and mother, if they
+would go out to Sydney. Her sisters, she wrote word, would find good
+situations there as governesses&mdash;probably in time find husbands.</p>
+
+<p>They were wild to go. They wanted to get away from mortifying
+Helstonleigh, and to try their fortunes in a new world. The passage
+money was the difficulty. Julia had not sent it, possibly not supposing
+they were so very badly off; she did not know yet of the last touch to
+their misfortunes. How could they scrape together even enough for a
+steerage passage? Mr. Ashley's private opinion was that he should have
+to furnish it. Ah! he was a good man. Never a better, never a more
+considerate to others than Thomas Ashley.</p>
+
+<p>Sunday morning rose to the ringing again of the cathedral bells&mdash;bells
+that do not condescend to ring except on rare occasions&mdash;telling that it
+was some day of note in Helstonleigh. It was a fine day, sunny, and very
+warm for March, and the glittering east window reflected its colours
+upon a crowd such as the cathedral had rarely seen assembled within its
+walls for divine service, even on those thronging days, Assize Sundays.</p>
+
+<p>The procession extended nearly the whole way from the grand entrance
+gates to the choir, passing through the body and the nave. The high
+sheriff's men, standing so still, their formidable javelins in rest, had
+enough to do to retain their places, from the pressure of the crowd, as
+they kept the line of way. The bishop in his robes, the clergy in their
+white garments and scarlet or black hoods, the long line of college boys
+in their surplices, the lay-clerks, yet in white. Not (as you were told
+of yesterday) on them; not on the mayor and corporation, with their
+chains and gowns; not on the grey-wigged judges, their fiery trains held
+up behind, glaring cynosure of eyes on other days, was the attention of
+that crowd fixed; but on him who walked, calm, dignified, quiet, in
+immediate attendance on the judges&mdash;their revered fellow-citizen, Thomas
+Ashley. In attendance on <i>him</i> was his chaplain, his black gown, so
+contrasting with the glare and glitter, marking him out conspicuously.</p>
+
+<p>The organ had burst forth as they entered the great gates,
+simultaneously with the ceasing of the bells which had been sending
+their melody over the city. With some difficulty, places were found for
+those of note; but many a score stood that day. The bishop had gone on
+to his throne; and opposite to him, in the archdeacon's stall, the
+appointed place for the preacher on Assize Sundays, sat the sheriff's
+chaplain. Sir William Leader was shown to the dean's stall; Mr. Justice
+Keene to the sub-dean's; the dean sitting next the one, the high sheriff
+next the other. William Halliburton was in a canon's stall;
+Frank&mdash;handsome Frank!&mdash;found a place amidst many other barristers. And
+in the ladies' pew, underneath the dean, seated with the dean's wife,
+were Mrs. Ashley, her daughter, and Mrs. Halliburton.</p>
+
+<p>The Reverend Mr. Keating chanted the service, putting his best voice
+into it. They gave that fine anthem, "Behold, God is my salvation." Very
+good were the services and the singing that day. The dean, the
+prebendary in residence, and Mr. Keating went to the communion-table for
+the commandments, and thus the service drew to an end. As they were
+conducted back to their stall, a verger with his silver mace cleared a
+space for the sheriff's chaplain to ascend the pulpit stairs, the
+preacher of the day.</p>
+
+<p>How the college boys gazed at him! Only a short time before
+(comparatively speaking) he had been one of them, a college boy himself;
+some of the seniors (juniors then) had been school-fellows with him. Now
+he was the Reverend Edgar Halliburton, chief personage for the moment in
+that cathedral. To the boys' eyes he seemed to look dark; except on
+Assize Sundays, they were accustomed to see only white robes in that
+pulpit.</p>
+
+<p>"Too young to give us a good sermon," thought half the congregation, as
+they scanned him. Nevertheless, they liked his countenance; its grave
+earnest look. He gave out his text, a verse from Ecclesiastes:</p>
+
+<p>"Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might; for there is
+no work, nor device, nor knowledge, nor wisdom, in the grave, whither
+thou goest."</p>
+
+<p>Then he leaned a little forward on the cushion; and, after a pause,
+began his sermon, which lay before him, and worked out the text.</p>
+
+<p>It was an admirable discourse, clear and practical; but you will not
+care to have it recapitulated for you, as it was recapitulated in the
+local newspapers. Remembering what the bringing up of the Halliburtons
+had been, it was impossible that Gar's sermons should not be practical;
+and the congregation began to think they had been mistaken in their
+estimate of what a young man could do. He told the judges where their
+duty lay, as fearlessly as he told it to the college boys, as he told it
+to all. He told them that the golden secret of success and happiness in
+this life, lay in the faithful and earnest performance of the duties
+that crowded on their path, striving on unweariedly, whatsoever those
+duties might be, whether pleasant or painful; <i>joined to implicit
+reliance on, and trust in God</i>. A plainer sermon was never preached. In
+manner he was remarkably calm and impressive, and the tone of his voice
+was quiet and persuasive, just as if he were speaking to them. He was
+listened to with breathless interest throughout; even those gentry, the
+college boys, were for once beguiled into attending to a sermon. Jane's
+tears fell incessantly, and she had to let down her white veil to hide
+them; as on that day, years ago, when she had let down her black crape
+veil to conceal them, in the office of Anthony Dare. Different tears
+this time.</p>
+
+<p>The sermon lasted just half an hour, and it had seemed only a quarter of
+one. The bishop then rose and gave the blessing, and the crowds began to
+file out. As the preacher was being marshalled by a verger through the
+choir to take his place in the procession next the high sheriff, Mr.
+Keating met him and grasped his hand.</p>
+
+<p>"You are all right, Gar," he whispered, "and I am proud of having
+educated you. That sermon will tell home to some of the drones."</p>
+
+<p>"I knew he'd astonish 'em!" ejaculated Dobbs, who had walked all the way
+from Deoffam to see the sight, to hear her master preach to the
+cathedral, and had fought out a standing-place for herself right in
+front of the pulpit. "<i>His</i> sermons aren't filled up with bottomless
+pits as are never full enough, like those of some preachers be."</p>
+
+<p>That sermon and the Rev. Edgar Halliburton were talked of much in
+Helstonleigh that day.</p>
+
+<p>But ere the close of another day the town was ringing with the name of
+Frank. He had led; he, Frank Halliburton! A cause of some importance was
+tried in the <i>Nisi Prius</i> Court, in which the defendant was Mr. Glenn
+the surgeon. Mr. Glenn, who had liked Frank from the hour he first
+conversed with him that evening at his house, now so long ago&mdash;a
+conversation at which you had the pleasure of assisting&mdash;who had also
+the highest opinion of Frank's abilities in his profession, had made it
+a point that his case should be intrusted to Frank. Mr. Glenn was not
+deceived. Frank led admirably, and his eloquence quite took the
+spectators by storm. What was of more importance, it told upon Mr.
+Justice Keene and the jury, and Frank sat down in triumph and won his
+verdict.</p>
+
+<p>"I told you I should do it, mother," said he, quietly, when he reached
+Deoffam that night, after being nearly smothered with congratulations.
+"You will live to see me on the woolsack yet."</p>
+
+<p>Jane laughed. She often had laughed at the same boast. She was alone
+that evening; Gar was attending the high sheriff at an official dinner
+at Helstonleigh. "Will no lesser prize content you, Frank?" asked she,
+jestingly. "Say, for example, the Solicitor-Generalship?"</p>
+
+<p>"Only as a stepping-stone."</p>
+
+<p>"And you still get on well? Seriously speaking now. Frank."</p>
+
+<p>"First-rate," answered Frank. "This day's work will be the best lift for
+me, though, unless I am mistaken. I had two fresh briefs put into my
+hands as I sat down," he added, going off in a laugh. "See if I make
+this year less than a thousand!"</p>
+
+<p>"And the next thing, I suppose, you will be thinking of getting
+married?"</p>
+
+<p>The bold barrister actually blushed. "What nonsense, mother! Marry, and
+lose my fellowship!"</p>
+
+<p>"Frank, it is so! I see it in your face. You must tell me who it is."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, as yet it is no one. I must wait until my eloquence, as they
+called it to-day in court, is a more assured fact with the public, and
+then I may speak out to the judge. She means waiting for me, though, so
+it is all right."</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me, Frank," repeated Jane; "who is 'she'?"</p>
+
+<p>"Maria Leader."</p>
+
+<p>Jane looked at him doubtingly. "Not Sir William's daughter?"</p>
+
+<p>"His second daughter."</p>
+
+<p>"Is not that rather too aspiring for Frank Halliburton?"</p>
+
+<p>"Maria does not think so. I have been aspiring all my life, mother; and
+so long as I work on for it honourably and uprightly, I see no harm in
+being so."</p>
+
+<p>"No, Frank; good instead of harm. How did you become acquainted with
+her?"</p>
+
+<p>"Her brother and I are chums: have been ever since we were at Oxford.
+Bob is at the Chancery bar, but he has not much nous for it&mdash;not half
+the clever man that his father was. His chambers are next to mine, and I
+often go home with him. The girls make a great deal of us, too. That is
+how I first knew Maria."</p>
+
+<p>"Then I suppose you see something of the judge?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh dear," laughed Frank, "the judge and I are upon intimate terms in
+private life; quite cronies. You would not think it, though, if you saw
+me bowing before my lord when he sits in his big wig. Sometimes I fancy
+he suspects."</p>
+
+<p>"Suspects what?"</p>
+
+<p>"That I and Maria would like to join cause together. But I don't mind if
+he does. I am a favourite of his. The very Sunday before we came on
+circuit he asked me to dine there. We went to church in the evening, and
+I had Maria under my wing; Sir William and Lady Leader trudging on
+before us."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Frank, I wish you success. I don't think you would choose any but
+a nice girl, a good girl&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Stop a moment, mother; you will meet the judge to-morrow night, and you
+may then draw a picture of Maria. She is as like him as two peas."</p>
+
+<p>"How old is she, Frank?"</p>
+
+<p>"Two-and-twenty. <i>I</i> shall have her. He was not always the great Judge
+Leader, you know, mother; and he knows it. And he knows that every one
+must have a beginning, as he and my lady had it. For years after they
+were married he did not make five hundred a year, and they had to live
+upon it. He does not fear to revert to it, either; often talks of it to
+me and Bob&mdash;a sort of hint, I suppose, that folk do get on in time, by
+dint of patience. You will like Sir William Leader."</p>
+
+<p>Yes: Jane would meet Sir William on the following night, for that would
+be the evening of the entertainment given by the high sheriff to the
+judges at Deoffam Hall.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVIC" id="CHAPTER_XXVIC"></a>CHAPTER XXVI.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE HIGH SHERIFF'S DINNER PARTY.</h3>
+
+
+<p>William Halliburton drove his wife over in the pony carriage in the
+afternoon; they would dress and sleep at Deoffam. They went early, and
+in driving past Deoffam Vicarage, who should be at the gate looking out
+for them, but Anna! Not Anna Lynn now, but Anna Gurney.</p>
+
+<p>"William, William, there's Anna!" Mary exclaimed. "I will get out here."</p>
+
+<p>He assisted her down, and they remained talking with Anna. Then William
+asked what he was to do. Wait with the carriage for Mary, or drive on to
+the hall, and walk back for her?</p>
+
+<p>"Drive to the hall," said Mary, who wished to stay a little while with
+Anna. "But, William," she added, as he got in, "don't let my box go
+round to the stables."</p>
+
+<p>"With all its finery!" laughed William.</p>
+
+<p>"It contains my dinner dress," Mary explained to Anna. "Have you been
+here long?"</p>
+
+<p>"This hour, I think," replied Anna. "My husband had business a mile or
+two further on, and drove me here. What a nice garden this is! See, I
+have been picking Gar's flowers."</p>
+
+<p>"Where is Mrs. Halliburton?" asked Mary.</p>
+
+<p>"Dobbs called her in to settle some dispute in the kitchen. I know Dobbs
+is a great tyrant over that new housemaid."</p>
+
+<p>"But now tell me about yourself, Anna," said Mary, leading her to a
+bench. "I have scarcely seen you since you were married. How do you like
+being your own mistress?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, it's charming!" replied Anna, with all her old childish, natural
+manner. "Mary, what dost thee think? Charles lets me sit without my
+caps."</p>
+
+<p>Mary laughed. "To the great scandal of Patience!"</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed, yes. One day, Patience called when we were at dinner. I had not
+so much as a bit of net on, and Patience looked so cross; but she said
+nothing, for the servants were in waiting. When they had left the room
+she told Charles that she was surprised at his allowing it; that I was
+giddy enough and vain enough, and it would only make me worse. Charles
+smiled; he was eating walnuts: and what dost thee think he answered?
+He&mdash;but I don't like to tell thee," broke off Anna, covering her face
+with her pretty hands.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, yes, Anna, you must tell me."</p>
+
+<p>"He told Patience that he liked to see me without the caps, and there
+was no need for my wearing them until I should have children old enough
+to set an example to."</p>
+
+<p>Anna took off her straw bonnet as she spoke, and her curls fell to
+shade her blushing cheeks. Mary wondered whether the "children" would
+have faces as lovely as their mother's. She had never seen Anna look so
+well. For one thing, she had rarely seen her so well dressed. She wore a
+stone-coloured corded silk, glistening with richness, and an exquisite
+white shawl that must have cost no end of money.</p>
+
+<p>"I should always let my curls be seen, Anna," said Mary; "there <i>can</i> be
+no harm in it."</p>
+
+<p>"No, that there can't, as Charles does not think so," emphatically
+answered Anna. "Mary," dropping her voice to a whisper, "I want Charles
+not to wear those straight coats any more. He shakes his head at me and
+laughs; but I think he will listen to me."</p>
+
+<p>Seeing what she did of the change in Anna's dress, Mary thought so too.
+Not but that Anna's things were still cut sufficiently in the old form
+to bespeak her sect: as they, no doubt, always would be.</p>
+
+<p>"When art thee coming to spend the day with me, as thee promised?" asked
+Anna.</p>
+
+<p>"Very soon: when this assize bustle shall be over."</p>
+
+<p>"How gay you will be to-night!"</p>
+
+<p>"How formal you mean," said Mary. "To entertain judges when on circuit,
+and bishops, and deans, is more formidable than pleasant. It is a state
+dinner to-night. When I saw papa this morning, I inquired if we were to
+have the javelin-men on guard in the dining-room."</p>
+
+<p>Anna laughed. "Do Frank and Gar dine there?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course. The high sheriff could not give a dinner party without his
+chaplain at hand to say grace," returned Mary, laughing.</p>
+
+<p>William came back: and they all remained for almost the rest of the
+afternoon, Jane regaling them with tea. It was scarcely over when Mr.
+Gurney drove up in his carriage: a large, open carriage, the groom's
+seat behind, the horses very fine ones. He came in for a few minutes; a
+very pleasant man of nearly forty years; a handsome man also. Then he
+took possession of Anna, carefully assisted her up, took the seat beside
+her, and the reins, and drove off.</p>
+
+<p>William started for the Hall with Mary, walking at a brisk pace. It was
+not ten minutes' distance, but the evening was getting on. Henry Ashley
+met them as they entered, and began upon them in his crossest tones.</p>
+
+<p>"Now what have you two got to say for yourselves? Here, I expect you,
+Mr. William, to pass the afternoon with me: the mother expects Mary: and
+nothing arrives but a milliner's box! And you make your appearance when
+it's pretty nearly time to go up to embellish!"</p>
+
+<p>"We stayed at the Vicarage, Henry; and I don't think mamma could want
+me. Anna Gurney was there."</p>
+
+<p>"Rubbish! Who's Anna Gurney that she should upset things? I wanted
+William, and that's enough. Do you think you are to monopolize him, Mrs.
+Mary, just because you happen to have married him?"</p>
+
+<p>Mary went behind her brother, and playfully put her arms round his
+neck. "I will lend him to you now and then, if you are good," she
+whispered.</p>
+
+<p>"You idle, inattentive girl! The mother wanted you to cut some hot-house
+flowers for the dinner-table."</p>
+
+<p>"Did she? I will do it now."</p>
+
+<p>"Listen to her! Do it now! when it has been done this hour past.
+William, I don't intend to show up to-night."</p>
+
+<p>"Why not?" asked William.</p>
+
+<p>"It is a nuisance to change one's things: and my side's not over clever
+to-day: and the ungrateful delinquency of you two has put me
+out-of-sorts altogether," answered Henry, making up his catalogue.
+"Condemning one to vain expectation, and to fretting and fuming over it!
+I shan't show up. William must represent me."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, you will show up," replied William. "For you know that your not
+doing so would vex Mr. Ashley."</p>
+
+<p>"A nice lot <i>you</i> are to talk about vexing! You don't care how you vex
+me."</p>
+
+<p>William gently took him by the arm. "Come along to your room now, and I
+will help you with your things. Once ready, you can do as you like about
+appearing."</p>
+
+<p>"You treat me just as a child," grumbled Henry. "I say, do the judges
+come in their wigs?"</p>
+
+<p>Mary broke into a laugh.</p>
+
+<p>"Because that case of stuffed owls had better be ordered out of the
+hall. The animals may be looked upon as personal."</p>
+
+<p>"I hope there's a good fire in your room, Henry."</p>
+
+<p>"There had better be, unless the genius that presides over the fires in
+this household would like to feel the weight of my displeasure."</p>
+
+<p>Mary went to find her mother; she was in her chamber, dressing.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear child, how late you are!"</p>
+
+<p>"There's plenty of time, mamma. We stayed at the parsonage. Anna Gurney
+was there. Henry says he is not very well."</p>
+
+<p>"He says that always when William disappoints him. He will be all right
+now you have come. Go to your room, my dear, and I will send Sarah to
+you."</p>
+
+<p>Mary was ready, and the maid gone, before William left Henry to come
+and dress on his own account. Mary wore white silk, with emerald
+ornaments.</p>
+
+<p>"Shall I do, William?" asked she, when William came in.</p>
+
+<p>"Do!" he answered, running his eyes over her. "No!"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, what's the matter with me?" she cried, turning hurriedly to the
+great glass.</p>
+
+<p>"This." He took her in his arms, and kissed her passionately. "My
+darling wife! You will never 'do' without that."</p>
+
+<p>It was not a formidable party at all, in defiance of Mary's
+anticipations. The judges, divested of their flowing wigs and flaming
+robes, looked just like other men. Jane liked Sir William Leader, as
+Frank had told her she would; and Mr. Justice Keene was an easy,
+talkative man, fond of a good joke and a good dinner. Mr. Justice Keene
+seemed excessively to admire Mary Halliburton; and&mdash;there could be no
+doubt about it, and I hope the legal bench won't look grave at the
+reflection&mdash;seemed very much inclined to get up a flirtation with her
+over the coffee. Being a judge, I think the bishop ought to have read
+him a reprimand.</p>
+
+<p>Standing at one end of the room, coffee-cups in hand, were Sir William
+Leader, the Dean of Helstonleigh, Mr. Ashley, and his son. They were
+talking of the Halliburtons. Sir William knew a good deal of their
+history from Frank.</p>
+
+<p>"It is most wonderful!" Sir William was remarking. "Self-educated,
+self-supporting, and to be what they are!"</p>
+
+<p>"Not altogether self-educated," dissented the dean; "for the two
+younger, the barrister and clergyman, were in the school attached to my
+cathedral; but self-educated in a great degree. The eldest, my friend's
+son-in-law, never had a lesson in the classics after his father's death,
+and there's not a more finished scholar in the county."</p>
+
+<p>"The father died and left them badly provided for," remarked Sir
+William.</p>
+
+<p>"He did not leave them provided for at all, Sir William," corrected Mr.
+Ashley. "He left nothing, literally nothing, but the furniture of the
+small house they rented; and he left some trifling debts. Poor Mrs.
+Halliburton turned to work with a will, and not only contrived to
+support them, but brought them up to be what you see them&mdash;high-minded,
+honourable, educated men."</p>
+
+<p>The judge turned his eyes on Jane. She was sitting on a distant sofa,
+talking with the bishop. So quiet, so lady-like, nay&mdash;so attractive&mdash;she
+looked still, in the rich pearl-grey dress warn at William's wedding;
+not in the least like one who had had to toil hard for bread.</p>
+
+<p>"I have heard of her&mdash;heard of her worth from Frank," he said, with
+emphasis. "She must be one in a thousand."</p>
+
+<p>"One in a million, Sir William," burst forth Henry Ashley. "When they
+were boys, you could not have bribed them to do a wrong thing: neither
+temptation nor anything else turned them from the right. And they would
+not be turned from the right now, if I know anything of them."</p>
+
+<p>The judge walked up to Jane, and took the seat beside her just vacated
+by the bishop.</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Halliburton," said he, "you must be proud of your sons."</p>
+
+<p>Jane smiled. "I have latterly been obliged to take myself to task for
+being so, Sir William," she answered.</p>
+
+<p>"To task! I wish I had three such sons to take myself to task for being
+proud of," was his answer. "Not that mine are to be found fault with;
+but they are not like these."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think Frank will get on?" she asked him.</p>
+
+<p>"It is no longer a question of getting on. He has begun to rise in an
+unusually rapid manner. I should not be surprised if, in after-years, he
+may find the very highest honours opening to him."</p>
+
+<p>Again Jane smiled. "He has been in the habit of telling us that he looks
+forward to ruling England as Lord Chancellor."</p>
+
+<p>The judge laughed. "I never knew a newly-fledged barrister who did not
+indulge that vision," said he. "I know I did. But there are really not
+many Frank Halliburtons. So, sir," he continued, for Frank at that
+moment passed, and the judge pinned him, "I hear you cherish dreams of
+the woolsack."</p>
+
+<p>"To look at it from a distance is not high treason, Sir William," was
+Frank's ready answer.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, what do you suppose <i>you</i> would do on the woolsack, if you got
+there?" cried Sir William.</p>
+
+<p>"My duty, I hope, Sir William. I would try hard for it."</p>
+
+<p>Sir William loosed him with an amused expression, and Frank passed on.
+Jane began to think Frank's dream&mdash;not of the woolsack, but of Maria
+Leader&mdash;not so very improbable a one.</p>
+
+<p>"I have heard of your early struggles," said the judge to her in low
+tones. "Frank has talked to me. How you could have borne up, and done
+long-continued battle with them, I cannot imagine!"</p>
+
+<p>"I never could have done it but for one thing," she answered: "my trust
+in God. Times upon times, Sir William, when the storm was beating about
+my head, I had no help or comfort in the wide world: I had nothing to
+turn to but that. I never lost my trust in God."</p>
+
+<p>"And therefore God stood by you," remarked the judge.</p>
+
+<p>"And <i>therefore</i> God stood by me, and helped me on. I wish," she added
+earnestly, "the whole world could learn the same great lesson that I
+have learnt. I have&mdash;I humbly hope I have&mdash;been enabled to teach it to
+my boys. I have tried to do it from their very earliest years."</p>
+
+<p>"Frank shall have Maria," thought the judge to himself. "They are an
+admirable family. The young chaplain should have another of the girls if
+he liked her."</p>
+
+<p>What was William thinking of, as he stood a little apart, with his
+serene brow and his thoughtful smile? His mind was in the past. That
+long past night, following the day of his entrance to Mr. Ashley's
+manufactory, was present to him, when he had lain down in despair, and
+sobbed out his bitter grief. "Bear up, my child," were the words his
+mother had comforted him with: "only do your duty, and trust implicitly
+in God." And when she had gone down, and he could get the sobs away from
+his heart and throat, he made the resolve to do as she had told him&mdash;at
+any rate, to try and do it. And he kneeled down there and then, and
+asked to be helped to do it. And, from that hour to this, William had
+never known the trust to fail. Success? Yes, they had reaped
+success&mdash;success in no measured degree. Be very sure that it was born of
+that great trust. Oh!&mdash;as Jane had just said to Sir William Leader&mdash;if
+the world could only learn this wonderful truth!</p>
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">Because he hath set his love upon me, therefore will I deliver him: I
+will set him up, because he hath known my name.</span>"</p>
+
+
+<h3>THE END.</h3>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
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+Project Gutenberg's Mrs. Halliburton's Troubles, by Mrs. Henry Wood
+
+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: Mrs. Halliburton's Troubles
+
+Author: Mrs. Henry Wood
+
+Release Date: December 8, 2010 [EBook #34587]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MRS. HALLIBURTON'S TROUBLES ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Delphine Lettau, Mary Meehan and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
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+
+
+
+                     MRS. HALLIBURTON'S TROUBLES
+
+                         BY MRS. HENRY WOOD
+
+     AUTHOR OF "EAST LYNNE," "THE CHANNINGS," "JOHNNY LUDLOW," ETC.
+
+
+    _TWO HUNDRED AND TENTH THOUSAND_
+
+    London
+    MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED
+    NEW YORK: THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
+    1904
+
+    LONDON:
+    PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED,
+    DUKE STREET, STAMFORD STREET, S.E., AND GREAT WINDMILL STREET. W.
+
+
+
+
+MRS. HALLIBURTON'S TROUBLES.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+THE CLERGYMAN'S DAUGHTER.
+
+
+In a very populous district of London, somewhat north of Temple Bar,
+there stood, many years ago, a low, ancient church amidst other
+churches--for you know that London abounds in them. The doors of this
+church were partially open one dark evening in December, and a faint,
+glimmering light might be observed inside by the passers-by.
+
+It was known well enough what was going on within, and why the light was
+there. The rector was giving away the weekly bread. Years ago a
+benevolent person had left a certain sum to be spent in twenty weekly
+loaves, to be given to twenty poor widows at the discretion of the
+minister. Certain curious provisos were attached to the bequest. One was
+that the bread should not be less than two days old, and should have
+been deposited in the church at least twenty-four hours before
+distribution. Another, that each recipient must attend in person.
+Failing personal attendance, no matter how unavoidable her absence, she
+lost the loaf: no friend might receive it for her, neither might it be
+sent to her. In that case, the minister was enjoined to bestow it upon
+"any stranger widow who might present herself, even as should seem
+expedient to him:" the word "stranger" being, of course, used in
+contra-distinction to the twenty poor widows who were on the books as
+the charity's recipients. Four times a year, one shilling to each widow
+was added to the loaf of bread.
+
+A loaf of bread is not very much. To us, sheltered in our abundant
+homes, it seems as nothing. But, to many a one, toiling and starving in
+this same city of London, a loaf may be almost the turning-point between
+death and life. The poor existed in those days as they exist in these:
+as they always will exist: therefore it was no matter of surprise that a
+crowd of widow women, most of them aged, all in poverty, should gather
+round the church doors when the bread was being given out, each hoping
+that, of the twenty poor widows, some one might fail to appear, and the
+clerk would come to the door and call out her own particular name as the
+fortunate substitute. On the days when the shilling was added to the
+loaf, this waiting and hoping crowd would be increased four-fold.
+
+Thursday was the afternoon for the distribution. And on the day we are
+now writing about, the rector entered the church at the usual hour: four
+o'clock. He had to make his way through an unusual number of outsiders;
+for this was one of the shilling days. He knew them all personally; was
+familiar with their names and homes; for the Rev. Francis Tait was a
+hard-working clergyman. And hard-working clergymen were more rare in
+those days than they are in these.
+
+Of Scottish birth, but chiefly reared in England, he had taken orders at
+the usual age, and become curate in a London parish, where the work was
+heavy and the stipend small. Not that the duties attached to the church
+itself were onerous; but it was a parish filled with poor. Those
+familiar with such parishes know what this means, when the minister is
+sympathising and conscientious. For twenty years he remained a curate,
+toiling in patience, cheerfully hoping. Twenty years! It seems little to
+write; but to live it is a great deal; and Francis Tait, in spite of his
+hopefulness, sometimes found it so. Then promotion came. The living of
+this little church that you now see open was bestowed upon him. A poor
+living as compared with some others; and a poor parish, speaking of the
+social condition of its inhabitants. But the living seemed wealth
+compared with what he had earned as a curate; and as to his flock being
+chiefly composed of the poor, he had not been accustomed to anything
+else. Then the Rev. Francis Tait married; and another twenty years went
+by.
+
+He stood in the church this evening; the loaves resting on the shelf
+overhead, against the door of the vestry, all near the entrance. A
+flaring tallow candle stood on the small table between him and the
+widows who clustered opposite. He was sixty-five years old now; a spare
+man of middle height, with a clear, pale skin, an intelligent
+countenance, and a thoughtful, fine grey eye. He had a pleasant word, a
+kind inquiry for all, as he put the shilling into their hands; the lame
+old clerk at the same time handing over the loaf of bread.
+
+"Are you all here to-night?" he asked, as the distribution went on.
+
+"No, sir," was the answer from several who spoke at once. "Betty King's
+away."
+
+"What is the matter with her?"
+
+"The rheumaticks have laid hold on her, sir. She couldn't get here
+nohow. She's in her bed."
+
+"I must go and see her," said he. "What, are you here again, Martha?" he
+continued, as a little deformed woman stepped from behind the rest,
+where she had been hidden. "I am glad to see you."
+
+"Six blessed weeks this day, and I've not been able to come!" exclaimed
+the woman. "But I'm restored wonderful."
+
+The distribution was approaching its close, when the rector spoke to his
+clerk. "Call in Eliza Turner."
+
+The clerk placed on the table the four or five remaining loaves, that
+each woman might help herself during his absence, and went out to the
+door.
+
+"'Liza Turner, his reverence has called for you."
+
+A sigh of delight from Eliza Turner, and a groan of disappointment from
+those surrounding her, greeted the clerk in answer. He took no
+notice--he often heard it--but turned and limped into the church again.
+Eliza Turner followed; and another woman slipped in after Eliza Turner.
+
+"Now, Widow Booth," cried the clerk, sharply, perceiving the intrusion,
+"what business have you here? You know it's again the rules."
+
+"I must see his reverence," murmured the woman, pressing on--a meek,
+half-starved woman; and she pushed her way into the vestry, and told her
+pitiful tale.
+
+"I'm worse off than Widow Turner," she moaned piteously, not in tones of
+complaint, but of entreaty. "She has a daughter in service as helps her;
+but me, I've my poor unfortunate daughter lying in my place weak with
+fever, sick with hunger! Oh, sir, couldn't you give the bounty this time
+to me? I've not had a bit or drop in my mouth since morning; and then it
+was but a taste o' bread and a drain o' tea, that a neighbour give me
+out o' charity."
+
+It was absolutely necessary to discountenance these personal
+applications. The rector's rule was, never to give the spare bounty to
+those who applied for it: otherwise the distribution might have become a
+weekly scene of squabbling and confusion. He handed the shilling and
+bread to Eliza Turner; and when she had followed the other women out, he
+turned to the Widow Booth, who was sobbing against the wall; speaking
+kindly to her.
+
+"You should not have come in, Mrs. Booth. You know that I do not allow
+it."
+
+"But I'm starving, sir," was the answer. "I thought maybe as you'd
+divide it between me and Widow Turner. Sixpence for her, sixpence for
+me, and the loaf halved."
+
+"I have no power to divide the gifts: to do so would be against the
+terms of the bequest. How is it you are so badly off this week? Has your
+work failed?"
+
+"I couldn't do it, sir, with my sick one to attend to. And I've a
+gathering come on my thimble finger, and that has hindered me. I took
+ninepence the day before yesterday, sir, but last night it was every
+farthing of it gone."
+
+"I will come round and see you by-and-by," said the clergyman.
+
+She lifted her eyes yearningly. "Oh, sir! if you could but give me
+something for a morsel of bread now! I'd be grateful for a penny loaf."
+
+"Mrs. Booth, you know that to give here would be altogether against my
+rule," he replied with unmistakable firmness. "Neither am I pleased when
+any of you attempt to ask it. Go home quietly: I have said that I will
+come to you by-and-by."
+
+The woman thanked him and went out. Had anything been needed to prove
+the necessity of the rule, it would have been the eagerness with which
+the crowd of women gathered round her. Not one of them had gone away.
+"Had she got anything?" To reply that she _had_ something, would have
+sent the whole crowd flocking in to beg in turn of the rector.
+
+Widow Booth shook her head. "No, no. I knowed it before. He never will.
+He says he'll come round."
+
+They dispersed; some in one direction, some in another. The rector blew
+out the candle, and he and the clerk came forth; and the church was
+closed for the distribution of bread until that day week. Mr. Tait took
+the keys himself to carry them home: they were kept at his house.
+Formerly the clerk had carried them there; but since he had become old
+and lame, Mr. Tait would not give him the trouble.
+
+It was a fine night overhead, but the streets were sloppy; and the
+clergyman put his foot unavoidably in many a puddle. The streets through
+which his road lay were imperfectly lighted. The residence apportioned
+to the rector of this parish was adjoining a well-known square,
+fashionable in that day. It was a very good house, with a handsome
+outward appearance. If you judged by it, you would have said the living
+must be worth five hundred a year at least. It was not worth anything
+like that; and the parish treated their pastor liberally in according
+him so good a residence. A quarter of an hour's walk from the church
+brought Mr. Tait to it.
+
+Until recently, a gentleman had shared this house with Mr. Tait and his
+family. The curate of a neighbouring parish, the Rev. John Acton, had
+been glad to live with them as a friend, admitted to their society and
+their table. It was a little help: and but for that, Mr. and Mrs. Tait
+would scarcely have thought themselves justified in keeping two
+servants, for the educational expenses of their children ran away with a
+large portion of their income. But Mr. Acton had now been removed to a
+distance, and they hoped to receive some one or other in his place.
+
+On this evening, as Mr. Tait was picking his way through the puddles,
+the usual sitting-room of his house presented a cheerful appearance,
+ready to receive him. It was on the ground floor, looking upon the
+street, large and lofty, and bright with firelight. Two candles, not yet
+lighted, stood on the table behind the tea-tray, but the glow of the
+fire was sufficient for all the work that was being done in the room.
+
+It was no work at all: but play. A young lady was quietly whirling round
+the room with a dancing step--quietly, because her feet and movements
+were gentle; and the tune she was humming, and to which she kept time,
+was carolled in an undertone. She was moving thus in the happy innocence
+of heart and youth. A graceful girl of middle height; one whom it
+gladdened the eye to look upon. Not for her beauty, for she had no very
+great beauty to boast of; but it was one of those countenances that win
+their own way to favour. A fair, gentle face, openly candid, with the
+same earnest, honest grey eye that so pleased you in Francis Tait, and
+brown hair. She was that gentleman's eldest child, and looked about
+eighteen. In reality she was a year older, but her face and dress were
+both youthful. She wore a violet silk frock, made with a low body and
+short sleeves: girls did not keep their pretty necks and arms covered up
+then. By daylight the dress would have appeared old, but it looked very
+well by candle-light.
+
+The sound of the latch-key in the front door brought her dancing to an
+end. She knew who it was--no inmate of that house possessed a latch-key
+except its master--and she turned to the fire to light the candles.
+
+Mr. Tait came into the room, removing neither overcoat nor hat. "Have
+you made tea, Jane?"
+
+"No, papa; it has only just struck five."
+
+"Then I think I'll go out again first. I have to call on one or two of
+the women, and it will be all one wetting. My feet are soaked
+already"--looking down at his buckled shoes and black gaiters. "You can
+get my slippers warmed, Jane. But"--the thought apparently striking
+him--"would your mamma care to wait?"
+
+"Mamma had a cup of tea half an hour ago," replied Jane. "She said it
+might do her good; if she could get some sleep after it, she might be
+able to come down for a little before bedtime. The tea can be made
+whenever you like, papa. There's only Francis at home, and he and I
+could wait until ten, if you pleased."
+
+"I'll go at once, then. Not until ten, Miss Jane, but until six, or
+about that time. Betty King is ill, but does not live far off. And I
+must step in to the Widow Booth's."
+
+"Papa," cried Jane as he was turning away, "I forgot to tell you.
+Francis says he thinks he knows of a gentleman who would like to come
+here in Mr. Acton's place."
+
+"Ah! who is it?" asked the rector.
+
+"One of the masters at the school. Here's Francis coming down. He only
+went up to wash his hands."
+
+"It is our new mathematical master, sir," cried Francis Tait, a youth of
+eighteen, who was being brought up to the Church. "I overheard him ask
+Dr. Percy if he could recommend him to a comfortable house where he
+might board, and make one of the family: so I told him perhaps you might
+receive him here. He said he'd come down and see you."
+
+Mr. Tait paused. "Would he be a desirable inmate, think you, Francis? Is
+he a gentleman?"
+
+"Quite a gentleman, I am sure," replied Francis. "And we all like what
+little we have seen of him. His name's Halliburton."
+
+"Is he in Orders?"
+
+"No. He intends to be, I think."
+
+"Well, of course I can say nothing about it, one way or the other,"
+concluded Mr. Tait, as he went out.
+
+Jane stood before the fire in thought, her fingers unconsciously
+smoothing the parting of the glossy brown hair on her well-shaped head
+as she looked at it in the pier-glass. To say that she never did such a
+thing in vanity would be wrong; no pretty girl ever lived but was
+conscious of her good looks. Jane, however, was neither thinking of
+herself nor of vanity just then. She took a very practical part in home
+duties: with her mother, a practical part amidst her father's poor: and
+at this moment her thoughts were running on the additional work it might
+bring her, should this gentleman come to reside with them.
+
+"What did you say his name was, Francis?" she suddenly asked of her
+brother.
+
+"Whose?"
+
+"That gentleman's. The new master at your school."
+
+"Halliburton. I don't know his Christian name."
+
+"I wonder," mused Jane aloud, "whether he will wear out his stockings as
+Mr. Acton did? There was always a dreadful amount of darning to be done
+to his. Is he an old guy, Francis?"
+
+"Isn't he!" responded Francis Tait. "Don't faint when you see some one
+come in old and fat, with green rims to his spectacles. I don't say he's
+_quite_ old enough to be papa's father, but----"
+
+"Why! he must be eighty then, at least!" uttered Jane, in dismay. "How
+could you propose it to him? We should not care to have any one older
+than Mr. Acton."
+
+"Acton! that young chicken!" contemptuously rejoined Francis. "Put him
+by the side of Mr. Halliburton! Acton was barely fifty."
+
+
+"He was forty-eight, I think," said Jane. "Oh, dear! how I should like
+to have gone with Margaret and Robert this evening!" she exclaimed,
+forgetting the passing topic in another.
+
+"They were not polite enough to invite me," said Francis. "I shall pay
+the old lady out."
+
+Jane laughed. "You are growing too old now, Francis, to be admitted to a
+young ladies' breaking-up party. Mrs. Chilham said so to mamma----"
+
+Jane's words were interrupted by a knock at the front door, apparently
+that of a visitor. "Jane!" cried her brother, in some trepidation, "I
+should not wonder if it's Mr. Halliburton! He did not say when he should
+come!"
+
+Another minute, and one of the servants ushered a gentleman into the
+room. It was not an old guy, however, as Jane saw at a glance with a
+distinct feeling of relief. A tall, gentlemanlike man of five or six and
+twenty, with thin aquiline features, dark eyes, and a clear, fresh
+complexion. A handsome man, very prepossessing.
+
+"You see I have soon availed myself of your permission to call," said
+he, in pleasant tones, as he took Francis Tait's hand, and glanced
+towards Jane with a slight bow.
+
+"My sister Jane, sir," said Francis. "Jane, this is Mr. Halliburton."
+
+Jane for once lost her self-possession. So surprised was she--in fact
+perplexed, for she did not know whether Francis was playing a trick upon
+her now, or whether he had previously played it; in short, whether this
+was, or was not, Mr. Halliburton--that she could only look from one to
+the other. "Are you Mr. Halliburton?" she said, in her straightforward
+simplicity.
+
+"I am Mr. Halliburton," he answered, bending to her politely. "Can I
+have the pleasure of seeing Mr. Tait?"
+
+"Will you take a seat?" said Jane. "Papa is out, but I do not think he
+will be very long."
+
+"Where did he go to--do you know, Jane?" cried Francis, who was
+smothering a laugh.
+
+"To Betty King's; and to Widow Booth's. He may have been going elsewhere
+also. I think he was."
+
+"At any rate, I'll just run there and see. Jane, you can tell Mr.
+Halliburton all about it whilst I am away. Explain to him exactly how he
+will be here, and how we live. And then you can decide for yourself,
+sir," concluded Francis.
+
+To splash through the wet streets to Betty King's or elsewhere was an
+expedition rather agreeable to Francis, in his eagerness; otherwise
+there was no particular necessity for his going.
+
+"I am sorry mamma is not up," said Jane. "She suffers from occasional
+sick-headaches, and they generally keep her in bed for the day. I will
+give you any information in my power."
+
+"Your brother Francis thought--that it might not be disagreeable to Mr.
+Tait to receive a stranger into his family," said Mr. Halliburton,
+speaking with some hesitation. But the young lady before him looked so
+lady-like, the house altogether seemed so well appointed, that he almost
+doubted whether the proposal would not offend her.
+
+"We wish to receive some one," said Jane. "The house is sufficiently
+large to do so, and papa would like it for the sake of society: as well
+as that it would help in our housekeeping," she added, in her candour.
+"A friend of papa's was with us--I cannot remember precisely how many
+years, but he came when I was a little girl. It was the Rev. Mr. Acton.
+He left us last October."
+
+"I feel sure that I should like it very much: and I should think myself
+fortunate if Mr. Tait would admit me," spoke the visitor.
+
+Jane remembered the suggestion of Francis, and deemed it her duty to
+speak a little to Mr. Halliburton of "how he would be there," as it had
+been expressed. She might have done so without the suggestion, for she
+could not be otherwise than straightforward and open.
+
+"We live very plainly," she observed. "A simple joint of meat one day;
+cold, with a pudding, the next."
+
+"I should consider myself fortunate to get the pudding," replied Mr.
+Halliburton, smiling. "I have been tossed about a good deal of late
+years, Miss Tait, and have not come in for too much comfort. Just now I
+am in very uncomfortable lodgings."
+
+"I dare say papa would like to have you," said Jane, frankly, with a
+sort of relief. She had thought he looked one who might be fastidious.
+
+"I have neither father nor mother, brother nor sister," he resumed. "In
+fact, I may say that I am without relatives; for almost the only one I
+have has discarded me. I often think how rich those people must be who
+possess close connections and a happy home," he added, turning his
+bright glance upon her.
+
+Jane dropped her work, which she had taken up. "I don't know what I
+should do without all my dear relatives," she exclaimed.
+
+"Are you a large family?"
+
+"We are six. Papa and mamma, and four children. I am the eldest, and
+Margaret is the youngest; Francis and Robert are between us. It is
+breaking-up night at Margaret's school, and she has gone to it with
+Robert," continued Jane, never doubting but the stranger must take as
+much interest in "breaking-up nights" as she did. "I was to have gone;
+but mamma has been unusually ill to-day."
+
+"Were you disappointed?"
+
+Jane bent her head while she confessed the fact, as though feeling it a
+confession to be ashamed of. "It would not have been kind to leave
+mamma," she added, "and I dare say some other pleasure will arise soon.
+Mamma is asleep now."
+
+"What a charming girl!" thought Mr. Halliburton to himself. "How I wish
+she was my sister!"
+
+"Margaret is to be a governess," observed Jane, "and is being educated
+for it. She has great talent for music, and also for drawing; it is not
+often the two are united. Her tastes lie quite that way--anything
+clever; and as papa has no money to give us, it was well to make her a
+governess."
+
+"And you?" said Mr. Halliburton. The question might have been thought an
+impertinent one by many, but he spoke it only in his deep interest, and
+Jane Tait was of too ingenuous a disposition not to answer it as openly.
+
+"I am not to be a governess. I am to stay at home with mamma and help
+her. There is plenty to do. Margaret cannot bear domestic duties, or
+sewing either. Dancing excepted, I have not learnt a single
+accomplishment--unless you call French an accomplishment."
+
+"I am sure you have been well educated!" involuntarily spoke Mr.
+Halliburton.
+
+"Yes; in all things solid," replied Jane. "Papa has taken care of that.
+He still directs my reading. I know a good bit--of--Latin"--she added,
+bringing out the concluding words with hesitation, as one who repents
+his sentence--"though I do not like to confess it to you."
+
+"Why do you not?"
+
+"Because I think girls who know Latin are laughed at. I did not
+regularly learn it, but I used to be in the room when papa or Mr. Acton
+was teaching Francis and Robert, and I picked it up unconsciously. Mr.
+Acton often took Francis; he had more time on his hands than papa.
+Francis is to be a clergyman."
+
+"Miss Jane," said a servant, entering the room, "Mrs. Tait is awake, and
+wishes to see you."
+
+Jane left Mr. Halliburton with a word of apology, and almost immediately
+after Mr. Tait came in. He was a little taken to when he saw the
+stranger. His imagination had run, if not upon an "old guy" in
+spectacles, certainly upon some steady, sober, middle-aged mathematical
+master. Would it be well to admit this young, good-looking man to his
+house.
+
+If Jane Tait had been candid in her revelations to Mr. Halliburton, that
+gentleman, in his turn, was not less candid to her father. He, Edgar
+Halliburton, was the only child of a country clergyman, the Rev. William
+Halliburton, who had died when Edgar was sixteen, leaving nothing behind
+him. Edgar--he had previously lost his mother--found a home with his
+late mother's brother, a gentleman named Cooper, who resided in
+Birmingham. Mr. Cooper was a man in extensive wholesale business, and
+wished Edgar to go into his counting-house. Edgar declined. His father
+had lived long enough to form his tastes: his greatest wish had been to
+see him enter the Church; and the wish had become Edgar's own. Mr.
+Cooper thought there was nothing in the world like business: and looked
+upon that most sacred of all callings, God's ministry, only in the light
+of a profession. He had carved out his own career, step by step,
+attaining wealth and importance, and wished his nephew to do the same.
+"Which is best, lad?" he coarsely asked: "To rule as a merchant prince,
+or starve and toil as a curate? I'm not quite a merchant prince yet, but
+you may be." "It was my father's wish," pleaded Edgar in answer, "and it
+is my own. I cannot give it up, sir." The dispute ran high--not in
+words, but in obstinacy. Edgar would not yield, and at length Mr. Cooper
+discarded him. He turned him out of doors: told him that, if he must
+become a parson, he might get some one else to pay his expenses at
+Oxford, for he never would. Edgar Halliburton proceeded to London, and
+obtained employment as an usher in a school, teaching classics and
+mathematics. From that he became a private teacher, and had so earned
+his living up to the present time: but he had never succeeded in getting
+to college. And Mr. Tait, before they had talked together five minutes,
+was charmed with his visitor, and invited him to take tea with him,
+which Jane came down to make.
+
+"Has your uncle never softened towards you?" Mr. Tait inquired.
+
+"Never. I have addressed several letters to him, but they have been
+returned to me."
+
+"He has no family, you say. You ought--in justice, you ought to inherit
+some of his wealth. Has he other relatives?"
+
+"He has one standing to him in the same relationship as I--my Cousin
+Julia. It is not likely that I shall ever inherit a shilling of it, sir.
+I do not expect it."
+
+"Right," said Mr. Tait, nodding his head approvingly. "There's no work
+so thriftless as that of waiting for legacies. Wearying, too. I was a
+poor curate, Mr. Halliburton, for twenty years--indeed, so far as being
+poor goes, I am not much else now--but let that pass. I had a relative
+who possessed money, and who had neither kith nor kin nearer to her than
+I was. For the best part of those twenty years I was giving covert
+hopes to that money; and when she died, and NOTHING was left to me, I
+found out how foolish and wasteful my hopes had been. I tell my children
+to trust to their own honest exertions, but never to trust to other
+people's money. Allow me to urge the same upon you."
+
+Mr. Halliburton's lips and eyes alike smiled, as he looked gratefully at
+the rector, a man so much older than himself. "I never think of it," he
+earnestly said. "It appears, for me, to be as thoroughly lost as though
+it did not exist. I should not have mentioned it, sir, but that I
+consider it right you should know all particulars respecting me; if, as
+I hope, you will admit me to your home."
+
+"I think we should get on very well together," frankly acknowledged Mr.
+Tait, forgetting the prudent ideas which had crossed his mind.
+
+"I am sure we should, sir," warmly replied Edgar Halliburton. And the
+bargain was made.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+THE SHADOW BECOMES SUBSTANCE.
+
+
+And yet it had perhaps been well that those prudent ideas had been
+allowed to obtain weight. Mr. Halliburton took up his abode with the
+Taits; and, the more they saw of him, the more they liked him. In which
+liking Jane must be included.
+
+It was a possible shadow of the future, the effects the step would bring
+forth, which had whispered determent to Mr. Tait: a very brief shadow,
+which had crossed his mind imperfectly, and flitted away again. Where
+two young and attractive beings are thrown into daily companionship, the
+result too frequently is that a mutual regard arises, stronger than any
+other regard can ever be in this world. This result arrived here.
+
+A twelvemonth passed over from the time of Mr. Halliburton's
+entrance--how swiftly for him and for Jane Tait they alone could tell.
+Not a word had been spoken to her by Mr. Halliburton that he might not
+have spoken to her mother or her sister Margaret; not a look on Jane's
+part had been given by which he could infer that he was more to her than
+the rest of the world. And yet both were inwardly conscious of the
+feelings of the other; and when the twelvemonth had gone by it had
+seemed to them but a span, for the love they bore each other.
+
+One evening in December Jane stood in the dining-room waiting to make
+tea just as she had so waited that former evening. For any outward
+signs, you might have thought that not a single hour had elapsed since
+their first introduction--that it was the same evening as of old. It was
+sloppy outside, it was bright within. The candles stood on the table
+unlighted, the fire blazed, the tea-tray was placed, and only Jane was
+there. Mrs. Tait was upstairs with one of her frequent sick-headaches,
+Margaret was with her, and the others had not come in.
+
+Jane stood in a reverie--her elbow resting on the mantel-piece, and the
+blaze from the fire flickering on her gentle face. She was fond of these
+few minutes of idleness on a winter's evening, between the twilight hour
+and lighting the candles.
+
+The clock in the kitchen struck five. It did not arouse her: she heard
+it in a mechanical sort of manner, without taking note of it. Scarcely
+had the sound of the last stroke died away when there was a knock at the
+front door.
+
+That aroused her--for she knew it. She knew the footsteps that came in
+when it was answered, and a rich damask arose to her cheeks, and the
+pulses of her heart went on a little quicker than they had been going
+before.
+
+She took her elbow from the mantel-piece, and sat down quietly on a
+chair. No need to look who entered. Some one, taller by far than any in
+that house, came up to the fire, and bent to warm his hands over the
+blaze.
+
+"It is a cold night, Jane. We shall have a severe frost."
+
+"Yes," she answered; "the water in the barrel is already freezing over."
+
+"How is your mamma now?"
+
+"Better, thank you. Margaret has gone up to help her to dress. She is
+coming down to tea."
+
+Mr. Halliburton remained silent a minute, and then turned to Jane, his
+face glowing with satisfaction. "I have had a piece of preferment
+offered me to-day."
+
+"Have you?" she eagerly said. "What is it?"
+
+"Dr. Percy proposes that, from January, I shall take the Greek classes
+as well as the mathematics, and he doubles my salary. Of course I shall
+have to give closer attendance, but I can readily do that. My time is
+not fully employed."
+
+"I am very glad," said Jane.
+
+"So am I," he answered. "Taking all my sources of income together, I
+shall now be earning two hundred and eighty-three pounds a year."
+
+Jane laughed. "Have you been reckoning it up?"
+
+"Ay; I had a motive in doing so."
+
+His tone was peculiar, and it caused her to look at him, but her eyelids
+drooped under his gaze. He drew nearer, and laid his hand gently on her
+shoulder, bending down before her to speak.
+
+"Jane, you have not mistaken me. I feel that you have read what has been
+in my heart, what have been my intentions, as surely as though I had
+spoken. It is not a great income, but it is sufficient, if you can
+think it so. May I speak to Mr. Tait?"
+
+What Jane would have contrived to answer she never knew, but at that
+moment her mother's step was heard approaching. All she did was to
+glance shyly up at Mr. Halliburton, and he bent his head lower and
+kissed her. Then he walked rapidly to the door and opened it for Mrs.
+Tait--a pale, refined, delicate-looking lady, wrapped in a shawl. These
+violent headaches, from which she so frequently suffered, did not affect
+her permanent health, but on the days she suffered she would be utterly
+prostrated. Mr. Halliburton gave her his arm, and led her to a seat by
+the fire, his voice low and tender, his manner sympathizing. "I am
+already better," she said to him, "and shall be much better after tea.
+Sometimes I am tempted to envy those who do not know what a
+sick-headache is."
+
+"They may know other maladies as painful, dear Mrs. Tait."
+
+"Ay, indeed. None of us can expect to be free from pain of one sort or
+another in this world."
+
+"Shall I make the tea, mamma?" asked Jane.
+
+"Yes, dear; I shall be glad of it, and your papa is sure to be in soon.
+There he is!" she added, as the latch-key was heard in the door. "The
+boys are late this evening."
+
+The rector came in, and, ere the evening was over, the news was broken
+to him by Mr. Halliburton. He wanted Jane.
+
+It was the imperfect, uncertain shadow of twelve months ago become
+substance. It had been a shadow of the future only, you understand--not
+a shadow of evil. To Mr. Halliburton, personally, the rector had no
+objection--he had learned to love, esteem, and respect him--but it is a
+serious thing to give away a child.
+
+"The income is very small to marry upon," he observed. "It is also
+uncertain."
+
+"Not uncertain, sir, so long as I am blessed with health and strength.
+And I have no reason to fear that these will fail."
+
+"I thought you were bent on taking Orders."
+
+Mr. Halliburton's cheek slightly flushed. "It is a prospect I have
+fondly cherished," he said; "but its difficulties alarm me. The cost of
+the University is great; and were I to wait until I had saved sufficient
+money to go to college, I should be obliged, in a great degree, to give
+up my present means of living. Who would employ a tutor who must
+frequently be away for weeks? I should lose my connection, and perhaps
+never regain it. A good teaching connection is more easily lost than
+won."
+
+"True," observed Mr. Tait.
+
+"Once in Orders, I might remain for years a poor curate. I should most
+likely do so. I have neither interest nor influence. Sir, in that case
+Jane and I might be obliged to wait for years: perhaps go down to our
+graves waiting."
+
+The Rev. Francis Tait threw back his thoughts. How _he_ had waited; how
+he was not able to marry until years were advancing upon him; how in
+four years now he should have attained threescore years and ten--the
+term allotted to the life of man--whilst his children were still growing
+up around him! No! never, never would he counsel another to wait as he
+had been obliged to wait.
+
+"I have not yet given up hope of eventually entering the Church,"
+continued Mr. Halliburton; "though it must be accomplished, if at all,
+slowly and patiently. I think I may be able to keep one term, or perhaps
+two terms yearly, without damage to my teaching. I shall try to do so;
+try to find the necessary means and time. My marriage will make no
+difference to that, sir."
+
+Many might have suggested to Edgar Halliburton that he might keep his
+terms first and marry afterwards. Mr. Tait did not: possibly the idea
+did not occur to him. If it occurred to Edgar Halliburton himself, he
+drove it from him. It would have delayed his marriage to an indefinite
+number of years; and he loved Jane too well to do that willingly. "I
+shall still get much better preferment in teaching than that which I now
+hold," he urged aloud to the rector. "It is not so very small to begin
+upon, sir, and Jane is willing to risk it."
+
+"I will not part you and Jane," said Mr. Tait, warmly. "If you have made
+up your minds to share life and its cares together, you shall do so.
+Still, I cannot say that I think your prospects golden."
+
+"Prospects that appear to have no gold at all in them sometimes turn out
+very brightly, sir."
+
+"I can give Jane nothing, you know."
+
+"I have never cast a thought to it, sir; have never imagined she would
+have a shilling," replied Mr. Halliburton, his face flushing with
+eagerness. "It is Jane herself I want; not money."
+
+"Beyond a twenty-pound note which I may give her to put into her purse
+on her wedding morning, that she may not leave my house absolutely
+penniless, she will have nothing," cried the rector, in his
+straightforward manner. "Far from saving, I and her mother have been
+hardly able to make both ends meet at the end of the year. I might have
+saved a few pounds yearly, had I chosen to do so; but you know what this
+parish is; and the reflection has always been upon me: how would my
+Master look upon my putting by small sums of money, when many of those
+over whom I am placed were literally starving for bread? I have given
+what I could; but I have not saved for my children."
+
+"You have done well, sir."
+
+Mr. Tait sought his daughter. "Jane," he began--"Nay, child, do not
+tremble so! There is no need for trembling, or for tears, either: you
+have done nothing to displease me. Jane, I like Edgar Halliburton; I
+like him much. There is no one to whom I would rather give you. But I do
+not like his prospects. Teaching is very precarious."
+
+Jane raised her timid eyes. "Precarious for _him_, papa? For one learned
+and clever as he!"
+
+"It is badly paid. See how he toils--and he will have to toil more when
+the new year comes in--and only to earn two or three hundred a year!--in
+round numbers."
+
+Tears gathered in Jane's eyes. Toil as he did, badly paid as he might
+be, she would rather have him than any other in the world, though that
+other might have revelled in thousands. The rector read somewhat of this
+in her downcast face.
+
+"My dear, the consideration lies with you. If you choose to venture upon
+it, you shall have my consent, and I know you will have your mother's,
+for she thinks Edgar Halliburton has not his equal in the world. But it
+may bring you many troubles."
+
+"Papa, I am not afraid. If troubles come, they--you--told us only last
+night----"
+
+"What, child?"
+
+"That troubles, regarded rightly, only lead us nearer to God," whispered
+Jane, simply and timidly.
+
+"Right, child. And trouble must come before that great truth can be
+realized. Consider the question well, Jane--whether it may not be better
+to wait--and give your answer to-morrow. I shall tell Mr. Halliburton
+not to ask for it to-night. As you decide, so shall it be."
+
+Need you be told what Jane's decision was? Two hundred and eighty-three
+pounds a year seems a large sum to an inexperienced girl; quite
+sufficient to purchase everything that might be wanted for a fireside.
+
+And so she became Jane Halliburton.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+THE REV. FRANCIS TAIT.
+
+
+A hot afternoon in July. Jane Halliburton was in the drawing-room with
+her mother, both sewing busily. It was a large room, with three windows,
+more pleasant than the dining-room beneath, and they were fond of
+sitting in it in summer. Jane had been married some three or four months
+now, but looked the same young, simple, placid girl that she ever did;
+and, but for the wedding-ring upon her finger, no stranger would have
+supposed her to be a wife.
+
+An excellent arrangement had been arrived at--that she and her husband
+should remain inmates of Mr. Tait's house; at any rate, for the
+present. When plans were being discussed, before making the necessary
+arrangements for the marriage, and Mr. Halliburton was spending all his
+superfluous minutes hunting for a suitable house near to the old home,
+and not too dear, Francis Tait had given utterance to a remark--"I
+wonder who we shall get here in Mr. Halliburton's place, if papa takes
+any one else?" and Margaret, looking up from her drawing, had added,
+"Why can't Mr. Halliburton and Jane stay on with us? It would be so much
+pleasanter."
+
+It was the first time the idea had been presented in any shape to the
+rector, and it seemed to go straight to his wishes. He put down a book
+he was reading, and spoke impulsively. "It would be the best thing; the
+very best thing! Would you like it, Halliburton?"
+
+"I should, sir; very much. But it is Jane who must be consulted, not
+me."
+
+Jane, her pretty cheeks covered with blushes, looked up and said she
+should like it also; she _had_ thought of it, but had not liked to
+mention it, either to her mother or to Mr. Halliburton. "I have been
+quite troubled to think what mamma and the house will do without me,"
+she added, ingenuously.
+
+"Let Jane alone for thinking and planning, when difficulties are in the
+way," laughed Margaret. "My opinion is that we shall never get another
+pudding, or papa have his black silk Sunday hose darned, if Jane goes
+from us."
+
+Mrs. Tait burst into tears. Like Margaret she was a bad manager, and had
+mourned over Jane's departure, secretly believing she should be half
+worried to death. "Oh! Jane, dear, say you'll remain!" she cried. "It
+will be such a relief to me! Margaret's of no earthly use, and
+everything will fall on my shoulders. Edgar, I hope you will remain with
+us! It will be pleasant for all. You know the house is sufficiently
+large."
+
+And remain they did. The wedding took place at Easter, and Mr.
+Halliburton took Jane all the way to Dover to see the sea--a long way in
+those days--and kept her there for a week. And then they came back
+again, Jane to her old home duties, just as though she were Jane Tait
+still, and Mr. Halliburton to his teaching.
+
+It was July now and hot weather; and Mrs. Tait and Jane were sewing in
+the drawing-room. They were working for Margaret. Mr. Halliburton,
+through some of his teaching connections, had obtained an excellent
+situation for Margaret in a first-rate school. Margaret was to enter as
+resident pupil, and receive every advantage towards the completion of
+her own education; in return for which she was to teach the younger
+pupils music, and pay ten pounds a year. Such an arrangement was almost
+unknown then, though it has been common enough since, and Mr. and Mrs.
+Tait thought of it very highly. Margaret Tait was only sixteen; but, as
+if in contrast to Jane, who looked younger than her actual years,
+Margaret looked older. In appearance, in manners, and also in
+advancement, Margaret might have been eighteen.
+
+She was to enter the school, which was near Harrow, in another week, at
+the termination of the holidays, and Mrs. Tait and Jane had their hands
+full, getting her things ready.
+
+"Was this slip measured, mamma?" Jane suddenly asked, after attentively
+regarding the work she had on her knee.
+
+"I think so," replied Mrs. Tait. "Why?"
+
+"It looks too short for Margaret. At least it will be too short when I
+have finished this fourth tuck. It must have been measured, though, for
+here are the pins in it. Perhaps Margaret measured it herself."
+
+"Then of course it must be measured again. There's no trusting to
+anything Margaret does in the shape of work. And yet, how clever she is
+at music and drawing--in fact at all her studies!" added Mrs. Tait. "It
+is well, Jane, that we are not all gifted alike."
+
+"I think it is," acquiesced Jane. "I will go up to Margaret's room for
+one of her slips, and measure this."
+
+"You need not do that," said Mrs. Tait. "There's an old slip of hers
+amongst the work on the sofa."
+
+Jane found the slip, and measured the one in her hand by it. "Yes,
+mamma! It is just the length without the tuck. Then I must take out what
+I have done of it. It is very little."
+
+"Come hither, Jane. Your eyes are younger than mine. Is not that your
+papa coming towards us from the far end of the square?"
+
+Jane approached the window nearest to her, not the one at which Mrs.
+Tait was sitting. "Oh, yes, that's papa. You might tell him by his
+dress, if by nothing else, mamma."
+
+"I could tell him by himself, if I could see," said Mrs. Tait, quaintly.
+"I don't know how it is, Jane, but my sight grows very imperfect for a
+distance."
+
+"Never mind that, mamma, so that you can continue to see well to work
+and read," said Jane cheerily. "How fast papa is walking!"
+
+Very fast for the Rev. Francis Tait, who was not in general a quick
+walker. He entered his house, and came up to the drawing-room. He had
+not been well for the last few days, and threw himself into a chair,
+wearily.
+
+"Jane, is there any of that beef-tea left, that was made for me
+yesterday?"
+
+"Yes, papa," she said, springing up that she might get it for him. "I
+will bring it to you immediately."
+
+"Stay, stay, child, not so fast," he interrupted. "It is not for myself.
+I can do without it. I have been pained by a sad sight," he added,
+looking at his wife. "There's that daughter of the Widow Booth's come
+home again. I called in upon them and there she was, lying on a
+mattress, dying from famine, as I verily believe. She returned last
+night in a dreadful state of exhaustion, the mother says, and has had
+nothing within her lips since but cold water. They tried her with solid
+food, but she could not swallow it. That beef-tea will just do for her.
+Have it warmed, Jane."
+
+"She is a sinful, ill-doing girl, Francis," remarked Mrs. Tait, "and
+does not really deserve compassion."
+
+"All the more reason, wife, that she should be rescued from death," said
+the rector, almost sternly. "The good may dare to die: the evil may not.
+Don't waste time, Jane. Put it into a bottle, warm, and I'll carry it
+round."
+
+"Is there nothing else we can send her, papa, that may do for her
+equally well?" asked Jane. "A little wine, perhaps? There is very little
+of the beef-tea left, and it ought to be kept for you."
+
+"Never mind; I wish to take it to her," said the rector. "A little wine
+afterwards may do her good."
+
+Jane hastened to the kitchen, disturbing a servant who was doing
+something over the fire. "Susan, papa wants the remainder of the
+beef-tea warmed. Will you make haste and do it, whilst I search for a
+bottle to put it into? It is to be taken round to Charity Booth."
+
+"What! is _she_ back again?" exclaimed the servant, slightingly, which
+betrayed that her estimation of Charity Booth was no higher than was
+that of her mistress. "It's just like the master," she continued,
+proceeding to do what was required of her. "It's not often that
+anything's made for himself; but if it is, he never gets the benefit of
+it; he's sure to drop across somebody that he fancies wants it worse
+than he does. It's not right, Miss Jane."
+
+
+Jane was searching a cupboard, and brought forth a clean green bottle,
+which held about half-a-pint. "This will be quite large enough, I
+think."
+
+"I should think it would!" grumbled Susan, who could not be brought to
+look upon the giving away of her master's own peculiar property as
+anything but a personal grievance. "There's barely a gill of it left,
+and he ought to have had it himself, Miss Jane."
+
+"Susan," she said, turning her bright face laughingly towards the woman,
+"it is a good thing that you went to church and saw me married, or I
+might think you meant to reflect upon me. How can I be 'Miss Jane,'
+with this ring on?"
+
+"It's of no good my trying to remember it, ma'am. All the parish knows
+you are Mrs. Halliburton, fast enough; but it don't come ready to me."
+
+Jane laughed pleasantly. "Where is Mary?" she asked.
+
+"In the back room, going on with some of Miss Margaret's things. It's
+cooler, sitting there, than in this hot kitchen."
+
+Jane carried the little bottle of beef-tea to her father, and gave it
+into his hand. He looked very pale, and rose from his chair slowly.
+
+"Oh, papa, you do not seem well!" she involuntarily exclaimed. "Let me
+run and beat you up an egg. I will not be a minute."
+
+"I can't wait, child. And I question if I could eat it, were it ready
+before me. I do not feel well, as you say."
+
+"You ought to have taken this beef-tea yourself, papa. It was made for
+_you_."
+
+Jane could not help laying a stress upon the word. Mr. Tait placed his
+hand gently upon her smoothly parted hair. "Jane, child, had I thought
+of myself before others throughout life, how should I have been
+following my Master's precepts?"
+
+She ran down the stairs before him, opening the front door for him to
+pass through, that even that little exertion should be spared him. A
+loving, dutiful daughter was Jane; and it is probable that the thought
+of her worth especially crossed the mind of the rector at that moment.
+"God bless you, my child!" he aspirated, as he passed her.
+
+Jane watched him across the square. Their house, though not actually in
+the square, commanded a view of it. Then she returned upstairs to her
+mother. "Papa thinks he will not lose time," she observed. "He is
+walking fast."
+
+"I should call it running," responded Mrs. Tait, who had seen the speed
+from the window. "But, my dear, he'll do no good with that badly
+conducted Charity Booth."
+
+About an hour passed away, and it was drawing towards dinner-time. Jane
+and Mrs. Tait were busy as ever, when Mr. Halliburton's well-known knock
+was heard.
+
+"Edgar is home early this morning!" Jane exclaimed.
+
+He came springing up the stairs, two at a time, in great haste, opened
+the drawing-room door, and just put in his head. Mrs. Tait, sitting with
+her back to the door and her face to the window, did not turn round, and
+consequently did not see him. Jane did; and was startled. Every vestige
+of colour had forsaken his face.
+
+"Oh, Edgar! You are ill!"
+
+"Ill! Not I," affecting to speak gaily. "I want you for a minute, Jane."
+
+Mrs. Tait had looked round at Jane's exclamation, but Mr. Halliburton's
+face was then withdrawn. He was standing outside the door when Jane
+went out. He did not speak; but took her hand in silence and drew her
+into the back room, which was their own bedroom, and closed the door.
+Jane's face had grown as white as his.
+
+"My darling, I did not mean to alarm you," he said, holding her to him.
+"I thought you had a brave heart, Jane. I thought that if I had a little
+unpleasant news to impart it would be best to tell _you_, that you may
+help me break it to the rest."
+
+Jane's heart was not feeling very brave. "What is it?" she asked,
+scarcely able to speak the words from her ghastly lips.
+
+"Jane," he said, tenderly and gravely, "before I say any more, you must
+strive for calmness."
+
+"It is not about yourself! You are not ill?"
+
+The question seemed superfluous. Mr. Halliburton was evidently not ill;
+but he was agitated. Jane was frightened and perplexed: not a glimpse of
+the real truth crossed her. "Tell me what it is at once, Edgar," she
+said, in a calmer tone. "I can bear certainty better than suspense."
+
+"Why, yes, I think you are becoming brave already," he answered, looking
+straight into her eyes and smiling--which was intended to reassure her.
+"I must have my wife show herself a woman to-day; not a child. See what
+a bungler I am! I thought to tell you all quietly and smoothly, without
+alarming you; and see what I have done!--startled you to terror."
+
+Jane smiled faintly. She knew all this was only the precursor of tidings
+that must be very ill and grievous. By a great effort she schooled
+herself to calmness. Mr. Halliburton continued:
+
+"One, whom you and I love very much, has--has--met with an accident,
+Jane."
+
+Her fears went straight to the right quarter at once. With that one
+exception by her side, there was no one she loved as she loved her
+father.
+
+"Papa?"
+
+"Yes. We must break it to Mrs. Tait."
+
+Her heart beat wildly against his hand, and the livid hue was once more
+overspreading her face. But she strove urgently for calmness: he
+whispered to her of its necessity for her own sake.
+
+"Edgar! is it death?"
+
+It was death; but he would not tell her so yet. He plunged into the
+attendant details.
+
+"He was hastening along with a small bottle in his hand, Jane. It
+contained something good for one of the sick poor, I am sure, for he was
+in their neighbourhood. Suddenly he was observed to fall; and the
+spectators raised him and took him to a doctor's. That doctor,
+unfortunately, was not at home, and they took him to another, so that
+time was lost. He was quite unconscious."
+
+"But you do not tell me!" she wailed. "Is he dead?"
+
+Mr. Halliburton asked himself a question--What good would be done by
+delaying the truth? He thought he had performed his task very badly.
+"Jane, Jane!" he whispered, "I can only hope to help you to bear it
+better than I have broken it to you."
+
+She could not shed tears in that first awful moment: physically and
+mentally she leaned on him for support. "_How_ can we tell my mother?"
+
+It was necessary that Mrs. Tait should be told, and without delay. Even
+then the body was being conveyed to the house. By a curious coincidence,
+Mr. Halliburton had been passing the last doctor's surgery at the very
+moment the crowd was round its doors. Unusual business had called him
+there; or it was a street he did not enter once in a year. "The parson
+has fallen down in a fit," said some of them, recognizing and arresting
+him.
+
+"The parson!" he repeated. "What! Mr. Tait?"
+
+"Sure enough," said they. And Mr. Halliburton pressed into the surgeon's
+house just as the examination was over.
+
+"The heart, no doubt, sir," said the doctor to him.
+
+"He surely is not dead?"
+
+"Quite dead. He must have died instantaneously."
+
+The news had been wafted to the mob outside, and they were already
+taking a shutter from its hinges. "I will go on first and prepare the
+family," said Mr. Halliburton to them. "Give me a quarter of an hour's
+start, and then come on."
+
+So that he had only a quarter of an hour for it all. His thoughts
+naturally turned to his wife: not simply to spare her alarm and pain, so
+far as he might, but he believed her, young as she was, to possess more
+calmness and self-control than Mrs. Tait. As he sped to the house he
+rehearsed his task; and might have accomplished it better but for his
+tell-tale face. "Jane," he whispered, "let this be your consolation
+ever: he was ready to go."
+
+"Oh yes!" she answered, bursting into a storm of most distressing tears.
+"If any one here was ever fit for heaven, it was my dear father."
+
+"Hark!" exclaimed Mr. Halliburton.
+
+Some noise had arisen downstairs--a sound of voices speaking in
+undertones. There could be no doubt that people had come to the house
+with the news, and were imparting it to the two trembling servants.
+
+"There's not a moment to be lost, Jane."
+
+How Jane dried her eyes and suppressed all temporary sign of grief and
+emotion, she could not tell. A sense of duty was strong within her, and
+she knew that the most imperative duty of the present moment was the
+support and solace of her mother. She and her husband entered the
+drawing-room together, and Mrs. Tait turned with a smile to Mr.
+Halliburton.
+
+"What secrets have you and Jane been talking together?" Then, catching
+sight of Jane's white and quivering lips, she broke into a cry of agony.
+"Jane! what has happened? What have you both come to tell me?"
+
+The tears poured from Jane's fair young face as she clasped her mother
+fondly to her, tenderly whispering: "Dearest mamma, you must lean upon
+us now! We will all love you and take care of you as we have never yet
+done."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+NEW PLANS.
+
+
+The post-mortem examination established beyond doubt the fact that the
+Rev. Francis Tait's death was caused by heart disease. In the earlier
+period of his life it had been suspected that he was subject to it, but
+of late years unfavourable symptoms had not shown themselves.
+
+With him died of course almost all his means; and his family, if not
+left utterly destitute, had little to boast in the way of wealth. Mrs.
+Tait enjoyed, and had for some time enjoyed, an annuity of fifty pounds
+a year; but it would cease at her death, whenever that event should take
+place. What was she to do with her children? Many a bereaved widow, far
+worse off than Mrs. Tait, has to ask the same perplexing question every
+day. Mrs. Tait's children were partially off her hands. Jane had her
+husband; Francis was earning his own living as an under-master in a
+school; with Margaret ten pounds a year must be paid; and there was
+still Robert.
+
+The death had occurred in July. By October they must be away from the
+house. "You will be at no loss for a home, Mrs. Tait," Mr. Halliburton
+took an opportunity of kindly saying to her. "You must allow me and Jane
+to welcome you to ours."
+
+"Yes, Edgar," was Mrs. Tait's unhesitating reply; "it will be the best
+plan. The furniture in this house will do for yours, and you shall have
+it, and you must take me and my small means into it--an incumbrance to
+you. I have pondered it all over, and I do not see anything else that
+can be done."
+
+"I have no right whatever to your furniture," he replied, "and Jane has
+no more right to it than have your other children. The furniture shall
+be put into my house if you please; but you must either allow me to pay
+you for it, or it shall remain your own, to be removed again at any time
+you may please."
+
+A house was looked for and taken. The furniture was valued, and Mr.
+Halliburton bought it--a fourth part of the sum Mrs. Tait positively
+refusing to take, for she declared that so much belonged to Jane. Then
+they quitted the old house of many years, and moved into the new one:
+Mr. and Mrs. Halliburton, Mrs. Tait, Robert, and the two servants.
+
+"Will it be prudent for you, my dear, to retain both the servants?" Mrs.
+Tait asked of her daughter.
+
+Jane blushed vividly. "We could do with one at present, mamma; but the
+time will be coming that I shall require two. And Susan and Mary are
+both so good that I do not care to part with them. You are used to them,
+too."
+
+"Ah, child! I know that in all your plans and schemes you and Edgar
+think first of my comfort. Do you know what I was thinking of last night
+as I lay in bed?"
+
+"What, mamma?"
+
+"When Mr. Halliburton first spoke of wanting you, I and your poor papa
+felt inclined to hesitate, thinking you might have made a better match.
+But, my dear, I was wondering last night what we should have done in
+this crisis but for him."
+
+"Yes," said Jane, gently. "Things that appear untoward at the time
+frequently turn out afterwards to have been the very best that could
+have happened. God directs all things, you know, mamma."
+
+A contention arose respecting Robert, some weeks after they had been in
+their new house--or it may be better to call it a discussion. Robert had
+never taken very kindly to what he called book-learning. Mr. Tait's wish
+had been that both his sons should enter the Church. Robert had never
+openly opposed this wish, and for the calling itself he had a liking;
+but particularly disliked the study and application necessary to fit him
+for it. Silent while his father lived, he was so no longer; but took
+every opportunity of urging the point upon his mother. He was still
+attending Dr. Percy's school daily.
+
+"You know, mother," dropping down one day in a chair, close to his
+mother and Jane, and catching up one leg to nurse--rather a favourite
+action of his--"I shall never earn salt at it."
+
+"Salt at what, Robert?" asked Mrs. Tait.
+
+"Why, at these rubbishing classics. _I_ shall never make a tutor, as Mr.
+Halliburton and Francis do; and what on earth's to become of me? As to
+any chance of my being a parson, of course that's over: where's the
+money to come from?"
+
+"What _is_ to become of you, then?" cried Mrs. Tait. "I'm sure I don't
+know."
+
+"Besides," went on Robert, lowering his voice, and calling up the most
+effectual argument he could think of, "I ought to be doing something
+for myself. I am living here upon Mr. Halliburton."
+
+"He is delighted to have you, Robert," interrupted Jane, quickly. "Mamma
+pays----"
+
+"Be quiet, Mrs. Jane! What sort of a wife do you call yourself, pray, to
+go against your husband's interests in that manner? I heard you
+preaching up to the charity children the other day about its being
+sinful to waste time."
+
+"Well?" said Jane.
+
+"Well! what's waste of time for other people is not waste of time for
+me, I suppose?" went on Robert.
+
+"You are not wasting your time, Robert."
+
+"I am. And if you had the sense people give you credit for, Madam Jane,
+you'd see it. I shall never, I say, earn my salt at teaching; and--just
+tell me yourself whether there seems any chance now that I shall enter
+the Church."
+
+"At present I do not see that there is," confessed Jane.
+
+"There! Then is it waste of time, or not, my continuing to study for a
+career which I can never enter upon?"
+
+"But what else can you do, Robert?" interposed Mrs. Tait. "You cannot
+idle your time away at home, or be running about the streets all day."
+
+"No," said Robert, "better stop at school for ever than do that. I want
+to see the world, mother."
+
+"You--want--to--see--the--world!" echoed Mrs. Tait, bringing out the
+words slowly in her astonishment, whilst Jane looked up from her work,
+and fixed her eyes upon her brother.
+
+"It's only natural that I should," said Robert, with equanimity. "I have
+an invitation to go down into Yorkshire."
+
+"What to do?" cried Mrs. Tait.
+
+"Oh, lots of things. They keep hunters, and----"
+
+"Why, you were never on horseback in your life, Robert," laughed Jane.
+"You would come back with your neck broken."
+
+"I do wish you'd be quiet, Jane!" returned Robert, reddening. "I am
+talking to mamma, not to you. Winchcombe has invited me to spend the
+Christmas holidays with him down at his father's place in Yorkshire.
+And, mother, I want to go; and I want you to promise that I shall not
+return to school when the holidays are over. I will do anything else
+that you choose to put me to. I'll learn to be a man of business, or
+I'll go into an office, or I'd be apprenticed to a doctor--anything you
+like, rather than stop at these everlasting school-books. I am _sick_ of
+them."
+
+"Robert, you take my breath away!" uttered Mrs. Tait. "I have no
+interest anywhere. I could not get you into any of these places."
+
+"I dare say Mr. Halliburton could. He knows lots of people. Jane, you
+talk to him: he'll do anything for you."
+
+There ensued, I say, much discussion about
+
+Robert. But it is not with Robert Tait that our story has to do; and
+only a few words need be given to him here and there. It appeared to
+them all that it would be inexpedient for him to continue at school;
+both with regard to his own wishes and to his prospects. He was allowed
+to pay the visit with his schoolfellow, and (as he came back with neck
+unbroken) Mr. Halliburton succeeded in placing him in a large wholesale
+warehouse. Robert appeared to like it very much at first, and always
+came home to spend Sunday with them.
+
+"He may rise in time to be one of the first mercantile men in London,"
+observed Mr. Halliburton to his wife; "one of our merchant-princes, as
+my uncle used to say by me, if only----"
+
+
+"If what? Why do you hesitate?" she asked.
+
+"If he will only persevere, I was going to say. But, Jane, I fear
+perseverance is a quality that Robert does not possess."
+
+Of course all that had to be proved. It lay in the future.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+MARGARET.
+
+
+From two to three years passed away, and the Midsummer holidays were
+approaching. Margaret was expected as usual for them, and Jane,
+delighted to receive her, went about her glad preparations. Margaret
+would not return to the school, in which she had been a paid teacher for
+the last year; but was to enter a family as governess. For one
+efficient, well-educated, accomplished governess to be met with in those
+days, scores may be counted now--or who profess to be so; and Margaret
+Tait, though barely nineteen, anticipated a salary of seventy or eighty
+guineas a year.
+
+A warm, bright day in June, that on which Mr. Halliburton went to
+receive Margaret. The coach brought her to its resting-place, the "Bull
+and Mouth," in St. Martin's-le-Grand, and Mr. Halliburton reached the
+inn as St. Paul's clock was striking midday. One minute more, and the
+coach drove in.
+
+There she was, inside; a tall, fine girl, with a handsome face: a face
+full of resolution and energy. Margaret Tait had her good qualities, and
+she had also her faults: a great one, speaking of the latter, was
+self-will. She opened the door herself and leaped out before any one
+could help her, all joy and delight.
+
+"And what about your boxes, Margaret?" questioned Mr. Halliburton, after
+a few words of greeting. "Have they come this time or not?"
+
+Margaret laughed. "Yes, they really have. I have not lost them on the
+road, as I did at Christmas. You will never forget to tell me of that, I
+am sure! But it was more the guard's fault than mine."
+
+A few minutes, and Mr. Halliburton, Margaret, and the boxes were
+lumbering along in one of the old glass coaches.
+
+"And now tell me about every one," said Margaret. "How is dear mamma?"
+
+"She is quite well. We are all well. Jane's famous."
+
+"And my precious little Willy?"
+
+"Oh," said Mr. Halliburton, quaintly, "he is a great deal too
+troublesome for anything to be the matter with him. I tell Jane she will
+have to begin the whipping system soon."
+
+"And much Jane will attend to you! Is it a pretty baby?"
+
+Mr. Halliburton raised his eyebrows. "Jane thinks so. I wonder she has
+not had its likeness taken."
+
+"Is it christened?" continued Margaret.
+
+"It is baptized. Jane would not have the christening until you were at
+home."
+
+"And its name?"
+
+"Jane."
+
+"What a shame! Jane promised me it should be Margaret. Why did she
+decide upon her own name?"
+
+"I decided upon it," said Mr. Halliburton. "Yours can wait until the
+next, Margaret."
+
+Margaret laughed. "And how are you getting on?"
+
+"Very well. I have every hour of the day occupied."
+
+"I don't think you are looking well," rejoined Margaret. "You look thin
+and fagged."
+
+"I am always thin, and mine is a fagging profession. Sometimes I feel
+terribly weary. But I am pretty well upon the whole, Margaret."
+
+"Will Francis be at home these holidays?"
+
+"No. He passes them at a gentleman's house in Norfolk--tutor to his
+sons. Francis is thoroughly industrious and persevering."
+
+"A contrast to poor Robert, I suppose?"
+
+"Well--yes; in that sense."
+
+"There has been some trouble about Robert, has there not?" asked
+Margaret, her tone becoming grave. "Did he not get discharged?"
+
+"He received notice of discharge. But I saw the principals and begged
+him on again. I would not talk about it to him if I were you, Margaret.
+He is sensitive upon the point. Robert's intentions are good, but his
+disposition is fickle. He has grown tired of his work and idles his time
+away; no house of business will put up with that."
+
+The coach arrived at Mr. Halliburton's. Margaret rushed out of it,
+giving no one time to assist her, as she had done out of the other coach
+at the "Bull and Mouth." There was a great deal of impetuosity in
+Margaret Tait's character. She was quite a contrast to Jane--as she had
+just remarked there was a contrast between Francis and Robert upon
+other points--to sensible, lady-like, self-possessed Jane, who came
+forward so calmly to greet her, a glad depth of affection in her quiet
+eyes.
+
+A boisterous embrace to her mother, a boisterous embrace to Jane, all in
+haste, and then Margaret caught up a little gentleman of some two years
+old, or more, who was standing holding on to Jane's dress, his great
+grey eyes, honest, loving, intelligent as were his mother's, cast up in
+a broad stare at Margaret.
+
+"You naughty Willy! Have you forgotten Aunt Margaret? Oh, you darling
+child! Who's this?"
+
+She carried the boy up to the end of the room, where stood their old
+servant Mary, nursing an infant of two months old. The baby had great
+grey eyes also, and they likewise were bent on noisy Margaret. "Oh,
+Willy, she is prettier than you! I won't nurse you any more. Mary, I'll
+shake hands with you presently. I must take that enchanting baby first."
+
+Dropping discarded Willy upon the ground, snatching the baby from Mary's
+arms, Margaret kissed its pretty face until she made it cry. Jane came
+to the rescue.
+
+"You don't understand babies, Margaret. Let Mary take her again. Come
+upstairs to your room, and make yourself ready for dinner. I think you
+must be hungry."
+
+"So hungry that I shall frighten you. Of course, with the thought of
+coming home, I could not touch breakfast. I hope you have something
+especially nice!"
+
+"Your favourite dinner," said Jane, smiling. "Loin of veal and
+broccoli."
+
+"How thoughtful you are, Jane!" Margaret could not help exclaiming.
+
+"Margaret, my dear," called out her mother, as she was leaving the room
+with Jane.
+
+Margaret looked back. "What, mamma?"
+
+"I hope you will not continue to go on with these children as you have
+begun; otherwise we shall have a quiet house turned into a noisy one."
+
+"Is it a quiet house?" said Margaret, laughing.
+
+"As if any house would not be quiet, regulated by Jane!" replied Mrs.
+Tait. And Margaret, laughing still, followed her sister.
+
+It is curious to remark how differently things sometimes turn out from
+what we intended. Had any one asked Mrs. Tait, the day that Margaret
+came home, what Margaret's future career was to be, she had wondered at
+the question. "A governess, certainly," would have been her answer; and
+she would have thought that no power, humanly speaking, could prevent
+it. And yet, Margaret Tait, as it proved, never did become a governess.
+
+The holidays were drawing to an end, and a very desirable situation, as
+was believed, had been found for Margaret by Mr. Halliburton, the
+negotiations for which were nearly completed. Mr. Halliburton gave
+private lessons in sundry well-connected families, and thus enabled to
+hear where ladies were required as governesses, he had recommended
+Margaret. The recommendation was favourably received, and a day was
+appointed for Margaret to make a personal visit at the town house of the
+people in question, when she would most probably be engaged.
+
+On the previous evening at twilight Mr. Halliburton came home from one
+of his numerous engagements. Jane was alone. Mrs. Tait, not very well,
+had retired to rest early, and Margaret was out with Robert. In this, a
+leisure season of the year, Robert had most of his evenings to himself,
+after eight o'clock. He generally came home, and he and Margaret would
+go out together. Mr. Halliburton sat down at one of the windows in
+silence.
+
+Jane went up to him, laying her hand affectionately on his shoulder.
+"You are very tired, Edgar?"
+
+He did not reply: only drew her hand between his, and kept it there.
+
+"You shall have supper at once," said Jane, glancing at the tray which
+stood ready on the table. "I am sure you must want it. And it is not
+right to indulge Margaret every night by waiting for her."
+
+"Scarcely, when she does not come in until ten or half-past," said Mr.
+Halliburton. "Jane," he added confidentially, "do you think it well that
+Margaret should be out so frequently in an evening?"
+
+"She is with Robert."
+
+"She may not always be with Robert alone."
+
+Jane felt her face flush. She knew her husband; knew that he was not one
+to speak unless he had some reason for doing so. "Edgar! why do you say
+this? Do you know anything? Have you seen Margaret?"
+
+"I saw her a quarter of an hour ago----"
+
+"With Robert?" interrupted Jane, more impulsively than she was in the
+habit of speaking.
+
+"Robert was by her side. But she was walking arm in arm with Mr.
+Murray."
+
+Jane did not much like the information. This Mr. Murray was in the same
+house as Robert, holding a better position. Robert had occasionally
+brought him home, and he had taken tea with them. Mrs. Halliburton felt
+surprised at Margaret: it appeared, to her well-regulated mind, very
+like a clandestine proceeding. What would she have said, or thought, had
+she known that Margaret and Mr. Murray were in the habit of thus walking
+together constantly? Robert's being with them afforded no sufficient
+excuse.
+
+Later they saw Margaret coming home with Robert alone. He left her at
+the door as usual, and then hastened away to his own home. Jane said
+nothing then, but she went to Margaret's room that evening.
+
+"Oh, Edgar has been bringing home tales, has he?" was Margaret's answer,
+when the ice was broken; and her defiant tone brought Jane hardly knew
+what of dismay to her ear. "I saw him staring at us."
+
+"Margaret!" gasped Jane, "what can have come to you? You are completely
+changed; you--you seem to speak no longer as a lady."
+
+"Then why do you provoke me, Jane? Is it high treason to take a
+gentleman's arm, my brother being with me?"
+
+"It is not right to do it in secret, Margaret. If you go out ostensibly
+to walk with Robert----"
+
+"Jane, I will not listen," Margaret said, with flashing eyes. "Because
+you are Mrs. Halliburton, you assume a right to lecture me. I have
+committed no grievous wrong. When I do commit it, you may take your turn
+then."
+
+"Oh, Margaret! why will you misjudge me?" asked Jane, her voice full of
+pain. "I speak to you in love, not in anger; I would not speak at all
+but for your good. If the Chevasneys were to hear of this, they might
+think you an unsuitable mistress for their children."
+
+"Compose yourself," said Margaret, scoffingly. Never had she shown such
+a temper, so undesirable a disposition, as on this night; and Jane might
+well look at her in amazement, and hint that she was "changed." "I shall
+be found sufficiently suitable by the Chevasney family--when I consent
+to enter it."
+
+Her tone was strangely significant, and Jane Halliburton's heart beat.
+"What do you imply, Margaret?" she inquired. "You appear to have some
+peculiar meaning."
+
+Margaret, who had been standing before the glass all this time twisting
+her hair round her fingers, turned and looked her sister full in the
+face. "Jane, I'll tell you, if you will undertake to make things
+straight for me with mamma. I am not going to the Chevasneys--or
+anywhere else--as governess."
+
+"Yes,"--said Jane faintly, for she had a presentiment of what was
+coming.
+
+"I am going to be married instead."
+
+"Oh, Margaret!"
+
+"There is nothing to groan about," retorted Margaret. "Mr. Murray is
+coming to speak to mamma to-morrow, and if any of you have anything to
+say against him, you can say it to his face. He is a very respectable
+man, and has a good income; where's the objection to him?"
+
+Jane could not say. Personally, she did not very much like Mr. Murray;
+and certain fond visions had pictured a higher destiny for handsome,
+accomplished Margaret. "I hope and trust you will be happy, if you do
+marry him, Margaret!" was all she said.
+
+"I hope I shall. I must take my chance of that, as others do. Jane, I
+beg your pardon for my crossness, but you put me out of temper."
+
+As others do. Ay! it was all a lottery. And Margaret Tait entered upon
+her hastily-chosen married life, knowing that it was so.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+IN SAVILE-ROW.
+
+
+Several years went on; and years rarely go on without bringing changes
+with them. Jane had now four children. William, the eldest, was close
+upon thirteen; Edgar, the youngest, going on for nine; Jane and Frank
+were between them. Mrs. Tait was dead: and Francis Tait was the Reverend
+Francis Tait. By dint of hard work and perseverance, he had succeeded in
+qualifying for Orders, and was half starving upon a London curacy, as
+his father had done for so many years before him. In saying "half
+starving," I don't mean that he had not bread and cheese to eat; but
+when a clergyman's stipend is under a hundred a year, the expression
+"half starving" is justifiable. He hungers after many things that he is
+unable to obtain, and he cannot maintain his position as a gentleman.
+Francis Tait hungered. Over one want, especially, he hungered with an
+intensely ravenous hunger; and that was, the gratification of his taste
+for literature. The books he coveted to read were expensive;
+impossibilities to him; he could not purchase them, and libraries were
+then scarce. Had Francis Tait not been gifted with very great
+conscientiousness, he would have joined teaching with his ministry. But
+the wants of his parish required all his time; and he had inherited that
+large share of the monitor, conscience, from his father. "I suppose I
+shall have a living some time," he would think to himself: "when I am
+growing an old man, probably, as he was when he gained his."
+
+So the Reverend Francis Tait plodded on at his curacy, and was content
+to await that remote day when fortune should drop from the skies.
+
+Where was Margaret? Margaret had bidden adieu to old England for ever.
+Her husband, who had not been promoted in his house of business as
+rapidly as he thought he ought to have been, had thrown up his
+situation, home and home ties, and gone out to the woods of Canada to
+become a settler. Did Margaret repent her hasty marriage then? Did she
+find that her finished education, her peculiar tastes and habits, so
+unfitted for domestic life, were all lost in those wild woods? Music,
+drawing, languages, literature, of what use were _they_ to her now? She
+might educate her own children, indeed, as they grew up: the only chance
+of education it appeared likely they would have. That Margaret found
+herself in a peculiarly uncongenial atmosphere, there could be no doubt;
+but, like a brave woman as she proved herself, not a hint of it, in
+writing home, ever escaped her, not a shadow of complaint could be
+gathered there. It was not often that she wrote, and her letters grew
+more rare as the years went on. Robert had accompanied them, and he
+boasted that he liked the life much; a thousand times better than that
+of the musty old warehouse.
+
+Mr. Halliburton's teaching was excellent--his income good. He was now
+one of the professors at King's College; but had not yet succeeded in
+carrying out his dream--that of getting to Oxford or Cambridge. Edgar
+Halliburton had begun at the wrong end of the ladder: he should have
+gone to college first and married afterwards. He married first: and to
+college he never went. A man of moderate means, with a home to keep, a
+wife, children, servants, to provide for, has enough to do with his
+money and time, without spending them at college. He had quite given up
+the idea now; and perhaps had grown not to regret it very keenly: his
+home was one of refinement, comfort, and thorough happiness.
+
+But about this period, or indeed some time prior to it, Mr. Halliburton
+had reason to believe that he was overtaxing his strength. For a long,
+long while, almost ever since he had been in London, he was aware that
+he had not felt thoroughly well. Hot weather affected him and rendered
+him languid; the chills of winter gave him a cough; the keen winds of
+spring attacked his chest. He would throw off his ailments bravely and
+go on again, not heeding them or thinking that they might ever become
+serious. Perhaps he never gave a thought to that until one evening when,
+upon coming in after a hard day's toil, he sat down in his chair and
+quietly fainted away.
+
+
+Jane and one of the servants were standing over him when he
+recovered--Jane's face very pale and anxious.
+
+"Do not be alarmed," he said, smiling at her. "I suppose I dropped
+asleep; or lost consciousness in some way."
+
+"You fainted, Edgar."
+
+"Fainted, did I? How silly I must have been! The room's warm, Jane: it
+must have overpowered me."
+
+Jane was not deceived. She saw that he was making light of it to quiet
+her alarm, and brought him a glass of wine. He drank it, but could not
+eat anything: frequently could not eat now.
+
+"Edgar," she said, "you are doing too much. I have seen it for a long
+time past."
+
+"Seen what, Jane?"
+
+"That your strength is not equal to your work. You must give up a
+portion of your teaching."
+
+"My dear, how can I do so? Does it not take all I earn to meet expenses?
+When accounts are settled at the end of the year, have we a shilling to
+spare?"
+
+It was so, and Jane knew it; but her husband's health was above every
+consideration in the world. "We must reduce our expenses," she said. "We
+must cease to live as we are living now. We will move into a smaller
+house, and keep one servant, and I will turn maid-of-all-work."
+
+She laughed quite merrily; but Mr. Halliburton detected a serious
+meaning in her tone. He shook his head.
+
+"No, Jane; that time, I hope, will never come."
+
+He lay awake all that night buried in reflection. Do you know what this
+night-reflection is, when it comes to us in all its racking intensity?
+Surging over his brain, like the wild waves that chase each other on the
+ocean, came the thought, "What will become of my wife and children if I
+die?" Thought after thought, they all resolved themselves into that one
+focus:--"I have made no provision for my wife and children: what will
+become of them if I am taken?"
+
+Mr. Halliburton had one good habit--it was possible that he had learnt
+it from his wife, for it was hers in no ordinary degree--the habit of
+_looking steadfastly into the face of trouble_. Not to groan and grumble
+at it--to sigh and lament that no one else's trouble ever was so great
+before--but to see how it might best be met and contended with; how the
+best could be made of it.
+
+The only feasible way he could see, was that of insuring his life. He
+possessed neither lands nor money. Did he attempt to put by a portion of
+his income, it would take years and years to accumulate into a sum worth
+mentioning. Why, how long would it take him to economise only a thousand
+pounds? No. There was only one way--that of life insurance. It was an
+idea that would have occurred to most of us. He did not know how much it
+would take from his yearly income to effect it. A great deal, he was
+afraid; for he was approaching what is called middle life.
+
+He had no secrets from his wife. He consulted her upon every point; she
+was his best friend, his confidante, his gentle counsellor, and he had
+no intention of concealing the step he was about to take. Why should he?
+
+"Jane," he began, when they were at breakfast the next morning, "do you
+know what I have been thinking of all night?"
+
+"Trouble, I am sure," she answered. "You have been very restless."
+
+"Not exactly trouble"--for he did not choose to acknowledge, even to
+himself, that a strange sense of trouble did seem to rest on his heart
+and to weigh it down. "I have been thinking more of precaution than
+trouble."
+
+"Precaution?" echoed Jane, looking at him.
+
+"Ay, love. And the astonishing part of the business, to myself, is that
+I never thought of the necessity for this precaution before."
+
+Jane divined now what he meant. Often and often had the idea occurred to
+her--"Should my husband's health or life fail, we are destitute." Not
+for herself did she so much care, but for her children.
+
+"That sudden attack last night has brought me reflection," he resumed.
+"Life is uncertain with the best of us. It may be no more uncertain with
+me than with others; but I feel that I must act as though it were so.
+Jane, were I taken, there would be no provision for you."
+
+"No," she quietly said.
+
+"And therefore I must set about making one without delay, as far as I
+can. I shall insure my life."
+
+Jane did not answer immediately. "It will take a great deal of money,
+Edgar," she presently said.
+
+"I fear it will: but it must be done. What's the matter, Jane? You don't
+look hopeful over it."
+
+"Because, were you to insure your life, to pay the yearly premium, and
+our home expenses, would necessitate your working as hard as you do
+now."
+
+"Well?" said he. "Of course it would."
+
+
+"In any case, our expenses shall be much reduced; of that I am
+determined," she went on somewhat dreamily, more it seemed in soliloquy
+than to her husband. "But, with this premium to pay in addition----"
+
+"Jane," he interrupted, "there's not the least necessity for my relaxing
+my labours. I shall not think of doing it. I may not be very strong, but
+I am not ill. As to reducing our expenses, I see no help for that,
+inasmuch as I must draw from them for the premium."
+
+"If you only can keep your health, Edgar, it is certainly what ought to
+be done--to insure your life. The thought has often crossed me."
+
+"Why did you never suggest it?"
+
+"I scarcely know. I believe I did not like to do so. And I really did
+not see how the premium was to be paid. How much shall you insure it
+for?"
+
+"I thought of two thousand pounds. Could we afford more?"
+
+"I think not. What would be the yearly premium for that sum?"
+
+"I don't know. I will ascertain all particulars. What are you sighing
+about, Jane?"
+
+Jane was sighing heavily. A weight seemed to have fallen upon her. "To
+talk of life-insurance puts me too much in mind of death," she murmured.
+
+"Now, Jane, you are never going to turn goose!" he gaily said. "I have
+heard of persons who will not make a will, because it brings them a
+fancy they must be going to die. Insuring my life will not bring death
+any the quicker to me: I hope I shall be here many a year yet. Why,
+Jane, I may live to pay the insurance over and over again in annual
+premiums! Better that I had put by the money in a bank, I shall think
+then."
+
+"The worst of putting by money in a bank, or in any other way, is, that
+you are not _compelled_ to put it," observed Jane, looking up a little
+from her depression. "What ought to be put by--what is intended to be
+put by--too often goes in present wants, and putting by ends in name
+only: whereas, in life-assurance, the premium _must_ be paid. Edgar,"
+she added, passing to a different subject, "I wonder what we shall make
+of our boys?"
+
+Mr. Halliburton's cheek flushed. "_They_ shall go to college, please
+God--though I have not been able to get there myself."
+
+"Oh, I hope so! One or two of them, at any rate."
+
+Little difficulty did there appear to be in the plan to Mr. Halliburton.
+
+His boys should enter the University, although he had not done so: the
+future of our children appears hopeful and easy to most of us. William
+and Frank were in the school attached to King's College: of which you
+hear Mr. Halliburton was now a professor. Edgar--never called anything
+but "Gar"--went to a private school, but he would soon be entered at
+King's College. Remarkably well-educated boys for their years, were the
+young Halliburtons. Mr. Halliburton and Jane had taken care of that.
+Home teaching was more efficient than school: both combined had rendered
+them unusually intelligent and advanced. Naturally intellectual, gifted
+with excellent qualities of mind and heart, Mrs. Halliburton had not
+failed to do her duty by them. She spared no pains; she knew how
+children ought to be brought up, and she did her duty well. Ah, my
+friends! only lay a good foundation in their earlier years, and your
+children will grow up to bless you.
+
+"Jane, I wonder which office will be the best to insure in?"
+
+
+Jane began to recall the names of some that were familiar to her.
+
+"The Phoenix?" suggested she.
+
+Mr. Halliburton laughed. "I think that's only for fire, Jane. I am not
+sure, though." In truth, he knew little about insurance offices himself.
+
+"There's the Sun; and the Atlas; and the Argus--oh, and ever so many
+more," continued Jane.
+
+"I'll inquire all about it to-day," said he.
+
+"I wonder if the premium will take a hundred a year, Edgar?"
+
+He could not tell. He feared it might. "I wish Jane," he observed, "that
+I had insured my life when I first married. The premium would have been
+small then, and we might have managed to spare it."
+
+"Ay," she answered. "Sometimes I look back to things that I might have
+done in the past years: and I did not do them. Now, the time has gone
+by!"
+
+"Well, it has not gone by for insuring," said Mr. Halliburton, rising
+from the breakfast-table and speaking in gay tones. "Half-past eight!"
+he cried, looking at his watch. "Good-bye, Jane," said he, bending to
+kiss her. "Wish me luck."
+
+"A weighty insurance and a small premium," she said, laughing. "But you
+are not going about it now?"
+
+"Of course not. The offices would not be open. I shall take an
+opportunity of doing so in the course of the day."
+
+Mr. Halliburton departed on his usual duties. It was a warm day in
+April. His first attendance was King's College, and there he remained
+for the morning. Then he proceeded to gain information about the various
+offices and their respective merits: finally fixed upon the one he
+should apply to, and bent his steps towards it.
+
+It was situated in the heart of the City, in a very busy part of it. The
+office also appeared to be busy, for several people were in it when Mr.
+Halliburton entered. A young man came forward to know his business.
+
+"I wish to insure my life," said Mr. Halliburton. "How must I proceed
+about it?"
+
+"Oh yes, sir. Mr. Procter, will you attend to this gentleman?"
+
+Mr. Halliburton was marshalled to an inner room, where a gentlemanly man
+received him. He explained his business in detail, stated his age, and
+the sum he wished to insure for. Every information was politely afforded
+him; and a paper, with certain printed questions, was given him to fill
+up at his leisure, and then to be returned.
+
+Mr. Halliburton glanced over it. "You require a certificate of my birth
+from the parish register where I was baptized, I perceive," he remarked.
+"Why so? In stating my age, I have stated it correctly."
+
+The gentleman smiled. "Of that I make no doubt," he said, "for you look
+younger than the age you have given me. Our office makes it a rule in
+most cases to require the certificate from the register. All applicants
+are not scrupulous about telling the truth, and we have been obliged to
+adopt it in self-defence. We have had cases, we have indeed, sir, where
+we have insured a life, and then found--though perhaps not until the
+actual death has taken place--that the insurer was ten years older than
+he asserted. Therefore we demand a certificate. It does occasionally
+happen that applicants can bring well-known men to testify to their
+age, and then we do not mind dispensing with it."
+
+Mr. Halliburton sent his thoughts round in a circle. There was no one in
+London who knew his age of their own positive knowledge; so it was
+useless to think of that. "There will be no difficulty in the matter,"
+he said aloud. "I can get the certificate up from Devonshire in the
+course of two or three days by writing for it. My father was rector of
+the church where I was christened. This will be all, then? To fill up
+this paper and bring you the certificate."
+
+"All; with the exception of being examined by our physician."
+
+"What! is it necessary to be examined by a physician?" exclaimed Mr.
+Halliburton. "The paper states that I must hand in a report from my
+ordinary medical attendant. _He_ will not give you a bad report of me,"
+he added, smiling, "for it is little enough I have troubled him. I
+believe the worst thing he has attended me for has been a bad cold."
+
+"So much the better," remarked the gentleman. "You do not look very
+strong."
+
+"Very strong I don't think I am. I am too hard worked; get too little
+rest and recreation. It was suspecting that I am not so strong as I
+might be that set me thinking it might be well to insure my life for the
+sake of my wife and children," he ingenuously added, in his
+straightforward manner. "If I could count upon living and working on
+until I am an old man, I should not do so."
+
+Again the gentleman smiled. "Looks are deceitful," he observed. "Nothing
+more so. Sometimes those who look the most delicate live the longest."
+
+"You cannot say I look delicate," returned Mr. Halliburton.
+
+"I did not say it. I consider that you do not look robust; but that is
+not saying that you look delicate. You may be a perfectly healthy man
+for all I can say to the contrary."
+
+He ran his eyes over Mr. Halliburton as he spoke; over his tall, fine
+form, his dark hair, amidst which not a streak of grey mingled, his
+clearly-cut features, and his complexion, bright as a woman's. Was there
+suspicion in that complexion? "A handsome man, at any rate," thought the
+gazer, "if not a robust one."
+
+"It will be necessary, then, that I see your physician?" asked Mr.
+Halliburton.
+
+"Yes. It cannot be dispensed with. We would not insure without it. He
+attends here twice a week. In the intervening days, he may be seen in
+Savile-row, from three to five. It is Dr. Carrington. His days for
+coming here are Mondays and Thursdays."
+
+"And this is Friday," remarked Mr. Halliburton. "I shall probably go up
+to him."
+
+Mr. Halliburton said good morning, and came away with his paper. "It's
+great nonsense, my seeing this doctor!" he said to himself as he
+hastened home to dinner, which he knew he must have kept waiting. "But I
+suppose it is necessary as a general rule; and of course they won't make
+me an exception."
+
+Hurrying over his dinner, in a manner that prevented its doing him any
+good--as Jane assured him--he sat down to his desk when it was over and
+wrote for the certificate of his birth. Folding and sealing the letter,
+he put on his hat to go out again.
+
+"Shall you go to Savile-row this afternoon?" Jane inquired.
+
+"If I can by any possibility get my teaching over in time," he answered.
+"Young Finchley's hour is four o'clock, but I can put him off until the
+evening. I dare say I shall get up there."
+
+By dint of hurrying, Mr. Halliburton contrived to reach Savile-row, and
+arrived there in much heat at half-past four. There was no necessity for
+hurrying there on this particular day, but he felt impatient to get the
+business over; as if speed now could atone for past neglect. Dr.
+Carrington was at home but engaged, and Mr. Halliburton was shown into a
+room. Three or four others were waiting there; whether ordinary
+patients, or whether mere applicants of form like himself, he could not
+tell; and it was their turn to go in before it was his.
+
+But his turn came at last, and he was ushered into the presence of the
+doctor--a little man, fair and reserved, with powder on his head.
+
+Reserved in ordinary intercourse, but certainly not reserved in asking
+questions. Mr. Halliburton had never been so rigidly questioned before.
+What disorders had he had, and what had he not had? What were his
+habits, past and present? One question came at last: "Do you feel
+thoroughly strong?--healthy, elastic?"
+
+"I feel languid in hot weather," replied Mr. Halliburton.
+
+"Um! Appetite sound and good?"
+
+"Generally speaking. It has not been so good of late."
+
+"Breathing all right?"
+
+"Yes; it is a little tight sometimes."
+
+"Um! Subject to a cough?"
+
+"I have no settled cough. A sort of hacking cough comes on at night
+occasionally. I attribute it to fatigue."
+
+"Um! Will you open your shirt? Just unbutton it here"--touching the
+front--"and your flannel waistcoat, if you wear one."
+
+Mr. Halliburton bared his chest in obedience and the doctor sounded it,
+and then put down his ear. Apparently his ear did not serve him
+sufficiently, for he took a small instrument out of a drawer, placed it
+on the chest, and then put his ear to that, changing the position of the
+instrument three or four times.
+
+"That will do," he said at length.
+
+He turned to put up his stethoscope again, and Mr. Halliburton drew the
+edges of his shirt together and buttoned them.
+
+"Why don't you wear flannel waistcoats?" asked the doctor, with quite a
+sharp accent, his head down in the drawer.
+
+"I do wear them in winter; but in warm weather I leave them off. It was
+only last week that I discarded them."
+
+"Was ever such folly known!" ejaculated Dr. Carrington. "One would think
+people were born without common sense. Half the patients who come to me
+say they leave off their flannels in summer! Why, it is in summer they
+are most needed! And this warm weather won't last either. Go home, sir,
+and put one on at once."
+
+"Certainly, if you think it right," said Mr. Halliburton with a smile.
+"I thank you for telling me."
+
+He took up his hat and waited. The doctor appeared to wait _for him to
+go_. "I understood at the office that you would give me a paper
+testifying that you had examined me," explained Mr. Halliburton.
+
+"Ah--but I can't give it," said the doctor.
+
+"Why not, sir?"
+
+"Because I am not satisfied with you. I cannot recommend you as a
+healthy life."
+
+Mr. Halliburton's pulses quickened a little. "Sir!" he repeated. "Not a
+healthy life?"
+
+"Not sufficiently healthy for insurance."
+
+"Why! what is the matter with me?" he rejoined.
+
+Dr. Carrington looked him full in the face for the space of a minute
+before replying. "I have had that question asked me before by parties
+whom I have felt obliged to decline as I am now declining you," he said,
+"and my answer has not always been palatable to them."
+
+"It will be palatable to me, sir; in so far as that I desire to be made
+acquainted with the truth. What do you find amiss with me?"
+
+"The lungs are diseased."
+
+A chill fell over Mr. Halliburton. "Not extensively, I trust? Not beyond
+hope of recovery?"
+
+"Were I to say not extensively, I should be deceiving you; and you tell
+me that you wish for the truth. They are extensively diseased----"
+
+A mortal pallor overspread Mr. Halliburton's face, and he sank into a
+chair. "Not for myself," he gasped, as Dr. Carrington drew nearer to
+him. "I have a wife and children. If I die, they will want bread to
+eat."
+
+"But you did not hear me out," returned the doctor, proceeding with
+equanimity, as if he had not been interrupted. "They are extensively
+diseased, but not beyond a hope of recovery. I do not say it is a strong
+hope; but a hope there is, as I judge, provided you use the right means
+and take care of yourself."
+
+"What am I to do? What are the means?"
+
+"You live, I presume, in this stifling, foggy, smoky London."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Then got away from it. Go where you can have pure air and a clear
+atmosphere. That's the first and chief thing; and that's most essential.
+Not for a few weeks or months, you understand me--going out for a change
+of air, as people call it--you must leave London entirely; go away
+altogether."
+
+"But it will be impossible," urged Mr. Halliburton. "My work lies in
+London."
+
+"Ah!" said the doctor; "too many have been with me with whom it was the
+same case. But, I assure you that you must leave it; or it will be
+London _versus_ life. You appear to me to be one who never ought to have
+come to London----You were not born in it?" he abruptly added.
+
+"I never saw it until I was eighteen. I was born and reared in
+Devonshire."
+
+"Just so. I knew it. Those born and reared in London become acclimatized
+to it, generally speaking, and it does not hurt them. It does not hurt
+numbers who are strangers: they find London as healthy a spot for them
+as any on the face of the globe. But there are a few who cannot and
+ought not to live in London; and I judge you to be one of them."
+
+"Has this state of health been coming on long?"
+
+"Yes, for some years. Had you remained in Devonshire, you might have
+been a sound man all your life. My only advice to you is--get away from
+London. You cannot live long if you remain in it."
+
+Mr. Halliburton thanked Dr. Carrington and went out. How things had
+changed for him! What had gone with the day's beauty?--with the blue
+sky, the bright sun? The sky was blue still, and the sun shining; but
+darkness seemed to intervene between his eyes and outward things. Dying?
+A shiver went through him as he thought of Jane and the children, and a
+sick feeling of despair settled on his spirit.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+LATER IN THE DAY.
+
+
+The man was utterly prostrated. He felt that the fiat of death had gone
+forth, and there settled an undercurrent of conviction in his mind that
+for him there would be no recovery, take what precaution he would. He
+could not shake it off. There lay the fact and the fear, as a leaden
+weight.
+
+He bent his steps towards home, walking the whole way; he moved along
+the streets mechanically. The crowds passed and repassed him, but _he_
+seemed far away. Once or twice he lifted his head to them with a
+yearning gesture. "Oh! that I were like you! bent on business, on
+pleasure, on social intercourse!" passed through his mind. "I am not as
+you; and for me you can do nothing. You cannot give me health; you
+cannot give me life."
+
+He entered his home, and was conscious of merry voices and flitting
+footsteps. A little scene of gaiety was going on: he knew of this, but
+had forgotten it until that instant. It was the birthday of his little
+girl, and a few young friends had been invited to make merry. Jane,
+looking almost as young, quite as pretty, as when she married him, sat
+at the far end of their largest room before a well-spread tea-table. She
+wore festival attire. A dress of pearl-grey silk, and a thin gold chain
+round her neck. The little girls were chiefly in white, and the boys
+were on their best behaviour. Jane was telling them that tea was ready,
+and her two servants were helping to place the little people, and to
+wait upon them.
+
+"Oh, and here's papa, too! just in time," she cried, lifting her eyes
+gladly at her husband. "That is delightful!"
+
+Mr. Halliburton welcomed the children. He kissed some, he talked to
+others, just as if he had not that terrible vulture, care, within him.
+_They_ saw nothing amiss; neither did Jane. He took his seat, and drank
+his tea; all, as it were, mechanically. It did not seem to be himself;
+he thought it must be some one else. In the last hour, his whole
+identity appeared to have changed. Bread and butter was handed to him.
+He took a slice and left it. Jane put some cake on to his plate: he left
+that also. Eat! with that awful fiat racking his senses! No, it was not
+possible.
+
+Ho looked round on his children. _His._ William, a gentle boy, with his
+mother's calm, good face and her earnest eyes; Jane, a lovely child,
+with fair curls flowing and a bright colour, consciously vain this
+evening in her white birthday robes and her white ribbons; Frank, a
+slim, dark-eyed boy, always in mischief, his features handsome and
+clearly cut as were his father's; Gar, a delicate little chap, with fair
+curls like his sister Jane's. Must he _leave_ those children?--abandon
+them to the mercies of a cold and cruel world?--bequeath them no place
+in it; no means of support? "Oh, God! Oh, God!" broke from his bitter
+heart, "if it be Thy will to take me, mayst Thou shelter them!"
+
+"Edgar!"
+
+He started palpably; so far in thought was he away. Yet it was only his
+wife who spoke to him.
+
+"Edgar, have you been up to Dr. Carrington's?" she whispered, bending
+towards him.
+
+In his confusion he muttered some unintelligible words, which she
+interpreted into a denial; there was a great deal of buzzing just then
+from the young voices around. Two of the gentlemen, Frank being one,
+were in hot contention touching a third gentleman's rabbits. Mrs.
+Halliburton called Frank to order, and said no more to her husband for
+the present.
+
+"We are to dance after tea," said Jane. "I have been learning one
+quadrille to play. It is very easy, and mamma says I play it very well."
+
+"Oh, we don't want dancing," grumbled one of the boys. "We'd rather have
+blindman's-buff."
+
+Opinions were divided again. The girls wanted dancing, the boys
+blindman's-buff. Mrs. Halliburton was appealed to.
+
+"I think it must be dancing first and blindman's-buff afterwards," said
+she.
+
+Tea over, the furniture was pushed aside to clear a space for the
+dancers. Mr. Halliburton, his back against the wall, stood looking at
+them. Looking at them as was supposed; but had they been keen observers,
+they would have known that his eyes in reality saw not: they, like his
+thoughts, were far away.
+
+His wife did presently notice that he seemed particularly abstracted.
+She came up to him; he was standing with his arms folded, his head bent.
+"Edgar, are you well?"
+
+"Well? Oh yes, dear," he replied, making an effort to rouse himself.
+
+"I hope you have no more teaching to-night?"
+
+"I ought to go to young Finchley. I put him off until seven o'clock."
+
+"Then"--was her quick rejoinder--"if you put off young Finchley, how was
+it you could not get to Savile-row?"
+
+"I have been occupied all the afternoon, Jane," he said. Wanting the
+courage to say how the matter really stood, he evaded the question.
+
+But, to go to young Finchley or to any other pupil that night, Mr.
+Halliburton felt himself physically unequal. Teach! Explain abstruse
+Greek and Latin rules, with his mind in its present state! It seemed to
+him that it mattered little--if he was to be taken from them so
+soon--whether he ever taught again. He was in the very depths of
+depression.
+
+Suddenly, as he stood looking on, a thought came flashing over him as a
+ray of light. As a _ray_ of light? Nay, as a whole flood of it. What if
+Dr. Carrington were wrong?--if it should prove that, in reality, nothing
+was the matter with him? Doctors--and very clever ones--were, he knew,
+sometimes mistaken. Perhaps Dr. Carrington had been so!
+
+It was _scarcely_ likely, he went on to reason, that a mortal disease
+should be upon him, and he have lived in ignorance of it! Why, he seemed
+to have had very little the matter with him; nothing to talk of,
+nothing to lie up for; comparatively speaking, he had been a healthy
+man--was in health then. Yes, the belief did present itself that Dr.
+Carrington was deceived. He, in the interests of the insurance office,
+might be unnecessarily cautious.
+
+Mr. Halliburton left the wall, and grew cheerful and gay, and talked
+freely to the children. One little lady asked if he would dance with
+her. He laughed, and felt half inclined to do so.
+
+Which was the true mood--that sombre one, or this? Was there nothing
+_false_ about this one--was there no secret consciousness that it did
+not accord with his mind's actual belief; that he was only forcing it?
+Be it as it would, it did not last; in the very middle of a laughing
+sentence to his own little Janey, the old agony, the fear,
+returned--returned with terrific violence, as a torrent that has burst
+its bounds.
+
+"I _cannot_ bear this uncertainty!" he murmured to himself. And he went
+out of the room and took up his hat. Mrs. Halliburton, who at that
+moment happened to be crossing from another room, saw him open the
+hall-door.
+
+"Are you going to young Finchley, Edgar?"
+
+"No. I shall give him holiday for to-night. I shall be in soon, Jane."
+
+He went straight to their own family doctor; a Mr. Allen, who lived
+close by. They were personal friends.
+
+To the inquiry as to whether Mr. Allen was at home, the servant was
+about to usher him into the family sitting-room, but Mr. Halliburton
+stepped into the dusky surgery. He was in no mood for ladies' company.
+"I will wait here," he said. "Tell your master I wish to say a word to
+him."
+
+The surgeon came immediately, a lighted candle in his hand. He was a
+dark man with a thin face. "Why won't you come in?" he asked. "There's
+only Mrs. Allen and the girls there. Is anything the matter?"
+
+"Yes, Allen, something is the matter," was
+
+Mr. Halliburton's reply. "I want a friend to-night: one who will deal
+with me candidly and openly: and I have come to you. Sit down."
+
+They both sat down; and Mr. Halliburton gave him the history of the past
+four and twenty hours: commencing with the fainting-fit, and ending with
+his racking doubts as to whether Dr. Carrington's opinion was borne out
+by facts, or whether he might have been deceived. "Allen," he concluded,
+"you must see what you can make out of my state: and you must report to
+me without disguise, as you would report to your own soul."
+
+The surgeon looked grave. "Carrington is a clever man," he said. "One
+whom it would be difficult to deceive."
+
+"I know his reputation. But these clever men are not infallible. Put his
+opinion out of your mind: examine me yourself, and tell me what you
+think."
+
+Mr. Allen proceeded to do so. He first of all asked Mr. Halliburton a
+few general questions as to his present state of health, as he would
+have done by any other patient, and then he sounded his lungs.
+
+"Now then--the truth," said Mr. Halliburton.
+
+"The truth is--so far as I can judge--that you are in no present danger
+whatever."
+
+"Neither did Dr. Carrington say I was--in present danger," hastily
+replied Mr. Halliburton. "Are my lungs sound?"
+
+"They are not sound: but neither do I think they are extensively
+diseased. You may live for many years, with care."
+
+"Would any insurance office take me?"
+
+"No. I do not think it would."
+
+"It is just my death-knell, Allen."
+
+"If you look at it in that light I shall be very sorry to have given you
+my opinion," observed the surgeon. "I repeat that, by taking care of
+yourself, you may stave off disease and live many years. I would not say
+this unless I thought it."
+
+"And would your opinion be the same as the doctor's--that I must leave
+London for the country?"
+
+"I think you would have a far better chance of getting well in the
+country than you have here. You have told me over and over again, you
+know, that you were sure London air was bad for you."
+
+"Ay, I have," replied Mr. Halliburton. "I never have felt quite well in
+it, and that's the truth. Well, I must see what can be done. Good
+evening."
+
+If the edict did not appear to be so irrevocably dark as that of Dr.
+Carrington, it was yet dark enough; and Mr. Halliburton, striving to
+look it full in the face, as he was in the habit of doing by troubles
+less grave, endeavoured to set himself to think "what could be done."
+There was no possible chance of keeping it from his wife. If it was
+really necessary that their place of residence should be changed, she
+must be taken into counsel; and the sooner she was told the better. He
+went home, resolved to tell her before he slept.
+
+The little troop departed, the children in bed, they sat together over
+the fire; though the weather had become warm, an evening fire was
+pleasant still. He sat nervous and fidgety. Now the moment had arrived,
+he shrunk from his task.
+
+"Edgar, I am sure you are not well!" she exclaimed. "I have observed it
+all the evening."
+
+"Yes, Jane, I am well. Pretty well, that is. The truth is, my darling, I
+have some bad news for you, and I don't like to tell it."
+
+Her own family were safe and well under her roof, and her fears flew to
+Francis, to Margaret, to Robert. Mr. Halliburton stopped her.
+
+"It does not concern any of them, Jane. It is about myself."
+
+"But what can it be, about yourself?"
+
+"They--will--not----Will you listen to the news with a brave heart?" he
+broke off, with a smile, and the most cheering look he could call up to
+his face.
+
+"Oh yes." She smiled too. She thought it could be nothing very bad.
+
+"They will not insure my life, Jane."
+
+Her heart stood still. "But why not?"
+
+"They consider it too great a risk. They fancy I am not strong."
+
+A sudden flush to her face; a moment's stillness; and then Jane
+Halliburton clasped her hands with a faint cry of despair. She saw that
+more remained behind.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+SUSPENSE.
+
+
+Mrs. Halliburton sat in her chair, still enough except for the wailing
+cry which had just escaped her lips. Her husband would not look at her
+in that moment. His gaze was bent on the fire, and his cheek lay in his
+hand. As she cried out, he stretched forth his other hand and let it
+fall lightly upon hers.
+
+"Jane, had I thought you would look at the dark side of the picture, I
+should have hesitated to tell you. Why, my dear child, the very fact of
+my telling you at all, should convince you that there's nothing very
+serious the matter," he added, in cheering tones of reasoning. Now that
+he had spoken, he deemed it well to make the very best he could of it.
+
+"You say they will _not_ insure your life?"
+
+"Well, Jane, perhaps that expression was not a correct one. They have
+not declined as yet to do so; but Dr. Carrington says he cannot give the
+necessary certificate as to my being a thoroughly sound and healthy
+man."
+
+"Then you did go up to Dr. Carrington?"
+
+"I did. Forgive me, Jane: I could not enter upon it before all the
+children."
+
+She leaned over and laid her head upon his shoulder. "Tell me all about
+it, Edgar," she whispered; "as much as you know yourself."
+
+"I have told you nearly all, Jane. I saw Dr. Carrington, and he asked me
+a great many questions, and examined me here"--touching his chest. "He
+fancies the organs are not sound, and declined giving the certificate."
+
+"That your chest is not sound?" asked Jane.
+
+"He said the lungs."
+
+"Ah!" she uttered. "What else did he say?"
+
+"Well, he said nothing about heart, or liver, or any other vital part,
+so I conclude they are all right, and that there was nothing to say,"
+replied Mr. Halliburton, attempting to be cheerful. "I could have told
+him my brain was strong enough had he asked about that, for I'm sure it
+gets its full share of work. I need not have mentioned this to you at
+all, Jane, but for a perplexing bit of advice the doctor gave me."
+
+Jane sat straight in her chair again, and looked at Mr. Halliburton. The
+colour was beginning to return to her face. He continued:
+
+"Dr. Carrington earnestly recommends me to remove from London.
+Indeed--he said--that it was necessary--if I would get well. No wonder
+that you found my manner absent," he continued very rapidly after his
+hesitation, "with that unpalatable counsel to digest."
+
+"Did he think you very ill?" she breathed.
+
+"He did not say I was 'very ill,' Jane. I am not very ill, as you may
+see for yourself. My dear, what he said was that my lungs
+were--were----"
+
+"Diseased?" she put in.
+
+"Diseased. Yes, that was it," he truthfully replied. "It is the term
+that medical men apply when they wish to indicate delicacy. And he
+strenuously recommended me to leave London."
+
+"For how long? Did he say?"
+
+"He said for good."
+
+Jane felt startled. "How could it be done, Edgar?"
+
+"In truth I do not know. If I leave London I leave my living behind me.
+Now you see why I was so absorbed at tea-time. When you saw me go out, I
+was going round to Allen's."
+
+"And what does _he_ say?" she eagerly interrupted.
+
+"Oh, he seems to think it a mere nothing, compared with Dr. Carrington.
+He agreed with him on one point--that I ought to live out of London."
+
+"Edgar, I will tell you what I think must be done," said Jane, after a
+pause. "I have not had time to reflect much upon it: but it strikes me
+that it would be advisable for you to see another doctor, and take his
+opinion: some man who is clever in affections of the lungs. Go to him
+to-morrow, without any delay. Should he say that you must leave London,
+of course we must leave it, no matter what the sacrifice."
+
+The advice corresponded with Mr. Halliburton's own opinion, and he
+resolved to follow it. A conviction amounting to a certainty was upon
+him, that, go to what doctor he might, the fiat would be the same as Dr.
+Carrington's. He did not say so to Jane. On the contrary, he spoke of
+these insurance-office doctors as being over-fastidious in the interests
+of the office; and he tried to deceive his own heart with the sophistry.
+
+
+"Shall you apply to another office to insure your life?" Jane asked.
+
+"I would, if I thought it would not be useless."
+
+"You think it would be useless?"
+
+"The offices all keep their own doctors, and those doctors, it is my
+belief, are unnecessarily particular. I should call them crotchety,
+Jane."
+
+"I think it must amount to this," said Jane; "that if there is anything
+seriously the matter with you, no office will be found to do it; but if
+the affection is only trifling or temporary you may be accepted."
+
+"That is about it. Oh, Jane!" he added, with an irrepressible burst of
+anguish, "what would I not give to have insured my life before this came
+upon me! All those past years! They seem to have been allowed to run to
+waste, when I might have been using them to lay up in store for the
+children!"
+
+How many are there of us who, looking back, can feel that our past
+years, in some way or other, have _not_ been allowed to run to waste?
+
+What a sleepless night that was for him! What a sleepless night for his
+wife! Both rose in the morning equally unrefreshed.
+
+"To what doctor will you go?" Jane inquired as she was dressing.
+
+"I have been thinking of Dr. Arnold of Finsbury," he replied.
+
+"Yes, you could not go to a better. Edgar, you will let me accompany
+you?"
+
+"No, no, Jane. Your accompanying me would do no good. You could not go
+into the room with me."
+
+She saw the force of the objection. "I shall be so very anxious," she
+said, in a low tone.
+
+He laughed at her; he was willing to make light of it if it might ease
+her fears. "My dear, I will come home at once and report to you: I will
+borrow Jack's seven-leagued boots, that I may come to you the quicker."
+
+"You know that I _shall_ be anxious," she repeated, feeling vexed.
+
+"Jane," he said, his tone changing: "I see that you are more anxious
+already than is good for you. It is not well that you should be so."
+
+"I wish I could be with you! I wish I could hear, as you will, Dr.
+Arnold's opinion from his own lips!" was all she answered.
+
+"I will faithfully repeat it to you," said Mr. Halliburton.
+
+"Faithfully--word for word? On your honour?"
+
+"Yes, Jane, I will. You have my promise. Good news I shall be only too
+glad to tell you; and, should it be the worst, it will be necessary that
+you should know it."
+
+"You must be there before ten o'clock," she observed; "otherwise there
+will be little chance of seeing him."
+
+"I shall be there by nine, Jane. To spare time later would interfere too
+much with my day's work."
+
+A thought crossed Jane's mind--if the fiat were unfavourable what would
+become of his day's work then--all his days? But she did not utter it.
+
+"Oh, papa," cried Janey at breakfast, "was it not a beautiful party! Did
+you _ever_ enjoy yourself so much before?"
+
+"I don't suppose you ever did, Janey," he replied, in kindly tones.
+
+"No, that I never did. Alice Harvey's birthday comes in summer, and she
+says she knows her mamma will let her give just such another!
+Mamma!"--turning to Mrs. Halliburton.
+
+"Well, Jane?"
+
+"Shall you let me have a new frock for it? You know I tore mine last
+night."
+
+"All in good time, Janey. We don't know where we may all be then."
+
+No, they did not. A foreshadowing of it was already upon the spirit of
+Mrs. Halliburton. Not upon the children: they were spared it as yet.
+
+"Do not be surprised if you see me waiting for you when you come out of
+Dr. Arnold's," said Jane to her husband, in low tones, as he was going
+out.
+
+"But, Jane, why? Indeed, I think it would be foolish of you to come. My
+dear, I never knew you like this before."
+
+Perhaps not. But when, before, had there been cause for this
+apprehension?
+
+Jane watched him depart. Calm as she contrived to remain outwardly, she
+was in a terribly restless, nervous state; little accustomed as she was
+so to give way. A sick feeling was within her, a miserable sensation of
+suspense; and she could scarcely battle with it. You may have felt the
+same, in the dread approach of some great calamity. The reading over,
+Janey got her books about, as usual. Mrs. Halliburton took charge of her
+education in every branch, excepting music: for that she had a master.
+She would not send Jane to school. The child sat down to her books, and
+was surprised at seeing her mother come into the room with her things
+on.
+
+"Mamma! Are you going out?"
+
+"For a little time, Jane."
+
+"Oh, let me go! Let me go too!"
+
+"Not this morning, dear. You will have plenty of work--preparing the
+lessons that you could not prepare last night."
+
+"So I shall," said Janey. "I thought perhaps you meant to excuse them,
+mamma."
+
+It was almost _impossible_ for Jane to remain in the house, in her
+present state of agitation. She knew that it did appear absurdly foolish
+to go after her husband; but, walk somewhere she must: how could she
+turn a different way from that which he had taken? It was some distance
+to Finsbury; half an hour's walk at least. Should she go, or should she
+not, she asked herself as she went out of the house. She began to think
+that she might have remained at home had she exercised self-control. She
+had a great mind to turn back, and was slackening her pace, when she
+caught sight of Mr. Allen at his surgery window.
+
+An impulse came over her that she would go in and ask his opinion of her
+husband. She opened the door and entered. The surgeon was making up some
+pills.
+
+"You are out early, Mrs. Halliburton!"
+
+"Yes," she replied. "Mr. Halliburton has gone to Finsbury Square to see
+Dr. Arnold, and I----Do you think him very ill?" she abruptly broke off.
+
+"I do not, myself. Carrington----Did you know he had been to Dr.
+Carrington?" asked Mr. Allen, almost fearing he might be betraying
+secrets.
+
+"I know all about it. I know what the doctor said. Do you think Dr.
+Carrington was mistaken?"
+
+"In a measure. There's no doubt the lungs are affected, but I believe
+not to the grave extent assumed by Dr. Carrington."
+
+"He assumed, then, that they were affected to a grave extent?" she
+hastily repeated, her heart beating faster.
+
+"I thought you said you knew all about it, Mrs. Halliburton?"
+
+"So I do. He may possibly not have told me the very worst said by Dr.
+Carrington; but he told me quite sufficient. Mr. Allen, _you_ tell
+me--do you think that there is a chance of his recovery?"
+
+"Most certainly I do," warmly replied the surgeon. "Every chance, Mrs.
+Halliburton. I see no reason whatever why he should not keep as well as
+he is now, and live for years, provided he takes care of himself. It
+appears that Dr. Carrington very strongly urged his removing into the
+country; he went so far as to say that it was his only chance for
+life--and in that I think he went too far again. But the country would
+undoubtedly do for him what London will not."
+
+"You think that he ought to remove to the country?" she inquired,
+showing no sign of the terror those incautious words brought her--"his
+only chance for life."
+
+"I do. If it be possible for him to manage his affairs so as to get
+away, I should say let him do so by all means."
+
+"It _must_ be done, you know, Mr. Allen, if it is essential."
+
+"In my judgment it should be done. Many and many a time I have said to
+him myself, 'It's a pity but that you could be out of this heavy
+London!' Fogs affect him, and smoke affects him--the air altogether
+affects him: and I only wonder it has not told upon him before. As Dr.
+Carrington observed to him, there are some constitutions which somehow
+will not thrive here."
+
+Mrs. Halliburton rose with a sigh. "I am glad you do not think so very
+seriously of him," she breathed.
+
+"I do not think _seriously_ of him at all," was the surgeon's answer. "I
+confess that he is not strong, and that he must have care. The pure air
+of the country, and relaxation from some of his most pressing work, may
+do wonders for him. If I might advise, I should say, Let no pecuniary
+considerations keep him here. And that is very disinterested advice,
+Mrs. Halliburton," concluded the doctor, laughing, "for, in losing you,
+I should lose both friends and patients."
+
+Jane went out. Those ominous words were still ringing in her ears--"his
+only chance for life."
+
+Forcing herself to self-control, she did _not_ go to meet Mr.
+Halliburton. She returned home and took off her things, and gave what
+attention she could to Jane's lessons. But none can tell the suspense
+that was agitating her: the ever-restless glances she cast to the
+window, to see him pass. By-and-by she went and stood there.
+
+At last she saw him coming along in the distance. She would have liked
+to fly to meet him--to say, What is the news? but she did not. More
+patience, and then, when he came in at the front door, she left the room
+she was in, and went with him into the drawing-room, her face white as
+death.
+
+He saw how agitated she was, strive as she would for calmness. He stood
+looking at her with a smile.
+
+"Well, Jane, it is not so very formidable, after all."
+
+Her face grew hot, and her heart bounded on. "What does Dr. Arnold say?
+You know, Edgar, you promised me the truth without disguise."
+
+"You shall have it, Jane. Dr. Arnold's opinion of me is not
+unfavourable. That the lungs are to a certain extent affected, is
+indisputable, and he thinks they have been so for some time. But he sees
+nothing to indicate present danger to life. He believes that I may grow
+into an old man yet."
+
+Jane breathed freely. A word of earnest thanks went up from her heart.
+
+"With proper diet--he has given me certain rules for living--and pure
+air and sunshine, he considers that I have really little to fear. I told
+you, Jane, those insurance doctors make the worst of things."
+
+"Dr. Arnold, then, recommends the country?" observed Jane, paying no
+attention to the last remark.
+
+"Very strongly. Almost as strongly as Dr. Carrington."
+
+Jane lifted her eyes to her husband's face. "Dr. Carrington said, you
+know, that it was your only chance of life."
+
+"Not quite as bad as that, Jane," he returned, never supposing but he
+must himself have let the remark slip, and wondering how he came to do
+so. "What Dr. Carrington said was, that it was London _versus_ life."
+
+"It is the same thing, Edgar. And now, what is to be done? Of course we
+have no alternative; into the country we must go. The question is,
+where?"
+
+"Ay, that is the question," he answered. "Not only where, but what to
+do? I cannot drop down into a fresh place, and expect teaching to
+surround me at once, as if it had been waiting for me. But I have not
+time to talk now. Only fancy! it is half-past ten."
+
+Mr. Halliburton went out and Jane remained, fastened as it were to her
+chair. A hundred perplexing plans and schemes were already working in
+her brain.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+SEEKING A HOME.
+
+
+Plans and schemes continued to work in Mrs. Halliburton's brain for days
+and days to come. Many and many an anxious consultation did she and her
+husband hold together--where should they go? What should they do? That
+it was necessary to do something, and speedily, events proved,
+independently of what had been said by the doctors. Before another month
+had passed over his head, Mr. Halliburton had become so much worse that
+he had to resign his post at King's College. But, to the hopeful minds
+of himself and Jane, the country change was to bring its remedy for all
+ills. They had grown to anticipate it with enthusiasm.
+
+His thoughts naturally ran upon teaching, as his continued occupation.
+He knew nothing of any other. All England was before him; and he
+supposed he might obtain a living at it, wherever he might go. Such
+testimonials as his were not met with every day. His cousin Julia had
+married a man of some local influence (as Mr. Halliburton had
+understood) in the city in which they resided, the chief town of one of
+the midland counties: and a thought crossed his mind more than once,
+whether it might not be well to choose that same town to settle in.
+
+"They might be able to recommend me, you see, Jane," he observed to his
+wife, one evening as they were sitting together, after the children were
+in bed. "Not that I should much like to ask any favour of Julia."
+
+"Why not?" said Jane.
+
+"Because she is not a pleasant person to ask a favour of: it is many
+years since I saw her, but I well remember that. Another reason why I
+feel inclined to that place is that it is a cathedral town. Cathedral
+towns have many of the higher order of the clergy in them; learning is
+sure to be considered there, should it not be anywhere else.
+Consequently there would be an opening for classical teaching."
+
+Jane thought the argument had weight.
+
+
+"And there's yet another thing," continued Mr. Halliburton. "You
+remember Peach?"
+
+"Peach?--Peach?" repeated Jane, as if unable to recall the name.
+
+"The young fellow I had so much trouble with, a few years ago--drilling
+him between his terms at Oxford. But for me, he never would have passed
+either his great or his little go. He did get plucked the first time he
+went up. You must remember him, Jane: he has often taken tea with us
+here."
+
+"Oh, yes--yes! I remember him now. Charley Peach."
+
+"Well, he has recently been appointed to a minor canonry in that same
+cathedral," resumed Mr. Halliburton. "Dr. Jacobs told me of it the other
+day. Now I am quite sure that Peach would be delighted to say a word for
+me, or to put anything in my way. That is another reason why I am
+inclined to go there."
+
+"I suppose the town is a healthy one?"
+
+"Ay, that it is; and it is seated in one of the most charming of our
+counties. There'll be no London fogs or smoke there."
+
+"Then, Edgar, let us decide upon it."
+
+"Yes, I think so--unless we should hear of an opening elsewhere that may
+promise better. We must be away by Midsummer, if we can, or soon after.
+It will be sharp work, though."
+
+"What trouble it will be to pack the furniture!" she exclaimed.
+
+"Pack what furniture, Jane? We must sell the furniture."
+
+"Sell the furniture!" she uttered, aghast.
+
+"My dear, it would never do to take the furniture down. It would cost
+almost as much as it is worth. There's no knowing, either, how long it
+might be upon the road, or what damage it might receive. I expect it
+would have to go principally by water."
+
+"By water!" cried Mrs. Halliburton.
+
+"I fancy so--by barge, I mean. Waggons would not take it, except by
+paying heavily. A great deal of the country traffic is done by water.
+This furniture is old, Jane, most of it, and will not bear rough
+travelling. Consider how many years your father and mother had it in
+use."
+
+"Then what should we do for furniture when we get there?" asked Jane.
+
+"Buy new with the money we receive from the sale of this. I have been
+reflecting upon it a good deal, Jane, and fancy it will be the better
+plan. However, if you care for this old furniture, we must take it."
+
+Jane looked round upon it. She did care for the time-used furniture; but
+she knew how old it was, and was willing to do whatever might be best. A
+vision came into her mind of fresh, bright furniture, and it looked
+pleasant in imagination. "It would certainly be a great deal to pack and
+carry," she acknowledged. "And some of it is not worth it."
+
+"And it would be more than we should want," resumed Mr. Halliburton.
+"Wherever we go we must be content with a small house; at any rate at
+first. But it will be time enough to go into these details, Jane, when
+we have finally decided upon our destination."
+
+"Oh, Edgar! I shall be so sorry to take the boys from King's College."
+
+"Jane," he said, a flash of pain crossing his face as he spoke, "there
+are so many things connected with it altogether that cause me sorrow,
+that my only resource is not to think upon them. I might be tempted to
+repine to ask in a spirit of rebellion why this affliction should have
+come upon us. It is God's decree, and it is my duty to submit as
+patiently as I can."
+
+It was her duty also: and she knew it as she laid her hand upon her
+weary brow. A weary, weary brow from henceforth, that of Jane
+Halliburton!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+A DYING BED.
+
+
+In a handsome chamber of a handsome house in Birmingham, an old man lay
+dying. For most of his life he had been engaged in a large wholesale
+business--had achieved local position, had accumulated moderate wealth.
+But neither wealth nor position can ensure peace to a death-bed; and the
+old man lay on his, groaning over the past.
+
+
+The season was that of mid-winter. Not the winter following the intended
+removal of Mr. Halliburton from London, as spoken of in the last
+chapter, but the winter preceding it--for it is necessary to go back a
+little. A hard, sharp, white day in January: and the fire was piled high
+in the sick room, and the large flakes of snow piled themselves outside
+on the window frames and beat against the glass. The room was fitted up
+with every comfort the most fastidious invalid could desire; and yet, I
+say, nothing seemed to bring comfort to the invalid lying there. His
+hands were clenched as in mortal agony; his eyes were apparently
+watching the falling snow. The eyes saw it not: in reality they were
+cast back to where his mind was--the past.
+
+What could be troubling him? Was it that loss, only two years ago, by
+which one-half of his savings had been engulfed? Scarcely. A man
+dying--as he knew he was--would be unlikely to care about that now.
+Ample competence had remained to him, and he had neither son nor
+daughter to inherit. Hark! what is it that he is murmuring between his
+parched lips, to the accompaniment of his clenched hands?
+
+"I see it all now; I see it all! While we are buoyed up with health and
+strength, we continue hard, selfish, obstinate in our wickedness. But
+when death comes, we awake to our error; and death has come to me, and I
+have awakened to mine. Why did I turn him out like a dog? He had neither
+kith nor kin, and I sent him adrift on the world, to fight with it or to
+starve! He was the only child of my sister, and she was gone. She and I
+were of the same father and mother; we shared the same meals in
+childhood, the same home, the same play, the same hopes. She wrote to me
+when she was dying, as I am dying now: 'Richard, should my poor boy be
+left fatherless--for my husband's health seems to be failing--be his
+friend and protector for Helen's sake, and may Heaven bless you for it!'
+And I scoffed at the injunction when the boy offended me, and turned him
+out. _Shall I have to answer for it?_"
+
+The last anxious doubt was uttered more audibly than the rest; it
+escaped from his lips with a groan. A woman who was dozing over the fire
+started up.
+
+"Did you call, sir?"
+
+"No. Go out and leave me."
+
+"But----"
+
+"Go out and leave me," he repeated, with anger little fitted to his
+position. And the woman was speeding from the room, when he caught at
+the curtain and recalled her.
+
+"Are they not come?"
+
+"Not yet, sir. But, with this heavy fall, it's not to be wondered at.
+The highways must be almost impassable. With good roads they might have
+been here hours ago."
+
+She went out. He lay back on his pillow: his eyes wide open, but wearing
+the same dreamy look. You may be wondering who he is; though you
+probably guess, for you have heard of him once before as Mr. Cooper, the
+uncle who discarded Edgar Halliburton.
+
+I must give you a few words of retrospect. Richard Cooper was the eldest
+of three children; the others were a brother and a sister: Richard,
+Alfred, and Helen. Alfred and Helen both married; Richard never did
+marry. It was somewhat singular that the brother and sister should both
+die, each leaving an orphan; and that the orphans should find a home in
+the house of their Uncle Richard. Julia Cooper, the brother's orphan,
+was the first to come to it, a long time before Edgar Halliburton came.
+Helen had married the Rev. William Halliburton, and she died at his
+rectory in Devonshire--sending that earnest prayer to her brother
+Richard which you have just heard him utter. A little while, and her
+husband, the rector, also died; and then it was that Edgar went up to
+his Uncle Richard's. Fortunate for these two orphan children, it
+appeared to be, that their uncle had not married and could give them a
+good home.
+
+A good home he did give them. Julia left it first to become the wife of
+Anthony Dare, a solicitor in large practice in a distant city. She
+married him very soon after her cousin Edgar came to his uncle's. And it
+was after the marriage of Julia that Edgar was discarded and turned
+adrift. Years, many years, had gone by since then; and here lay Richard
+Cooper, stricken for death and repenting of the harshness, which he had
+not repented of or sought to atone for all through those long years. Ah,
+my friends! whatsoever may lie upon our consciences, however we may have
+contrived to ignore it during our busy lives, be assured that it will
+find us out on our death-bed!
+
+Richard Cooper lay back on his pillow, his eyes wide open with their
+inward tribulation. "Who knows but there would be time yet?" he suddenly
+murmured. And the thought appeared to rouse his mind and flush his
+cheek, and he lifted his hand and grasped the bell-rope, ringing it so
+loudly as to bring two servants to the room.
+
+
+"Go up, one of you, to Lawyer Weston's," he uttered. "Bring him back
+with you. Tell him I want to alter my will, and that there may yet be
+time. Don't send--one of _you_ go," he repeated in tones of agonising
+entreaty. "Bring him; bring him back with you!"
+
+As the echo of his voice died away there came a loud summons at the
+street door, as of a hasty arrival. "Sir," cried one of the maids,
+"they're come at last! I thought I heard a carriage drawing up in the
+snow."
+
+"Who's come?" he asked in some confusion of mind. "Weston?"
+
+"Not him, sir; Mr. and Mrs. Dare," replied the servant as she hurried
+out.
+
+A lady and gentleman were getting out of a coach at the door. A tall,
+very tall man, with handsome features, but an unpleasantly free
+expression. The lady was tall also, stout and fair, with an imperious
+look in her little turned-up nose. "Are we in time?" the latter asked of
+the servants.
+
+"It's nearly as much as can be said, ma'am," was the answer. "But he has
+roused up in the last hour, and is growing excited. The doctors thought
+it might be so: that he'd not continue in the lethargy to the last."
+
+They went on at once to the sick chamber. Every sense of the dying man
+appeared to be on the alert. His hands were holding back the curtain,
+his eyes were strained on the door. "Why have you been so long?" he
+cried in a voice of strength they were surprised to hear.
+
+"Dear uncle," said Mrs. Dare, bending over the bed and clasping the
+feeble hands, "we started the very moment the letter came. But we could
+not get along--the roads are dreadfully heavy."
+
+"Sir," whispered a servant in the invalid's ear, "are we to go now for
+Lawyer Weston?"
+
+"No, there's no need," was the prompt answer. "Anthony Dare, you are a
+lawyer," continued Mr. Cooper; "you'll do what I want done as well as
+another. Will you do it?"
+
+"Anything you please, sir," was Mr. Dare's reply.
+
+"Sit down, then; Julia, sit down. You may be hungry and thirsty after
+your journey; but you must wait. Life's not ebbing out of you, as it is
+out of me. We'll get this matter over, that my mind may be so far at
+rest; and then you can eat and drink of the best that my house affords.
+I am in mortal pain, Anthony Dare."
+
+Mrs. Dare was silently removing some of her outer wrappings, and
+whispering with the servant at the extremity of the roomy chamber; but
+Mr. Dare, who had taken off his great-coat and hat in the hall,
+continued to stand by the sick bed.
+
+"I am sorry to hear it, sir," he said, in reply to Mr. Cooper's
+concluding sentence. "Can the medical men afford you no relief?"
+
+"It is pain of mind, Anthony Dare, not pain of body. _That_ pain has
+passed from me. I would have sent for you and Julia before, but I did
+not think until yesterday that the end was so near. Never let a man be
+guilty of injustice!" broke forth Mr. Cooper, vehemently. "Or let him
+know that it will come home to him to trouble his dying bed."
+
+"What can I do for you, sir?" questioned Mr. Dare.
+
+"If you will open that bureau, you'll find pen, ink, and paper. Julia,
+come here: and see that we are alone."
+
+The servant left the room, and Mrs. Dare came forward, divested of her
+cloaks. She wore a handsome dark-blue satin dress (much the fashion at
+that time) with a good deal of rich white lace about it, a heavy gold
+chain, and some very showy amethysts set in gold. The jewellery was
+real, however, not sham; but altogether her attire looked somewhat out
+of place for a death-chamber.
+
+The afternoon was drawing to a close. What with that and the dense
+atmosphere outside, the chamber had grown dim. Mr. Dare disposed the
+writing materials on a small round table at the invalid's elbow, and
+then looked towards the distant window.
+
+"I fear I cannot see, sir, without a light."
+
+"Call for it, Julia," said the invalid.
+
+A lamp was brought in and placed on the table, so that its rays should
+not affect those eyes so soon to close to all earthly light. And Mr.
+Dare waited, pen in hand.
+
+"I have been hard and wilful," began Mr. Cooper, putting up his
+trembling hands. "I have been obdurate, and selfish, and unjust; and now
+it is keeping peace from me----"
+
+"But in what way, dear uncle?" softly put in Mrs. Dare; and it may as
+well be remarked that whenever Mrs. Dare attempted to speak softly and
+kindly it seemed to bear an unnatural sound to others' ears.
+
+"In what way?--why, with regard to Edgar Halliburton," said Mr. Cooper,
+the dew breaking out upon his brow. "In seeking to follow the calling
+marked out for him by his father, he only did his duty; and I should
+have seen it in that light but for my own obstinate pride and self-will.
+I did wrong to discard him: I have done wrong ever since in keeping him
+from me, in refusing to be reconciled. Are you listening, Anthony Dare?"
+
+"Certainly, sir. I hear."
+
+"Julia, I say that there was no reason for my turning him away. There
+has been no reason for my keeping him away. I have refused to be
+reconciled: I have sent back his letters unopened; I have held him at
+contemptuous defiance. When I heard that he had married, I cast harsh
+words to him because he had not asked my consent, though I was aware all
+the time, that I had given him no opportunity to ask it--I had harshly
+refused all overtures, all intercourse. I cast harsh words to his wife,
+knowing her not. But I see my error now. Do you see it, Julia? Do you
+see it, Anthony Dare?"
+
+"Would you like to have him sent for, sir?" suggested Mr. Dare.
+
+"It is too late. He could not be here in time. I don't know, either,
+where he lives in London, or what his address may be. Do you?"--looking
+at his niece.
+
+"Oh dear, no," she replied, with a slightly contemptuous gesture of the
+shoulders. As much as to imply that to know the address of her cousin
+Edgar was quite beneath her.
+
+
+"No, he could not get here," repeated the dying man, whilst Mrs. Dare
+wiped the dews that had gathered on his pallid and wrinkled brow.
+"Julia! Anthony! Anthony Dare!"
+
+"Sir, what is it?"
+
+"I wish you both to listen to me. I cannot die with this injustice
+unrepaired. I have made my will in Julia's favour. It is all left to
+her, except a few trifles to my servants. When the property comes to be
+realised, there will be at least sixteen thousand pounds, and but for
+that late mad speculation I entered into there would have been nearly
+forty thousand."
+
+He paused. But neither Mr. nor Mrs. Dare answered.
+
+"You are a lawyer, Anthony, and could draw up a fresh will. But there's
+no time, I say. What is darkening the room?" he abruptly broke off to
+ask.
+
+Mr. Dare looked hastily up. Nothing was darkening the room, except the
+gradually increasing gloom of evening.
+
+"My sight is growing dim, then," said the invalid. "Listen to me, both
+of you. I charge you, Anthony and Julia Dare, that you divide this money
+with Edgar Halliburton. Give him his full share; the half, even to a
+farthing. Will you do so, Anthony Dare?"
+
+"Yes, I will, sir."
+
+"Be it so. I charge you both solemnly--do not fail. If you would lay up
+peace for the time when you shall come to be where I am--do not fail.
+There's no time legally to do what is right; I feel that there is not.
+Ere the deed could be drawn up I should be gone, and could not sign it.
+But I leave the charge upon you; the solemn charge. The half of my money
+belongs of right to Edgar Halliburton: Julia has claim only to the other
+half. Be careful how you divide it: you are sole executor, Anthony Dare.
+Have you your paper ready?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Then dot down a few words, as I dictate, and I will sign them. 'I,
+Richard Cooper, do repent of my injustice to my dear nephew, Edgar
+Halliburton. And I desire, by this my last act on my death-bed, to
+bequeath to him the half of the money and property I shall die possessed
+of; and I charge Anthony Dare, the executor of my will, to carry out
+this act and wish as strictly as though it were a formal and legal one.
+I desire that whatever I shall die possessed of, save the bequests to my
+servants, may be equally divided between my nephew Edgar and my niece
+Julia.'"
+
+The dying man paused. "I think that's all that need be said," he
+observed. "Have you finished writing it, Anthony Dare?"
+
+Mr. Dare wrote fast and quickly, and was concluding the last words. "It
+is written, sir."
+
+"Read it."
+
+Mr. Dare proceeded to do so. Short as the time was which it took to
+accomplish this, the old man had fallen into a doze ere it was
+concluded; a doze or a partial stupor. They could not tell which; but,
+in leaning over him, he woke up with a start.
+
+"I can't die with this injustice unrepaired!" he cried, his memory
+evidently ignoring what had just been done. "Anthony Dare, your wife has
+no right to all my money. I shall leave half of it to Edgar. I want you
+to write it down."
+
+"It is done, sir. This is the paper."
+
+
+"Where? where? Why don't you get light into the room? It's dark--dark.
+This? Is this it?"--as Mr. Dare put it into his hand. "Now, mind!" he
+added, his tone changing to one of solemn enjoinder; "mind you act upon
+it. Julia has no right to more than her half share; she must not take
+more: money kept by wrong, acquired by injustice, never prospers. It
+would not bring you good, it would not bring a blessing. Give Edgar his
+legal half; and give him his old uncle's love and contrition. Tell him,
+if the past could come over again there should be no estrangement
+between us."
+
+He lay panting for a few minutes, and then spoke again, the paper having
+fallen unnoticed from his hand.
+
+"Julia, when you see Edgar's wife--Did I sign that paper?" he broke off.
+
+"No, sir," said Mr. Dare. "Will you sign it now?"
+
+"Ay. But, signed or not signed, you'll equally act upon it. I don't put
+it forth as a legal document; I suppose it would not, in this informal
+state, stand good in law. It is only a reminder to you, Anthony Dare,
+that you may not forget my wishes. Hold me up in bed, and have lights
+brought in."
+
+Anthony Dare drew the curtain back, and the rays of the lamp flashed
+upon the dying man. Mr. Dare looked round for a book on which to place
+the paper while it was signed.
+
+"I want a light," came again from the bed, in a pleading tone. "Julia,
+why don't you tell them to bring in the lamp?"
+
+"The lamp is here, uncle. It is close to you."
+
+"Then there's no oil in it," he cried. "Julia, I _will_ have lights
+here. Tell them to bring up the dining-room lamps. Don't ring; go and
+see that they are brought."
+
+Unwilling to oppose him, and doubting lest his sight should really have
+gone, Mrs. Dare went out, and returned with one of the servants and more
+light. Mr. Cooper was then lying back on his pillow, dozing and
+unconscious.
+
+"Has he signed the paper?" Mrs. Dare whispered to her husband.
+
+He shook his head negatively, and pointed to it. It was lying on the
+bed, just as Mrs. Dare had left it. Mrs. Dare caught it up from any
+prying eyes that might be about, folded it, and held it securely in her
+hand.
+
+"He will wake up again presently, and can sign it then," observed Mr.
+Dare, just as a gentle ring was heard at the house door.
+
+"It's the doctor," said the servant; "I know his ring."
+
+But the old man never did sign the paper, and never woke up again. He
+lay in a state of lethargy throughout the night. Mr. and Mrs. Dare
+watched by his bedside; the servants watched; and the doctors came in at
+intervals. But there was no change in his state; until the last great
+change. It occurred at daybreak; and when the neighbours opened their
+windows to the cold and the snow, the house of Richard Cooper remained
+closed. Death was within it.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+HELSTONLEIGH.
+
+
+I believe that most of the readers of "The Channings" will not like this
+story less because its scene is laid in the same place, Helstonleigh.
+
+I narrate to you, as you may have already discovered, a great deal of
+truth: of events that have actually happened, combined with fiction. I
+can only do this from my own personal experience, by taking you to the
+scenes and places where I have lived. Of this same town, Helstonleigh, I
+could relate to you volumes. No place in the world holds so green a spot
+in my memory. Do you remember Longfellow's poem--"My Lost Youth"?
+
+    "Often I think of the beautiful town,
+      That is seated by the sea;
+    Often in thought go up and down
+    The pleasant streets of that dear old town,
+      And my youth comes back to me.
+        And a verse of a Lapland song
+        Is haunting my memory still:
+        'A boy's will is the wind's will,
+    And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.'
+
+    "I remember the gleams and glooms that dart
+      Across the schoolboy's brain;
+    The song and the silence in the heart,
+    That in part are prophecies, and in part
+      Are longings wild and vain.
+        And the voice of that fitful song
+        Sings on, and is never still:
+        'A boy's will is the wind's will,
+    And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.'
+
+    "There are things of which I may not speak;
+      There are dreams that cannot die;
+    There are thoughts that make the strong heart weak,
+    And bring a pallor into the cheek,
+      And a mist before the eye.
+        And the words of that fatal song
+        Come over me like a chill:
+        'A boy's will is the wind's will,
+    And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.'
+
+    "Strange to me now are the forms I meet
+      When I visit the dear old town;
+    But the native air is pure and sweet,
+    And the trees that o'ershadow each well-known street,
+      As they balance up and down,
+        Are singing the beautiful song,
+        Are sighing and whispering still:
+        'A boy's will is the wind's will,
+    And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.'
+
+    "And Deering's woods are fresh and fair,
+      And with joy that is almost pain
+    My heart goes back to wander there,
+    And among the dreams of the days that were
+      I find my lost youth again.
+        And the music of that old song
+        Throbs in my memory still:
+        'A boy's will is the wind's will,
+    And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.'"
+
+Those are some of its verses, and what "Deering" is to Longfellow,
+"Helstonleigh" is to me.
+
+The Birmingham stage-coach came into Helstonleigh one summer's night,
+and stopped at its destination, the Star-and-Garter Hotel, bringing with
+it some London passengers. The direct line of rail to Helstonleigh from
+London was not then opened; and this may serve to tell you how long it
+is ago. A lady and a little girl stepped from the inside of the coach,
+and a gentleman and three boys got down from the outside. The latter
+were soaking. Almost immediately after leaving Birmingham, to which
+place the rail had conveyed them, the rain had commenced to pour in
+torrents, and those outside received its full benefit. The coach was
+crammed, inside and out, but with the other passengers we have nothing
+to do. We have with these; they were the Halliburtons.
+
+For the town which Mr. Halliburton had been desirous to remove to, the
+one in which his cousin, Mrs. Dare, resided, was no other than
+Helstonleigh.
+
+Mrs. Halliburton drew a long face when she set eyes on her husband's
+condition. "Edgar! you must be wet through and through!"
+
+"Yes, I am. There was no help for it."
+
+"You should have come inside when I wanted you to do so," she cried, in
+a voice of distress. "You should indeed."
+
+"And have suffered you to take my place outside? Nonsense, Jane!"
+
+Jane looked at the hotel. "We had better remain here for the night. What
+do you think?"
+
+"Yes, I think so," he replied. "It is too wet to go about looking after
+anything that might be less expensive. Inquire if we can have rooms,
+Jane, whilst I see after the luggage."
+
+Mrs. Halliburton went in, leading Janey, and was confronted by the
+barmaid, a smart young woman in a smart cap. "Can we sleep here
+to-night?" she inquired.
+
+"Yes, certainly. How many beds?"
+
+"I will go up with you and see," said Mrs. Halliburton. "Be so kind as
+not to put us in your more expensive rooms," she added, in a lower tone.
+
+The barmaid looked at her from top to toe, as it is much in the habit of
+barmaids to do when such a request is preferred. She saw a lady in a
+black silk dress, a cashmere shawl, and a plain straw bonnet, trimmed
+with white. Simple as the attire was, quiet as was the demeanour, there
+was that about Mrs. Halliburton, in her voice, her accent, her bearing
+altogether, which proclaimed her the gentlewoman; and the barmaid
+condescended to be civil.
+
+"I have nothing to do with the rooms," she said; "I'll call the
+chambermaid. My goodness! You had better get those wet things off, sir,
+unless you want to be laid up with cold."
+
+The words were uttered in surprise, as her eyes encountered Mr.
+Halliburton. He looked taller, and thinner, and handsomer than ever; but
+he had a hollow cough now, and his cheek was hectic, and he was
+certainly wet through.
+
+The chambermaid allotted them rooms. Mr. Halliburton, after rubbing
+himself dry with towels, got into a warmed bed, and had warm drink
+supplied to him. Jane, after unpacking what would be wanted for the
+night, returned to the sitting-room, to which her children had been
+shown. A good-natured maid, seeing the boys' clothes were damp, had
+lighted a fire, and they were kneeling round it, having been provided
+with bread and butter and milk. Intelligent, truthful, good-looking boys
+they were, with clear skins and bright, honest eyes, and open
+countenances. Janey had fallen asleep on a chair, her flaxen curls
+making her a pillow on its elbow. The boys crowded to one side of the
+fireplace when their mother came in, leaving the larger space for her;
+and William rose and gave her a chair. Mrs. Halliburton sat down, having
+laid on the table a Book of Common Prayer, which she had brought in her
+hand.
+
+"Mamma, I hope papa will not be ill!"
+
+"Oh, William, I fear it. Such a terrible wetting! And to be so long in
+it! How is it that he was so much worse than you are?"
+
+"Because he sat at the end, and the gentleman next him did not hold the
+umbrella over him at all. When it came on to rain, some of the
+passengers had umbrellas and some had not, so they were divided for the
+best. We three had one between us, and we were wedged in between two fat
+old men, who helped to keep us dry. What a pity there was not a place
+for papa inside!"
+
+"Yes; or if he would only have taken mine!" cried Mrs. Halliburton. "A
+wetting would not have hurt me, as it may hurt him. What place did they
+call that, William, where I got out to ask him to change?"
+
+"Bromsgrove Lickey. Mamma, you have had no tea!"
+
+"I do not care for any," she sighed. Hers was a hopeful nature; but
+something within her, this evening, seemed to whisper of trial for the
+future. She turned to the table, where stood the remains of the
+children's meal, cut a piece of bread from the loaf, and slowly spread
+it with butter. Then she poured out a little milk.
+
+"Dear mamma, do have some tea!" cried William; "that's nothing but our
+milk and water."
+
+She shook her head and took the milk. Tea would only be an additional
+expense, and she was too completely dispirited to care what she drank.
+
+"I will read now," she said, taking up the Prayer-book. "And afterwards,
+I think, you had better say your prayers here, near the fire, as you
+have been so wet."
+
+She chose a short psalm, and read it aloud. Then the children knelt
+down, each at a separate chair, to say their prayers in silence. Not as
+children's prayers are sometimes hurried over, knelt they; but with
+lowly reverence, their heads bowed, their young hearts lifted, never
+doubting but they were heard by God. They had been trained in a good
+school.
+
+Did you ever have a sale of old things? Goods and chattels which may
+have served your purpose and looked well in their places, seem so old
+when they come to be exhibited that you feel half-ashamed of them? And
+as to the sum they realise--you will not have much trouble in hoarding
+it. Had Mr. Halliburton known the small sum that would be the result of
+his sale; had Jane dreamt that they would go for an "old song," they had
+never consented to part with them. Better have been at the cost of
+carrying them to Helstonleigh. Their bedding, blankets, etc., they did
+take: and it was well they did so.
+
+I feel almost afraid to tell you how very little money they had in hand
+when they arrived. All their worldly wealth was little more than a
+hundred and twenty pounds. Debts had to be paid before leaving London;
+and it cost money to give up their house without notice, for their
+landlord was severe.
+
+One hundred and twenty pounds! And with this they had to buy fresh
+furniture, and to live until teaching came in. A forlorn prospect on
+which to recommence the world! No wonder that Jane shunned even tea at
+the inn, or any other expense that might lessen their funds! But hope is
+buoyant in the human heart: and unless it were so, half the world might
+lay themselves down to die.
+
+Morning came: a bright, sunny, beautiful morning after the rain. Not,
+apparently, had Mr. Halliburton suffered. His limbs felt a little stiff,
+but that would go off before the day closed. Their plans were to take a
+small house, as cheap a one as they could find, in accordance with--you
+really must for once excuse the word--gentility. That--a tolerably fair
+appearance--was necessary to Mr. Halliburton's success as a teacher.
+
+"A dry, healthy spot, a little way out of the town," mused the landlord
+of the "Star," to whom they communicated their desire. "The London Road
+would be the place then. And you probably will find there such a house
+as you require."
+
+They found their way to the London Road--a healthy suburb of the town;
+and there discovered a house they thought might suit them: a
+semi-detached house of good appearance, inclosed by iron railings, and
+standing a little back from the road. A sitting-room was on either side
+the entrance, a kitchen at the back. Three bedrooms were above; and
+above these again was a garret. A small garden was behind the house; and
+beyond that was a field, which did not belong to them. The adjoining
+house was similar to this one; but that possessed a large and productive
+garden. An inmate of that house showed them over this one, dressed as a
+Quakeress. Her features were plain, but her complexion was fair and
+delicate, and she had calm blue eyes.
+
+"The rent of the house is thirty-two pounds per annum," she said, in
+reply to Mrs. Halliburton's question. "It belongs to Thomas Ashley; but
+thee must not apply to him. I will furnish thee with the address of the
+agent, who has the letting of Friend Ashley's houses. It is Anthony
+Dare. You will find the house pleasant and healthy, if you decide upon
+it," she added, speaking to both of them.
+
+The latter name had struck upon Mr. Halliburton's ear. "Jane!" he
+whispered to his wife, "that must be the Mr. Dare who married my cousin,
+Julia Cooper. His name was Anthony Dare."
+
+Mr. Halliburton proceeded alone to the office of Mr. Dare, the gentleman
+you met at Mr. Cooper's; Mrs. Halliburton returning to her children at
+the hotel. They had decided to take the house. Mr. Dare was not at home.
+"In London, with his wife," the head clerk said. But the clerk had power
+to let the house. Mr. Halliburton gave him some particulars with regard
+to himself, and they were considered satisfactory; but he did not
+mention that he was related to Mrs. Dare.
+
+The next thing was about furniture. The clerk directed Mr. Halliburton
+to a warehouse where both new and second-hand things might be obtained,
+and he proceeded to it, calling in at the "Star" for his wife. She knew
+a great deal more about furniture than he. They did the best they could,
+spending about fifty pounds. A Kidderminster carpet was bought for the
+best sitting-room. The other room, which was to be Mr. Halliburton's
+study, and the bedrooms, went for the present without any. "We will buy
+all those things when we have succeeded a bit," said Mr. Halliburton.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+ANNA LYNN.
+
+
+They slept that night again at the "Star," and the following morning
+early, they and their furniture took possession together of the house. A
+busy day they found it, arranging things. Jane--who had determined, as
+the saying runs, "to put her shoulder to the wheel," not only on this
+day, but on future days--did not intend to engage a regular servant.
+That, like the carpets, might be indulged in as they succeeded; but in
+the mean time she thought a young girl might be found who would come in
+for a few hours daily, and do what they wanted done.
+
+In the course of the morning, the fair, pleasant face of the Quakeress
+was seen approaching the back door from the garden. She wore a lilac
+print gown, a net kerchief crossed under it on her neck, and the
+peculiar net cap, with its high caul and neat little border.
+
+"I have stepped in to ask if I can help thee with thy work," she began.
+"Thee hast plenty to do, setting things straight, and thy husband does
+not look strong. I will aid if thee pleasest."
+
+"You are very kind to be so thoughtful for a stranger," replied Jane,
+charmed with the straightforward frankness of the Quakeress. "I hope you
+will first tell me to whom I am indebted."
+
+"Thee can call me Patience," was the ready reply. "I live next door,
+with Samuel Lynn and his daughter Anna. His wife died soon after the
+child was born. I was related to Anna Lynn; and when she was departing
+she sent for me, and begged me not to leave her child, unless Samuel
+should take unto himself another wife. But that appears to be far from
+his thoughts. He loves the child much; she is as the apple of his eye."
+
+"Is Mr. Lynn in business?" asked Jane.
+
+"Not on his own account now. He was a glove manufacturer, as a young
+man, but he had not a large capital; and when the British ports were
+opened for the admission of gloves from the French, it ruined him--as it
+did many others in the city. Only the rich masters could stand that.
+Numbers went then."
+
+"Went!" echoed Jane. "Went where?"
+
+"To ruin. Ah! I remember it: though it is a long time ago now. It was, I
+think, in the year 1825. I cannot describe to thee the distress and
+destruction it brought upon this city, until then so flourishing. The
+manufacturers had to close their works, and the men went about the
+streets starving."
+
+"Did the distress continue long?"
+
+"For weeks, and months, and years. The town will never be again, in that
+respect, what it has been. Samuel Lynn was a man of integrity, and he
+gave up business while he could pay everyone, and accepted the post of
+manager in the manufactory of Thomas Ashley. Thomas Ashley is one of the
+first manufacturers in the city, as his father was before him. When thee
+shall know the place and the people better, thee will find that there is
+not a name more respected throughout Helstonleigh than that of Thomas
+Ashley."
+
+"I suppose he is a rich man?"
+
+
+"Yes, he is rich," replied Patience, who was as busy with her hands as
+she was in talking. "His household is expensive, and he keeps his open
+and his close carriages; but for all that he must be putting by money.
+It is not for his riches that Thomas Ashley is respected, but for his
+high character. There is not a more just man living than Thomas Ashley;
+there is not a manufacturer in the town who is so considerate and kind
+to his workmen. His rate of wages is on the highest scale, and he is
+incapable of oppression. He has a son and daughter. He, the boy, causes
+him much uneasiness and cost."
+
+"Is he--not steady?" hastily asked Jane.
+
+"Bless thee, it is not that!" was the laughing answer of Patience. "He
+is but a young boy yet. When he was fourteen months old, the nurse let
+him fall from her arms, from the first landing to the hall below. At
+first they thought he was not hurt: Margaret Ashley herself thought it;
+the doctors thought it. But in a little time injury grew apparent. It
+lay in one of the hips; he is often in great pain, and will be lame for
+life. Abscess after abscess forms in the hip. They take him to the
+sea-side; to doctors in London; but nothing cures him. A beautiful boy
+as you ever saw; but his hurt renders him peevish. He is fond of books;
+and David Byrne, who is a Latin and Greek scholar, goes daily to
+instruct him; but the boy is thrown back by his fits of illness. It is a
+great grief to Thomas and Margaret Ashley. They----Why, Anna, is it
+thee? What dost thou do here?"
+
+Mrs. Halliburton turned from the kitchen cupboard, where she and
+Patience were arranging crockery, to behold a little girl who was no
+doubt Anna Lynn. Dark blue eyes were deeply set beneath their long
+lashes, which lay on a damask and dimpled cheek; her pretty teeth shone
+like pearls between her smiling lips, and her chestnut hair fell in a
+mass of careless curls upon her neck. Never, Mrs. Halliburton thought,
+had she seen a face so lovely. Jane was a pretty child; but Jane faded
+into nothing in comparison with the vision standing there.
+
+"Thee has thy cap off again, Anna!" cried the Quakeress, with some
+asperity of tone. "Art thee not ashamed to be so bold?--going about with
+thy head uncovered!"
+
+"The cap came off, Patience," gently responded Anna. She had a sweetly
+timid manner; a modest expression.
+
+"Thee need not tell me what is untrue. When the cap is tied on, it will
+not come off, unless purposely removed. Go home and put it on. Thee may
+come back again. Perhaps Friend Halliburton will permit thee to stay
+awhile with her children, who are arranging their books in the study. Is
+thy French lesson learnt?"
+
+"Not quite," replied Anna, running away.
+
+She returned with a pretty little white net cap on, the model of that
+worn by Patience. Her luxuriant curls were pushed under it, and the
+crimped border rested on the fair forehead.
+
+"Nay, there is no call to put all thy hair out of sight, child," said
+Patience. "Where are thy combs."
+
+"In my hair, Patience."
+
+Patience took off the cap, formed two flat curls, by means of the combs,
+on either side the temples, put the cap on again, and tucked the rest of
+the hair smoothly under it. Mrs. Halliburton then took Anna's hand, and
+led her to her own children.
+
+"What a pity it is to hide her hair!" she said afterwards to Patience.
+
+"Dost thee think so? It is the custom with our people. Anna's hair is
+fine, and of a curly nature. Brush it as I will, it curls; and she has
+acquired a habit of taking her cap off when I am not watching. Her
+father, I grieve to say, will let her sit by the hour together, her hair
+down, as thee saw it now, and her cap anywhere. I believe he thinks
+nothing she does is wrong. I talk to him much."
+
+"I never saw a more beautiful child!" said Jane, warmly.
+
+"I grant thee that she is fair; but she is eleven years old now, and her
+vanity should be checked. She is sometimes invited to the Ashleys',
+where she sees the mode in which Mary Ashley is dressed, according to
+the fashion of the world, and it sets her longing. Samuel Lynn will not
+listen to me. He is pleased that his child should be received there as
+Mary Ashley's equal; he cannot forget the time when he was in a good
+position himself."
+
+"Who teaches Anna?"
+
+"She attends a small school for Friends, kept by Ruth Darby. It is the
+holidays now. Her father educates her well. She learns French and
+drawing, and other branches of study suitable for girls. Take care! let
+me help thee with that heavy table."
+
+Presently they went to see how things were getting on in the study. Jane
+could not keep her eyes from the face of that lovely child. It partly
+hindered her work, which there was little need of on that busy day; a
+day so busy that they were all glad when it was over, and they were at
+liberty to retire to rest.
+
+Rarely had Jane witnessed so beautiful a view as that which met her
+sight the following morning, when she drew up her blind. The previous
+day had been hazy--nothing was to be seen; now the atmosphere had
+cleared. The great extent of scenery spread around, the green fields,
+the growing corn, the sparkling rivulets, the woods with their darker
+and their brighter trees, the undulating slopes--all were charming. But
+beyond all, and far more charming, bounding the landscape in the distant
+horizon, stretched the long chain of the far-famed Malvern Hills. As
+the sun cast upon them its light and shade, their outline so clearly
+depicted against the sky, and their white villas peeping out from the
+trees at their base--Jane felt that she could have gazed for ever. A
+wondrous picture is that of Malvern, as seen from Helstonleigh in the
+freshness of the early morning.
+
+"Edgar!" she impulsively exclaimed, turning to the bed--for Mr.
+Halliburton had not risen--"you never saw anything more beautiful than
+the view from this window. I am sure half the Londoners never dreamt of
+anything like it."
+
+There was no reply. "Perhaps he may be still asleep," she thought. But
+upon approaching the bed, she saw that his eyes were open.
+
+"Jane," he gasped, "I am ill."
+
+"Ill!" she repeated, a spasm darting through her heart.
+
+"Every limb is paining me. My head aches, and I am burning with fever. I
+have felt it coming on all night."
+
+She bent down; she felt his hands and his hot face--all burning, as he
+said, with fever.
+
+"We must call in a doctor," she quietly said, suppressing every sign of
+dismay, that it might not agitate him. "I will ask Patience to recommend
+one."
+
+"Yes; better have a doctor at once. What will become of us? If I should
+be going to have an illness----"
+
+"Stay, Edgar; do not give way to sad anticipations," she gently said. "A
+brave mind, you know, goes half way towards a cure. It is the effect of
+that wetting; the cold must have been smouldering within you."
+
+Smouldering only to burst out the fiercer for delay. Patience spoke in
+favour of their own medical man, a Mr. Parry, who lived near them and
+had a large practice. He came; and pronounced the malady to be rheumatic
+fever.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+ILLNESS.
+
+
+For nine weeks Mr. Halliburton never left his bed. His wife was worn to
+a shadow; what with waiting upon him, and battling with her anxiety. Her
+body was weary, her heart was sick. Do _you_ know the cost of illness?
+Jane knew it then.
+
+In two weeks more he could leave his easy-chair and crawl about the
+room; and by that time he was all eagerness to commence his operations
+for the future.
+
+"I must have some cards printed, Jane," he cried, one morning. "'Mr.
+Halliburton, Professor of Classics and Mathematics, late of King's
+Col--'--or should it be simply 'Edgar Halliburton?'" he broke off, to
+deliberate. "I wonder what the custom may be, down here?"
+
+"I think you should wait until you are stronger, before you order your
+cards," was Jane's reply.
+
+"But I can be getting things in train, Jane. I have been--how many weeks
+is it now?"
+
+"Eleven."
+
+"To be sure. It was June when we came; it is now September. I have been
+obliged to neglect the boys' lessons, too!"
+
+"They have been very good and quiet; have gone on with their lessons
+themselves. If we have trouble in other ways, we have a blessing in our
+children, Edgar. They are thoroughly loving and dutiful."
+
+"I don't know the ordinary terms of the neighbourhood," he resumed,
+after an interval of silence. "And--I wonder if people will want
+references? Jane"--after another silence--"you must put your things on,
+and go to Mrs. Dare's."
+
+"To Mrs. Dare's!" she echoed. "Now? I don't know her."
+
+"Never mind about not knowing her," he eagerly continued. "She is my
+cousin. You must ask whether they will allow themselves to be referred
+to. Peach will allow it also, I am quite certain. Do go, Jane."
+
+Invalids in the weak state of Mr. Halliburton are apt to be restlessly
+impatient when the mind is set upon any plan or project. Jane found that
+it would vex him much if she declined to go to Mrs. Dare, and she
+prepared for the visit. Patience directed her to their residence.
+
+It was situated at the opposite end of Helstonleigh. A handsome house,
+inclosed in a high wall, and bearing the imposing title of "Pomeranian
+Knoll." Jane entered the iron gates, walked round the carriage drive
+that inclosed the lawn, and rang the house bell. A showy footman in
+light blue livery, with a bunch of cords on his shoulder, answered it.
+
+"Can I see Mrs. Dare?"
+
+"What name, ma'am?"
+
+Jane gave in one of her visiting cards, wondering whether that was not
+too grand a proceeding, considering the errand upon which she had come.
+She was shown into an elegant room, to the presence of Mrs. Dare. That
+lady was in a costly morning dress, with chains, rings, bracelets, and
+other glittering jewellery about her: as she had worn the evening you
+saw her beside Mr. Cooper's death-bed.
+
+"Mrs. Halliburton?" she was repeating in doubt, when Jane entered, her
+eyes strained on the card. "What Mrs. Halliburton?" she added, not very
+civilly, turning her eyes upon Jane.
+
+Jane explained. The wife of Edgar Halliburton, Mrs. Dare's cousin.
+
+Mrs. Dare's presence of mind wholly forsook her. She grew deathly
+white; she caught at a chair for support; she was utterly unable to
+speak or to conceal her agitation. Jane could only look at her in
+amazement, wondering whether she was seized with sudden illness.
+
+
+A few moments and she recovered herself. She took a seat, motioned Jane
+to another, and asked, as she might have asked of any stranger, what her
+business might be. Jane explained it, somewhat at length.
+
+Mrs. Dare's surprise was great. She could not or would not understand;
+and her face flushed a deep red, and again grew deadly pale. "Edgar
+Halliburton come to live in Helstonleigh!" she repeated. "And you say
+you are his wife?"
+
+"I am his wife," was the reply of Jane, spoken with quiet dignity.
+
+
+"_What_ is it that you say he has in view, in coming here?"
+
+"I beg your pardon; I thought I had explained." And Jane went over the
+ground again--why he had been obliged to leave London, and his reasons
+for settling in Helstonleigh.
+
+"You could not have come to a worse place," said Mrs. Dare, who appeared
+to be annoyed almost beyond repression. "Masters of all sorts are so
+plentiful here that they tread on each other's heels."
+
+Discouraging news! And Jane's heart beat fast on hearing it. "My husband
+thought you and Mr. Dare would kindly interest yourselves for him. He
+knows that Mr. Peach will----"
+
+"No," interrupted Mrs. Dare, in decisive tones. "For Edgar Halliburton's
+own sake I must decline to recommend him; or, indeed, to interfere at
+all. It would only encourage fallacious hopes. Masters are here in
+abundance--I speak of private masters; they don't find half enough to
+do. Schools are also plentiful. The best thing will be to go to some
+place where there is a better opening, and not to settle himself here at
+all!"
+
+"But we have already settled here," replied Jane.
+
+A thought suddenly struck Mrs. Dare. "It can never be Edgar who has
+taken Mr. Ashley's cottage in the London Road? I remember the name was
+said to be Halliburton."
+
+
+"The same. It was let to us by Mr. Dare's clerk."
+
+Mrs. Dare sat biting her lips. That she was grievously annoyed was
+evident, but in deference to good manners, which were partially
+returning to her, she strove to repress its signs. "I presume your
+husband is poor, Mrs. Halliburton?"
+
+"We are very poor."
+
+"It is generally the case with teachers, as I have observed. Well, I
+can only give one answer to your application--that we must decline all
+interference. I hope Edgar will not think of applying again to us upon
+the subject."
+
+Jane rose. Mrs. Dare remained seated. And yet she prided herself upon
+her good breeding!
+
+"I had forgotten a question which my husband particularly desired me to
+ask," Jane said, turning back, as she was moving to the door. "Edgar saw
+by the papers that his uncle, Mr. Cooper, died the beginning of the
+year. Did he remember him on his death-bed, so far as to send a message
+of reconciliation?"
+
+Strange to say, the countenance of Mrs. Dare again changed; now to a
+burning heat, now to a livid pallor. She hesitated in her answer.
+
+"Yes," she said at length. "Mr. Cooper so far relented as to send him
+his forgiveness. 'Tell my nephew Edgar, if you ever see him, that I am
+sorry for my harshness; that I would treat him differently were the time
+to come over again.' I do not remember the precise words; but they were
+to that effect. There is no doubt that he would have wished to be
+reconciled; but time did not allow it. I should have written to Edgar of
+this, had I been acquainted with his address."
+
+"A letter addressed to King's College would always have found him. But
+he will be glad to hear this. He also bade me ask how Mr. Cooper's money
+was left--if you would kindly give him the information."
+
+Mrs. Dare bent her head. She was busy playing with her bracelet. "The
+will was proved in Doctors' Commons. Edgar Halliburton may see it by
+paying a shilling there."
+
+It was not a gracious answer, and Jane paused. "He cannot go to Doctors'
+Commons; he is not in London," she gently said.
+
+Mrs. Dare raised her head. A look, speaking plainly of defiance, had
+settled itself on her features. "It was left to me; the whole of it,
+except a few trifling legacies to his servants. What could Edgar
+Halliburton expect?"
+
+"I am sure that he did not expect anything," observed Jane. "Though I
+believe a hope has sometimes crossed his mind that Mr. Cooper might at
+the last relent, and remember him."
+
+"Nay," said Mrs. Dare, "he had behaved too disobediently for that.
+First, in opposing his uncle's wishes that he should enter into
+business; secondly, in his marriage."
+
+"In his marriage!" echoed Jane, a flush rising to her own face.
+
+"It was so. Mr. Cooper was exceedingly exasperated when he heard that
+Edgar had married. He looked upon the marriage, I believe, as
+undesirable for him in a pecuniary point of view. You must pardon my
+speaking of this to you personally. You appear to wish for the truth."
+
+The flush on Jane's face deepened to crimson.
+
+"It is true that I had no money," she said. "But I am the daughter of a
+clergyman, and was reared a gentlewoman!"
+
+"I suppose my uncle thought Edgar Halliburton should have married a
+fortune. However all that is past and gone, and it will do no good to
+recall it. I am sorry that you should have been so ill-advised for your
+own interests as to fix on this place to come to."
+
+Mrs. Dare rose. She had sat all this time; Jane had stood. "Tell Edgar,
+from me, that I am sorry to hear of his illness. Tell him there is no
+possible chance of success for him in Helstonleigh; no opening whatever!
+When I say that I hope he will speedily remove to some place less
+overdone with masters, I speak only in his own interest!"
+
+She rang the bell as she spoke, and gave Jane the tips of two of her
+fingers. The footman held open the hall door, and bowed her out. Jane
+went down the gravel sweep, determined never again to trouble Mrs. Dare.
+
+"Joseph!" cried Mrs. Dare, sharply.
+
+"Ma'am?"
+
+"Should that lady ever call again, I am not at home, remember!"
+
+"Very well, ma'am," was the man's reply.
+
+Mrs. Dare did not stay to hear it. She had flown upstairs to her room in
+trepidation. There she attired herself hastily and went out, bending her
+steps towards Mr. Dare's office. It was situated at the end of the town;
+and the door displayed a brass plate: "Mr. Dare, Solicitor."
+
+Mrs. Dare entered the outer room. "Is Mr. Dare alone?" she asked of the
+clerks.
+
+"No, ma'am. Mr. Ashley is with him."
+
+Chafing at the answer, for she was in a mood of great impatience, of
+inward tremor, Mrs. Dare waited for a few minutes. Mr. Ashley came out.
+A man of nearly forty years, rather above the middle height, with a
+fresh complexion, dark eyes, and well-formed features. A
+benevolent-looking, good man. His wife was a cousin of Mr. Dare's.
+
+Mr. Dare was seated at his table in his own room when his wife came in.
+She had turned again of an ashy paleness, and she dropped into a chair
+near to him.
+
+"What is the matter?" he asked in astonishment. "Are you ill?"
+
+"I think I shall die," she gasped. "I have had a mortal fright,
+Anthony."
+
+Mr. Dare rose. He was about to get her some water, or to call for it,
+but she caught his arm. "Stay, and hear me! Stay! Anthony, those
+Halliburtons have come to Helstonleigh. Come to live here!"
+
+Mr. Dare's mouth opened. "What Halliburtons?" he presently asked.
+
+"_They._ He has come here to settle. He wants to teach; and his wife has
+been with me, asking us to be referees. Of course I put the stopper upon
+that. The idea of _our_ having poor relations in the town who get their
+living by teaching!"
+
+A very disagreeable idea indeed; for those who were playing first
+fiddle in the place, and expected to play it still. But not for that did
+the man and wife stand gazing at each other; and the naturally bold look
+on Mr. Dare's face had faded considerably just then.
+
+"She asked about the will," said Mrs. Dare, dropping her voice to a
+whisper, and looking round with a shiver. "I thought I should have died
+with fear."
+
+Mr. Dare rallied his courage. Any little reminiscence that may have
+momentarily disturbed his equanimity he shook off, and was his own bold
+self again.
+
+"Nonsense, Julia! What is there to fear? The will is proved and acted
+upon. Whatever the old man may have uttered to us in his death ramblings
+was heard by ourselves alone. If any one _had_ heard it, I should not
+much care. A will's a will all the world over; and to act against it
+would be illegal."
+
+Mrs. Dare sat wiping her brow and gathering up _her_ courage. It came
+back by slow degrees.
+
+"Anthony, we must get them out of Helstonleigh. For more reasons than
+one we must get them out. They are in that house of Mr. Ashley's."
+
+He looked surprised. "They! Ay, to be sure: the name in the books is
+Halliburton. It never occurred to me that it could be they. I wonder if
+they are poor?"
+
+"Very poor, the wife said."
+
+"Just so," said Mr. Dare, with a pleasant smile. "I'll not ask for the
+rent this quarter, but let it go on a bit. We may get them out, Mrs.
+Dare."
+
+You need not be told that Anthony Dare and his wife had omitted to act
+upon Mr. Cooper's dying injunction. At the time they did really intend
+to fulfil it; they were not thieves or forgers. But Edgar Halliburton
+was not present to remind them of his claims: and, when the money came
+to be realised, to be in their own hands, there it was suffered to
+remain. Waiting for him, of course; they did not know precisely where to
+find him, and did not take any trouble to inquire. Very tempting and
+useful they found the money. A large portion of their own share went in
+paying back debts, for they lived at an extravagant rate; and--and in
+short they had intrenched upon that other share, and could not now have
+paid it over had they been ever so willing to do so. No wonder that Mrs.
+Dare had felt as one in mortal fear when she met Jane Halliburton face
+to face!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+A CHRISTMAS DREAM.
+
+
+Winter had come to Helstonleigh: frost hovered in the air and rested on
+the ground. How was Mr. Halliburton? He had never once been out since
+his illness, and he sat by the fire when he did not lie in bed, and his
+cough was racking him. He might, and probably would, have recovered
+health under more favourable auspices, but anxiety of mind was killing
+him. Their money was dwindling to a close, and delicacies they dared not
+get for him. Mr. Halliburton would say he did not require them; could
+not eat them if they were procured. Poor man! he craved for them in his
+inmost heart. Strange to say, he did not see his own danger. Or, rather,
+it would have been strange but that similar cases are met with every
+day. "When this cold weather has passed, and spring is in, then I shall
+get up my strength," was his constant cry. "Then I shall set about my
+work in earnest, and make my arrival and my plans known to Peach. It has
+been of no use troubling him beforehand." False, false hopes! fond,
+delusive hopes!
+
+Dr. Carrington had said that if he _took care_ of himself, he might live
+and be well. The other doctors had said the same. And there was no
+reason to doubt their judgment. But they had not bargained for an attack
+of rheumatic fever, or for the increased injury to the lungs which the
+same cause, that past soaking, had induced.
+
+On Christmas Eve, he and Jane were sitting over the fire in the
+twilight. He could come downstairs now; indeed, he did not appear to be
+so ill as he really was. The surgeon who attended him in the fever had
+been discharged long ago. "There's nothing the matter with me now but
+debility; and, only time will bring me out of that," Mr. Halliburton
+said, when he dismissed him. Jane was hopeful; more hopeful by fits and
+starts than continuously so; but she did really believe he might get
+well when winter had passed. They were sitting beside the fire, when a
+great bustle interrupted them. All the children trooped in at once, with
+the noise it is the delight of children not to stir without. Frank, who
+had been out, had entered the house with his arms full of holly and ivy,
+his bright face glowing with excitement. The others were attending him
+to show off the prize.
+
+"Look at all this Christmas, mamma!" cried he. "I have bought it."
+
+"Bought it?" repeated Jane. "My dear Frank, did I not tell you we must
+do without Christmas this year?"
+
+"But it cost nothing, mamma. Only a penny!"
+
+Jane sighed. She did not say to the children that even a penny was no
+longer "nothing."
+
+"You know that penny I have kept in my pocket a long while," went on
+Frank in excitement, addressing the assemblage. "Well, I thought if
+mamma would not buy some Christmas, I would."
+
+"But you did not buy all that for a penny, Frank? We should pay sixpence
+for it in London."
+
+"I did, though, mamma. I had it of that old man who lives in the cottage
+higher up the road, with the big garden to it. He was going to cut me
+more, but I told him this was plenty. You should have seen the heaps he
+gave a woman for twopence: she wanted a wheelbarrow to carry it away."
+
+Janey clapped her hands, and began to dance. "I shall help you to dress
+the rooms! We must have a merry Christmas!"
+
+Mr. Halliburton drew her to him. "Yes, we must have a merry Christmas,
+must we not, Janey? Jane"--turning to his wife--"can you manage to have
+a nice dinner for us? Christmas only comes once a year."
+
+He looked up with his haggard face: very much as though he were longing
+for a nice dinner then.
+
+"I will see what I can do," said Jane in reply, smothering down another
+sigh. "I am going out presently to the butcher's. A joint of beef will
+be best; and though the pudding's a plain one, I hope it will be good.
+Yes, we must keep Christmas."
+
+Christmas-day dawned, and in due time they assembled as usual. Jane
+intended to go to church that day. During her husband's illness she had
+been obliged to send the children alone. They had been trained to know
+what church meant, and did not require some one with them to keep them
+in order there. A good thing if the same could be said of all children!
+
+It was a clear, bright morning, cold and frosty. Mr. Halliburton came
+down just as they were starting.
+
+"I feel so much better to-day!" he exclaimed. "I could almost go with
+you myself. Jane"--smiling at her look of consternation--"you need not
+be startled: I do not intend to attempt it. William, you are not ready."
+
+"Mamma said I was to stay with you, papa."
+
+"Stay with me! There's not the least necessity for that. I tell you all
+I am feeling better to-day--quite well. You can go with the rest,
+William."
+
+William looked at his mother, and for a moment Jane hesitated. Only for
+a moment. "I would rather he remained, Edgar," she said. "Betsy will be
+gone by twelve o'clock. Indeed, I should not feel comfortable at the
+thought of your being alone."
+
+"Oh, very well," replied Mr. Halliburton, quite gaily. "I suppose you
+must remain, William, or we shall have mamma leaving when the service is
+only half over to see whether I have not fallen into the fire."
+
+Jane had all the household care upon her shoulders now, and a great
+portion of the household work. Though an active domestic manager, she
+had known nothing practically of the more menial work of a house; she
+knew it only too well now. The old saying is a very true one: "Necessity
+makes us acquainted with strange bedfellows." This young girl, Betsy,
+who came in part of each day to assist, was almost as much trouble as
+profit. She had said to Jane on Christmas Eve: "If you please, mother
+says I am to be at home to-morrow, if it's convenient." I am! However,
+Jane and the young lady came to a compromise. She was to go home at
+twelve and come back later to wash up the dishes. Of course it entailed
+upon Jane all the trouble of preparing dinner.
+
+Have you ever known one of these cases yourself? Where a lady--a lady,
+mind you, as Jane was--has had to put aside her habits of refinement,
+pin up her gown, and turn to and cook; roast the meat and boil potatoes,
+and all the ether essential items? Many a one is doing it now in real
+life. Jane Halliburton was not a solitary example. The pudding had been
+made the day before and partly boiled: it was now on the fire, boiling
+again, and the rest of the dinner she would do on her return from
+church.
+
+It was something wonderful, the improvement in Mr. Halliburton's health
+that day. He took his part with William in reading the psalms and
+lessons while the rest were at church: it was what he had been unable to
+do for a long time in consequence of his cough and laboured breathing.
+The duty over, he lay back in his chair; in thought apparently, not
+exhaustion.
+
+"Peace on earth, and good will towards men!" he repeated presently, in a
+fervent, but somewhat absent tone. "William, my boy, I think peace must
+be coming to me at last. I do feel so well."
+
+"What peace, papa?" asked William, puzzled.
+
+"The peace of renewed health, of hope; freedom from worry. The Christmas
+season and the bright day have taken away all my despondency. Let me go
+on like this, and in another month I shall be out and at work."
+
+William's eyes sparkled. He fully believed it all. Boys are sanguine.
+
+They were to dine at three o'clock, and Jane did her best to prepare it.
+During the process, Patience appeared at the back door with a plate of
+oranges. "Will thee accept of these for thy children?" asked she.
+
+"How kind you are!" exclaimed Jane, in a grateful impulse, as she
+thought of her children. Of such little treats they had latterly enjoyed
+a scanty share. "Patience, I hope you did not buy them purposely?"
+
+"Had I had to buy them, thee would not have seen them," returned the
+candid Quakeress. "A friend of Samuel Lynn's, who lives at Bristol,
+sends us a small case every winter. When I was unpacking it this morning
+I said to him, 'The young ones at the next door would be pleased with a
+few of these'; but he did not answer. Thee must not think him selfish;
+he is not a selfish man; but he cannot bear to see anything go beside
+the child. Anna looked at him eagerly; she would have been pleased to
+send half the box: and he saw it. 'Take in a few, Patience,' he cried."
+
+"I am much obliged to him, and to you also," repeated Jane. "Patience,
+Mr. Halliburton is so much better to-day! Go in, and see him."
+
+Patience went into the parlour, carrying the oranges with her. When she
+came out again there was a grave expression on her serene face.
+
+"Thee will do well not to count upon this apparent improvement in thy
+husband."
+
+Jane's heart went down considerably. "I do not exactly count upon it,
+Patience," she confessed; "but he does seem to have changed so much for
+the better that I feel in greater spirits than I have felt this many a
+day. His cough seems almost well."
+
+"I do not wish to throw a damp upon thee; still, were I thee, I would
+not reckon upon it. These sudden improvements sometimes turn out to have
+been deceitful. Fare thee well!"
+
+Jane went into the parlour. The children were gathered round the plate
+of oranges. "Mamma, do look!" cried Janey. "Are they not good? There
+are six: one apiece for us all. I wonder if papa could eat one? Gar, you
+are not to touch. Papa, could you eat an orange?"
+
+Unseen by the children, Mr. Halliburton had been straining his eager
+gaze upon the oranges. His mouth parched with inward fever, his throat
+dry, they appeared, coming thus unexpectedly before him, what the
+long-wished-for spring of water is to the fainting traveller in the
+desert. Jane caught the look, and handed the plate to him. "You would
+like one, Edgar?"
+
+"I am thirsty," he said, in tones savouring of apology, for the oranges
+seemed to belong to the children rather than to him. "I think I must eat
+mine before dinner. Cut it into four, will you?"
+
+He took up one of the quarters. "It is delicious!" he exclaimed. "It is
+so refreshing!"
+
+The children stood around and watched him. They enjoyed oranges, but
+scarcely with a zest so intense as that.
+
+When Jane returned to the kitchen, she found a helpmate. The maid from
+next door, Grace, a young Quakeress, fair and demure, was standing
+there. She had been sent by Patience to do what she could for half an
+hour. "How considerate she is!" thought grateful Jane.
+
+They dined in comfort, Grace waiting on them. Afterwards the oranges
+were placed upon the table. Master Gar caught up the plate, and
+presented it to his mother. "Papa has had his," quoth he.
+
+"Not for me, Gar," said Jane. "I do not eat oranges. I will give mine to
+papa."
+
+The three younger children speedily attacked theirs. William did not. He
+left his by the side of the one rejected by his mother, and set the
+plate by Mr. Halliburton.
+
+"Do you intend these for me, William?"
+
+"Yes, papa."
+
+Frank looked surprised. "William, you don't mean to say you are not
+going to eat your orange? Why, you were as glad as any of us when they
+came."
+
+"I eat oranges when I want them," observed William, with an affectation
+of carelessness, which betrayed a delicacy of feeling that might have
+done honour to one older than he. "I have had too good a dinner to care
+about oranges."
+
+Mr. Halliburton drew William towards him, and looked steadfastly into
+his face with a meaning smile. "Thank you, my darling," he whispered:
+and William coloured excessively as he sat down.
+
+Mr. Halliburton ate the oranges, and appeared as if he could have eaten
+as many more. Then he leaned his head back on the pillow which was
+placed over his chair, and presently fell asleep.
+
+"Be very still, dear children," whispered Jane.
+
+They looked round, saw why they were to be still, and hushed their busy
+voices. William pulled a stool to his mother's feet, and took his seat
+on it, holding her hand between his.
+
+"Papa will soon be well again now," he softly said. "Don't you think so,
+mamma?"
+
+"Indeed I hope he will," she answered.
+
+"But don't you _think_ it?" he persisted; and Jane detected an anxiety
+in his tone. Could there have been a shadow of fear upon the boy's own
+heart? "He said mamma, whilst you were at church, that in another month
+he should be strong again."
+
+"Not quite so soon as that, I fear, William. He has been so much
+reduced, you know. Later: if he goes on as well as he appears to be
+going on now."
+
+Jane set the children to that renowned game. "Cross questions and
+crooked answers." You may have had the pleasure of playing it: if so,
+you will remember that it consists chiefly of whispering. It is
+difficult to keep children quiet long together.
+
+"Where am I?" cried a sudden voice, startling the children in the midst
+of their silent whispers.
+
+It came from Mr. Halliburton. He had slept about half an hour, and was
+now looking round in bewilderment, his head starting away from the
+pillow. "Where am I?" he repeated.
+
+"You have been asleep, papa," cried Frank.
+
+"Asleep! Oh, yes! I remember. You are all here, and it is Christmas
+Day. I have been dreaming."
+
+"What about, papa?"
+
+Mr. Halliburton let his head fall back on the pillow again. He fixed his
+eyes on vacancy, and there ensued a silence. The children looked at him.
+
+"Singular things are dreams," he presently exclaimed. "I thought I was
+on a broad, wide road--an immense road, and it was crowded with people.
+We were all going one way, stumbling and tripping along----"
+
+"What made you stumble, papa?" interrupted Janey, whose busy tongue was
+ever ready to talk.
+
+"The road was full of impediments," continued Mr. Halliburton, in a
+dreamy tone, as if his mental vision were buried in the scene and he was
+relating what had actually occurred. "Stones, and hillocks, and
+brambles, and pools of shallow water, and long grass that got entangled
+round our feet: nothing but difficulties and hindrances. At the end, in
+the horizon, as far as the eye could reach--very, very far away
+indeed--a hundred times as far away as the Malvern Hills appear to be
+from us--there shone a brilliant light. So brilliant! You have never
+seen anything like it in life, for the naked eye could not bear such
+light. And yet we seemed to look at it, and our sight was not dazzled!"
+
+"Perhaps it was fireworks?" interrupted Gar. Mr. Halliburton went on
+without heeding him.
+
+"We were all pressing on to get to the light, though the distant journey
+seemed as if it could never end. So long as we kept our eyes fixed on
+the light, we could see how we walked, and we passed over the rough
+places without fear. Not without difficulty. But still we did pass them,
+and advanced. But the moment we took our eyes from the light, then we
+were stopped; some fell; some wandered aside, and would not try to go
+forward; some were torn by the brambles; some fell into the water; some
+stuck in the mud; in short, they could not get on any way. And yet they
+knew--at least, it seemed that they knew--that if they would only lift
+their eyes to the light, and keep them steadfastly on it, they were
+certain to be helped, and to make progress. The few who did keep their
+eyes on it--very few they were!--steadily bore onwards. The same
+hindrances, the same difficulties were in their path, so that at times
+they also felt tempted to despair--to fear they could not get on. But
+their fears were groundless. So long as they did not take their eyes
+from the light, it guided them in certainty and safety over the rough
+places. It was a helper that could not fail; and it was ready to guide
+every one--all those millions and millions of travellers. To guide them
+throughout the whole of the way until they had gained it."
+
+The children had become interested and were listening with hushed lips.
+"Why did they not all let it guide them?" breathlessly asked William.
+"Nothing can be more easy than to keep our eyes on a light that does
+not dazzle. What did you do, papa?"
+
+"It seemed that the light would only shine on one step at a time,"
+continued Mr. Halliburton, not in answer to William, but evidently
+absorbed in his own thoughts. "We could not see further than the one
+step, but that was sufficient; for the moment we had taken it, then the
+light shone upon another. And so we passed on, progressing to the end,
+the light seeming brighter and brighter as we drew near to it."
+
+"Did you get to it, papa?"
+
+"I am trying to recollect, William. I seemed to be quite close to it. I
+suppose I awoke then."
+
+Mr. Halliburton paused, still in thought: but he said no more. Presently
+he turned to his wife. "Is it nearly tea-time, Jane? I cannot think what
+makes me so thirsty."
+
+"We can have tea now, if you like," she replied. "I will go and see
+about it."
+
+She left the room, and Janey ran after her. In the kitchen, making a
+great show and parade of being at work amidst plates and dishes, was a
+damsel of fifteen, her hair curiously twisted about her head, and her
+round, green eyes wide open. It was Betsy.
+
+"That was good pudding," cried she, turning her face to Mrs.
+Halliburton. "Better than mother's."
+
+She alluded to a slice which had been given her. Jane smiled. "We want
+tea, Betsy."
+
+"Have it in directly, mum," was Miss Betsy's acquiescent response.
+
+Scarcely were the words spoken, when a commotion was heard in the
+sitting-room. The door was flung open, and the boys called out, the tone
+of their voices one of utter alarm. Jane, the child, and the maid, made
+but one step to the room. All Jane's fears had flown to "fire."
+
+Fire had been almost less startling. Mr. Halliburton was lying back on
+the pillow with a ghastly face, his mouth, and shirt-front stained with
+blood. He could not speak, but he asked assistance with his imploring
+eyes. In coughing he had broken a blood-vessel.
+
+Jane did not faint; did not scream. Her whole heart turned sick, and she
+felt that the end had come. Janey sank down on the floor with a faint
+cry, and hid her face on the sofa. One glimpse was sufficient for Betsy.
+The moment she had taken it, she subsided into a succession of shrieks;
+flew out of the house and burst into that of Mr. Lynn. There she
+terrified the sober family by announcing that Mr. Halliburton was lying
+with his throat cut.
+
+Mr. Lynn and Patience hurried in, ordering Anna to remain where she was.
+They saw what was the matter, and placed him in a better position:
+Patience helping Mrs. Halliburton to sponge his face.
+
+"Shall I get the doctor for thee, friend?" asked the Quaker of Jane. "I
+shall bring him quicker, maybe, than one of thy lads would."
+
+"Oh! yes, yes!"
+
+"I warned thee not to be sanguine," whispered Patience, when Mr. Lynn
+had gone. "I feared it might be only the deceitfulness of the ending."
+
+The ending! what a confirmation of Jane's own fears! She turned her eyes
+despairingly on Patience.
+
+Mr. Halliburton opened his trembling lips, as though he would have
+spoken. Patience stopped him.
+
+"Thee must not talk, friend. If thee hast need of anything, can thee not
+make a sign?"
+
+He gave them to understand that he wanted water. This was given to him,
+and he appeared to be more composed.
+
+"There is nothing else that I can do just now," observed Patience. "I
+will go back and take thy little girl with me. See her, hiding there!"
+
+Patience did so. Betsy cowered over the fire in the kitchen, and the
+three boys and their mother stood round the dying man.
+
+"Children!" he gasped.
+
+"Oh, Edgar! do not speak!" interrupted Jane.
+
+He smiled as he looked at her, very much as though he knew that it did
+not matter whether he spoke or remained silent. "I am at the journey's
+end, Jane; close to the light. Children," he panted at slow intervals,
+"when I told you my dream, I little thought it was only a type of the
+present reality. I think it was sent to me that I might tell it you, for
+I now see its meaning. You are travelling on to that light, as I thought
+I was--as I have been. You will have the same stumbling-blocks to walk
+over; none are exempt from them; trials, and temptations, and sorrows,
+and drawbacks. But the light is there, ever shining to guide you, for it
+is Heaven. Will you always look up to it?"
+
+He gathered their hands together, and held them between his. The boys,
+awe-struck, bewildered with terror and grief, could only gaze in silence
+and listen.
+
+"The light is God, my children. He is above you, and below you, and
+round about you everywhere. He is ready to help you at every step and
+turn. Make Him your guide; put your whole dependence upon Him,
+implicitly trust to Him to lighten your path, so that you may see to
+walk in it. He cannot fail. Look up to Him, and you will be unerringly
+guided, though it may be--though it probably will be--only step by step.
+Never lose your trust in God, and then rest assured He will conduct you
+to His own bright ending. Jane, let them take it to their hearts! May
+God bless you, my dear ones! and bring you to me hereafter!"
+
+He ceased, and lay exhausted; his eyes fondly seeking Jane's, her hand
+clasped in his. Jane's own eyes were dry and burning, and she appeared
+to be unnaturally calm. Gradually the fading eyes closed. In a very
+short time the knock of Samuel Lynn was heard at the door. He had
+brought the doctor. William, passing his handkerchief over his wet face,
+went to open it.
+
+Mr. Parry stepped into the room, and Jane moved from beside her husband
+to give place to him. "He sighed heavily a minute or two ago," she
+whispered.
+
+The surgeon looked at him. He bent his ear to the open mouth, and then
+gently unbuttoned the waistcoat, and listened for the beating of the
+heart. "His life passed away in that sigh," murmured the doctor to Jane.
+
+It was even so. Edgar Halliburton had gone into the light.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+THE FUNERAL.
+
+
+Jane looked around her--looked at all the terrors of her situation. The
+first burst of grief over, and a day or two gone on, she could only look
+at it. She did not know which way to turn or what to do. It is true she
+placed implicit trust in God--in the LIGHT spoken of by her husband when
+he was passing away. Throughout her life she had borne an ever-present,
+lively trust in God's unchanging care; and she had incessantly striven
+to implant the same trust in the minds of her children. But in this
+season of dread anxiety, of hopeless bereavement, you will not think
+less well of her for hearing that she did give way to despondency,
+almost to despair.
+
+From tears for him who had been the dear partner of her life, to anxiety
+for the future of his children--from anxiety for them, to pecuniary
+distress and embarrassment--so passed on her hours from Christmas night.
+Calm she had contrived to be in the presence of others; but it was the
+calm of an aching heart. She dreaded her own reflections. When she rose
+in the morning she said, "How shall I bear up through the day?" and when
+she went to her bed, it would be, "How shall I drag through the right?"
+Tossing, turning, moaning; walking the room in the darkness when no eye
+was upon her; kneeling, almost without hope, to pour forth her
+tribulations to God--who would believe that, in the daytime, before
+others, she could be so apparently serene? Only once did she give way,
+and that was the day before the funeral.
+
+Patience sympathised with her in a reasoning sort of way. It had been
+next to impossible for Jane to keep her pecuniary anxiety from Patience,
+who advised and assisted her in making the various arrangements. It was
+necessary to go to work in the most sparing manner possible; and it
+ended in Jane's taking Patience into her full confidence.
+
+"If thee can but keep a house over thy head, so as to retain thy
+children with thee, thee wilt get along. Do not be cast down."
+
+"Oh, Patience, that is what I have been thinking about--how am I to keep
+the house together. I do not see that I can do it."
+
+"The furniture is thine," observed Patience. "Thee might let two or
+three of thy rooms, so as to cover the rent."
+
+"I have thought all that over and over again to myself," sighed Jane.
+"But, Patience--allowing that the rent were made in that way--how are we
+to live?"
+
+"Thee must occupy thy time in some way. Thee can sew! Dost thee know
+dress-making?"
+
+"No--only sufficient of it to make my own plain gowns and Jane's frocks.
+As to plain sewing, I could never earn food at it--it is so badly paid.
+And there will be the education of my boys, and their clothing."
+
+"Thee hast anxiety before thee--I see it," said Patience, in a grave
+tone. "Still, I would not have thee be cast down. Thee will make thyself
+ill, and that will not be the way to mend thy condition."
+
+Jane sat down, her hands clasped on her knees, her mind viewing her dark
+troubles. "If I were but clear, I should have better hope," she said,
+lifting her face in its sad sorrow. "Patience, we owe half a year's
+rent; and there will be the funeral expenses besides."
+
+"Hast thee no kindred that would aid thee in thy strait?"
+
+Jane shook her head. The only "kindred" she possessed in the whole world
+was one who had barely enough for his own poor wants--her brother
+Francis.
+
+"Hast thee no little property to dispose of?" continued Patience.
+"Watches, or things of that kind?"
+
+There was her husband's watch. But Jane's pale face crimsoned at the
+idea of parting with it in that manner. It was a good watch, and had
+long ago been promised to William.
+
+"I can understand thy flush of aversion," said Patience, kindly. "I
+would not be the one to suggest aught to hurt thy feelings; but thy
+necessities may leave no alternative."
+
+A conviction that they would leave none was already stealing over Jane.
+She possessed a few trinkets herself, not of much value, and a little
+silver. All might have to go, not excepting the watch. "Would there be a
+difficulty in disposing of them, Patience?" she asked aloud.
+
+"None at all: there is the pawn-shop," said the plain-speaking
+Quakeress. "I do not know what many would do without it. I can tell thee
+that some of the great ones of this city send their plate to it on
+occasion. Thee would not like to go to such a place thyself, but thy
+servant's mother, Elizabeth Carter, is a discreet woman: she would
+render thee this little service. As I tell thee, if thee can only
+surmount present difficulties, so as to secure a start, thee may get
+on."
+
+Surmount present difficulties! It seemed to Jane next door to an
+impossibility. She had the merest trifle of money left, was in debt, and
+without means, so far as she saw, of earning even food. She paid her
+last night visit to the room which contained the coffin, and went thence
+up to her bed, to toss the night through on her wet pillow, with a
+burning brow and an aching heart.
+
+It was a sad funeral to see, and one of the plainest of the plain. The
+clerk of the church, who had condescended to come up to escort it--a
+condescension he did not often vouchsafe to poor funerals, for they
+afforded nothing good to eat and drink--walked first, without a hatband.
+Then came the coffin, covered with a pall, and William and Frank behind
+it. Jane had not sent Gar, poor little fellow! She thought he might be
+better away. That was all; there were no attendants: the clerk, the two
+boys, the coffin, and the men who bore it.
+
+It was sad to see. The people stopped to look as it went along the
+streets, following with their eyes the poor fatherless children. One
+young man stood aside, raised his hat, and held it in his hand until the
+coffin had passed. But the young man had lived in foreign countries,
+where it is the custom to remain uncovered whilst a funeral goes by.
+
+He was buried at St. Martin's Church; and, singular to say, the
+officiating minister was the Rev. Mr. Peach. Mr. Peach did not know who
+he was interring: he had taken the service for St. Martin's rector.
+William heard his name: how many times had he heard his poor father
+mention the name in connection with his hopeful prospects! He burst into
+wailing sobs at the thought. Mr. Peach glanced off his book to look
+compassionately at the sobbing boy.
+
+The funeral was over, the last word of the service spoken, the first
+shovel of earth flung rattling on to the coffin. The clerk did not pay
+the compliment of his escort back again; indeed, there was nothing to
+escort but the two boys. They walked alone, with no company but their
+hatbands.
+
+In the evening, at dusk, they were gathered together--Jane and all the
+children. Tears seemed to have a respite: they had been shed of late all
+too plentifully.
+
+"I must speak to you, children," said Jane, lifting her head, and
+breaking the silence. "I may as well speak now, as let the days go on
+first. You are young, but you are old enough to understand me. Do you
+know, my darlings, how very sad our position is?"
+
+"In losing papa?" said Janey, catching her breath.
+
+"Yes, yes, in losing him," wailed Jane. "For that includes more than you
+suspect. But I wish to allude more particularly to the future. My dears,
+I do not see what is to become of us. We have no money; and we have no
+one to give us any or to lend us any; no one in the wide world."
+
+The children did not interrupt; only William moved his chair nearer to
+hers. She looked so young in her widow's cap: nearly as young as when,
+years ago, she had married him who had that day been put out of her
+sight for ever.
+
+"If we can only keep a roof over our heads," continued Jane, speaking
+very softly from the effort to subdue her threatening emotion, "we may
+perhaps struggle on. Perhaps. But it will be _struggling_; and you do
+not know half that the word implies. We may not have enough to eat. We
+may be cold and hungry--not once, but constantly; and we shall certainly
+have to encounter and endure the slights and humiliations attendant on
+extreme poverty. I do not know that we can retain a home; for we may, in
+a week or two, be turned from this."
+
+"But why be turned from this, mamma?"
+
+"Because there is rent owing, and I have not the means to pay it," she
+answered. "I have written to your uncle Francis, but I do not believe he
+will be able to help me. He----"
+
+"Why can't we go back to London to live?" eagerly interrupted little
+Gar. "It was so nice there! It was a better home than this."
+
+
+"You forget, Gar, that--that----" here she almost broke down, and had to
+pause a minute--"that our income there was earned by papa. He would not
+be there to earn it now. No, my dear ones; I have thought the future
+over in every way--thought until my brain has become confused--and the
+only possible chance that I can see, of our surmounting difficulties, so
+as to enable us to exist, is by endeavouring to keep this home. Patience
+suggests that I should let part of it. I had already thought of that;
+and I shall endeavour to do so. It may cover the rent and taxes. And I
+must try and do something else that will find us food."
+
+The children looked perfectly thunderstruck, especially the two elder
+ones, William and Jane. "Do something to find food!" they uttered,
+aghast. "Mamma, what do you mean?"
+
+It is so difficult to make children understand these unhappy
+things--those who have been brought up in comfort. Jane sighed, and
+explained further. Little desolate hearts they were who listened to her.
+
+
+"William," she resumed, "your poor papa's watch was to have been yours;
+but--I scarcely like to tell you--I fear I shall be obliged to dispose
+of it to help our necessities."
+
+A spasm shot across William's face. But, brave-hearted boy that he was,
+he would not let his mother see his disappointment, and looked
+cheerfully at her.
+
+"There is one thought that weighs more heavily on my mind than all--your
+education. How I shall manage to continue it I do not know. My darlings,
+I look upon this only in a degree less essential to you than food: you
+know that learning is better than house and land. I do not yet see my
+way clear in any way: it is very dark--almost as dark as it can be; and
+but for one Friend, I should despair."
+
+"What friend is that, mamma? Do you mean Patience?"
+
+"I mean God," replied Jane. "I know that He is a sure refuge to those
+who trust in Him. In my saddest moments, when I think how certain that
+refuge is, a ray of light flashes over me, bright as that glorious light
+in your papa's dream. Oh, my dear children! Perhaps we shall be helped
+to struggle on!"
+
+"Who will buy us new clothes?" cried Frank, dropping upon another phase
+of the difficulty. Jane sighed: it was all terribly indistinct.
+
+"In all the tribulation that will probably come upon us, the
+humiliations, the necessities, we must strive for patience to bear them.
+You do not yet understand the meaning of the term, _to bear_; but you
+will learn it all too soon. You must bear not only for your own sakes,
+because it is your lot, and you cannot go from it; not only for mine,
+but chiefly because it is the will of God. This affliction could not
+have come upon us unless God had permitted it, and I am quite sure,
+therefore, that it is in some way sent for our good. We shall not be
+utterly miserable if we can keep together in our house. You will aid me
+in it, will you not?"
+
+"In what way, mamma?" they eagerly asked, as if wishing to begin
+something then. "What can we do?"
+
+"You can aid me by being dutiful and obedient; by giving me no
+unnecessary anxiety or trouble; by cheerfully making the best of our
+privations; and you can strive to retain what you have already learnt by
+going diligently over your lessons together. All this will aid and
+comfort me."
+
+
+William's tears burst forth, and he laid his head on his mother's lap.
+"Oh, mamma dear, I will try and do for you all I can," he sobbed. "I
+will indeed."
+
+"Take comfort, my boy," she whispered, leaning tenderly over him.
+"Remember that your last act to your father was a loving sacrifice, in
+giving to him the orange that you would have enjoyed. I marked it,
+William. My darling children, let us all strive to bear on steadfastly
+to that far-off light, ever looking unto God."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+TROUBLE.
+
+
+A week elapsed, after the burial of Mr. Halliburton. By that time Jane
+had looked fully into the best and worst of her condition, and had, so
+to say, organised her plans. By the disposal of the watch, with what
+little silver they possessed, and ornaments of her own, she had been
+enabled to discharge the expenses of the funeral and other small debts,
+and to retain a trifle in hand for present wants.
+
+On the last day of the week, Saturday, she received an application for
+the rent. A stylish-looking stripling of some nineteen years, with light
+eyes and fair hair, called from Mr. Dare to demand it. Jane told him she
+could not pay him then, but would write and explain to Mr. Dare. Upon
+which the gentleman, whose manners were haughtily condescending, turned
+on his heel and left the house, not deigning to say good morning. As he
+was swinging out at the gate, Patience, coming home from market with a
+basket in her hand, met him. "How dost thee?" said she in salutation.
+But there was no response from the other, except that his head went a
+shade higher.
+
+"Do you know who that is?" inquired Jane, afterwards.
+
+"Of a surety. It is young Anthony Dare."
+
+"He has not pleasing manners."
+
+"Not to us. There is not a more arrogant youth in the town. But his
+private character is not well spoken of."
+
+Jane sat down to write to Mr. Dare. Her brother Francis, to whom she had
+explained her situation, had promised her the rent for the half-year
+due, sixteen pounds, by the middle of February. He could not let her
+have it before that period, he said, but she might positively count upon
+it then. She begged Mr. Dare to accord her the favour of waiting until
+then. Sealing her note, she sent it to him.
+
+On the Monday following, all was in readiness to _let_; and Jane was
+full of hope, looking for the advent of lodgers. The best parlour and
+the two best bedrooms had been vacated, and were in order. Jane slept
+now with her little girl, and the boys had mattresses laid down for them
+on the floor at the top of the house. They were to make the study their
+sitting-room from henceforth; and a card in the window displayed the
+announcement "Lodgings." The more modern word "apartments" had not then
+come into fashion at Helstonleigh.
+
+Patience came in after breakfast with a piece of grey merino in her
+hand.
+
+"Would thee like to make a frock for Anna?" asked she of Mrs.
+Halliburton. "Sarah Locke does them for her mostly, for it is work that
+I am not clever at; but Sarah sends me word she is too full of work this
+week to undertake it. I heard thee say thee made Janey's frocks. If thee
+can do this, and earn half-a-crown, thee art welcome. It is what I
+should pay Sarah."
+
+Jane took the merino in thankfulness. It was as a ray of hope, come to
+light up her heart. Only the instant before Patience entered she was
+wishing that something could arrive for her to do, never supposing that
+it would arrive. And now it had come!--and would bring her in
+two-and-sixpence! "Two-and-sixpence!" we may feel inclined to echo, in
+undisguised contempt for the trifle. Ay! but we may never have known the
+yearning want of two-and-sixpence, or of ten-and-sixpence either!
+
+Jane cut out the skirt by a pattern frock, and sat down to make it, her
+mind ruminating on the future. The children were at their lessons, round
+the table. "I have just two pounds seventeen and sixpence left,"
+deliberated Jane. "This half-crown will make it three pounds. I wonder
+how long we can live upon that? We have good clothes, and for the
+present the boys' boots are good. If I can let the rooms we shall have
+the rent, so that food is the chief thing to look to. We must spin the
+money out; must live upon bread and potatoes and a little milk, until
+something comes in. I wonder if five shillings a week would pay for bare
+food, and for coals? I fear----"
+
+Jane's dreams were interrupted. The front gate was swung open, and two
+people, men or gentlemen, approached the house door and knocked. Their
+movements were so quick that Jane caught only a glimpse of them. "See
+who it is, will you, William?"
+
+She heard them walk in and ask if she was at home. Putting down her
+work, she shook the threads from her black dress and went out to them,
+William returning to his lessons.
+
+The visitors were standing in the passage--one well-dressed man and one
+shabby one. The former made a civil demand for the half-year's rent due.
+Jane replied that she had written to Mr. Dare on the previous Saturday,
+explaining things to him, and asking him to wait a short time.
+
+"Mr. Dare cannot wait," was the rejoinder of the applicant, still
+speaking civilly. "You must allow me to remark, ma'am, that you are
+strangers to the town, that you have paid no rent since you entered the
+house----"
+
+"We believed it was the custom to pay half-yearly, as Mr. Dare did not
+apply for it at the Michaelmas quarter," interrupted Jane. "We should
+have paid then, had he asked for it."
+
+"At any rate, it is not paid," was the reply. "And--I am sorry, ma'am,
+to be under the necessity of leaving this man in possession until you do
+pay!"
+
+They walked deliberately into the best parlour; and Jane, amidst a
+rushing feeling of despair that turned her heart to sickness, knew that
+a seizure had been put into the house.
+
+As she stood in her bewilderment, Patience entered by the back door, the
+way she always did enter, and caught a glimpse of the shabby man. She
+drew Jane into the kitchen.
+
+"What does that man do here?" she inquired.
+
+For answer Jane sank into a chair and burst into sobs so violent as to
+surprise the calm Quakeress. She turned and shut the door.
+
+"Hush thee! Now hush thee! Thy children will hear and be terrified. Art
+thee behind with thy taxes?"
+
+For some minutes Jane could not reply. "Not for taxes," she said; "they
+are paid. Mr. Dare has put him in for the rent."
+
+Patience revolved the news in considerable astonishment. "Nay, but I
+think thee must be in error. Thomas Ashley would not do such a thing."
+
+"He has done it," sobbed Jane.
+
+"It is not in accordance with his character. He is a humane and
+considerate man. Verily I grieve for thee! That man is not an agreeable
+inmate of a house. We had him in ours last year!"
+
+"You!" uttered Jane, surprise penetrating even to her own grief. "You!"
+
+"They force us to pay church-rates," explained Patience. "We have a
+scruple to do so, believing the call unjust. For years Samuel Lynn had
+paid the claim to avert consequences; but last year he and many more
+Friends stood out against it. The result was, that that man, now in thy
+parlour, was put into our house. The amount claimed was one pound nine
+shillings; and they took out of our house, and sold, goods which had
+cost us eleven pounds, and which were equal to new."
+
+"Oh, Patience, tell me what I had better do!" implored Jane, reverting
+to her own trouble. "If we are turned out and our things sold, we must
+go to the workhouse. We cannot be in the streets."
+
+"Indeed, I feel incompetent to advise thee. Had thee not better see
+Anthony Dare, and try thy persuasion that he would remove the seizure
+and wait?"
+
+"I will go to him at once," feverishly returned Jane. "You will allow
+Janey to remain with you, Patience, while I do so?"
+
+"Of a surety I will. She----"
+
+At that moment the children burst into the kitchen, one after the other.
+"Mamma, who is that shabby-looking man come into the study? He has
+seated himself right in front of the fire, and is knocking it about. And
+the other is looking at the tables and chairs."
+
+It was Frank who spoke; impetuous
+
+Frank. Mrs. Halliburton cast a despairing look around her, and Patience
+drew their attention.
+
+"That man is here on business," she said to them. "You must not be rude
+to him, or he will be ten times more rude to you. The other will soon be
+gone. Your mother is going abroad for an hour; perhaps when she returns
+she will rid the house of him. Jane, child, thee can come with me and
+take thy dinner with Anna."
+
+Mrs. Halliburton waited until the better-looking of the two men was
+gone, and then started. It was a raw, cold day--what some people call a
+black frost. Black and gloomy it all looked to her, outwardly and
+inwardly, as she traversed the streets to the office of Mr. Dare.
+Patience had directed her, and the plate on the door, "Mr. Dare,
+Solicitor," showed her the right house. She stepped inside that door,
+which stood open, and knocked at one to the right of the passage.
+"Clerks' Room" was inscribed upon it.
+
+"Come in."
+
+Three or four clerks were in it. In one of them she recognized him who
+had just left her house. The other clerks appeared to defer to him, and
+called him "Mr. Stubbs." Jane, giving her name, said she wished to see
+Mr. Dare, and the request was conveyed to an inner room. It brought
+forth young Anthony.
+
+"My father is busy and cannot see you," was his salutation. "I can hear
+anything you may have to say. It will be the same thing."
+
+"Thank you," replied Jane, in courteous tones, very different from his.
+"But I would prefer to see Mr. Dare."
+
+"He is engaged, I say," sharply repeated Anthony.
+
+"I will wait, then. I must see him."
+
+Anthony Dare stalked back again. Jane, seeing a bench against the wall,
+sat down. It was about half-past twelve when she arrived there, and when
+the clock struck two, there she was still. Several clients, during that
+time, had come and gone; _they_ were admitted to Mr. Dare, but she sat
+on, neglected. At two o'clock Anthony came through the room with his hat
+on. He appeared to be going out.
+
+"What! are you here still?" he exclaimed, in genuine or affected
+surprise; never, in his ill-manners, removing his hat--he of whom it was
+his delight to hear it said that he was the most complete gentleman in
+Helstonleigh. "I assure you it is not of the least use your waiting. Mr.
+Dare will not be able to see you."
+
+"Mr. Dare can surely spare me a minute when he has done with others."
+
+"He cannot to-day. Can you not say to me what you want to say?"
+
+"Indeed I must see Mr. Dare himself. I will wait on, if you will allow
+me, hoping to do so."
+
+Anthony Dare vouchsafed no reply, and went out. One or two of the clerks
+looked round. They appeared not to understand why she sat on so
+persistently, or why Mr. Dare refused to see her.
+
+In about an hour's time the inner door opened. A tall man, with a bold,
+free countenance, looked into the room. Supposing it to be Mr. Dare,
+Jane rose and approached him. "Will you allow me a few minutes'
+conversation?" she asked. "I presume you are Mr. Dare?"
+
+He put up his hands as if to fence her off. "I have no time, I have no
+time," he reiterated, and shut the door in her face. Jane sat down again
+on the bench. "Stubbs, I want you," came forth from Mr. Dare's voice, as
+he opened the door an inch to speak it.
+
+Stubbs went in, remained a few minutes, and then returned, put on his
+hat, and walked out. His departure was the signal for considerable
+relaxation in the office duties. "When the cat's away--" you know the
+rest. Yawning, stretching, whispering, and laughing supervened. One of
+the clerks took from his pocket a paper of the biscuits called "Union"
+in Helstonleigh, and began eating them. Another pulled out a bottle, and
+solaced himself with some of its contents--whatever they might be.
+Suddenly the man with the biscuits got off his stool, and offered them
+to Mrs. Halliburton. Her pale, sad face may have prompted his good
+nature to the act.
+
+"You have waited a good while, ma'am, and perhaps have lost your dinner
+through it," he said.
+
+Jane took one of them. "You are very kind. Thank you," she faintly said.
+
+But not a crumb of it could she swallow. She had taken a slice of dry
+toast for her breakfast that morning, with half a cup of milk; and it
+was long since she had had a sufficiency of food at any meal. She felt
+weak, sick, faint; but anxiety and suspense were at work within,
+parching her throat, destroying her appetite. She held the biscuit in
+her fingers, resting on her lap, and, in spite of her efforts, the
+rebellious tears forced themselves to her eyes. Raising her hand, she
+quietly let fall her widow's veil.
+
+A poor-looking man came in, and counted out eight shillings, laying them
+upon the desk. "I couldn't make up the other two this week; I couldn't,
+indeed," he said, with trembling eagerness. "I'll bring twelve next
+week, please to say."
+
+"Mind you do," responded one of the clerks; "or you know what will be in
+store for you."
+
+The man shook his head. He probably did know; and, in going out, was
+nearly knocked over by a handsome lad of seventeen, who was running in.
+Very handsome were his features; but they were marred by the free
+expression which characterized Mr. Dare's.
+
+"I say, is the governor in?" cried he, out of breath.
+
+"Yes, sir. Lord Hawkesley's with him."
+
+"The deuce take Lord Hawkesley, then!" returned the young gentleman.
+"Where's Stubbs? I want my week's money, and I can't wait. Walker, I
+say, where's Stubbs?"
+
+"Stubbs is gone out, sir."
+
+"What a bother! Halloa! Here's some money! What is this?" continued the
+speaker, catching up the eight shillings.
+
+"It is some that has just been paid in, Master Herbert."
+
+"That's all right then," said he, slipping five of them into his jacket
+pocket. "Tell Stubbs to put it down as my week's money."
+
+He tore off. Jane sat on, wondering what she was to do. There appeared
+to be little probability that she would be admitted to Mr. Dare; and
+yet, how could she go home as she came--hopeless--to the presence of
+that man? No; she must wait still; wait until the last. She might catch
+a word with Mr. Dare as he was leaving. Jane could not help thinking his
+behaviour very bad in refusing to see her.
+
+The office was being lighted when Mr. Stubbs returned. One of the clerks
+pointed to the three shillings with his pen. "Kinnersley has brought
+eight shillings. He will make it twelve next week. Couldn't manage the
+ten this, he says."
+
+"Where are the eight shillings?" asked Stubbs. "I see only three."
+
+"Oh, Master Herbert came in, and took off five. He said you were to put
+it down as his week's money."
+
+"He'll take a little too much some day, if he's not checked," was the
+cynical reply of the senior clerk. "However, it's no business of mine."
+
+He put the three shillings into his own desk, and made an entry in a
+book. After that he went in to Mr. Dare, who was now alone. A large
+room, handsomely fitted up. Mr. Dare's table was near one of the
+windows: a desk, at which Anthony sometimes sat, was at the other. Mr.
+Dare looked up.
+
+"I could not do anything, sir," said Stubbs. "The other party will
+listen to no proposal at all. They say they'll throw it into Chancery
+first. An awful rage they are in."
+
+"Tush!" said Mr. Dare. "Chancery, indeed! They'll tell another tale in a
+day or two. Has Kinnersley been in?"
+
+"Kinnersley has brought eight shillings, and promises to bring twelve
+next Monday. Master Herbert carried off five of them, and left word it
+was for his week's money."
+
+"A smart blade!" cried Mr. Dare, apostrophizing his son with personal
+pride. "'Take it when I can,' is his motto. He'll make a good lawyer,
+Stubbs."
+
+"Very good," acquiesced Stubbs.
+
+"Is that woman gone yet?"
+
+"No, sir. My opinion is, she means to wait until she sees you."
+
+"Then send her in at once, and let's get it over," thundered Mr. Dare.
+
+In what lay his objection to seeing her? A dread lest she should put
+forth their relationship as a plea for his clemency? If so, he was
+destined to be agreeably disappointed. Jane did not allude to it; would
+not allude to it. After that interview held with Mrs. Dare, some three
+or four months before, she had dropped all remembrance of the
+connection: even the children did not know of it. She only solicited Mr.
+Dare's leniency now, as any other stranger might have solicited it.
+Little chance was there of Mr. Dare's acceding to her prayer: he and his
+wife both wanted Helstonleigh to be free of the Halliburtons.
+
+"It will be utter ruin," she urged. "It will turn us, beggars, into the
+streets. Mr. Dare, I _promise_ you the rent by the middle of February.
+Unless it were certain, my brother would not have promised it to me.
+Surely you may accord me this short time."
+
+"Ma'am, I cannot--that is, Mr. Ashley cannot. It was a reprehensible
+piece of carelessness on my part to suffer the rent to go on for half a
+year, considering that you were strangers. Mr. Ashley will look to me to
+see him well out of it."
+
+"There is sufficient furniture in my house, new furniture, to pay what
+is owing three times over."
+
+"May be, as it stands in it. Things worth forty pounds in a house, won't
+fetch ten at a sale."
+
+"That is an additional reason why I----"
+
+"Now, my good lady," interrupted Mr. Dare, with imperative civility,
+"one word is as good as a thousand; and that word I have said. I cannot
+withdraw the seizure, except on receipt of the rent and costs. Pay them,
+and I shall be most happy to do it. If you stop here all night I can
+give you no other answer; and my time is valuable."
+
+He glanced at the door as he spoke. Jane took the hint, and passed out
+of it. As much by the tone, as by the words, she gathered that there was
+no hope whatever.
+
+The streets were bright with gas as she hurried along, her head bent,
+her veil over her face, her tears falling silently. But when she left
+the town behind her, and approached a lonely part of the road where no
+eye was on her, no ear near her, then the sobs burst forth uncontrolled.
+
+"No eye on her? no ear near her?" Ay, but there was! There was one Eye,
+one Ear, which never closes. And as Jane's dreadful trouble resolved
+itself into a cry for help to Him who ever listens, there seemed to
+come a feeling of peace, of _trust_, into her soul.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+THOMAS ASHLEY.
+
+
+Frank met her as she went in. It was dark; but she kept her veil down.
+
+"Oh, mamma, that's the most horrible man!" he began, in a whisper. "You
+know the cheese you brought in on Saturday, that we might not eat our
+bread quite dry; well, he has eaten it up, every morsel, and half a loaf
+of bread! And he has burnt the whole scuttleful of coal! And he swore
+because there was no meat; and he swore at us because we would not go to
+the public-house and buy him some beer. He said we were to buy it and
+pay for it."
+
+"I said you would not allow us to go, mamma," interrupted William, who
+now came up. "I told him that if he wanted beer he must go and get it
+for himself. I spoke civilly, you know, not rudely. He went into such a
+passion, and said such things! It is a good thing Jane was out."
+
+"Where is Gar?" she asked.
+
+"Gar was frightened at the man, and the tobacco-smoke made him sick, and
+he cried; and then he lay down on the floor, and went to sleep."
+
+_She_ felt sick. She drew her two boys into the parlour--dark there,
+except for the lamp in the road, which shone in. Pressing them in her
+arms, completely subdued by the miseries of her situation, she leaned
+her forehead upon William's shoulder, and burst once more into a most
+distressing flood of tears.
+
+They were alarmed. They cried with her. "Oh, mamma! what is it? Why
+don't you order the man to go away?"
+
+"My boys, I must tell you; I cannot keep it from you," she sobbed. "That
+man is put here to remain, until I can pay the rent. If I cannot pay it,
+our things will be taken and sold."
+
+William's pulses and heart alike beat, but he was silent, Frank spoke.
+"Whatever shall we do, mamma?"
+
+"I do not know," she wailed. "Perhaps God will help us. There is no one
+else to do it."
+
+Patience came in, for about the sixth time, to see whether Jane had
+returned, and how the mission had sped. They called her into the cold,
+dark room. Jane gave her the history of the whole day, and Patience
+listened in astonishment.
+
+"I cannot but believe that Thomas Ashley must have been mis-informed,"
+said she, presently. "But that you are strangers in the place, I should
+say you had an enemy who may have gone to him with a tale that thee can
+pay, but will not. Still, even in that case, it would be unlike Thomas
+Ashley. He is a kind and a good man; not a harsh one."
+
+"Mr. Dare told me he was expressly acting for Mr. Ashley."
+
+"Well, I say that I cannot understand it," repeated Patience. "It is not
+like Thomas Ashley. I will give thee an instance of his disposition and
+general character. There was a baker rented under him, living in a house
+of Thomas Ashley's. The baker got behind with his rent; other bakers
+were more favoured than he; but he kept on at his trade, hoping times
+would mend. Year by year he failed in his rent--Thomas Ashley, mark
+thee, still paying him regularly for the bread supplied to his family.
+'Why do you not stop his bread-money?' asked one, who knew of this, of
+Thomas Ashley. 'Because he is poor, and looks to my weekly money, with
+that of others, to buy his flour,' was Thomas Ashley's answer. Well,
+when he owed several years' rent, the baker died, and the widow was
+going to move. Anthony Dare hastened to Thomas Ashley. 'Which day shall
+I levy a distress upon the goods?' asked he. 'Not at all,' replied
+Thomas Ashley. And he went to the widow, and told her the rent was
+forgiven, and the goods were her own, to take with her when she left.
+That is Thomas Ashley."
+
+Jane bent her head in thought. "Is Mr. Lynn at home?" she asked. "I
+should like to speak to him."
+
+"He has had his tea and gone back to the manufactory, but he will be
+home soon after eight. I will keep Jane till bedtime. She and Anna are
+happy over their puzzles."
+
+"Patience, am I obliged to find that man in food?"
+
+"That thee art. It is the law."
+
+The noise made by Patience in going away, brought the man forth from the
+study, a candle in his hand. "When is that mother of yours coming back?"
+he roared out to the boys. Jane advanced. "Oh, you are here!" he
+uttered, wrathfully. "What are you going to give me to eat and drink? A
+pretty thing this is, to have an officer in, and starve him!"
+
+"You shall have tea directly. You shall have what we have," she
+answered, in a low tone.
+
+The kettle was boiling on the study fire. Jane lighted a fire in the
+parlour, and sent Frank out for butter. The man smoked over the study
+fire, as he had done all the afternoon, and Gar slept beside him on the
+floor, but William went now and brought the child away. Jane sent the
+man his tea in, and the loaf and butter.
+
+The fare did not please him. He came to the parlour and said he must
+have meat; he had had none for his dinner.
+
+"I cannot give it you," replied Jane. "We are eating dry toast and
+bread, as you may see. I sent butter to you."
+
+He stood there for some minutes, giving vent to his feelings in rather
+strong language; and then he went back to revenge himself upon the
+butter for the want of meat. Jane laid her hand upon her beating throat:
+beating with its tribulation.
+
+Between eight and nine Jane went to the next door. Samuel Lynn had come
+home for the evening, and was sitting at the table in his parlour,
+helping the two little girls with a geographical puzzle, which had
+baffled their skill. He was a little man, quiet in movement, pale and
+sedate in feature, dry and unsympathising in manner.
+
+"Thee art in trouble, friend, I hear," he said, placing a chair for
+Jane, whilst Patience came and called the children away. "It is sad for
+thee."
+
+"In great trouble," answered Jane. "I came in to ask if you would serve
+me in my trouble. I fancy perhaps you can do so if you will."
+
+"In what way, friend?"
+
+"Would you interest yourself for me with Mr. Ashley? He might listen to
+you. Were he assured that the money would be forthcoming in February, I
+think he might agree to give me time."
+
+"Friend, I cannot do this," was the reply of the Quaker. "My relations
+with Thomas Ashley are confined to business matters, and I cannot
+overstep them. To interfere with his private affairs would not be
+seemly; neither might he deem it so. I am but his servant, remember."
+
+The words fell upon her heart as ice. She believed it her only
+chance--some one interceding for her with Mr. Ashley. She said so.
+
+"Why not go to him thyself, friend?"
+
+"Would he hear me?" hastily asked Jane. "I am a stranger to him."
+
+"Thee art his tenant. As to hearing thee, that he certainly would.
+Thomas Ashley is of a courteous nature. The poorest workman in our
+manufactory, going to the master with a grievance, is sure of a patient
+hearing. But if thee ask me would he grant thy petition, there I cannot
+inform thee. Patience opines that thee, or thy intentions, may have been
+falsely represented to him. I never knew him resort to harsh measures
+before."
+
+"When would be the best time to see him? Is it too late to-night?"
+
+"To-night would not be a likely time, friend, to trouble him. He has not
+long returned from a day's journey, and is, no doubt, cold and tired. I
+met James Meeking driving down as I came home; he had left the master at
+his house. They have been out on business connected with the
+manufactory. Thee might see him in the morning, at his breakfast hour."
+
+Jane rose and thanked the Quaker. "I will certainly go," she said.
+
+"There is no need to say to him that I suggested it to thee, friend. Go
+as of thy own accord."
+
+Jane went home with her little girl. Their undesirable visitor looked
+out at the study door, and began a battle about supper. It ought to
+comprise, in his opinion, meat and beer. He _insisted_ that one of the
+boys should go out for beer. Jane steadily refused. She was tempted to
+tell him that the children of a gentleman were not despatched to
+public-houses on such errands. She offered him the money to go and get
+some for himself.
+
+It aroused his anger. He accused her of wanting to get him out of the
+house by stratagem, that she might lock him out; and he flung the pence
+back amongst them. Janey screamed, and Gar burst out crying. As Patience
+had said, he was not a pleasant inmate. Jane ran upstairs, and the
+children followed her.
+
+"Where is he to sleep?" inquired William.
+
+It is a positive fact that, until that moment, Jane had forgotten all
+about the sleeping. Of course he must sleep there, though she had not
+thought of it. Amidst the poor in her father's parish in London, Jane
+had seen many phases of distress; but with this particular annoyance she
+had never been brought into contact. However, it had to be done.
+
+What a night that was for her! She paced her room nearly throughout it,
+with quiet movement, Janey sleeping placidly--now giving way to all the
+dark appearances of her position, to uncontrollable despondency; now
+kneeling and crying for help in her heartfelt anguish.
+
+Morning came; the black frost had gone, and the sun shone. After
+breakfast Jane put on her shawl and bonnet.
+
+Mr. Ashley's residence was very near to them--only a little higher up
+the road. It was a large house, almost a mansion, surrounded by a
+beautiful garden. Jane had passed it two or three times, and thought
+what a nice place it was. She repeatedly saw Mr. Ashley walk past her
+house as he went to or came from the manufactory: she was not a bad
+reader of countenances, and she judged him to be a thorough gentleman.
+His face was a refined one, his manner pleasant.
+
+She found that she had gone at an untoward time. Standing before the
+hall door was Mr. Ashley's open carriage, the groom standing at the
+horse's head. Even as Jane ascended the steps the door opened, and Mr.
+and Mrs. Ashley were coming forth. Feeling terribly distressed and
+disappointed, she scarcely defined why, Jane accosted the former, and
+requested a few minutes' interview.
+
+Mr. Ashley looked at her. A fair young widow, evidently a lady. He did
+not recognise her. He had seen her before, but she was in a different
+style of dress now.
+
+Mr. Ashley raised his hat as he replied to her. "Is your business with
+me pressing? I was just going out."
+
+"Indeed it is pressing," she said; "or I would not think of asking to
+detain you."
+
+"Then walk in," he returned. "A little delay will not make much
+difference."
+
+Opening the door of a small sitting-room, apparently his own, he invited
+her to a seat near the fire. As she took it, Jane untied the crape
+strings of her bonnet and threw back her heavy veil. She was as white as
+a sheet, and felt choking.
+
+"I fear you are ill," Mr. Ashley remarked. "Can I get you anything?"
+
+"I shall be better in a minute, thank you," she panted. "Perhaps you do
+not know me, sir. I live in your house, a little lower down. I am Mrs.
+Halliburton."
+
+"Oh, I beg your pardon, madam; I did not remember you at first. I have
+seen you in passing."
+
+His manner was perfectly kind and open. Not in the least like that of a
+landlord who had just put a distress into his tenant's house.
+
+"I have come here to beseech your mercy," she began in agitation. "I
+have not the rent now, but if you will consent to wait until the middle
+of February, it will be ready. Oh, Mr. Ashley, do not oppress me for it!
+Think of my situation."
+
+"I never oppressed any one in my life," was the quiet rejoinder of Mr.
+Ashley, spoken, however, in a somewhat surprised tone.
+
+"Sir, it is oppression. I beg your pardon for saying so. I promise that
+the rent shall be paid to you in a few weeks: to force my furniture from
+me now, is oppression."
+
+"I do not understand you," returned Mr. Ashley.
+
+"To sell my furniture under the distress will be utter ruin to me and my
+children," she continued. "We have no resource, no home; we shall have
+to lie in the streets, or die. Oh, sir, do not take it!"
+
+"But you are agitating yourself unnecessarily, Mrs. Halliburton. I have
+no intention of taking your furniture."
+
+"No intention, sir!" she echoed. "You have put in a distress."
+
+"Put in a what?" cried he, in unbounded surprise.
+
+"A distress. The man has been in since yesterday morning."
+
+Mr. Ashley looked at her a few moments in silence. "Did the man tell you
+where he came from?"
+
+"It was Mr. Dare who put him in--acting for you. I went to Mr. Dare, and
+he kept me waiting nearly five hours in his outer office before he would
+see me. When he did see me, he declined to hear me. All he would say
+was, that I must pay the rent or he should take the furniture: acting
+for Mr. Ashley."
+
+A strangely severe expression darkened Mr. Ashley's face. "First of all,
+my dear lady, let me assure you that I knew nothing of this, or it
+should never have been done. I am surprised at Mr. Dare."
+
+Could she fail to trust that open countenance--that benevolent eye? Her
+hopes rose high within her. "Sir, will you withdraw the man, and give me
+time?"
+
+"I will."
+
+The revulsion of feeling, from despair and grief, was too great. She
+burst into tears, having struggled against them in vain. Mr. Ashley rose
+and looked from the window; and presently she grew calmer. When he sat
+down again she gave him the outline of her situation; of her present
+dilemma; of her hopes--poor hopes that they were!--of getting a scanty
+living through letting her rooms and doing some sewing, or by other
+employment. "Were I to lose my furniture, it would take from me this
+only chance," she concluded.
+
+"You shall not lose it through me," warmly spoke Mr. Ashley. "The man
+shall be dismissed from your house in half an hour's time."
+
+"Oh, thank you, thank you!" she breathed, rising to leave. "I have not
+been able to supply him with great things in the shape of food, and he
+uses very bad language in the hearing of my children. Thank you, Mr.
+Ashley."
+
+He shook hands with her cordially, and attended her to the hall door.
+Mrs. Ashley, a pretty, lady-like woman, somewhat stately in general,
+stood there still. Well wrapped in velvet and furs, she did not care to
+return to the warm rooms. Jane said a few words of apology for detaining
+her, and passed on.
+
+Mr. Ashley turned back to his room, drew his desk towards him, and began
+to write. His wife followed him. "Who was that, Thomas?"
+
+"Mrs. Halliburton: our widowed tenant, next door to Samuel Lynn's. You
+remember I told you of meeting the funeral. Two little boys were
+following alone."
+
+"Oh, poor little things! yes. What did she want?"
+
+Mr. Ashley made no reply: he was writing rapidly. The note, when
+finished, was sealed and directed to Mr. Dare. He then helped his wife
+into the carriage, took the reins, and sat down beside her. The groom
+took his place in the seat behind, and Mr. Ashley drove round the gravel
+drive, out at the gate, and turned towards Helstonleigh.
+
+"Thomas, you are going the wrong way!" said Mrs. Ashley, in
+consternation. "What are you thinking of?"
+
+"I shall turn directly," he answered. There was a severe look upon his
+face, and he drove very fast, by which signs Mrs. Ashley knew something
+had put him out. She inquired, and he gave her the outline of what he
+had just heard.
+
+"How could Anthony Dare act so?" involuntarily exclaimed Mrs. Ashley.
+
+"I don't know. I shall give him a piece of my mind to-morrow more
+plainly than he will like. This is not the first time he has attempted a
+rascally action under cover of my name."
+
+"Shall you lose the rent?"
+
+"I think not, Margaret. She said not, and she carries sincerity in her
+face. I am sure I shall not lose it if she can help it. If I do, I must,
+that's all. I never yet added to the trouble of those in distress, and I
+never will."
+
+He pulled up at Mrs. Halliburton's house, which she had just reached
+also. The groom came to the horse, and Mr. Ashley entered. The "man" was
+comfortably stretched before the study fire, smoking his short pipe. Up
+he jumped when he saw Mr. Ashley, and smuggled his pipe into his pocket.
+His offensive manner had changed to humble servility.
+
+"Do you know me?" shortly inquired Mr. Ashley.
+
+The man pulled his hair in token of respect. "Certainly, sir. Mr.
+Ashley."
+
+"Very well. Carry this note to Mr. Dare."
+
+The man received the note in his hand, and held it there, apparently, in
+some perplexity. "May I leave, sir, without the authority of Mr. Dare?"
+
+"I thought you said you knew me," was Mr. Ashley's reply, haughty
+displeasure in his tone.
+
+"I beg pardon, sir," replied the man, pulling his hair again, and making
+a movement of departure. "I suppose I bain't a-coming back, sir?"
+
+"You are not."
+
+He took up a small bundle tied in a blue handkerchief, which he had
+brought with him and appeared excessively careful of, caught at his
+battered hat, ducked his head to Mr. Ashley, and left the house, the
+note held between his fingers. Would you like to see what it contained?
+
+     "Dear Sir,--I find that you have levied a distress on Mrs.
+     Halliburton's goods for rent due to me. That you should have
+     done so without my authority astonishes me much; that you
+     should have done so at all, knowing what you do of my
+     principles, astonishes me more. I send the man back to you. The
+     costs of this procedure you will either set down to me, or pay
+     out of your own pocket, whichever you may deem the more just;
+     but you will _not_ charge them to Mrs. Halliburton. Have the
+     goodness to call upon me to-morrow morning in East Street.
+
+     "THOMAS ASHLEY."
+
+"He will not trouble you again, Mrs. Halliburton," observed Mr. Ashley,
+with a pleasant smile, as he went out to his carriage.
+
+Jane stood at her window. She watched the man go towards Helstonleigh
+with the note; she watched Mr. Ashley step into his seat, turn his
+horse, and drive up the road. But all things were looking misty to her,
+for her eyes were dim.
+
+"God did hear me," was her earnest thought.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+HONEY FAIR.
+
+
+Helstonleigh abounded with glove manufactories. It was a trade that
+might be said to be a blessing to the localities where it was carried
+on, since it was one of the very few employments that furnished to the
+poor female population easy, clean, and profitable work _at their own
+homes_. The evils arising to women who go out to work in factories have
+been rehearsed over and over again; and the chief evil--we will put
+others out of sight--is, that it takes the married woman from her home
+and her family. Her young children drag themselves up in her absence,
+for worse or for better; alone they must do it, for she has to be away,
+toiling for daily bread. There is no home privacy, no home comfort, no
+home happiness; the factory is their life, and other interests give way
+to it. But with glove-making the case was different. Whilst the husbands
+were at the manufactories pursuing their day's work, the wives and elder
+daughters were earning money easily and pleasantly at home. The work was
+clean and profitable; all that was necessary for its accomplishment
+being common skill as a seamstress.
+
+Not five minutes' walk from Mrs. Halliburton's house, and nearer to
+Helstonleigh, a turning out of the main road led you to quite a colony
+of workwomen--gloveresses, as they were termed in the local phraseology.
+It was a long, wide lane; the houses, some larger, some smaller, built
+on either side of it. A road quite wide enough for health if the
+inhabitants had only kept it as it ought to have been kept: but they did
+not do so. The highway was made a common receptacle for refuse. It was
+so much easier to open the kitchen door (most of the houses were entered
+at once by the kitchen), and to "chuck" things out, _pele-mele_, rather
+than be at the trouble of conveying them to the proper receptacle, the
+dust-bin at the back. Occasionally a solitary policeman would come,
+picking his way through the dirt and dust, and order it to be removed;
+upon which some slight improvement would be visible for a day or two.
+The name of this charming place was Honey Fair; though, in truth, it was
+redolent of nothing so pleasant as honey.
+
+Of the occupants of these houses, the husbands and elder sons were all
+glove operatives; several of them in the manufactory of Mr. Ashley. The
+wives sewed the gloves at home. Many a similar colony to Honey Fair was
+there in Helstonleigh, but in hearing of one you hear of all. The trade
+was extensively pursued. A very few of the manufactories were of the
+extent that was Mr. Ashley's; and they gradually descended in size,
+until some comprised not half a score workmen, all told; but whose
+masters alike dignified themselves by the title of "manufacturer."
+
+There flourished a shop in the general line in Honey Fair kept by a Mrs.
+Buffle, a great gossip. Her husband, a well-meaning, steady little man,
+mincing in his speech and gait, scrupulously neat and clean in his
+attire, and thence called "the dandy," was chief workman at one of the
+smallest of the establishments. He had three men and two boys under him;
+and so he styled himself the "foreman." No one knew half so much of the
+affairs of their neighbours as did Mrs. Buffle; no one could tell of the
+ill-doings and shortcomings of Honey Fair as she could. Many a gloveress
+girl, running in at dusk for a halfpenny candle, did not receive it
+until she had first submitted to a lecture from Mrs. Buffle. Not that
+her custom was all of this ignoble description: some of the gentlemen's
+houses in the neighbourhood would deal with her in a chance way, when
+out of articles at home. Her wares were good; her home-cured bacon was
+particularly good. Amidst other olfactory treats indigenous to Honey
+Fair was that of pigs and pig-sties, kept by Mrs. Buffle.
+
+Occasionally Mrs. Halliburton would go to this shop; it was nearer to
+her house than any other; and, in her small way, had been extensively
+patronised by her. Of all her customers, Mrs. Halliburton was the one
+who most puzzled Mrs. Buffle. In the first place, she never gossiped; in
+the second, though evidently a lady, she would carry her purchases home
+herself. The very servants from the very large houses, coming flaunting
+in their smart caps, would loftily order their pound of bacon or
+shillingsworth of eggs sent home for them. Mrs. Halliburton took hers
+away in her own hand; and this puzzled Mrs. Buffle. "But her pays ready
+money," observed that lady, when relating this to another customer, "so
+'tain't my place to grumble."
+
+During the summer weather, whenever Jane had occasion to walk through
+Honey Fair, on her way to this shop, she would linger to admire the
+women at their open doors and windows, busy over their nice clean work.
+Rocking the cradle with one foot, or jogging the baby on their knees, to
+a tune of their own composing, their hands would be ever active at their
+employment. Some made the gloves; that is, seamed the fingers together
+and put in the thumbs, and these were called "makers." Some welted, or
+hemmed the gloves round at the edge of the wrist; these were called
+"welters." Some worked the three ornamental lines on the back; and these
+were called "pointers." Some of the work was done in what was called a
+patent machine, whereby the stitches were rendered perfectly equal. And
+some of the stouter gloves were stitched together, instead of being
+sewn: stitching so beautifully regular and neat, that a stranger would
+look at it in admiration. In short, there were different branches in the
+making and sewing of gloves, as there are in most trades.
+
+It now struck Jane that she might find employment at this work until
+better times should come round. True, she had never worked at it; but
+she was expert with her needle, and it was easily acquired. She
+possessed a dry, cool hand, too; a great thing where sewing-silk,
+sometimes floss silk, has to be used. What cared she for lowering
+herself to the employment only dealt out to the poor? Was she not poor
+herself? And who knew her in Helstonleigh?
+
+The day that Mr. Ashley removed the dreaded visitor from her house, Jane
+had occasion to speak to Elizabeth Carter, her young servant's mother.
+At dusk, putting aside the frock she was making for Anna, Jane proceeded
+to Honey Fair, in which perfumed locality Mrs. Carter lived. An
+agreement had been entered into that Betsy should still go to Mrs.
+Halliburton's to do the washing (after her own fashion, but Jane could
+not afford to be fastidious now), and also what was wanted in the way of
+scouring--Betsy being paid a trifle in return, and instructed in the
+mysteries of reading and writing.
+
+"'Taint no profit," observed Mrs. Carter to a crony, "but 'taint no
+loss. Her won't do nothing at home, let me cry after her as I will. Out
+her goes, gampusing to this house, gampusing to that; but not a bit of
+work'll her stick to at home. If these new folks can keep her to work a
+bit, so much the better; it'll be getting her hand in; and better still,
+if they teaches her to read and write. Her wouldn't learn nothing from
+the school-missis."
+
+Not a very favourable description of Miss Betsy. But, what the girl
+chiefly wanted was a firm hand over her. Her temper and disposition were
+good; but she was an only child, and her mother, though possessing a
+firm hand, and a firm tongue, too, in general--none more so in Honey
+Fair--had spoilt and indulged Miss Betsy until her authority was gone.
+
+After her business was over this evening with Mrs. Carter, Jane, who
+wanted some darning cotton, turned into Mrs. Buffle's shop. That
+priestess was in her accustomed place behind the counter. She curtseyed
+twice, and spoke in a low, subdued tone, in deference to the widow's cap
+and bonnet--to the deep mourning altogether, which Mrs. Buffle's
+curiosity had not had the gratification of beholding before.
+
+"Would you like it fine or coarse, mum? Here's both. 'Taint a great
+assortment, but it's the best quality. I don't have much call for
+darning cotton, mum; the folks round about is always at their gloving
+work."
+
+"But they must mend their stockings," observed Jane.
+
+"Not they," returned Mrs. Buffle. "They'd go in naked heels, mum, afore
+they'd take a needle and darn 'em up. They have took to wear them untidy
+boots to cover the holes, and away they go with 'em unlaced; tongue
+hanging, and tag trailing half a mile behind 'em. Great big slatterns,
+they be!"
+
+"They seem always at work," remarked Jane.
+
+"Always at work!" repeated Mrs. Buffle. "You don't know much of 'em,
+mum, or you'd not say it. They'll play one day, and work the next;
+that's their work. It's only a few of the steady ones that'll work
+regular, all the week through."
+
+"What could a good, steady workwoman earn a week at the glove-making?"
+
+"That depends, mum, upon how close she stuck to it," responded Mrs.
+Buffle.
+
+"I mean, sitting closely."
+
+"Oh, well," debated Mrs. Buffle carelessly, "she might earn ten
+shillings a week, and do it comfortable."
+
+Ten shillings a week! Jane's heart beat hopefully. Upon ten shillings a
+week she might manage to exist, to keep her children from starvation,
+until better days arose. _She_, impelled by necessity, could sit longer
+and closer, too, than perhaps those women did. Mrs. Buffle continued,
+full of inward gratulation that her silent customer had come round to
+gossip at last.
+
+"They be the improvidentest things in the world, mum, these gloveress
+girls. Sundays they be dressed up as grand as queens, flowers inside
+their bonnets, and ribbuns out, a-setting the churches and chapels
+alight with their finery; and then off for walks with their sweethearts,
+all the afternoon and evening. Mondays is mostly spent in waste,
+gathering of themselves at each other's houses, talking and laughing,
+or, may be, off to the fields again--anything for idleness. Tuesdays is
+often the same, and then the rest of the week they has to scout over
+their work, to get it in on the Saturday. Ah! you don't know 'em, mum."
+
+Jane paid for her darning cotton and came away, much to Mrs. Buffle's
+regret. "Ten shillings a week," kept ringing in her ears.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+MRS. REECE AND DOBBS.
+
+
+Jane was busy that evening; but the following morning she went into
+Samuel Lynn's. Patience was in the kitchen, washing currants for a
+pudding; the maid upstairs at her work. Jane held the body of Anna's
+frock in her hand. She wished to try it on.
+
+"Anna is not at home," was the reply of Patience. "She is gone to spend
+the day with Mary Ashley."
+
+Jane felt sorry; she had been in hopes of finishing it that day.
+"Patience," said she, "I want to ask your advice. I have been thinking
+that I might get employment at sewing gloves. It seems easy work to
+learn."
+
+"Would thee like the work?" asked Patience. "Ladies have a prejudice
+against it, because it is the work supplied to the poor. Not but that
+some ladies in this town, willing to eke out their means, do work at it
+in private. They get the work brought out to them and taken in."
+
+"That would be the worst for me," observed Jane: "taking in the work. I
+do fear I should not like it."
+
+"Of course not. Thee could not go to the manufactory and stand amid the
+crowd of women for thy turn to be served as one of them. Wait thee an
+instant."
+
+Patience dried her hands upon the roller-towel, and took Jane into the
+best parlour, the one less frequently used. Opening a closet, she
+reached from it a small, peculiar-looking machine, and some unmade
+gloves: the latter were in a basket, covered over with a white cloth.
+
+"This is different work from what the women do," said she. "It is what
+is called the French point, and is confined to a few of the chief
+manufacturers. It is not allowed to be done publicly, lest all should
+get hold of the stitch. Those who employ the point have it done in
+private."
+
+"Who does it here?" exclaimed Jane.
+
+"I do," said Patience, laughing. "Did thee think I should be like the
+fine ladies, ashamed to put my hand to it? I and James Meeking's wife do
+all that is at present being done for the Ashley manufactory. But now,
+look thee. Samuel Lynn was saying only last night, that they must search
+out for some other hand who would be trustworthy, for they want more of
+the work done. It is easy to learn, and I know they would give it thee.
+It is a little better paid than the other work, too. Sit thee down and
+try it."
+
+Patience fixed the back of the glove in the pretty little square
+machine, took the needle--a peculiar one--and showed how it was to be
+done. Jane, in a glow of delight, accomplished some stitches readily.
+
+"I see thee would be handy at it," said Patience. "Thee can take the
+machine indoors to-day and practise. I will give thee a piece of old
+leather to exercise upon. In two or three days thee may be quite
+perfect. I do not work very much at it myself, at which Samuel Lynn
+grumbles. It is all my own profit, what I earn, so that he has no
+selfish motive in urging me to work, except that they want more of it
+done. But I have my household matters to attend to, and Anna takes up my
+time. I get enough for my clothes, and that is all I care for."
+
+"I know I could do it! I could do it well, Patience."
+
+"Then I am sure thee may have it to do. They will supply thee with a
+machine, and Samuel Lynn will bring thy work home and take it back
+again, as he does mine. He----"
+
+William was bursting in upon them with a beaming face. "Mamma, make
+haste home. Two ladies are asking to see the rooms."
+
+Jane hurried in. In the parlour sat a pleasant-looking old lady in a
+large black silk bonnet. The other, smarter, younger (but _she_ must
+have been forty at least), and very cross-looking, wore a Leghorn bonnet
+with green and scarlet bows. She was the old lady's companion,
+housekeeper, servant, all combined in one, as Jane found afterwards.
+
+"You have lodgings to let, ma'am," said the old lady. "Can we see them?"
+
+"This is the sitting-room," Jane was beginning; but she was interrupted
+by the smart one in a snappish tone.
+
+"_This_ the sitting-room! Do you call this furnished?"
+
+"Don't be hasty, Dobbs," rebuked her mistress. "Hear what the lady has
+to say."
+
+"The furniture is homely, certainly," acknowledged Jane. "But it is new
+and clean. That is a most comfortable sofa. The bedrooms are above."
+
+The old lady said she would see them, and they proceeded upstairs. Dobbs
+put her head into one room, and withdrew it with a shriek. "This room
+has no bedside carpets."
+
+"I am sorry to say that I have no bedside carpets at present," said
+Jane, feeling all the discouragement of the avowal. "I will get some as
+soon as I possibly can, if any one taking the rooms will kindly do
+without them for a little while."
+
+"Perhaps we might, Dobbs," suggested the old lady, who appeared to be of
+an accommodating, easy nature; readily satisfied.
+
+"Begging your pardon, ma'am, you'll do nothing of the sort," returned
+Dobbs. "We should have you doubled up with cramp, if you clapped your
+feet on to a cold floor. _I_ am not going to do it."
+
+"I never do have cramp, Dobbs."
+
+"Which is no reason, ma'am, why you never should," authoritatively
+returned Dobbs.
+
+"What a lovely view from these back windows!" exclaimed the old lady.
+"Dobbs, do you see the Malvern Hills?"
+
+"We don't eat and drink views," testily responded Dobbs.
+
+"They are pleasant to look at though," said her mistress. "I like these
+rooms. Is there a closet, ma'am, or small apartment that we could have
+for our trunks, if we came?"
+
+"We are not coming," interrupted Dobbs, before Jane could answer.
+"Carpetless floors won't suit us, ma'am."
+
+"There is a closet here, over the entrance," said Jane to the old lady,
+as she opened the door. "Our own boxes are in it now, but I can have
+them moved upstairs."
+
+"So there's a cock-loft, is there?" put in Dobbs.
+
+"A what?" cried Jane, who had never heard the word. "There is nothing
+upstairs but an attic. A garret, as it is called here."
+
+"Yes," burst forth Dobbs, "it is called a garret by them that want to be
+fine. Cock-loft is good enough for us decent folk: we've never called it
+anything else. Who sleeps up there?" she summarily demanded.
+
+"My little boys. This was their room, but I have put them upstairs that
+I may let this one."
+
+"There ma'am!" said Dobbs, triumphantly, as she turned to her mistress.
+"You'll believe me another time, I hope! I told you I knew there was a
+pack of children. One of 'em opened the door to us."
+
+"Perhaps they are quiet children," said the old lady, who had been so
+long used to the grumbling and domineering of Dobbs, that she took it as
+a matter of course.
+
+"They are, indeed," said Jane, "quiet, good children. I will answer for
+it that they will not disturb you in any way."
+
+"I should like to see the kitchen, ma'am," said the old lady.
+
+"We only want the use of it," snapped Dobbs. "Our kitchen fire goes out
+after dinner, and I boil the kettle for tea in the parlour."
+
+"Would attendance be required?" asked Jane of the old lady.
+
+"No, it wouldn't," answered Dobbs, in the same tart tone. "I wait upon
+my missis, and I wait upon myself, and we have a woman in to do the
+cleaning, and the washing goes out."
+
+The answer gave Jane great relief. _Attending_ upon lodgers had been a
+dubious prospect in more respects than one.
+
+"It's a very good kitchen," said the old lady, as they went in, and she
+turned round in it.
+
+"I'll be bound it smokes," said Dobbs.
+
+"No, it does not," replied Jane.
+
+"Where's the coalhouse?" asked Dobbs. "Is there two?"
+
+"Only one," said Jane. "It is at the back of the kitchen."
+
+"Then--if we did come--where could our coal be put?" fiercely demanded
+Dobbs. "I must have my coalhouse to myself, with a lock and key. I don't
+want the house's fires supplied from my missis's coal."
+
+Jane's cheeks flushed as she turned to the old lady. "Allow me to assure
+you that your property--of whatever nature it may be--will be perfectly
+sacred in this house. Whether locked up or not, it will be left
+untouched by me and mine."
+
+"To be sure, ma'am," pleasantly returned the old lady. "I'm not afraid.
+You must not mind what Dobbs says: she means nothing."
+
+"And our safe for meat and butter," proceeded that undaunted
+functionary. "Is there a key to it?"
+
+"And now about the rent?" said the old lady, giving Jane no time to
+answer that there was a key.
+
+Jane hesitated. And then, with a flush, asked twenty shillings a week.
+
+"My conscience!" uttered Dobbs. "Twenty shillings a week. And us finding
+spoons and linen!"
+
+"Dobbs," said the old lady. "I don't see that it is so very out of the
+way. A parlour, two bedrooms, a closet, and the kitchen, all
+furnished----"
+
+"The closet's an empty, dark hole, and the kitchen's only the use of it,
+and the bedrooms are carpetless," reiterated Dobbs, drowning her
+mistress's voice. "But, if anybody asked you for your head, ma'am, you'd
+just cut it off and give it, if I wasn't at hand to stop you."
+
+"Well, Dobbs, we have seen nothing else to suit us up here. And you know
+I want to settle myself at this end of the town, on account of it being
+high and dry. Parry says I must."
+
+"We have not half looked yet," said Dobbs.
+
+"A pound a-week is a good price, ma'am; and we have not paid quite so
+much where we are: but I don't know that it's unreasonable," continued
+the old lady to Jane. "What shall we do, Dobbs?"
+
+"Do, ma'am! Why, of course you'll come out, and try higher up. To take
+these rooms without looking out for others, would be as bad as buying a
+pig in a poke. Come along, ma'am. Bedrooms without carpets won't do for
+us at any price," she added to Jane by way of a party salutation.
+
+They left the house, the lady with a cordial good morning, Dobbs with
+none at all; and went quarrelling up the road. That is, the old lady
+reasoning, and Dobbs disputing. The former proposed, if they saw nothing
+to suit them better, to purchase bedside carpeting: upon which Dobbs
+accused her of wanting to bring herself to the workhouse.
+
+Patience, who had watched them away, from her parlour window, came in to
+learn the success. She brought in with her the machine, a plain piece of
+leather, the size of the back of a glove, neatly fixed in it. Jane's
+tears were falling.
+
+"I think they would have taken them had there been bedside carpets,"
+sighed she. "Oh, Patience, what a help it would been! I asked a pound a
+week."
+
+"Did thee? That was a good price, considering thee would not have to
+give attendance."
+
+"How do you know I should not?" asked Jane.
+
+"Because I know Hannah Dobbs waits upon her mistress," replied Patience.
+"She is the widow of Joseph Reece, and he left her well off. I heard
+they were coming to live up this way. Did they quite decline them?
+Because, I can tell thee what. We have some strips of bedside carpet not
+being used, and I would not mind lending them till thee can buy others.
+It is a pity thee should lose the letting for the sake of a bit of
+carpet."
+
+Jane looked up gratefully. "What should I have done without you,
+Patience?"
+
+"Nay, it is not much: thee art welcome. I would not risk the carpet with
+unknown people, but Hannah Dobbs is cleanly and careful."
+
+"She has a very repelling manner," observed Jane.
+
+"It is not agreeable," assented Patience, with a smile; "but she is
+attached to her mistress, and serves her faithfully."
+
+Jane sat down to practise upon the leather, watching the road at the
+same time. In about an hour she saw Mrs. Reece and Dobbs returning.
+William went out, and asked if they would step in.
+
+They were already coming. They had seen nothing they liked so well. Jane
+said she believed she could promise them bedside carpets.
+
+"Then, I think we will decide, ma'am," said the old lady. "We saw one
+set of rooms, very nice ones; and they asked only seventeen shillings
+a-week: but they have a young man lodger, a pupil at the infirmary, and
+he comes home at all hours of the night. Dobbs questioned them till they
+confessed that it was so."
+
+"I know what them infirmary pupils is," indignantly put in Dobbs. "I am
+not going to suffer my missis to come in contact with their habits.
+There ain't one of 'em as thinks anything of stopping out till morning
+light. And before the sun's up they'll have a pipe in their mouths,
+filling the house with smoke! It's said, too, that there's mysterious
+big boxes brought to 'em, for what they call the 'furtherance of
+science': perhaps some of the churchyard sextons could tell what's in
+'em!"
+
+"Well, Dobbs. I think we may take this good lady's rooms. I'm sure we
+shan't get better suited elsewhere."
+
+Dobbs only grunted. She was tired with her walk, and had really no
+objection to the rooms; except as to price: that, she persisted in
+disputing as outrageous.
+
+"I suppose you would not take less?" said the old lady to Jane.
+
+Jane hesitated; but it was impossible for her to be otherwise than
+candid and truthful. "I would take a trifle less, sooner than not let
+you the rooms; but I am very poor, and every shilling is a consideration
+to me."
+
+"Well, I will take them at the price," concluded the good-natured old
+lady. "And Dobbs, if you grumble, I can't help it. Can we come in--let
+me see?--this is Wednesday----"
+
+"I won't come in on a Friday for anybody," interrupted Dobbs fiercely.
+
+"We will come in on Tuesday next, ma'am," decided the old lady. "Before
+that, I'll send in a trolley of coal, if you'll be so kind as to receive
+it."
+
+"And to lock it up," snapped Dobbs.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+THE GLOVE OPERATIVES.
+
+
+At the hours of going to and leaving work, the Helstonleigh streets were
+alive with glove operatives, some being in one branch of the trade, some
+in another. There were parers, grounders, leather-sorters, dyers,
+cutters, makers-up, and so on: all being necessary, besides the sewing,
+to turn out one pair of gloves; though, I dare say, you did not think
+it. The wages varied according to the particular work, or the men's
+ability and industry, from fifteen shillings a week to twenty-five: but
+all could earn a good living. If a man gained more than twenty-five, he
+had a stated salary; as was the case with the foremen. These wages,
+joined to what was earned by the women, were sufficient to maintain a
+comfortable home, and to bring up children decently. Unfortunately the
+same drawbacks prevailed in Helstonleigh that are but too common
+elsewhere; and they may be classed under one general head--improvidence.
+The men were given to idling away at the public-houses more time than
+was good for them: the women to scold and to quarrel. Some were
+slatterns; and a great many gave their husbands the welcome of a home of
+discomfort, ill-management, and dirt: which, of course, had the effect
+of sending them out all the more surely.
+
+Just about this period, the men had their especial grievance--or thought
+they had: and that was, a low rate of wages and not full employment. Had
+they paid a visit to other places and compared their wages with some
+earned by operatives of a different class, they had found less cause to
+complain. The men were rather given to comparing present wages with
+those they had earned before the dark crisis (dark as far as
+Helstonleigh's trade was concerned) when the British ports were opened
+to foreign gloves. But few, comparatively speaking, of the manufacturers
+had weathered that storm. Years have elapsed since then: but the
+employment remained scarce, and the wages (I have quoted them to you)
+low. Altogether, the men were, many of them, dissatisfied. They even
+went so far as to talk of a "strike"; strikes being less common in those
+days than they are in these.
+
+It was Saturday night, and the streets were crowded. The hands were
+pouring out of the different manufactories; clean-looking, respectable
+workmen, as a whole: for the branches of glove-making are for the most
+part of a cleanly nature. Some wore their white aprons; some had rolled
+them up round their waists. A few--very few, it must be owned--were
+going to their homes, but the greater portion were bound for the
+public-house.
+
+One of the most extensively patronised of the public-houses was The
+Cutters' Arms. On a Saturday night, when the men's pockets were lined,
+this would be crowded. The men flocked into it now and filled it,
+although its room for entertainment was very large. The order from most
+of them was a pint of mild ale and some tobacco.
+
+"Any news, Joe Fisher?" asked a man, when the pipes were set going.
+
+Joe Fisher tossed his head and growled. He was a tall, dark man; clothes
+and condition both dilapidated. The questioner took a few whiffs, and
+repeated his question. Joe growled again, but did not speak.
+
+"Well, you might give a chap a civil answer, Fisher."
+
+"What's the matter, you two?" cried a third.
+
+"Ben Wilks asks me is there any news!" called out Fisher, indignantly.
+"I thought he might ha' heered on't without asking. Our pay was docked
+again to-night; that's the news."
+
+"No!" uttered Wilks.
+
+"It were," said Fisher savagely. "A shilling a week less, good. Who's
+a-going to stand it?"
+
+"There ain't no help for standing it," interposed a quiet-looking man
+named Wheeler. "I suppose the masters is forced to lower. They say so."
+
+"Have your master forced hisself to it?" angrily retorted Fisher.
+
+"Well, Fisher, you know I'm fortunate. As all is that gets in to work at
+Ashley's."
+
+"And precious good care they take to stop in!" cried Fisher, much
+aggravated. "No danger that Ashley's hands'll give way and afford
+outsiders a chance."
+
+"Why should they give way?" sensibly asked Wheeler. "_You_ need never
+think to get in at Ashley's, Fisher, so there's no cause for you to
+grumble."
+
+A titter went round at Fisher's expense. He did not like it. "I might
+stand my chance with others, if there was room. Who says I couldn't?
+Come, now!"
+
+A man laughed. "You had better ask Samuel Lynn that question, Fisher.
+Why, he wouldn't look at you! You are not steady enough for him."
+
+"Samuel Lynn may go along for a ill-natured broadbrim!" was Fisher's
+retort. "There'd not be half the difficulty in getting in with Mr.
+Ashley hisself."
+
+"Yes, there would," said Wheeler, quietly. "Mr. Ashley pays first wages,
+and he'll have first hands. Quaker Lynn knows what he's about."
+
+"Don't dispute about nothing, Fisher," interrupted a voice, borne
+through the clouds of smoke from the far end of the room. "To lose a
+shilling a week is bad, but not so bad as losing all. I have heard ill
+news this evening."
+
+Fisher stretched up his long neck. "Who's that a-talking? Is it Mr.
+Crouch?"
+
+It was Stephen Crouch; the foreman in a large firm, and a respectable,
+intelligent man. "Do you remember, any of you, that a report arose some
+time ago about Wilson and King? A report that died away again?"
+
+"That they were on their last legs," replied several voices. "Well?"
+
+"Well, they are off them now," continued Stephen Crouch.
+
+Up rose a man, his voice shaking with emotion. "It's not true, Mr.
+Crouch, sure--ly!"
+
+"It is, Vincent. Wilson and King are going to wind up. It will be
+announced next week."
+
+"Mercy help us! There'll be forty more hands throwed out! What's to
+become of us all?"
+
+A dead silence fell on the room. Vincent broke it. Hope is strong in the
+human heart. "Mr. Crouch, I don't think it can be true. Our wages was
+all paid up to-night. And we have not heard a breath on't."
+
+"I know all that," said Stephen Crouch. "I know where the money came
+from to pay them. It came from Mr. Ashley."
+
+The assertion astonished the room. "From Mr. Ashley! Did he tell it
+abroad?"
+
+"_He_ tell it!" indignantly returned Stephen Crouch. "Mr. Ashley is an
+honourable man. No. Wilson and King have a tattler too near to them;
+that's how it came out. Not but what it would have been known all over
+Helstonleigh on Monday, all particulars. Every sixpence, pretty near,
+that Wilson and King have, is locked up in their stock. They expected
+remittances by the London mail this morning, and they did not come. They
+went to the bank. The bank was shy, and would not make advances; and
+they had nothing in hand for wages. They went to Mr. Ashley and told him
+their perplexity, and he drew a cheque. The bank cashed that, with a
+bow. And if it had not been for Mr. Ashley, Ned Vincent, you and the
+rest of their hands would have gone home to-night with empty pockets."
+
+"Will Mr. Ashley lose the money?"
+
+"Not he. He knew there was no danger of that, when he lent it. Nobody
+will lose by Wilson and King. They have more than enough to pay
+everybody in full; only their money's locked up."
+
+"Why are they giving up?"
+
+"Because they can't keep on. They have been losing a long while. What do
+you ask--what will they do? They must do as others have done before
+them, who have been unable to keep on. If Wilson and King had given up
+ten years ago, they had then each a nice little bit of property to
+retire upon. But it has been sunk since. There are too many others in
+this city in the same ease."
+
+"And what's to become of us hands that's throwed out?" asked Vincent,
+returning to his own personal grievance.
+
+"You must try and get taken on somewhere else, Vincent," observed
+Stephen Crouch.
+
+"There ain't a better cutter than Ned Vincent going," cried another
+voice. "He won't wait long."
+
+"I don't know about that," returned Vincent gloomily. "The masters is
+overdone with hands."
+
+"Of all the bad luck as ever fell upon a town, the opening of the ports
+to them foreign French was the worst for Helstonleigh," broke in the
+intemperate voice of Fisher.
+
+
+"Hold th' tongue, Fisher!" exclaimed a sensible voice. "We won't get
+into them discussions again. Didn't we go over 'em, night after night,
+and year after year, till we were heart-sick?--and what did they ever
+bring us but ill-feeling? It's done, and it can't be undone. The ports
+be open, and they'll never be closed again."
+
+"Did the opening of 'em ruin the trade of Helstonleigh, or didn't it?
+Answer me that," said Fisher.
+
+"It did. We know it to our cost," was the sad answer. "But there's no
+help for it."
+
+"Oh," returned Fisher ironically. "I thought you were going to hold out
+that the opening of 'em was a boon to the place, and the keeping 'em
+open a blessing. That 'ud be a new dodge. _Why_ do they keep 'em open?"
+
+"Just hark at Fisher!" said Mr. Buffle in a mincing tone. "He wants to
+know why Government keeps open the British ports. Don't every dozen of
+gloves that comes into the country pay a heavy duty? Is it likely
+Government would give up that, Fisher?"
+
+"What did they do afore they had it?" roared Fisher. "If they did
+without the duty then, they could do without it now."
+
+"I have heered of some gents as never tasted sugar," returned Mr.
+Buffle; "but I never heered of one, who had the liking for it, as was
+willing to forego the use of it. It's a case in pint; the Government
+have tasted the sweets of the glove-duty, and they stick to it."
+
+"Avaricious wolves!" growled Fisher. "But you are a fool, dandy, for all
+that. What's a bit of paltry duty, alongside of our wants? If a few of
+them great Government lords had to go on empty stomachs for a month,
+they'd know what the opening of ports means."
+
+"In all political changes, such as this, certain localities must
+suffer," broke in the quiet voice of Stephen Crouch. "It will be the
+means of increasing commerce wonderfully; and we, that the measure
+crushed, must be content to suffer for the general good. The effects to
+us can never be undone. I know what you say, Fisher," he continued,
+silencing Fisher by a gesture. "I know that the ports might be re-closed
+to-morrow, if Government so willed it. But it could not undo for us what
+has been done. It could not repair the ruin that was wrought on
+Helstonleigh. It could not reinstate firms in business; or refund to the
+masters their wasted capital; or collect the hands it scattered over the
+country, to find a bit of work, to beg, or to starve; or bring the dead
+back to life. It could not do any of this. Neither would it restore a
+flourishing trade to those of us who are left."
+
+"What's that last, Crouch?"
+
+"It never would," emphatically repeated Stephen Crouch. "A shattered
+trade cannot be brought together again. It is like a shattered glass:
+you may mourn over the pieces, but you cannot put them together. Believe
+me, or not, as you please, my friends, but the only thing remaining is,
+to make the best of what is left to us. There are other trades a deal
+worse off than we are."
+
+"I have talked to ye about that there move--a strike," resumed Fisher,
+after a pause. "We shall get no good till we try it----"
+
+"Fisher, don't you be a fool and show it," was the imperative
+interruption of Stephen Crouch. "I have explained to you till I am
+tired, what would be the effects of a strike. It would just finish you
+bad workmen up, and send you and your children into the nearest dry
+ditch for a floor, with the open skies above you for a roof."
+
+"We have never tried a strike in Helstonleigh," answered Fisher, holding
+to his own opinion.
+
+"And I trust we never shall," returned the intelligent foreman. "Other
+trades may have their strikes if they choose, and it's not our business
+to find fault with them for it; but the glove trade has hitherto kept
+itself aloof from strikes, and it's to be hoped it always will. You
+cannot understand how a strike works, Joe Fisher, or you'd not let your
+head be running on it."
+
+"Others' heads be running on it as well as mine, Master Crouch," said
+Fisher, nodding significantly.
+
+"It is not improbable," was the equable rejoinder of Stephen Crouch. "Go
+and strike next week, half a dozen of you. I mean the operatives of half
+a dozen firms."
+
+"Every firm in the place must strike," interrupted Fisher hastily. "A
+few on us doing it would only make bad worse."
+
+Stephen Crouch smiled. "Exactly. But the difficulty, Fisher, will be,
+that all the firms _won't_ strike. Ask the men in our firm to strike;
+ask those in Ashley's; ask others that we could name--and what would
+their answer be? Why, that they know when they are well off. Suppose,
+for argument's sake, that we did all strike; suppose all the hands in
+Helstonleigh struck next Monday morning, and the manufactories had to be
+closed? Who would have the worst of it?--we or the masters?"
+
+"The masters," returned Fisher in an obstinate tone.
+
+"No. The masters have good houses over their heads, and their bankers'
+books to supply their wants while they are waiting--and their orders are
+not so great that they need fear much pressure on that score. The London
+houses would dispatch a few extra orders to Paris and Grenoble, and the
+masters here might enjoy a nice little trip to the sea-side while our
+senses were coming back to us. But where should we be? Out at elbows,
+out at pocket, out at heart; some starving, some in the workhouse. If
+you want to avoid those contingencies, Joe Fisher, you'll keep from
+strikes."
+
+Fisher answered by an ironical cheer. "Here, missis," said he to the
+landlady, who was then passing him, "let's have another pint, after
+that."
+
+"That'll make nine pints you owe for since Monday night, Joe Fisher,"
+responded the landlady.
+
+"What if I do?" grunted Fisher irascibly. "I am able to pay. _I_ ain't
+out of work."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI.
+
+THE LADIES OF HONEY FAIR.
+
+
+It was Saturday night in Honey Fair. A night when the ladies were at
+leisure to abandon themselves to their private pursuits. The work of the
+past week had gone into the warehouses; and the fresh work brought out
+would not be begun until Monday morning. Some of them, as Mrs. Buffle
+has informed us, did not begin it then. The women chiefly cleaned their
+houses and mended their clothes; some washed and ironed--Honey Fair was
+not famous for its management--not going to bed till Sunday morning;
+some did their marketing; and a few, careless and lazy, spent it in
+running from house to house, or congregated in the road to gossip.
+
+About half-past eight, one of the latter suddenly lifted the latch of a
+house door and thrust in her head. It was Joe Fisher's wife. Her face
+was red, and her cap in tatters.
+
+"Is our Becky in here, Mrs. Carter?"
+
+Mrs. Carter was busy. She was the maternal parent of Miss Betsy. Her
+kitchen fire was out, her furniture was heaped one thing upon another; a
+pail of water stood ready to wash the brick floor, when she should have
+finished rubbing up the grate, and her hands and face were as grimy as
+the black-lead.
+
+"There's no Becky here," snapped she.
+
+"I can't find her," returned Mrs. Fisher. "I thought her might be along
+of your Betsy. I say, here's your husband coming round the corner.
+There's Mark Mason and Robert East and Dale along of him. And--my! what
+has that young 'un of East's been doing to hisself? He's black from head
+to foot. Come and look."
+
+Mrs. Carter disdained the invitation. She was a hard-working, thrifty
+woman, but a cross one. Priding herself upon her cleanliness, she
+perpetually returned loud thanks that she was not as the dirty ones
+around her. She was the Pharisee amidst many publicans.
+
+"If I passed my time staring and gossiping as some does, where 'ud my
+work be?" was her rebuke. "Shut the door, Suke Fisher."
+
+Suke Fisher did as she was bid. She turned her wrists back upon her
+hips, and walked to meet the advancing party, having discerned their
+approach by the light of the gas-lamps. "Be you going to be sold for a
+blackamoor?" demanded she of the boy.
+
+The boy laughed. His head, face, shoulders, hands, were ornamented with
+a thick, black liquid, not unlike blacking. He appeared to enjoy the
+treat, as if he had been anointed with some fragrant oil.
+
+"He is not a bad spectacle, is he, Dame Fisher?" remarked the young man,
+whom she had called Robert East.
+
+"What's a-done it?" questioned she.
+
+"Him and Jacky Brumm got larking, and upset the dye-pot upon themselves.
+We rubbed 'em down with the leather shreds, but it keeps on dripping
+from their hair."
+
+"Won't Charlotte warm his back for him!" apostrophised Mrs. Fisher.
+
+The boy threw a disdainful look at her, in return for the remark.
+"Charlotte's not so fond of warming backs. She never even scolds for an
+accident."
+
+The boy and Robert East were half-brothers. They entered one of the
+cottages. Robert East and his sister were between twenty and thirty, and
+the boy was ten. Their mother had died early, and the young boy's
+mother, their father's second wife, died when the child was born. The
+father also died. How Robert and his sister, the one then seventeen, the
+other fourteen, had struggled to make a living for themselves, and to
+bring up the baby, they alone knew. The manner in which they had
+succeeded was a marvel to many; none were more respectable now than they
+were in all Honey Fair.
+
+Charlotte, neat and nice, sat by her bright kitchen fire, a savoury stew
+cooking on the hob beside it. It was her custom to have something good
+for supper on a Saturday night. Did she make home attractive on that
+night to draw her brother from the seductions of the public-house? Most
+likely. And she had her reward: for Robert never failed to come. The
+cloth was laid, the red bricks of the floor were clean, and Charlotte's
+face, as she looked up from her stocking-mending, was bright. It
+darkened to consternation, however, when she cast her eyes on the boy.
+
+"Tom, what _have_ you been doing?"
+
+"Jacky Brumm threw a pot of dye over me, Charlotte."
+
+"There's not much real damage, Charlotte," interposed her brother. "It
+looks worse than it is. I'll get it out of his hair presently, and put
+his clothes into a pail of water. What have you got to-night? It smells
+good."
+
+He alluded to supper, and took off the lid of the saucepan to peep in.
+She had some stewed beef, with carrots, and the savoury steam ascended
+to Robert's pleased face.
+
+Very few in Honey Fair managed as did Charlotte East. How she did her
+housework no one knew. Not a woman, married or single, got through more
+glove-sewing than Charlotte. Not one kept her house in better order: and
+her clothes and her brother's were neat and respectable, week-days as
+well as Sundays. Her work was taken into the warehouse on Saturday
+mornings, and her marketing was done. In the afternoon she cleaned her
+house, and by four o'clock was ready to sit down to her mending. No one
+ever saw her in a bustle, and yet all her work was done; and well done.
+Perhaps one great secret of it was that she rose very early in the
+morning, winter and summer.
+
+"Look, Robert, here is a nice book I have bought," said she, putting a
+periodical into his hands. "It comes out weekly. I shall take it in."
+
+Robert turned over the leaves. "It seems very interesting," he said
+presently. "Here's a paper that tells all about the Holy Land. And
+another that tells us how glass is made; I have often wondered."
+
+"You can read it to us of an evening while I work," said she. "It will
+be quite a help to our getting on Tom: almost as good as sending him to
+school. I gave----"
+
+The words were interrupted. The door was violently burst open, and a
+woman entered the kitchen; knocking at doors before entering was not the
+fashion in Honey Fair. The intruder was Mrs. Brumm.
+
+"I say, Robert East, did you see anything of my husband?"
+
+"I saw him go into the Horned Ram."
+
+"Then I wish the Horned Ram was into him!" wrathfully retorted Mrs.
+Brumm. "He vowed faithfully he'd come home with his wages the first
+thing after leaving work. He knows I have not a thing in the place for
+to-morrow--and Dame Buffle looking out for her money. I have a good mind
+to go down to the Horned Ram, and be on to him!"
+
+Robert East offered no opinion upon this delicate point. He remembered
+the last time Mrs. Brumm had gone to the Horned Ram to be "on" to her
+husband, and what it had produced. A midnight quarrel that disturbed the
+slumbers of Honey Fair.
+
+"Who was along of him?" pursued she.
+
+"Three or four of them. Hubbard and Jones, I saw go in: and Adam
+Thorneycroft."
+
+A quick rising of the head, as if startled, and a faint accession of
+colour, told that one of those names had struck, perhaps unpleasantly,
+on the ear of Charlotte East. "Where are your own earnings?" she asked
+of Mrs. Brumm.
+
+"I have had to take them to Bankes's," was the rueful reply. "It's a
+good deal now, and they're in a regular tantrum this week, and wouldn't
+even wait till Monday. They threatened to tell Brumm, and it frightened
+me out of my seventeen senses. And now, for him to go into that dratted
+Horned Ram with his wages! and me without a pennypiece! It's not more
+for the necessaries I want to get in, than for the things that is in
+pawn. I can't iron nothing: the irons is there."
+
+Charlotte, busy still, turned round. "I would not put in irons, and such
+things, that I wanted to use."
+
+"I dare say you wouldn't!" tartly responded Mrs. Brumm. "One has to put
+in what one's got, and the things our husbands won't miss the sight of.
+It's fine to be you, Charlotte East, setting yourself up for a lady, and
+never putting your foot inside the pawn-shop, with your clean hands and
+your clean kitchen on a Saturday night, sitting down to a hot supper,
+while the rest of us is a-scrubbing!"
+
+Charlotte laughed good-humouredly. "If I tried to set myself up for a
+lady, I could not be one. I work as hard as anybody; only I get it done
+betimes."
+
+Mrs. Brumm sniffed--having no ready answer at hand. And at that moment
+Tom East, encased in black, peeped out of the brewhouse, where he had
+been sent by Charlotte to wash the dye off his hands. "Sakes alive!"
+uttered Mrs. Brumm, aghast at the sight.
+
+"Jacky's worse than me," responded Tom, rather proud of having to say
+so much. Robert explained to her how it had happened.
+
+"And our Jacky's as bad as that!" she cried. "Won't I wring it out of
+him!"
+
+"Nonsense," said Robert; "it was an accident. Boys will be boys."
+
+"Yes, they will: and it's not the men that have to wash for 'em and keep
+'em clean!" retorted Mrs. Brumm, terribly wrathful. "And me at a
+standstill for my irons! And that beast of a Brumm stopping out."
+
+"I will lend you my irons," said Charlotte.
+
+"I won't take 'em," was the ungracious reply. "If I don't get my own, I
+won't borrow none. Brumm, he'll be looking out for his Sunday clean
+shirt to-morrow, and he won't get it; and that'll punish him more than
+anything else. There's not a man in Honey Fair as likes to go sprucer on
+a Sunday than Brumm."
+
+"So much the better," said Charlotte. "When men lose pride in their
+appearance, they are apt to lose it in their conduct."
+
+"You must always put in your word for folks, Charlotte East, let 'em be
+ever so bad," was Mrs. Brumm's parting salutation, as she went off and
+shut the door with a bang.
+
+Meanwhile Timothy Carter, Mrs. Carter's husband, had turned into his own
+dwelling, after leaving Robert East. The first thing to greet him was
+the pail of water. Mrs. Carter had completed her grate, and was dashing
+her water on to the floor. Timothy received it on his legs.
+
+"What's that for?" demanded Timothy, who was a meek and timid little
+man.
+
+"Why do you brush in so sharp, then?" cried she. "Who was to know you
+was a-coming?"
+
+Timothy had not "brushed in sharp;" he had gone in quietly. He stood
+ruefully shaking the wet from his legs, first one, then the other, and
+afterwards began to pick his way on tiptoe towards the fireplace.
+
+"Now, it's of no use your attempting to sit down yet," rebuked his wife,
+in her usual cross accents. "There ain't no room for you at the fire,
+and there ain't no warmth in it; it's but this blessed minute lighted.
+Sit yourself on that table, again the wall, and then your legs'll be in
+the dry."
+
+"And there I may sit for an hour, for you'll be all that time before you
+have finished, by the looks on't," he ventured to remonstrate.
+
+"And half another hour to the end of it," answered she. "There's Betsy,
+as ought to be helping, gadding out somewhere ever since she came home
+at seven o'clock."
+
+"You says to me, says you, 'You come home to-night, Tim, as soon as
+work's over, and don't go drinking!' You know you did," repeated Timothy
+in an injured tone.
+
+"And it's a good thing as you have come, or you'd have heard my tongue
+in a way you wouldn't like!" was Mrs. Carter's reply.
+
+Timothy sighed. That tongue was the two-edged sword of his life: how
+dreaded, none but himself could tell. He had mounted the table in
+obedience to orders, but he now got off again.
+
+"What are you after now?" shrilly demanded Mrs. Carter, who was on her
+knees, scouring the bricks.
+
+"I want my pipe and 'baccy."
+
+"You stop where you are," was the imperative answer, "and wait till I
+have time to get it;" and Timothy humbly sat down again.
+
+"You might get this done afore night, 'Lizabeth, as I've said over and
+over again," cried he, plucking up a little spirit. "When a man comes
+home tired, even if there ain't a bit o' supper for him, he expects a
+morsel o' fire to sit down to, so as he can smoke his pipe in quiet. It
+cows him, you see, to find his place in this ruck, where there ain't a
+dry spot to put the sole of his foot on, and nothing but a table with
+unekal legs to sit upon, and----"
+
+"I might get it done afore?" shrieked Mrs. Carter. "Afore! When, through
+that Betsy's laziness, leaving everything on my shoulders, I couldn't
+get in my gloving till four o'clock this afternoon! Every earthly thing
+have I had to do since then. I raked out my fire----"
+
+"What's the good of raking out the fire?" interposed Timothy.
+
+"Goodness help the simpleton! Wanting to know the good of raking out the
+fire--as if he was born yesterday! Can a grate be black-leaded while
+it's hot, pray?"
+
+"It might be black-leaded at some other time," debated he. "In a
+morning, perhaps."
+
+"I dare say it might, if I had not my gloving to do," she answered,
+trembling with wrath. "When folks takes out shop work, they has to get
+on with that--and is glad to do it. Where would you be if I earned
+nothing? It isn't much of a roof we should have over our heads, with
+your paltry fifteen or sixteen shillings a-week. You be nothing but a
+parer, remember."
+
+"There's no need to disparage of me, 'Lizabeth," he rejoined, with a
+meek little cough. "You knowed I was a parer before you ventured on me."
+
+"Just take your legs up higher, or you'll be knocking my cap with your
+dirty boots," said Mrs. Carter, who was nearing the table in her
+scrubbing.
+
+"I'll stand outside the door a bit, I think," he answered. "I am in your
+way everywhere."
+
+"Sit where you are, and lift up your legs," was the reiterated command.
+And Timothy obeyed.
+
+Cold and dreary, on he sat, watching the cleaning of the kitchen. The
+fire gave out no heat, and the squares of bricks did not dry. He took
+some silver from his pocket, and laid it in a stack on the table beside
+him, for his wife to take up at her leisure. She allowed him no chance
+of squandering _his_ wages.
+
+A few minutes, and Mrs. Carter rose from her knees and went into the
+yard for a fresh supply of water. Timothy did not wait for a second
+ducking. He slipped off the table, took a shilling from the heap, and
+stole from the house.
+
+Back came Mrs. Carter, her pail brimming. "You go over to Dame Buffle's,
+Tim, and----Why, where's he gone?"
+
+He was not in the kitchen, that was certain; and she opened the
+staircase door, and elevated her voice shrilly. "Are you gone tramping
+up my stairs, with your dirty boots? Tim Carter, I say, are you
+upstairs?"
+
+Of course Tim Carter was not upstairs: or he had never dared to leave
+that voice unanswered.
+
+"Now, if he has gone off to any of them sotting publics, he shan't hear
+the last of it," she exclaimed, opening the door and gazing as far as
+the nearest gas-light would permit. But Timothy was beyond her eye and
+reach, and she caught up the money and counted it. Fourteen shillings.
+One shilling of it gone.
+
+She knew what it meant, and dashed the silver into a wide-necked
+canister on the high mantelshelf, which contained also her own earnings
+for the week. It would have been as much as meek Tim Carter's life was
+worth to touch that canister, and she kept it openly on the
+mantel-piece. Many unfortunate wives in Honey Fair could not keep their
+money from their husbands even under lock and key. As she was putting
+the canister in its place again, Betsy came in. Mrs. Carter turned
+sharply upon her.
+
+"Now, miss! where have you been?"
+
+"Law, mother, how you fly out! I have only been to Cross's."
+
+"You ungrateful piece of brass, when you know there's so much to be done
+on a Satur-night that I can't turn myself round! You shan't go gadding
+about half your time. I'll put you from home entire, to a good tight
+service."
+
+Betsy had heard the same threat so often that its effect was gone. Had
+her mother only kept her in one-tenth of the subjection that she did her
+husband, it might have been better for the young lady. "I was only in at
+Cross's," she repeated.
+
+"What's the good of telling me that falsehood? I went to Cross's after
+you, but you wasn't there, and hadn't been there. You want a good sound
+shaking, miss."
+
+"If I wasn't at Cross's, I was at Mason's," was the imperturbable reply
+of Miss Betsy. "I was at Mason's first. Mark Mason came home and turned
+as sour as a wasp, because the place was in a mess. She was washing her
+children, and she's got the kitchen to do, and he began blowing up. I
+left 'em then, and went in to Cross's. Mason went back down the hill;
+so he'll come home tipsy."
+
+"Why can't she get her children washed afore he comes home?" retorted
+Mrs. Carter, who could see plenty of motes in her neighbours' eyes,
+though utterly blind to the beam in her own. "Such wretched management!
+Children ought to be packed out of the way by seven o'clock."
+
+"You don't get your cleaning over, any more than she does," remarked
+Miss Betsy boldly.
+
+Mrs. Carter turned an angry gaze upon her; a torrent of words breaking
+from her lips. "I get my cleaning over! I, who am at work every moment
+of my day, from early morning till late at night! You'd liken me to that
+good-for-nothing Het Mason, who hardly makes a dozen o' gloves in a
+week, and keeps her house like a pigsty! Where would you and your father
+be, if I didn't work to keep you, and slave to make the place sweet and
+comfortable? Be off to Dame Buffle's and buy me a besom, you ungrateful
+monkey: and then you turn to and dust these chairs."
+
+Betsy did not wait for a second bidding. She preferred going for besoms,
+or for anything else, to her mother's kitchen and her mother's scolding.
+Her coming back was another affair; she would be just as likely to
+propel the besom into the kitchen and make off herself, as to enter.
+
+She suddenly stopped now, door in hand, to relate some news.
+
+"I say, mother, there's going to be a party at the Alhambra
+tea-gardens."
+
+"A party at the Alhambra tea-gardens, with frost and snow on the
+ground!" ironically repeated Mrs. Carter. "Be off, and don't be an oaf."
+
+"It's true," said Betsy. "All Honey Fair's going to it. I shall go too.
+'Melia and Mary Ann Cross is going to have new things for it, and----"
+
+"Will you go along and get that besom?" cried angry Mrs. Carter. "No
+child of mine shall go off to their Alhambras, catching their death on
+the wet grass."
+
+"Wet grass!" echoed Betsy. "Why, you're never such a gaby as to think
+they'd have a party on the grass! It is to be in the big room, and
+there's to be a fiddle and a tam----"
+
+"----bourine" never came. Mrs. Carter sent the wet mop flying after Miss
+Betsy, and the young lady, dexterously evading it, flung-to the door and
+departed.
+
+A couple of hours later, Timothy Carter was escorted home, his own
+walking none of the steadiest. The men with him had taken more than
+Timothy; but it was that weak man's misfortune to be overcome by a
+little. You will allow, however, that he had taken enough, having spent
+his shilling and gone into debt besides. Mrs. Carter received
+him----Well, I am rather at a loss to describe it. She did not actually
+beat him, but her shrill voice might be heard all over Honey Fair,
+lavishing hard names upon helpless Tim. First of all, she turned out
+his pockets. The shilling was all gone. "And how much more tacked on to
+it?" asked she, wise by experience. And Timothy was just able to
+understand and answer. He felt himself as a lamb in the fangs of a wolf.
+"Eightpence halfpenny."
+
+"A shilling and eightpence halfpenny chucked away in drink in one
+night!" repeated Mrs. Carter. She gave him a short, emphatic shake, and
+propelled him up the stairs; leaving him without a light, to get to bed
+as he could. She had still some hours' work downstairs, in the shape of
+mending clothes.
+
+But it never once occurred to Mrs. Carter that she had herself to thank
+for his misdoings. With a tidy room and a cheerful fire to receive him,
+on returning from his day's work, Timothy Carter would no more have
+thought of the public-houses than you or I should. And if, as did
+Charlotte East, she had welcomed him with a good supper and a pleasant
+tongue, poor Tim in his gratitude had forsworn public-houses for ever.
+
+Neither, when Mark Mason staggered home, and _his_ wife raved at and
+quarrelled with him, to the further edification of Honey Fair, did it
+strike that lady that she could be in fault. As Mrs. Carter had said,
+Henrietta Mason did not overburden herself with work of any sort; but
+she did make a pretence of washing her four children in a bucket on a
+Saturday night, and her kitchen afterwards. The ceremony was delayed
+through idleness and bad management to the least propitious part of the
+evening. So sure as she had the bucket before the fire, and the children
+collected round it; one in, one just out roaring to be dried, and the
+two others waiting their turn for the water, all of them stark
+naked--for Mrs. Mason made a point of undressing them at once to save
+trouble--so sure, I say, as these ablutions were in progress, the
+children frantically crying, Mrs. Mason boxing, storming, and rubbing,
+and the kitchen swimming, in would walk the father. Words invariably
+ensued: a short, sharp quarrel; and he would turn out again for the
+nearest public-house, where he was welcomed by a sociable room and a
+glowing fire. Can any one be surprised that it should be so?
+
+You must not think these cases overdrawn; you must not think them
+exceptional cases. They are neither the one nor the other. They are
+truthful pictures, taken from what Honey Fair was then. I very much fear
+the same pictures might be taken from some places still.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII.
+
+MR. BRUMM'S SUNDAY SHIRT.
+
+
+But there's something to say yet of Mrs. Brumm. You saw her turning away
+from Robert East's door, saying that her husband, Andrew, had promised
+to come home that night and to bring his wages. Mrs. Brumm, a bad
+manager, as were many of the rest, would probably have received him with
+a sloppy kitchen, buckets, and besoms. Andrew had had experience of
+this, and, disloyal knight that he was, allowed himself to be seduced
+into the Horned Ram. He'd just take one pint and a pipe, he said to his
+conscience, and be home in time for his wife to get what she wanted. A
+little private matter of his own would call him away early. Pressed for
+a sum of money in the week which was owing to his club, and not
+possessing it, he had put his Sunday coat in pledge: and this he wanted
+to get out. However, a comrade sitting in the next chair to him at the
+Horned Ram had to get _his_ coat out of the same accommodating
+receptacle. Nothing more easy than for him to bring out Andrew's at the
+same time; which was done. The coat on the back of his chair, his pipe
+in his mouth, and a pint of good ale before him, the outer world was as
+nothing to Andrew Brumm.
+
+At ten o'clock, the landlord came in. "Andrew Brumm, here's your wife
+wanting to see you."
+
+Now Andrew was not a bad sort of man by any means, but he had a great
+antipathy to being looked after. A joke went round at Andrew's expense;
+for if there was one thing the men in general hated more than another,
+it was that their wives should come in quest of them to the
+public-houses. Mrs. Brumm received a sharp reprimand; but she saw that
+he was, as she expressed it, "getting on," so she got some money from
+him and kept her scolding for another opportunity.
+
+She did not go near the pawnbroker's to get her irons out. She bought a
+bit of meat and what else she wanted, and returned to Honey Fair. Robert
+East was closing his door for the night as she passed it. "Has Brumm
+come home?" he asked.
+
+"Not he, the toper! He is stuck fast at the Horned Ram, getting in for
+it nicely. I have been after him for some money."
+
+"Have you got your irons out?" inquired Charlotte, coming to the door.
+
+"No, nor nothing else; and there's pretty near half the kitchen in. It's
+him that'll suffer. He has been getting out his own coat, but he can't
+put it on. Leastways, he won't without a clean collar and shirt; and let
+him fish for _them_. Wait till to-morrow comes, Mr. 'Drew Brumm!"
+
+"Was _his_ coat in?" returned Charlotte, surprised.
+
+"That it was. Him as goes on so when I puts a thing or two in! He owed
+some money at his club, and he went and put his coat in for four
+shillings, and Adam Thorneycroft has been and fetched it out for him."
+
+"Adam Thorneycroft!" involuntarily returned Charlotte.
+
+"Thorneycroft's coat was in too, and he went for it just now, and Brumm
+gave him the ticket to get out his. Smith's daughter told me that. She
+was serving with her mother in the bar."
+
+"Is Adam Thorneycroft at the Horned Ram still?"
+
+"That he is: side by side with Brumm. A nice pair of 'em! Charlotte
+East, take my advice; don't you have anything to say to Thorneycroft. A
+woman had better climb up to the top of her topmost chimbley and pitch
+herself off, head foremost, than marry a man given to drink."
+
+Charlotte East felt vexed at the allusion--vexed that her name should be
+coupled openly with that of Adam Thorneycroft by the busy tongues of
+Honey Fair. That an attachment existed between herself and Adam
+Thorneycroft was true; but she did not wish the fact to become too
+apparent to others. Latterly she had been schooling her heart to forget
+him, for he was taking to frequent public-houses.
+
+Mrs. Brumm went home, and was soon followed by her husband. He was not
+much the worse for what he had taken: he was a little. Mrs. Brumm
+reproached him with it, and a wordy war ensued.
+
+They arose peaceably in the morning. Andrew was a civil, well-conducted
+man, and but for Horned Rams would have been a pattern to three parts of
+Honey Fair. He liked to be dressed well on Sunday and to attend the
+cathedral with his two children: he was very fond of listening to the
+chanting Mrs. Brumm--as was the custom generally with the wives of Honey
+Fair--stayed at home to cook the dinner. Andrew was accustomed to do
+many odd jobs on the Sunday morning, to save his wife trouble. He
+cleaned the boots and shoes, brushed his clothes, filled the coal-box,
+and made himself useful in sundry other ways. All this done, they sat
+down to breakfast with the two children, the unfortunate Jacky less
+black than he had been the previous night.
+
+"Now, Jacky," said Brumm, when the meal was over, "get yourself ready;
+it has gone ten. Polly too."
+
+"It's a'most too cold for Polly this morning," said Mrs. Brumm.
+
+"Not a bit on't. The walk'll do her good, and give her an appetite for
+dinner. What is for dinner, Bell? I asked you before, but you didn't
+answer."
+
+"It ain't much thanks to you as there's anything," retorted Mrs. Brumm,
+who rejoiced in the aristocratic name of Arabella. "You plant yourself
+again at the Horned Ram, and see if I worries myself to come after you
+for money. I'll starve on the Sunday first."
+
+"I can't think what goes of your money," returned Andrew. "There had not
+used to be this fuss if I stopped out for half an hour on the Saturday
+night, with my wages in my pocket. Where does yours go to?"
+
+"It goes in necessaries," shortly answered Mrs. Brumm. But not caring
+for reasons of her own to pursue this particular topic, she turned to
+that of the dinner. "I have half a shoulder of mutton, and I'm going to
+take it to the bake'us with a batter pudden under it, and to boil the
+taters at home."
+
+"That's capital!" returned Andrew, gently rubbing his hands. "There's
+nothing nicer than baked mutton and a batter pudden. Jacky, brush your
+hair well: it's as rough as bristles."
+
+"I had to use a handful of soda to get the dye out," said Mrs. Brumm.
+"Soda's awful stuff for making the hair rough."
+
+Andrew slipped out to the Honey Fair barber, who did an extensive
+business on Sunday morning, to be shaved. When he returned he went up to
+wash and dress, and finally uncovered a deal box where he was accustomed
+to find his clean shirt. With all Mrs. Brumm's faults she had neat ways.
+The shirt was not there.
+
+"Bell, where's my clean shirt?" he called out from the top of the
+stairs.
+
+Mrs. Bell Brumm had been listening for the words and received them with
+satisfaction. She nodded, winked, and went through a little pantomime of
+ecstasy, to the intense delight of the children, who were in the secret,
+and nodded and winked with her. "Clean shirt?" she called back again, as
+if not understanding.
+
+"My Sunday shirt ain't here."
+
+"You haven't got no Sunday shirt to-day."
+
+Andrew Brumm descended the stairs in consternation. "No Sunday shirt!"
+he repeated.
+
+"No shirt, nor no collar, nor no handkercher," coolly affirmed Mrs.
+Brumm. "There ain't none ironed. They be all in the wet and the rough,
+wrapped up in an old towel. Jacky and Polly haven't nothing either."
+
+Brumm stared considerably. "Why, what's the meaning of that?"
+
+"The irons are in pawn," shortly answered Mrs. Brumm. "You know you
+never came home with the money, so I couldn't get 'em out."
+
+Another wordy war. Andrew protested she had no "call" to put the irons
+in any such place. She impudently retorted that she should put the house
+in if she liked.
+
+A hundred such little episodes could be related of the domestic life of
+Honey Fair.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+THE MESSRS. BANKES.
+
+
+On the Monday morning, a troop of the gloveress girls flocked into
+Charlotte East's. They were taking holiday, as was usual with them on
+Mondays. Charlotte was a favourite. It is true, she "bothered" them, as
+they called it, with good advice, but they liked her in spite of it.
+Charlotte's kitchen was always tidy and peaceful, with a bright fire
+burning in it: other kitchens would be full of bustle and dirt.
+Charlotte never let them hinder her; she worked away at her gloves all
+the time. Charlotte was a glove-maker; that is, she sewed the fingers
+together, and put in the thumbs, forgits, and quirks. Look at your own
+gloves, English made. The long strips running up inside the fingers are
+the forgits; and the little pieces between, where the fingers open, are
+the quirks. The gloves Charlotte was occupied with now were of a very
+dark green colour, almost black, called corbeau in the trade, and they
+were sewn with white silk. Charlotte's stitches were as beautifully
+regular as though she had used a patent machine. The white silk and the
+fellow glove to the one she was making, lay inside a clean white
+handkerchief doubled upon her lap; other gloves, equally well covered,
+were in a basket at her side.
+
+The girls had come in noisily, with flushed cheeks and eager eyes.
+Charlotte saw that something was exciting them. They liked to tell her
+of their little difficulties and pleasures. Betsy Carter had informed
+her mother that there was going to be a "party at the Alhambra
+tea-gardens," if you remember; and this was the point of interest
+to-day. These "Alhambra tea-gardens," however formidable and perhaps
+suggestive the name, were very innocent in reality. They belonged to a
+quiet roadside inn, half a mile from the town, and comprised a large
+garden and extensive lawn. The view from them was beautiful; and many a
+party from Helstonleigh, far higher in the scale of society than these
+girls, would go there in summer to take tea and enjoy the view. A young,
+tall, handsome girl of eighteen had drawn her chair close to
+Charlotte's. She was the half-sister of Mark Mason, and had her home
+with him and his wife; supporting herself after a fashion by her work.
+But she was always in debt to them, and she and Mrs. Mark did not get
+along well together. She wore a new shawl, and straw bonnet trimmed with
+blue ribbons: and her dark hair fell in glossy ringlets--as was the
+fashion then. Two other girls perched themselves on a table. They were
+sisters--Amelia and Mary Ann Cross; others placed themselves where they
+could. Somewhat light were they in manner, these girls; free in speech.
+Nothing farther. If an unhappy girl did, by mischance, turn out badly,
+or, as the expressive phrase had it, "went wrong," she was forthwith
+shunned, and shunned for ever. Whatever may have been the faults and
+failings prevailing in Honey Fair, this sort of wrong-doing was not
+common amongst them.
+
+"Why, Caroline, that is new!" exclaimed Charlotte East, alluding to the
+shawl.
+
+Caroline Mason laughed. "Is it not a beauty?" cried she. And it may be
+remarked that in speech and accent she was superior to some of the
+girls.
+
+Charlotte took a corner of it in her hand. "It must have cost a pound at
+least," she said. "Is it paid for?"
+
+Again Caroline laughed. "Never you mind whether it's paid for or not,
+Charlotte. You won't be called upon for the money for it. As I told my
+sister-in-law yesterday."
+
+"You did not want it, Caroline; and I am quite sure you could not afford
+it. Your winter cloak was good yet. It is so bad a plan, getting goods
+on credit. I wish those Bankeses had never come near the place!"
+
+"Don't you run down Bankes's, Charlotte East," interposed Eliza Tyrrett,
+a very plain girl, with an ill-natured expression of face. "We should
+never get along at all if it wasn't for Bankes's."
+
+"You would get along all the better," returned Charlotte. "How much are
+they going to charge you for this shawl, Caroline?"
+
+Caroline and Eliza Tyrrett exchanged peculiar glances. There appeared to
+be some secret between them, connected with the shawl. "Oh, a pound or
+so," replied Caroline. "What was it, Eliza?"
+
+Eliza Tyrrett burst into a loud laugh, and Caroline echoed it. Charlotte
+East did not press for the answer. But she did press the matter against
+dealing with Bankes's; as she had pressed it many a time before.
+
+A twelvemonth ago, some strangers had opened a linen-draper's shop in a
+back street of Helstonleigh; brothers of the name of Bankes. They
+professed to do business upon credit, and to wait upon people at their
+own homes, after the fashion of hawkers. Every Monday would one of them
+appear in Honey Fair, a great pack of goods on his back, which would be
+opened for inspection at each house. Caps, shawls, gown-pieces, calico,
+flannel, and finery, would be displayed in all their fascinations. Now,
+you who are reading this, only reflect on the temptation! The women of
+Honey Fair went into debt; and it was three parts the work of their
+lives to keep the finery, and the system, from the knowledge of their
+husbands.
+
+"Pay us so much weekly," Bankes's would say. And the women did so: it
+seemed like getting a gown for nothing. But Bankes's were found to be
+strict in collecting the instalments; and how these weekly payments told
+upon the wages, I will leave you to judge. Some would have many
+shillings to pay weekly. Charlotte East and a few more prudent ones
+spoke against this system; but they made no impression. The temptation
+was too great. Charlotte assumed that this was how Caroline Mason's
+shawl had been obtained. In that, however, she was mistaken.
+
+"Charlotte, we are going down to Bankes's. There'll be a better choice
+in his shop than in his pack. You have heard of the party at the
+Alhambra. Well, it is to be next Monday, and we want to ask you what we
+shall wear. What would you advise us to get for it?"
+
+"Get nothing," replied Charlotte. "Don't go to Bankes's, and don't go to
+the Alhambra."
+
+The whole assembly sat in wonder, with open eyes. "Not go to the party!"
+echoed pert Amelia Cross. "What next, Charlotte East?"
+
+"I told you what it would be, if you came into Charlotte East's," said
+Eliza Tyrrett, a sneer on her countenance.
+
+"I am not against proper amusement, though I don't much care for it
+myself," said Charlotte. "But when you speak of going to a party at the
+Alhambra, somehow it does not sound respectable."
+
+The girls opened their eyes wider. "Why, Charlotte, what harm do you
+suppose will come to us? We can take care of ourselves, I hope?"
+
+"It is not that," said Charlotte. "Of course you can. Still it does not
+sound nice. It is like going to a public-house--you can't call the
+Alhambra anything else. It is quite different, this, from going there to
+have tea in the summer. But that's not it, I say. If you go to it, you
+would be running into debt for all sorts of things at Bankes's, and get
+into trouble."
+
+"My sister-in-law says you are a croaker, Charlotte; and she's right,"
+cried Caroline Mason, with good-humour.
+
+"Charlotte, it is not a bit of use your talking," broke in Mary Ann
+Cross vehemently. "We shall go to the party, and we shall buy new things
+for it. Bankes's have some lovely sarcenets, cross-barred; green, and
+pink, and lilac; and me and 'Melia mean to have a dress apiece off 'em.
+With a pink bow in front, and a white collar--my! wouldn't folks stare
+at us!--Twelve yards each it would take, and they are one-and-eightpence
+a yard."
+
+"Mary Ann, it would be just madness! There'd be the making, the lining,
+and the ribbon: five or six-and-twenty shillings each, they would cost
+you. Pray don't!"
+
+"How you do reckon things up, Charlotte! We should pay off weekly: we
+have time afore us."
+
+"What would your father say?"
+
+"Charlotte, just hold your noise about father," quickly returned Amelia
+Cross, in a hushed and altered tone. "You know we don't tell him about
+Bankes's."
+
+Charlotte found she might as well have talked to the winds. The girls
+were bent upon the evening's pleasure, and also upon the smart things
+they deemed necessary for it. A few minutes more and they left her; and
+trooped down to the shop of the Messrs. Bankes.
+
+Charlotte was coming home that evening from an errand to the town, when
+she met Adam Thorneycroft. He was somewhat above the common run of
+workmen.
+
+"Oh, is it you, Charlotte?" he exclaimed, stopping her. "I say, how is
+it that you'll never have anything to say to me now?"
+
+"I have told you why, Adam," she replied.
+
+"You have told me a pack of nonsense. I wouldn't lose you, Charlotte, to
+be made king of England. When once we are married, you shall see how
+steady I'll be. I will not enter a public-house."
+
+"You have been saying that you will not for these twelve months past,
+Adam," she sadly rejoined; and, had her face been visible in the dark
+night, he would have seen that it was working with agitation.
+
+"What does it hurt a man, to go out and take a quiet pipe and a glass
+after his work's over? Everybody does it."
+
+"Everybody does not. But I do not wish to contend. It seems to bring you
+no conviction. Half the miseries around us in Honey Fair arise from so
+much of the wages being wasted at the public-houses. I know what you
+would say--that the wives are in fault as well. So they are. I do not
+believe people were sent into the world to live as so many of us live:
+nothing but scuffle and discomfort, and--I may almost say
+it--sinfulness. One of these wretched households shall never be mine."
+
+"My goodness, Charlotte! How seriously you speak!"
+
+"It is a serious subject. I want to try to live so as to do my duty by
+myself and by those around me; to pass my days in peace with the world
+and with my conscience. A woman beaten down, cowed by all sorts of ills,
+could not do so; and, where the husband is unsteady, she must be beaten
+down. Adam, you know it is not with a willing heart I give you up, but I
+am forced to it."
+
+"How can you bring yourself to say this to me?" he rejoined.
+
+"I don't deny that it is hard," she faintly said, suppressing with
+difficulty her emotion. "This many a week I and duty have been having a
+conflict with each other: but duty has gained the mastery. I knew it
+would from the first----"
+
+"Duty be smothered!" interrupted Adam Thorneycroft. "I shall think you a
+born natural presently, Charlotte."
+
+"Yes, I know. I can't help it. Adam, we should never pull together, you
+see. Good-bye! We can be friends in future, if you like; nothing more."
+
+She held out her hand to him for a parting salutation. Adam, hurt and
+angry, flung it from him, and turned towards Helstonleigh: and Charlotte
+continued her way home, her tears dropping in the dusky night.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV.
+
+HARD TO BEAR.
+
+
+Mrs. Halliburton struggled on. A struggle, my reader, that it is to be
+hoped, for your comfort's sake, you have never experienced, and never
+will. She had learnt the stitch for the back of the gloves, and Mr. Lynn
+supplied her with a machine and with work. But she could not do it
+quickly as yet; though it was a hopeful day for her when she found that
+her weekly earnings amounted to six shillings.
+
+Mrs. Reece paid her twenty shillings a week. Or rather, Dobbs: for Dobbs
+was paymaster-general. Of that, Jane could use (she had made a close
+calculation) six shillings, putting by fourteen for rent and taxes. Her
+taxes were very light, part of them being paid by the landlord, as was
+the custom with some houses in Helstonleigh. But for this, the rent
+would have been less. Sorely tempted as she was, by hunger, by cold,
+almost by starvation, Jane was resolute in leaving the fourteen
+shillings intact. She had suffered too much from non-payment of the last
+rent, not to be prepared with the next. But--the endurance and
+deprivation!--how great they were! And she suffered far more for her
+children than for herself.
+
+One night, towards the middle of February, she felt very downhearted:
+almost as if she could not struggle on much longer. With her own
+earnings and the six shillings taken from Mrs. Reece's money she could
+count little more than twelve shillings weekly, and everything had to be
+found out of it. Coals, candles, washing--that is, the soap, firing,
+etc., necessary for Miss Betsy Carter to do it with; the boys'
+shoe-mending and other trifles, besides food. You will not, therefore,
+be surprised to hear that on this night they had literally nothing in
+the house but part of a loaf of bread. Jane was resolute in one
+thing--not to go into debt. Mrs. Buffle would have given credit,
+probably other shops also; but Jane believed that her sole chance of
+surmounting the struggle eventually was by keeping debt, even trifling
+debt, away. They had this morning eaten bread for breakfast; they had
+eaten potatoes and salt for dinner; and now, tea-time, there was bread
+again. All Jane had in her pocket was twopence, which must be kept for
+milk for the following morning; so they were drinking water now.
+
+They were round the fire; two of the boys kneeling on the ground to get
+the better blaze, thankful they had a fire at all. Their lessons were
+over for the day. William had been thoroughly well brought on by his
+father, in Greek, Latin, Euclid, and in English generally--in short, in
+the branches necessary to a good education. Frank and Gar were forward
+also; indeed, Frank, for his age, was a very good Latin scholar. But how
+could they do much good or make much progress by themselves? William
+helped his brothers as well as he could, but it was somewhat profitless
+work; and Jane was all too conscious that they needed to be at school.
+Altogether, her heart was sore within her.
+
+Another thing was beginning to worry her--a fear lest her brother should
+not be able to send the rent. She had fully counted upon it; but, now
+that the time of its promised receipt was at hand, fears and doubts
+arose. She was dwelling on it now--now, as she sat there at her work, in
+the twilight of the early spring evening. If the money did not come, all
+she could do would be to go to Mr. Ashley, tell him of her ill luck, and
+that he must take the things at last. They must turn out, wanderers on
+the wide earth; no----
+
+A plaintive cry interrupted her dream and recalled her to reality. It
+came from Jane, who was seated on a stool, her head leaning against the
+side of the mantel-piece.
+
+"She is crying, mamma," cried quick Frank; and Janey whispered something
+into Frank's ear, the cry deepening into sobs.
+
+"Mamma, she's crying because she's hungry."
+
+"Janey, dear, I have nothing but bread. You know it. Could you eat a
+bit?"
+
+"I want something else," sobbed Janey. "Some meat, or some pudding. It
+is such a long time since we had any. I am tired of bread; I am very
+hungry."
+
+There came an echoing cry from the other side of the fireplace. Gar had
+laid his head down on the floor, and he now broke out, sobbing also.
+
+"I am hungry too. I don't like bread any more than Janey does. When
+shall we have something nice?"
+
+Jane gathered them to her, one in each arm, soothing them with soft
+caresses, her heart aching, her own sobs choked down, one single comfort
+present to her--that God knew what she had to bear.
+
+Almost she began to fear for her own health. Would the intense anxiety,
+combined with the want of sufficient food, tell upon her? Would her
+sleepless nights tell upon her? Would her grief for the loss of her
+husband--a grief not the less keenly felt because she did not parade
+it--tell upon her? All _that_ lay in the future.
+
+She rose the next morning early to her work; she always had to rise
+early--the boys and Jane setting the breakfast. Breakfast! Putting the
+bread upon the table and taking in the milk. For twopence they had a
+quart of skimmed milk, and were glad to get it. Her head was heavy, her
+frame hot, the result of inward fever, her limbs were tired before the
+day began; worse than all, there was that utter weariness of mind which
+predisposes a sufferer from it to lie down and die. "This will never
+do," thought Jane; "I _must_ bear up."
+
+A dispute between Frank and Gar! They were good, affectionate boys; but
+little tempers must break out now and then. In trying to settle it, Jane
+burst into tears. It put an end to the fray more effectually than
+anything else could have done. The boys looked blank with consternation,
+and Janey burst into hysterical sobs.
+
+"Don't, Jane, don't," said the poor mother; "I am not well; but do not
+_you_ cry."
+
+"I am not well, either," sobbed Janey. "It hurts me here, and here." She
+put her hand to her head and chest, and Jane knew that she was weak from
+long-continued insufficiency of food. There was no remedy for it. Jane
+only wished she could bear for them all.
+
+Some time after breakfast there came the postman's knock at the door. A
+thickish letter--twopence to pay. The penny postal system had come in,
+but letters were not so universally prepaid then as they are now.
+
+Jane glanced over it with a beating heart. Yes, it was her brother's
+handwriting. Could the promised rent have really arrived? She felt sick
+with agitation.
+
+"I have no money at all, Frank. Ask Dobbs if she will lend you
+twopence."
+
+Away went Frank, in his quick and not very ceremonious manner,
+penetrating to the kitchen, where Dobbs happened to be. "Dobbs, will you
+please to lend mamma twopence? It is for a letter."
+
+"Dobbs, indeed! Who's 'Dobbs'?" retorted that functionary in wrath. "I
+am Mrs. Dobbs, if you please. Take yourself out of my sight till you can
+learn manners."
+
+"Won't you lend it? The postman's waiting."
+
+"No, I won't," returned Dobbs.
+
+Back ran Frank. "She won't lend it, mamma. She says I was rude to her,
+and called her Dobbs."
+
+"Oh, Frank!" But the postman was impatient, demanding whether he was to
+be kept there all day. Jane was fain to apply to Dobbs herself, and
+procured the loan. Then she ran upstairs with the letter, and her
+trembling fingers broke the seal. Two banknotes, for 10L. each, fell out
+of it. The promised loan had been sixteen pounds. The Rev. Francis Tait
+had contrived to spare four pounds more.
+
+Before Jane had recovered from her excitement--almost before a breath of
+thanks had gone up from her heart--she saw Mr. Ashley on the opposite
+side of the road, going towards Helstonleigh. Being in no state to weigh
+her actions, only conscious that the two notes lay in her hand--actual
+realities--she threw on her bonnet and shawl, and went across the road
+to Mr. Ashley. In her agitation, she scarcely knew what she did or said.
+
+"Oh, sir--I beg your pardon--but I have at this moment received the
+money for the back rent. May I give it to you now?"
+
+Mr. Ashley looked at her in surprise. A scarlet spot shone on her thin
+cheeks--a happy excitement was spread over her face of care. He read the
+indications plainly--that she was an eager payer, but no willing debtor.
+The open letter in her hand, and the postman opposite, told the tale.
+
+"There is no such hurry, Mrs. Halliburton," he said, smiling. "I cannot
+give you a receipt here."
+
+"You can send it to me," she said. "I would rather pay you than Mr.
+Dare."
+
+She held out the notes to him. He felt in his pocket whether he had
+sufficient change, found he had, and handed it to her. "That is it,
+madam--four sovereigns. Thank you."
+
+She took them hesitatingly, but did not close her hand. "Was there not
+some expense incurred when--when that man was put in?"
+
+"Not for you to pay, Mrs. Halliburton," he pointedly returned. "I hope
+you are getting pretty well through your troubles?"
+
+The tears came into her eyes, and she turned them away. Getting pretty
+well through her troubles! "Thank you for inquiring," she meekly said.
+"I shall, I believe, have the quarter's rent ready in March, when it
+falls due."
+
+"Do not put yourself out of the way to pay it," he replied. "If it would
+be more convenient to you to let it go on to the half-year, it would be
+the same to me."
+
+Her heart rose to the kindness. "Thank you, Mr. Ashley, thank you very
+much for your consideration; but I must pay as I go on, if I possibly
+can."
+
+Patience stood at her gate, smiling as she recrossed the road. She had
+seen what had passed.
+
+"Thee hast good news, I see. But thee wert in a hurry, to pay thy rent
+in the road."
+
+"My brother has sent me the rent and four pounds over. Patience, I can
+buy bedside carpets now."
+
+Patience looked pleased. "With all thy riches thee will scarcely thank
+me for this poor three and sixpence," holding out the silver to her.
+"Samuel Lynn left it; it is owing thee for thy work."
+
+Jane smiled sadly as she took it. Her riches! "How is Anna?" she asked.
+
+"She is nicely, thank thee, and is gone to school. But she was wilful
+over her lessons this morning. Farewell. I am glad thee art so far out
+of thy perplexities."
+
+Very far, indeed; and a great relief it was. Can you realize these
+troubles of Mrs. Halliburton's? Not, I think, as she realized them. We
+pity the trials and endurance of the poor; but, believe me, they are as
+nothing compared with the bitter lot of reduced gentlepeople. Jane had
+not been brought up to poverty, to scanty and hard fare, to labour, to
+humiliations, to the pain of debt. But for hope--and some of us know how
+strong that is in the human heart--and for that better hope, _trust_,
+Jane never could have gone through her trials. Her physical privations
+alone were almost too hard to bear. Can you wonder that an unexpected
+present of four pounds seemed as a mine of wealth?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV.
+
+INCIPIENT VANITY.
+
+
+But four pounds, however large a sum to look at, dwindles down sadly in
+the spending; especially when bedside carpets, and boys' boots--new ones
+and the mending of old ones--have to be deducted from it at the
+commencement. An idea had for some time been looming in Jane's mind;
+looming ominously, for she did not like to speak of it. It was, that
+William must go out and enter upon some employment, by which a little
+weekly money might be added to their stock. He was eager enough;
+indulging, no doubt, boy-like, peculiar visions of his own, great and
+grand. But these Jane had to dispel; to explain that for young boys,
+such as he, earning money implied hard work.
+
+His face flushed scarlet. Jane drew him to her and pressed her cheek
+upon his.
+
+"There would be no real disgrace in it, my darling. No work in itself
+brings disgrace; be it carrying out parcels or sweeping out a shop. So
+long as we retain our refinement of tone, of manner, our courteous
+conduct one to the other, we shall still be gentlepeople, let us work at
+what we may. William, I think it is your _duty_ to help in our need."
+
+"Yes, I see, mamma," he answered. "I will try and do it; anything that
+may turn up."
+
+Jane had not much faith in things "turning up." She believed that they
+must be sought for. That same evening she went into Mr. Lynn's, with the
+view to asking his counsel. There she found Anna in trouble. The cause
+was as follows.
+
+Patience, leaving Anna alone at her lessons, had gone into the kitchen
+to give some directions to Grace. Anna seized the opportunity to take a
+little recreation: not that it was greatly needed, for--spoilt child
+that she was!--she had merely looked at her books with vacant eyes, not
+having in reality learned a single word. First of all, off went her cap.
+Next, she drew from her pocket a small mirror, about the size of a
+five-shilling piece. Propping this against her books on the table before
+her, so that the rays of the lamp might fall upon it, she proceeded to
+admire herself, and twist her flowing hair round her pretty fingers to
+make a shower of ringlets. Sad vanity for a little born Quakeress! But
+it must be owned that never did mirror, small or large, give back a more
+lovely image than that child's. She had just arranged her curls, and was
+contemplating their effect to her entire satisfaction, when back came
+Patience sooner than she was expected, and caught the young lady at her
+impromptu toilette. What with the curls and what with the mirror, Anna
+did not know which to hurry away first.
+
+"Thee naughty child! Thee naughty, naughty child! What is to become of
+thee? Where did thee get this?"
+
+Anna burst into tears. In her perplexity she said she had "found" the
+mirror.
+
+"That thee did not," said Patience calmly. "I ask thee where thee got it
+from?"
+
+Of a remarkably pliant nature, wavering and timid, Anna never withstood
+long the persistent questioning of Patience. Amid many tears the truth
+came out. Lucy Dixon had brought it to school in her workbox. It was a
+doll's mirror, and she, Anna, had given her sixpence for it.
+
+"The sixpence that thy father bestowed upon thee yesterday for being a
+good girl," retorted Patience. "I told him thee would likely not make a
+profitable use of it. Come up to bed with thee! I will talk to thee
+after thee are in it."
+
+Of all things, Anna disliked to be sent to bed before her time. She
+sobbed, expostulated, and promised all sorts of amendment for the
+future. Patience, firm and quiet, would have carried her point, but for
+the entrance of Samuel Lynn. The fault was related to him by Patience,
+and the mirror exhibited. Anna clung around him in a storm of sobs.
+
+"Dear father! Dear, dear father, don't thee let me go to bed! Let me sit
+by thee while thee hast thy supper. Patience may keep the glass, but
+don't thee let me go."
+
+It was quite a picture--the child clinging there with her crimsoned
+cheeks, her wet eyelashes, and her soft flowing hair. Samuel Lynn,
+albeit a man not given to demonstration, strained her to him with a
+loving movement. Perhaps the crime of looking into a doll's glass and
+toying with her hair appeared to him more venial than it did to
+Patience; but then, she was his beloved child.
+
+"Will thee transgress again, Anna?"
+
+"No, I never will," sobbed Anna.
+
+"Then Patience will suffer thee to sit up this once. But thee must be
+careful."
+
+He placed her in a chair close to him. Patience, disapproving very much
+but saying nothing, left the room. Grace appeared with the supper-tray,
+and a message that Patience would take her supper in the kitchen. It was
+at this juncture that Mrs. Halliburton came in. She told the Quaker that
+she had come to consult him about William; and mentioned her intentions.
+
+"To tell thee the truth, friend, I have marvelled much that thee did
+not, under thy circumstances, seek to place out thy eldest son," was the
+answer. "He might be helping thee."
+
+"He is young to earn anything, Mr. Lynn. Do you see a chance of my
+getting him a place?"
+
+"That depends, friend, upon the sort of place he may wish for. I could
+help him to a place to-morrow. But it is one that may not accord with
+thy notions."
+
+"What is it?" eagerly asked Jane.
+
+"It is in Thomas Ashley's manufactory. We are in want of another boy,
+and the master told me to-day I had better inquire for one."
+
+"What would he have to do?" asked Jane. "And what would he earn?"
+
+"He would have to do anything he may be directed to do. Thy son is older
+than are our boys who come to us ordinarily, and he has been differently
+brought up; therefore I might put him to somewhat better employment. He
+might also be paid a trifle more. They sweep and dust, go on outdoor
+errands, carry messages indoors, black the gloves, get in coal; and they
+earn, if they are sharp, half-a-crown a week."
+
+Jane's heart sank within her.
+
+"But thy son, I say, might be treated somewhat differently. Not that he
+must be above doing any of these duties, should he be put to them. I can
+assure thee, friend, that some of the first manufacturers of this town
+have thus begun their career. A thoroughly practical knowledge of the
+business is only to be acquired by beginning at the first step of the
+ladder, and working upwards."
+
+"Did Mr. Ashley so begin?" She could scarcely tell why she asked the
+question. Unless it was that a feeling came over her that if Mr. Ashley
+had done these things, she would not mind William's doing them.
+
+"No, friend. Thomas Ashley's father was a man of means, and Thomas was
+bred up a classical scholar and a gentleman. He has never taken a
+practical part in the working of the business: I do that for him. His
+labours are chiefly confined to the correspondence and the keeping of
+the books. His father wished him to embrace a profession rather than be
+a glove manufacturer: but Thomas preferred to succeed his father. If
+thee would like thy son to enter our manufactory, I will try him."
+
+Jane was dubious. She felt quite sure that William would not like it.
+"He has been thinking of a counting-house, or a lawyer's or
+conveyancer's office," she said aloud. "He would like to employ his time
+in writing. Would there be difficulty in getting him into one?"
+
+"I do not opine a lawyer would take a boy of his size. They require
+their writing to be well and correctly done. About that, I cannot tell
+thee much, for I have nothing to do with lawyers. He can inquire."
+
+Jane rose. She stood by the table, unconsciously stroking Anna's flowing
+curls--for the cap had never been replaced, and Samuel Lynn found no
+fault with the omission. "I will speak candidly," said Jane. "I fear
+that the place you have kindly offered me would not be liked by William.
+Other employments, writing for example, would be more palatable.
+Nevertheless, were he unable to obtain anything else I should be glad to
+accept this. Will you give me three or four days for consideration?"
+
+"To oblige thee, I will, friend. When Thomas Ashley gives orders, he is
+prompt in having them attended to; and he spoke, as I have informed
+thee, about a fresh boy to-day. Would it not be a help to thee, friend,
+if thee got thy other two boys into the school attached to the
+cathedral?"
+
+"But I have no interest," said Jane. "I hear that education there is
+free; but I do not possess the slightest chance."
+
+"Thee may get a chance, friend. There's nothing like trying. I must tell
+thee that the school is not thought highly of, in consequence of the
+instruction being confined exclusively to Latin and Greek. In the old
+days this was thought enough; but people are now getting more
+enlightened. Thomas Ashley was educated there; but he had a private
+tutor at home for the branches not taught at the college; he had also
+masters for what are called accomplishments. He is one of the most
+accomplished men of the day. Few are so thoroughly and comprehensively
+educated as Thomas Ashley. I have heard say thy sons have begun Latin.
+It might be a help to them if they could get in."
+
+"I should desire nothing better," Jane breathlessly rejoined, a new hope
+penetrating her heart. "I have heard of the collegiate school here; but,
+until very recently I supposed it to be an expensive institution."
+
+"No, friend; it is free. The best way to get a boy in is by making
+interest with the head-master of the school, or with some of the
+cathedral clergy."
+
+A recollection of Mr. Peach flashed into Jane's mind as a ray of light.
+She bade good-night to Samuel Lynn and Anna, and to Patience as she
+passed the kitchen. Patience had been crying.
+
+"I am grieved about Anna," she explained. "I love the child dearly, but
+Samuel Lynn is blind to her faults; and it argues badly for the future.
+Thee cannot imagine half her vanity; I fear me, too, she is deceitful. I
+wish her father could see it! I wish he would indulge her less and
+correct her more! Good night to thee."
+
+Before concluding the chapter, it may as well be mentioned that a piece
+of good fortune about this time befell Janey. She found favour with
+Dobbs! How it came about perhaps Dobbs could not herself have told.
+Certainly no one else could.
+
+Mrs. Reece had got into the habit of asking Jane into her parlour to
+tea. She was a kind-hearted old lady and liked the child. Dobbs would
+afterwards be at work, generally some patching and mending to her own
+clothes; and Dobbs, though she would not acknowledge it to herself or to
+any one else, could not see to thread her needle. Needle in one hand and
+thread in the other, she would poke the two together for five minutes,
+no result supervening. Janey hit upon the plan of threading her a needle
+in silence, whilst Dobbs used the one; and from that time Jane kept her
+in threaded needles. Whether this conciliated Dobbs must remain a
+mystery, but she took a liking for Jane; and the liking grew into love.
+Henceforth Janey wanted for nothing. While the others starved, she lived
+on the fat of the land. Meat and pudding, fowls and pastry, whatever
+dinner in the parlour might consist of, Janey had her share of it, and a
+full share too. At first Mrs. Halliburton, from motives of delicacy,
+would not allow Jane to go in; upon which Dobbs would enter, boiling
+over with indignation, red with the exertion of cooking, and
+triumphantly bear her off. Jane spoke seriously to Mrs. Reece about it,
+but the old lady declared she was as glad to have the child as Dobbs
+was.
+
+Once, Janey came to a standstill over some apple pudding, which had
+followed upon veal cutlets and bacon. "I am quite full," said she, more
+plainly than politely: "I can't eat a bit more. May I give this piece
+upon my plate to Gar?"
+
+"No, you may not," snapped Dobbs, drowning Mrs. Reece's words, that she
+might give it and welcome. "How dare you, Janey? You know that boys is
+the loadstones of my life."
+
+Dobbs probably used the word loadstones to indicate a heavy weight. She
+seized the plate of pudding and finished it herself, lest it should find
+its way to the suggested quarter--a self-sacrifice which served to show
+her earnestness in the cause. Nothing gave Dobbs indigestion like apple
+pudding, and she knew she should be a martyr for four-and-twenty hours
+afterwards.
+
+Thus Jane, at least, suffered from henceforth no privations, and for
+this Mrs. Halliburton was very thankful. The time was to come, however,
+when she would have reason to be more so.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI.
+
+MR. ASHLEY'S MANUFACTORY.
+
+
+The happy thought, suggested by Samuel Lynn, Jane carried out. She
+applied in person to Mr. Peach, and he obtained an immediate entrance
+for Frank to the college school, with a promise for Gar to enter at
+quarter-day, the 25th of March. He was perfectly thunderstruck when he
+found that his old friend and tutor, Mr. Halliburton, was dead; had died
+in Helstonleigh; and that he--_he!_--had buried him. There was no need
+to ask him twice, after that, to exert his interest for the fatherless
+children. The school (I have told you what it was many years ago) was
+not held in the highest repute, from the reason spoken of by Samuel
+Lynn; vacancies often occurred, and admission was easy. It was one great
+weight off Jane's mind.
+
+William was not so fortunate. He was at that period very short for his
+age, timid in manner, and no office could be persuaded to take him.
+Nothing in the least congenial to him presented itself or could be
+found; and the result was that he resigned himself to Samuel Lynn, who
+introduced him to Mr. Ashley's extensive manufactory--to be initiated by
+degrees into all the mysteries necessary to convert a skin into a glove.
+And although his interest and curiosity were excited by what he saw, he
+pronounced it a "hateful" business.
+
+When the skins came in from the leather-dressers they were washed in a
+tub of cold water. The next day warm water, mixed with yolks of eggs,
+was poured on them, and a couple of men, bare-legged to the knee, got
+into the tub, and danced upon them, skins, eggs, and water, for two
+hours. Then they were spread in a field to dry, till they were as hard
+as lantern horn; then they were "staked," as it was called--a long
+process, to smooth and soften them. To the stainers next, to be stained
+black or coloured; next to the parers, to have the loose flesh pared
+from the inside, and to be smoothed again with pumice-stone--all this
+being done on the outside premises. Then they came inside, to the hands
+of one of the foremen, who sorted and marked them for the cutters. The
+cutters cut the skins into tranks (the shape of the hand in outline)
+with the separate thumbs and forgits, and sent them in to the slitters.
+The slitters slit the four fingers, and _shaped_ the thumbs and forgits:
+after that, they were ready for the women--three different women, you
+may remember, being necessary to turn out each glove, so far as the
+sewing went; for one woman rarely worked at more than her own peculiar
+branch, or was capable of working at it. This done, and back in the
+manufactory again, they had to be pulled straight, and "padded," or
+rubbed, a process by which they were brightened. If black gloves, the
+seams were washed over with a black dye, or else glazed; then they were
+hung up to dry. This done, they went into Samuel Lynn's room, a large
+room next to Mr. Ashley's private room, and here they were sorted into
+firsts, seconds, or thirds; the sorting being always done by Samuel
+Lynn, or by James Meeking the head foreman. It was called "making-up."
+Next they were banded round with a paper in dozens, labelled, and placed
+in small boxes, ready for the warehouses in London. A great deal, you
+see, before one pair of gloves could be turned out.
+
+The first morning that William went at six o'clock with Samuel Lynn, he
+was ordered to light the fire in Mr. Ashley's room, sweep it out, and
+dust it, first of all sprinkling the floor with water from a
+watering-pot. And this was to be part of his work every morning at
+present; Samuel Lynn giving him strict charge never to disturb anything
+on Mr. Ashley's desk. If he moved things to dust the desk, he was to lay
+them down again in the same places and in the same position. The duster
+consisted of some leather shreds tied up into a knot, the ends loose. He
+found he should have to wait on Mr. Ashley and Samuel Lynn, bring things
+they wanted, carry messages to the men, and go out when sent. A pair of
+shears, which he could not manage, was put into his hand, and he had to
+cut a damaged skin, useless for gloves, into narrow strips, standing at
+one of the counters in Samuel Lynn's room. William wondered whether they
+were to make another duster, but he found they were used in the
+manufactory in place of string. That done, a round, polished stick was
+handed to him, tapered at either end, which he had to pass over and over
+some small gloves to make them smooth, after the manner of a cook
+rolling out paste for a pie. He looked with dismay at the two young
+errand boys of the establishment, who were black with dye. But Samuel
+Lynn had distinctly told him that he would not be expected to place
+himself on their level. The rooms were for the most part very light, one
+or two sides being entirely of glass.
+
+On the evening of this first day, William, after he got home, sat there
+in sad heaviness. His mother asked how he liked his employment, and he
+returned an evasive answer. Presently he rose to go to bed, saying he
+had a headache. Up he went to the garret, and flung himself down on the
+mattress, sobbing as if his heart would break. Jane, suspecting
+something of this, followed him up. She caught him in her arms.
+
+"Oh, my darling, don't give way! Things may grow brighter after a time."
+
+"It is such a dreadful change!--from my books, my Latin and Greek, to go
+there and sweep out places like those two black boys!" he said
+hysterically, all his reticence gone.
+
+"My dear boy! my darling boy! I know not how to reconcile you, how to
+lessen your cares. Your experience of the sorrow of life is beginning
+early. You are hungry, too."
+
+"I am always hungry," answered William, quite unable to affect
+concealment in that hour of grief. "I heard one of those black boys say
+he had boiled pork and greens for dinner. I did so envy him."
+
+Jane checked her tears; they were rising rebelliously. "William, darling
+your lot seems just now very dark and painful, but it might be worse."
+
+"Worse!" he echoed in surprise. "How could it be worse? Mamma, I am no
+better than an errand-boy there."
+
+"It would be worse, William, if you were one of those poor black boys.
+Unenlightened; no wish for higher things; content to remain as they are
+for ever."
+
+"But that could never be," he urged. "To be content with such a life is
+impossible."
+
+"They are content, William."
+
+He saw the drift of the argument. "Yes, mamma," he acknowledged; "I did
+not reflect. It would be worse if I were quite as they are."
+
+"William, we can only bear our difficulties, and make the best of them,
+trusting to surmount them in the end. You and I must both do this. Trust
+is different from hope. If we only hope, we may lose courage; but if we
+fully and freely _trust_, we cannot. Patience and perseverance,
+endurance and trust, they will in the end triumph; never fear. If I
+feared, William, I should go into the grave with despair. I never lose
+my trust. I never lose my conviction, firm and certain, that God is
+watching over me, that He is permitting these trials for some wise
+purpose, and that in His own good time we shall be brought through
+them."
+
+William's sobs were growing lighter.
+
+"The time may come when we shall be at ease again," continued Jane;
+"when we shall look back on this time of trial, and be thankful that we
+did bear up and surmount it, instead of fainting under the burden. God
+will take care that the battle is not too hot for us, if we only resign
+ourselves, in all trust, to do the best. The future is grievously dim
+and indistinct. As the guiding light in your father's dream shone only
+on one step at a time, so can I see only one step before me."
+
+"What step is that?" he asked somewhat eagerly.
+
+"The one obvious step before me is to persevere, as I am now doing, to
+try and retain this home for you, my children; to work as I can, so as
+to keep you around me. I must strive to keep you together, and you must
+help me. Bear up bravely, William. Make the best of this unpleasant
+employment and its mortifications, and strive to overcome your
+repugnance to it. Be resolute, my boy, in doing your duty in it, because
+it is your duty, and because, William--because it is helping your
+mother."
+
+A shadow of the trust, so firm in his mother's heart, began to dawn in
+his. "Yes, it is my duty," he resolutely said. "I will try to do it--to
+hope and trust."
+
+Jane strained him to her. "Were you and I to give way now, darling, our
+past troubles would have been borne for nothing. Let us, I repeat, look
+forward to the time when we may say, 'We did not faint; we battled on,
+and overcame.' It _will_ come, William. Only trust to God."
+
+She quitted him, leaving him to reflection and resolve scarcely
+befitting his young years.
+
+The week wore on to its close. On the Saturday night, William, his face
+flushed, held out four shillings to his mother. "My week's wages,
+mamma."
+
+Jane's face flushed also. "It is more than I expected, William," she
+said. "I fancied you would have three."
+
+"I think the master fixed the sum," said William.
+
+"The master? Do you mean Mr. Ashley?"
+
+"We never say 'Mr. Ashley' in the manufactory; we say 'the master.' Mr.
+Lynn was paying the wages to-night. I heard them say that sometimes Mr.
+Lynn paid them, and sometimes James Meeking. Those two black boys have
+half-a-crown apiece. He left me to the last, and when the rest were
+gone, he looked at me and took up three shillings. Then he seemed to
+hesitate, and suddenly he locked the desk, went into the master's room,
+and spoke with him. He came back in a minute, unlocked the desk, and
+gave me four shillings. 'Thee hast not earned it,' he said, 'but I think
+thee has done thy best. Thee will have the same each week, so long as
+thee does so.'"
+
+Jane held the four shillings, and felt that she was growing quite rich.
+The rest crowded round to look. "Can't we have a nice dinner to-morrow
+with it?" said one.
+
+"I think we must," said Jane cheerily. "A nice dinner for once in a way.
+What shall it be?"
+
+"Roast beef," called out Frank.
+
+"Pork with crackling," suggested Janey. "That of Mrs. Reece's yesterday
+was so good."
+
+"Couldn't we have fowls and a jam pudding?" asked Gar.
+
+Jane smiled and kissed him. All the suggestions were beyond her purse.
+"We will have a meat pudding," she said; "that's best." And the children
+cheerfully acquiesced. They had implicit faith in their mother; they
+knew that what she said was best, would be best.
+
+On this same Saturday night Charlotte East was returning home from
+Helstonleigh, an errand having taken her thither after dark. Almost
+opposite to the turning to Honey Fair, a lane branched off, leading to
+some farm-houses; a lane, green and pleasant in summer, but bare and
+uninviting now. Two people turned into it as Charlotte looked across.
+She caught only a glance; but something in the aspect of both struck
+upon her as familiar. A gas-lamp at the corner shed a light upon the
+spot, and Charlotte suddenly halted, and stood endeavouring to peer
+further. But they were soon out of view. A feeling of dismay had stolen
+over Charlotte. She hoped she was mistaken; that the parties were not
+those she had fancied; and she slowly continued her way. A few paces
+more, she turned up the road leading to Honey Fair and found herself
+nearly knocked over by one who came running against her, apparently in
+some excitement and in a great hurry.
+
+"Who's this?" cried the voice of Eliza Tyrrett. "Charlotte East, I
+declare! I say, have you seen anything of Caroline Mason?"
+
+Charlotte hesitated. She hoped she had not seen her; though the
+misgiving was upon her that she had. "Did you think I might have seen
+her?" she returned. "Has she come this way?"
+
+"Yes, I expect she has come this way, and I want to find her," returned
+Eliza Tyrrett vehemently. "I saw her making off out of Honey Fair, and I
+saw who was waiting for her round the corner. I knew my company wasn't
+wanted then, and turned into Dame Buffle's for a talk; and there I found
+that Madam Carry has been telling falsehoods about me. Let me set on to
+her, that's all! I shall say what she won't like."
+
+"Who do you mean was waiting for her?" inquired Charlotte East.
+
+Eliza Tyrrett laughed. She was beginning to recover her temper. "You'd
+like to know, wouldn't you?" said she pertly. "But I'm not going to tell
+tales out of school."
+
+"I think I do know," returned Charlotte quietly. "I fear I do."
+
+"Do you? I thought nobody knew nothing about it but me. It has been
+going on this ten weeks. Did you see her, though, Charlotte?"
+
+"I thought I saw her, but I could not believe my eyes. She was
+with--with--some one she has no business to be with."
+
+"Oh, as to business, I don't know about that," carelessly answered Eliza
+Tyrrett. "We have a right to walk with anybody we like."
+
+"Whether it is good or bad for you?" returned Charlotte.
+
+"There's no 'bad' in it," cried Eliza Tyrrett indignantly. "I never saw
+such an old maid as you are, Charlotte East, never! Carry Mason's not a
+child, to be led into mischief."
+
+"Carry's very foolish," was Charlotte's comment.
+
+"Oh, of course _you_ think so, or it wouldn't be you. You'll go and tell
+upon her at home, I suppose, now."
+
+"I shall tell _her_," said Charlotte. "Folks should choose their
+acquaintances in their own class of life, if they want things to turn
+out pleasantly."
+
+"Were you not all took in about that shawl!" uttered Eliza Tyrrett, with
+a laugh. "You thought she went in debt for it at Bankes's, and her
+people at home thought so. Het Mason shrieked on at her like anything,
+for spending money on her back while she owed it for her board. _He_
+gave her that."
+
+"Eliza!"
+
+"He did. Law, where's the harm? He is rich enough to give all us girls
+in Honey Fair one apiece, and who'd be the worse for it? Only his
+pocket; and that can afford it. I wish he would!"
+
+"I wish you would not talk so, Eliza. She is not a fit companion for
+him, even though it is but to take a walk; and she ought to remember
+that she is not."
+
+"He wants her for a longer companion than that," observed Eliza Tyrrett;
+"that is, if he tells true. He wants her to marry him."
+
+"He--wants her to marry him!" repeated Charlotte, speaking the words in
+sheer amazement. "Who says so?"
+
+"He does. I should hardly think he can be in earnest, though."
+
+"Eliza Tyrrett, we cannot be speaking of the same person," cried
+Charlotte, feeling bewildered. "To whom have you been alluding?"
+
+"To the same that you have, I expect. Young Anthony Dare."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII.
+
+
+THE FORGOTTEN LETTER.
+
+
+It was the last day of March, and five o'clock in the afternoon. The
+great bell had rung in Mr. Ashley's manufactory, the signal for the men
+to go to their tea. Scuffling feet echoed to it from all parts, and
+clattered down the stairs on their way out. The ground floor was not
+used for the indoor purposes of the manufactory, the business being
+carried on in the first and second floors. The first flight of stairs
+opened into what was called the serving-room, a very large apartment;
+through this, on the right, branched off Mr. Ashley's room and Samuel
+Lynn's. On the left, various passages led to other rooms, and the upper
+flight of stairs was opposite to the entrance-stairs. The
+serving-counter, running completely across the room, formed a barrier
+between the serving-room and the entrance staircase.
+
+The men flocked into the serving-room, passed it, and rattled down the
+stairs. Samuel Lynn was changing his coat to follow, and William
+Halliburton was waiting for him, his cap on, for he walked to and fro
+with the Quaker, when Mr. Ashley's voice was heard from his room: the
+counting-house, as it was frequently called.
+
+"William!" It was usual to distinguish the boys by their Christian name
+only; the men by both their Christian and surnames. Samuel Lynn was "Mr.
+Lynn."
+
+"Did thee not hear the master calling to thee?"
+
+William had certainly heard Mr. Ashley's voice; but it was so unusual to
+be called by it, that he had paid no attention. He had very little
+communication with Mr. Ashley; in the three or four weeks he had now
+been at the manufactory Mr. Ashley had not spoken to him a dozen words.
+He hastened into the counting-house, taking off his cap in the presence
+of Mr. Ashley.
+
+"Have the men gone to tea?" inquired Mr. Ashley, who was sealing a
+letter.
+
+"Yes, sir," replied William.
+
+"Is George Dance gone?" George Dance was an apprentice, and it was his
+business to take the letters to the post.
+
+"They are all gone, sir, except Mr. Lynn; and James Meeking, who is
+waiting to lock up."
+
+"Do you know the post-office?"
+
+"Oh, yes, sir. It is in West Street, at the other end of the town."
+
+"Take this letter, and put it carefully in."
+
+William received the letter from Mr. Ashley, and dropped it into his
+jacket pocket. It was addressed to Bristol; the London mail-bags were
+already made up. Mr. Ashley put on his hat and departed, followed by
+Samuel Lynn and William. James Meeking locked up, as it was his
+invariable business to do, and carried the keys into his own house. He
+inhabited part of the ground floor of the premises.
+
+"Are thee not coming home with me this evening?" inquired Samuel Lynn of
+William, who was turning off the opposite way.
+
+"No; the master has given me a letter to post. I have also an errand to
+do for my mother."
+
+It happened (things do happen in a curious sort of way in this world)
+that Mrs. Halliburton had desired William to bring her in some candles
+and soap at tea-time, and to purchase them at Lockett's shop. Lockett's
+shop was rather far off; there were others nearer; but Lockett's goods
+were of the best quality, and his extensive trade enabled him to sell a
+halfpenny a pound cheaper. A halfpenny was a halfpenny with Jane then.
+William went on his way, walking fast.
+
+As he was passing the cathedral, he came into contact with the college
+boys, then just let out of school. It was the first day that Gar had
+joined; he had received his appointment, according to promise. Very
+thankful was Jane; in spite of the drawback of having to provide them
+with linen surplices. William halted to see if he could discern Gar
+amidst the throng: it was not unnatural that he should look for him.
+
+One of the boys caught sight of William standing there. It was Cyril
+Dare, the third son of Mr. Dare, a boy older and considerably bigger
+than William.
+
+"If there's not another of that Halliburton lot posted there!" cried he,
+to a knot of those around. "Perhaps he will be coming amongst us
+next--because we have not enough with the two! Look at the fellow,
+staring at us! He is a common errand-boy at Ashley's."
+
+Frank Halliburton, who, little as he was, wanted neither for spirit nor
+pluck, heard the words and confronted Cyril Dare. "That is my brother,"
+said he. "What have you to say against him?"
+
+Cyril Dare cast a glance of scorn on Frank, regarding him from top to
+toe. "You audacious young puppy! I say he is a snob. There!"
+
+"Then I say he is not," retorted Frank. "You are one yourself, for
+saying it."
+
+Cyril Dare, big enough to have crushed Frank to death, speedily had him
+on the ground, and treated him not very mercifully when there. William,
+a witness to this, but not understanding it, pushed his way through the
+crowd to protect Frank. All he saw was that Frank was down, and two big
+boys were kicking him.
+
+"Let him alone!" cried he. "How can you be so cowardly as to attack a
+little fellow? And two of you! Shame!"
+
+Now, if there was one earthly thing that the college boys would not
+brook, it was being interfered with by a stranger. William suffered.
+Frank's treatment had been nothing to what he had to submit to. He was
+knocked down, trampled on, kicked, buffeted, abused; Cyril Dare being
+the chief and primary aggressor. At that moment the under-master came in
+view, and the boys made off--all except Cyril Dare.
+
+Reined in against the wall, at a few yards' distance, was a lad on a
+pony. He had delicately expressive features, large soft brown eyes, a
+complexion too bright for health, and wavy dark hair. The face was
+beautiful; but two upright lines were indented in the white forehead, as
+if worn there by pain, and the one ungloved hand was white and thin. He
+was as old as William within a year; but, slight and fragile, would be
+taken to be much younger. Seeing and hearing--though not very
+clearly--what had passed, he touched his pony, and rode up to Cyril
+Dare. The latter was beginning to walk away leisurely, in the wake of
+his companions; the upper boys were rather fond of ignoring the presence
+of the under-master. Cyril turned at hearing himself called.
+
+"What! Is it you, Henry Ashley? Where did you spring from?"
+
+"Cyril Dare," was the answer, "you are a wretched coward."
+
+Cyril Dare was feeling anger yet, and the words did not lessen it. "Of
+course _you_ can say so!" he cried. "You know that you can say what you
+like with impunity. One can't chastise a cripple like you."
+
+The brilliant, painful colour flushed into the face of Henry Ashley. To
+allude openly to infirmity such as this is as iron entering into the
+soul. Upon a sensitive, timid, refined nature (and those suffering from
+this sort of affliction are nearly sure to possess that nature), it
+falls with a bitterness that can neither be conceived by others nor
+spoken of by themselves. Henry Ashley braved it out.
+
+"A coward, and a double coward!" he repeated, looking Cyril Dare full in
+the face, whilst the transparent flush grew hotter on his own. "You
+struck a young boy down, and then kicked him; and for nothing but that
+he stood up like a trump at your abuse of his brother."
+
+"You couldn't hear," returned Cyril Dare roughly.
+
+"I heard enough. I say that you are a coward."
+
+"Chut! They are snobs out-and-out."
+
+"I don't care if they are chimney-sweeps. It does not make you less a
+coward. And you'll be one as long as you live. If I had my strength, I'd
+serve you out as you served them out."
+
+"Ah, but you have not your strength, you know!" mocked Cyril. "And as
+you seem to be going into one of your heroic fits, I shall make a start,
+for I have no time to waste on them."
+
+He tore away. Henry Ashley turned his pony and addressed William. Both
+boys had spoken rapidly, so that scarcely a minute had passed, and
+William had only just risen from the ground. He leaned against the wall,
+giddy, as he wiped the blood from his face. "Are you much hurt?" asked
+Henry, kindly, his large dark eyes full of sympathy.
+
+"No, thank you; it is nothing," replied William. "He is a great coward,
+though, whoever he is."
+
+"It is Cyril Dare," called out Frank.
+
+"Yes, it is Cyril Dare," continued Henry Ashley. "I have been telling
+him what a coward he is. I am ashamed of him: he is my cousin, in a
+remote degree. I am glad you are not hurt."
+
+Henry Ashley rode away towards his home. Frank followed in the same
+direction; as did Gar, who now came in view. William proceeded up the
+town. He was a little hurt, although he had disowned it to Henry Ashley.
+His head felt light, his arms ached; perhaps the sensation of giddiness
+was as much from the want of food as anything. He purchased what was
+required for his mother; and then made the best of his way home again.
+Mr. Ashley's letter had gone clean out of his head.
+
+Frank, in the manner usual with boys, carried home so exaggerated a
+story of William's damages, that Jane expected to see him arrive
+half-killed. Samuel Lynn heard of it, and said William might stop at
+home that evening. It has never been mentioned that his hours were from
+six till eight in the morning, from nine till one, from two till five,
+and from six till eight. These were Mr. Lynn's hours, and William was
+allowed to keep the same; the men had half-an-hour less allowed for
+breakfast and tea.
+
+William was glad of the rest, after his battle, and the evening passed
+on. It was growing late, almost bedtime, when suddenly there flashed
+into his memory Mr. Ashley's letter. He put his hand into his
+jacket-pocket. There it lay, snug and safe. With a few words of
+explanation to his mother, so hasty and incoherent that she did not
+understand a syllable, he snatched his cap, and flew away in the
+direction of the town.
+
+Boys have good legs and lungs; and William scarcely slackened speed
+until he gained the post-office, not far short of a mile. Dropping the
+letter into the box, he stood against the wall to recover breath. A
+clerk was standing at the door whistling; and at that moment a
+gentleman, apparently a stranger, came out of a neighbouring hotel, a
+letter in hand.
+
+"This is the head post-office, I believe?" said he to the clerk.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Am I in time to post a letter for Bristol?"
+
+"No, sir. The bags for the Bristol mail are made up. It will be through
+the town directly."
+
+William heard this with consternation. If it was too late for this
+gentleman's letter, it was too late for Mr. Ashley's.
+
+He said nothing to any one that night; but he lay awake thinking over
+what might be the consequences of his forgetfulness. The letter might be
+one of importance; Mr. Ashley might discharge him for his neglect--and
+the weekly four shillings had grown into an absolute necessity. William
+possessed a large share of conscientiousness, and the fault disturbed
+him much.
+
+When he came down at six, he found his mother up and at work. He gave
+her the history of what had happened. "What can be done?" he asked.
+
+"Nay, William, put that question to yourself. What ought you to do?
+Reflect a moment."
+
+"I suppose I ought to tell Mr. Ashley."
+
+"Do not say 'I suppose,' my dear. You must tell him."
+
+"Yes, I know I must," he acknowledged. "I have been thinking about it
+all night. But I don't like to."
+
+"Ah, child! we have many things to do that we 'don't like.' But the
+first trouble is always the worst. Look it fully in the face, and it
+will melt away. There is no help for it in this matter, William; your
+duty is plain. There's Mr. Lynn looking out for you."
+
+William went out, heavy with the thought of the task he should have to
+accomplish after breakfast. He knew that he must do it. It was a duty,
+as his mother had said; and she had fully impressed upon them all, from
+their infancy, the necessity of looking out for their duty and doing it,
+whether in great things or in small.
+
+Mr. Ashley entered the manufactory that morning at his usual hour,
+half-past nine. He opened and read his letters, and then was engaged for
+some time with Samuel Lynn. By ten o'clock the counting-house was clear.
+Mr. Ashley was alone in it, and William knew that his time was come. He
+went in, and approached Mr. Ashley's desk.
+
+Mr. Ashley, who was writing, looked up. "What is it?"
+
+William's face grew red and white by turns. He was of a remarkably
+sensitive nature; and these sensitive natures cannot help betraying
+their inward emotion. Try as he would, he could not get a word out. Mr.
+Ashley was surprised. "What is the matter?" he wonderingly asked.
+
+"If you please, sir--I am very sorry--it is about the letter," he
+stammered, and was unable to get any further.
+
+"The letter!" repeated Mr. Ashley. "What letter? Not the letter I gave
+you to post?"
+
+"I forgot it, sir,"--and William's own voice sounded to his ear
+painfully clear.
+
+"Forgot to post it! That was unpardonably careless. Where is the
+letter?"
+
+"I forgot it, sir, until night, and then I ran to the post-office and
+put it in. Afterwards I heard the clerk say that the Bristol bags were
+made up, so of course it would not go. I am very sorry, sir," he
+repeated, after a pause.
+
+"How came you to forget it? You ought to have gone direct from here, and
+posted it."
+
+"So I did go, sir. That is I was going, but----"
+
+"But what?" returned Mr. Ashley, for William had made a dead standstill.
+
+"The college boys set on me, sir. They were ill-using my brother, and I
+interfered; and then they turned upon me. It made me forget the letter."
+
+
+"It was you who got into an affray with the college boys, was it?" cried
+Mr. Ashley. He had heard his son's version of the affair, without
+suspecting that it related to William.
+
+William waited by the desk. "If you please, sir, was it of great
+consequence?"
+
+"It might have been. Do not be guilty of such carelessness again."
+
+"I will try not, sir."
+
+Mr. Ashley looked down at his writing. William waited. He did not
+suppose it was over, and he wanted to know the worst. "Why do you stay?"
+asked Mr. Ashley.
+
+"I hope you will not turn me away for it, sir," he said, his colour
+changing again.
+
+"Well--not this time," replied Mr. Ashley, smiling to himself. "But I'll
+tell you what I should have felt inclined to turn you away for," he
+added--"concealing the fact from me. Whatever fault, omission, or
+accident you may commit, always acknowledge it at once; it is the best
+plan, and the easiest. You may go back to your work now."
+
+William left the room with a lighter step. Mr. Ashley looked after him.
+"That's an honest lad," thought he. "He might just as well have kept it
+from me; calculating on the chances of its not coming out: many boys
+would have done so. He has been brought up in a good school."
+
+Before the day was over, William came again into contact with Mr.
+Ashley. That gentleman sometimes made his appearance in the manufactory
+in an evening--not always. He did not on this one. When Samuel Lynn and
+William entered it on their return from tea, a gentleman was waiting in
+the counting-house on business. Samuel Lynn, who was, on such occasions,
+Mr. Ashley's _alter ego_, came out of the counting-house presently, with
+a note in his hand.
+
+"Thee put on thy cap, and take this to the master's house. Ask to see
+him, and say that I wait for an answer."
+
+William ran off with the note: no fear of his forgetting this time. It
+was addressed in the plain form used by the Quakers, "Thomas Ashley;"
+and could William have looked inside, he would have seen, instead of the
+complimentary "Sir," that the commencement was, "Respected Friend." He
+observed his mother sitting close at her window, to catch what remained
+of the declining light, and nodded to her as he passed.
+
+"Can I see Mr. Ashley?" he inquired, when he reached the house.
+
+The servant replied that he could. He left William in the hall, and
+opened the door of the dining-room; a handsome room, of lofty
+proportions. Mr. Ashley was slowly pacing it to and fro, whilst Henry
+sat at a table, preparing his Latin exercise for his tutor. It was Mr.
+Ashley's custom to help Henry with his Latin, easing difficulties to him
+by explanation. Henry was very backward with his classics; he had not
+yet begun Greek: his own private hope was, that he never should begin
+it. His sufferings rendered learning always irksome, sometimes
+unbearable. The same cause frequently made him irritable--an irritation
+that could not be checked, as it would have been in a more healthy boy.
+The servant told his master he was wanted, and Mr. Ashley looked into
+the hall.
+
+"Oh, is it you, William?" he said. "Come in."
+
+William advanced. "Mr. Lynn said I was to see yourself, sir, and to say
+that he waited for an answer."
+
+Mr. Ashley opened the note, and read it by the lamp on Henry's table. It
+was not dark outside, and the chandelier was not lighted, but Henry's
+lamp was. "Sit down," said Mr. Ashley to William, and left the room,
+note in hand.
+
+William felt it was something, Mr. Ashley's recognizing a difference
+between him and those black boys in the manufactory: they would scarcely
+have been told to sit in the hall. William sat down on the first chair
+at hand. Henry Ashley looked at him, and he recognized him as the boy
+who had been maltreated by the college boys on the previous day; but
+Henry was in no mood to be sociable, or even condescending--he never
+was, when over his lessons. His hip was giving him pain, and his
+exercise was making him fractious.
+
+"There! it's always the case! Another five minutes, and I should have
+finished this horrid exercise. Papa is sure to go away, or be called
+away, when he's helping me! It's a shame."
+
+Mrs. Ashley opened the door at this juncture, and looked into the room.
+"I thought your papa was here, Henry."
+
+"No, he is not here. He has gone to his study, and I am stuck fast. Some
+blessed note has come, which he has to attend to: and I don't know
+whether this word should be put in the ablative or the dative! I'll run
+the pen through it!"
+
+"Oh, Henry, Henry! Do not be so impatient."
+
+Mrs. Ashley shut the door again; and Henry continued to worry himself,
+making no progress, except in fretfulness. At length William approached
+him. "Will you let me help you?"
+
+Surprise brought Henry's grumbling to a standstill. "You!" he exclaimed.
+"Do you know anything of Latin?"
+
+"I am very much farther in it than what you are doing. My brother Gar is
+as far as that. Shall I help you? You have put that wrong; it ought to
+be in the accusative."
+
+"Well, if you can help me, you may, for I want to get it over," said
+Henry, with a doubting stress upon the "can." "You can sit down, if you
+wish to," he patronizingly added.
+
+"Thank you, I don't care about sitting down," replied William, beginning
+at once upon his task.
+
+The two boys were soon deep in the exercise, William not doing it, but
+rendering it easy to Henry; in the same manner that Mr. Halliburton,
+when he was at that stage, used to make it clear to him.
+
+"I say," cried Henry, "who taught you?"
+
+"Papa. He gave a great deal of time to me, and that got me on. I can see
+a wrong word there," added William, casting his eyes to the top of the
+page. "It ought to be in the vocative, and you have put it in the
+dative."
+
+"You are mistaken, then. Papa told me that: and he is not likely to be
+wrong. Papa is one of the best classical scholars of the day--although
+he is a manufacturer," added Henry, who, through his relatives, the
+Dares, had been infected with a contempt for business.
+
+"It should be in the vocative," repeated William.
+
+"I shan't alter it. The idea of your finding fault with Mr. Ashley's
+Latin! Let us get on. What case is this?"
+
+The last word of the exercise was being written, when Mr. Ashley opened
+the door and called to William. He gave him a note for Mr. Lynn, and
+William departed. Mr. Ashley returned to complete the interrupted
+exercise.
+
+"I say, papa, that fellow knows Latin," began Henry.
+
+"What fellow?" returned Mr. Ashley.
+
+"Why, that chap of yours who has been here. He has helped me through my
+exercise. Not doing it for me: you need not be afraid; but explaining to
+me how to do it. He made it easier to me than you do, papa."
+
+Mr. Ashley took the book in his hand, and saw that it was correct. He
+knew Henry could not, or would not, have made it so himself. Henry
+continued:
+
+"He said his papa used to explain it to him. Fancy one of your
+manufactory errand-boys saying 'papa.'"
+
+"You must not class him with the ordinary errand-boys, Henry. The boy
+has been as well brought up as you have."
+
+"I thought so; for he has impudence about him," was Master Henry's
+retort.
+
+"Was he impudent to you?"
+
+"To me? Oh no. He is as civil a fellow as ever I spoke to. Indeed, but
+for remembering who he was, I should call him a gentlemanly fellow.
+Whilst he was telling me, I forgot who he was, and talked to him as an
+equal, and _he_ talked to me as one. I call him impudent, because he
+found fault with your Latin."
+
+"Indeed!" returned Mr. Ashley, an amused smile parting his lips.
+
+"He says this word's wrong. That it ought to be in the vocative case."
+
+"So it ought to be," assented Mr. Ashley, casting his eyes on the word
+to which Henry pointed.
+
+"You told me the dative, papa."
+
+"That I certainly did not, Henry. The mistake must have been your own."
+
+"He persisted that it was wrong, although I told him it was your Latin.
+Papa, it is the same boy who had the row yesterday with Cyril Dare. What
+a pity it is, though, that a fellow so well up in his Latin should be
+shut up in a manufactory!"
+
+"The only 'pity' is, that he is in it too early," was the response of
+Mr. Ashley. "His Latin would not be any detriment to his being in a
+manufactory, or the manufactory to his Latin. I am a manufacturer
+myself, Henry. You appear to ignore that sometimes."
+
+"The Dares go on so. They din it into my ears that a manufacturer cannot
+be a gentleman."
+
+"I shall cause you to drop the acquaintance of the Dares, if you allow
+yourself to listen to all the false and foolish notions they may give
+utterance to. Cyril Dare will probably go into a manufactory himself."
+
+Henry looked up curiously. "I don't think so, papa."
+
+"I do," returned Mr. Ashley, in a significant tone. Henry was surprised
+at the news. He knew his father never advanced a decided opinion unless
+he had good grounds for it. He burst into a laugh. The notion of Cyril
+Dare's going into a manufactory tickled his fancy amazingly.
+
+
+
+
+PART THE SECOND.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+A SUGGESTED FEAR.
+
+
+One morning, towards the middle of April, Mrs. Halliburton went up to
+Mr. Ashley's. She had brought him the quarter's rent.
+
+"Will you allow me to pay it to yourself, sir--now, and in future?" she
+asked. "I feel an unconquerable aversion to having further dealings with
+Mr. Dare."
+
+"I can understand that you should have," said Mr. Ashley. "Yes, you can
+pay it to me, Mrs. Halliburton. Always remembering you know, that I am
+in no hurry for it," he added with a smile.
+
+"Thank you. You are very kind. But I must pay as I go on."
+
+He wrote the receipt, and handed it to her. "I hope you are satisfied
+with William?" she said, as she folded it up.
+
+"Quite so. I believe he gives satisfaction to Mr. Lynn. I have little to
+do with him myself. Mr. Lynn tells me that he finds him a remarkably
+truthful, open-natured boy."
+
+"You will always find him that," said Jane. "He is getting more
+reconciled to the manufactory than he was at first."
+
+"Did he not like it at first?"
+
+"No, he did not. He was disappointed altogether. He had hoped to find
+some employment more suited to the way in which he had been brought up.
+He cannot divest himself of the idea that he is looked upon as on a
+level with the poor errand-boys of your establishment, and therefore has
+lost caste. He had wished also to be in some office--a lawyer's, for
+instance--where the hours for leaving are early, so that he might have
+had the evening for his studies. But he is growing more reconciled to
+the inevitable."
+
+"I suppose he wished to continue his studies?"
+
+"He did so naturally. The foundation of an advanced education has been
+laid, and he expected it was to go on to completion. His brothers are
+now in the college school, occupied all day long with their studies, and
+of course William feels the difference. He gets to his books for an hour
+when he returns home in an evening; but he is weary, and does not do
+much good."
+
+"He appears to be a more persevering, thoughtful boy than are some,"
+remarked Mr. Ashley.
+
+"Very thoughtful--very persevering. It has been the labour of my life,
+Mr. Ashley, to foster good seed in my children; to reason with them, to
+make them my companions. They have been endowed, I am thankful to say,
+with admirable qualities of head and heart, and I have striven
+unweariedly to nourish the good in them. It is not often that boys are
+brought into contact with sorrow so early as they. Their father's death
+and my adverse circumstances have been real trials."
+
+"They must have been," rejoined Mr. Ashley.
+
+"While others of their age think only of play," she continued, "my boys
+have been obliged to learn the sad experiences of life; and it has given
+them a thought, a care, beyond their years. There is no necessity to
+_make_ Frank and Edgar apply to their lessons unremittingly; they do it
+of their own accord, with their whole abilities, knowing that education
+is the only advantage they can possess--the one chance of their getting
+on in the world. Had William been a boy of a different disposition, less
+tractable, less reflective, less conscientious, I might have found some
+difficulty in inducing him to work as he is doing."
+
+"Does he complain?" inquired Mr. Ashley.
+
+"Oh no, sir! He feels that it is his duty to work, to assist as far as
+he can, and he does it without complaining. I see that he cannot help
+feeling it. He would like to be in the college with his brothers; but I
+cheer him up, and tell him it may all turn out for the best. Perhaps it
+will."
+
+She rose as she spoke. Mr. Ashley shook hands with her, and attended her
+through the hall. "Your sons deserve to get on, Mrs. Halliburton, and I
+hope they will do so. It is an admirable promise for the future man when
+a boy displays thought and self-reliance."
+
+"Mamma!" suddenly exclaimed Janey, as they sat at breakfast the morning
+after this, "do you remember what to-day is? It is my birthday."
+
+Jane had remembered it. She had been almost in hopes that the child
+would not remember it. One year ago that day the first glimpse of the
+shadow so soon to fall upon them had shown itself. What a change! The
+contrast between last year and this was almost incredible. Then they had
+been in possession of a good home, were living in prosperity, in
+apparent security. Now--Jane's heart turned sick at the thought. Only
+one short year!
+
+"Yes, Janey dear," she replied in sadly subdued tones. "I did not forget
+it. I----"
+
+A double knock at the door interrupted what she would have further said.
+They heard Dobbs answer it: visitors were chiefly for Mrs. Reece.
+
+Who should be standing there but Samuel Lynn! He did not choose the
+familiar back way, as Patience did, had he occasion to call, but knocked
+at the front.
+
+"Is Jane Halliburton within?"
+
+"You can go and see," said crusty, disappointed Dobbs, flourishing her
+hand towards the study door. "It's not often that she's out."
+
+Jane rose at his entrance; but he declined to sit, standing while he
+delivered the message with which he had been charged.
+
+"Friend, thee need not send thy son to the manufactory again in an
+evening, except on Saturdays. On the other evenings he may remain at
+home from tea-time and pursue his studies. His wages will not be
+lessened."
+
+And Jane knew that the considerate kindness emanated from Thomas Ashley.
+
+She managed better with her work as the months went on. By summer she
+could do it quickly; the days were long then, and, by dint of sitting
+closely to it, she could earn twelve shillings a week. With William's
+earnings, and the six shillings taken from Mrs. Reece's payments, that
+made twenty-two. It was quite a fortune compared with what had been. But
+like most good fortunes it had its drawbacks. In the first place, she
+could not always earn it; she was compelled to steal unwilling time to
+mend her own and the children's clothes. In the second place, a large
+portion of it had to be devoted to buying their clothes, besides other
+incidental expenses; so that in the matter of housekeeping they were not
+much better off than before. Still, Jane did begin to think that she
+should see her way clearer. But there was sorrow of a different nature
+looming in the distance.
+
+One afternoon, which Jane was obliged to devote to plain sewing, she was
+sitting alone in the study when there came a hard short thump at it,
+which was Dobbs's way of making known her presence there.
+
+"Come in!"
+
+Dobbs came in and sat herself down opposite Jane. It was summer weather,
+and the August dust blew in at the open window. "I want to know what's
+the matter with Janey," began she, without circumlocution.
+
+"With Janey?" repeated Mrs. Halliburton. "What should be the matter with
+her? I know of nothing."
+
+"Of course not," sarcastically answered Dobbs. "Eyes appear to be given
+to some folks only to blind 'em--more's the pity! You can't see it; my
+missis can't see it; but I say that the child is ill."
+
+"Oh, Dobbs! I think you must be mistaken."
+
+"Now I'd thank you to be civil, if you please, Mrs. Halliburton,"
+retorted Dobbs. "You don't take me for a common servant, I hope. Who's
+'Dobbs'?"
+
+"I had no wish to be uncivil," said Jane. "I am so accustomed to hearing
+Mrs. Reece call you Dobbs, that----"
+
+"My missis is one case, and other folks is another," burst forth Dobbs,
+by way of interruption. "I have a handle to my name, I hope, which is
+Mrs. Dobbs, and I'd be obleeged to you not to forget it again. What's
+the reason that Janey's always tired now, I ask--don't want to
+stir--gets a bright pink in the cheeks and inside the hands?"
+
+"It is only the effect of the hot weather."
+
+The opinion did not please Dobbs. "There's not a earthly thing happens
+but it's laid to the weather," she angrily cried. "The weather, indeed!
+If Janey is not going off after her pa, it's an odd thing to me."
+
+Jane's heart-pulse stood still.
+
+"Does she have night-perspirations, or does she not?" demanded Dobbs.
+"She tells me she's hot and damp; so I conclude it is so."
+
+"Only from the heat--only from the heat," panted Jane eagerly. She dared
+not admit the fear.
+
+"Well, the first time I go down to the town, I shall take her to Parry.
+It won't be at your cost," she hastened to add in ungracious tones, for
+Jane was about to interrupt. "If she wants to know what she is took to
+the doctor for, I shall tell her it is to have her teeth looked at. She
+has a nasty cough upon her: perhaps you haven't noticed that! Some can't
+see a child decaying under their very nose, while strangers can see it
+palpable."
+
+"She has coughed since last week, the day of the rain, when she went
+with Anna Lynn into the field at the back, and they got their feet wet.
+Oh, I am sure there is nothing seriously the matter with her," added
+Jane, resolutely endeavouring to put the suggested fear from her. "I
+want her in: she must help me with my sewing."
+
+"Then she's not a-going to help," resolutely returned Dobbs. "She has
+had a good dinner of roast lamb, sparrow-grass and kidney potatoes, and
+she's sitting back in my easy chair, opposite to my missis in hers. Her
+wanting always to rest might have told some folks that she was ailing.
+When children are in health, their legs and wings and tongue are on the
+go from morning till night. You never need pervide 'em with a seat but
+for their meals; and, give 'em their way, they'd eat _them_ standing.
+Jane's always wanting to rest now, and she shall rest."
+
+"But, indeed she must help me to-day," urged Jane. "She can sew straight
+seams, and hem. Look at this heap of mending! and it must be finished
+to-night. I cannot afford to be about it to-morrow."
+
+"What sewing is it you want done?" questioned Dobbs, lifting up the work
+with a jerk. "I'll do it myself sooner than the child shall be
+bothered."
+
+"Oh no, thank you. I should not like to trouble you with it."
+
+"Now, I make the offer to do the work," crossly responded Dobbs; "and if
+I didn't mean to do it, I shouldn't make it. You'd do well to give it
+me, if you want it done. Janey shan't work this afternoon."
+
+Taking her at her word, and indeed glad to do so, Jane showed Dobbs a
+task, and Dobbs swung off with it. Jane called after her that she had
+not taken a needle and cotton. Dobbs retorted that she had needles and
+cotton of her own, she hoped, and needn't be beholden to anybody else
+for 'em.
+
+Jane sat on, anxious, all the afternoon. Janey remained in Mrs. Reece's
+parlour, and revelled in an early tea and pikelets. Jane was disturbed
+from her thoughts by the boisterous entrance of Frank and Gar; more
+boisterous than usual. Frank was a most excitable boy, and had been told
+that evening by the head master of the college school, the Reverend Mr.
+Keating, that he might be one of the candidates for the vacant place in
+the choir. This was enough to set Frank off for a week. "You know what a
+nice voice you say I have, mamma; what a good ear for music!" he
+reiterated. "As good, you tell us, as Aunt Margaret's used to be. I
+shall be sure to gain the post if you will let me try. We have to be at
+college for an hour morning and afternoon daily, but we can easily get
+that up if we are industrious. Some of the best Helstonleigh scholars
+who have shone at Oxford and Cambridge were choristers. And I should
+have about ten pounds a-year paid to me."
+
+Ten pounds a-year! Jane listened with a beating heart. It would more
+than keep him in clothes. She inquired more fully into particulars.
+
+The result was that Frank had permission to try for the vacant
+choristership, and gained it. His voice was the best of those tried. He
+went home in a glow. "Now, mamma, the sooner you set about a new
+surplice for me the better."
+
+"A new surplice, Frank!" Ah, it was not all profit.
+
+"A chorister must have two surplices, mamma. King's scholars can do with
+one, having them washed between the Sundays: choristers can't. We must
+have them always in wear, you know, except in Lent, and on the day of
+King Charles the Martyr."
+
+Jane smiled; he talked so fast. "What is that you are running on about?"
+
+"Goodness, mamma, don't you understand? All the six weeks of Lent, and
+on the 30th of January, the cathedral is hung with black, and the
+choristers have to wear black cloth surplices. They don't find the black
+ones: the college does that."
+
+Frank's success in gaining the place did not give universal pleasure to
+the college school. Since the day of the disturbance in the spring, in
+which William was mixed up, the two young Halliburtons had been at a
+discount with the desk at which Cyril Dare sat; and this desk pretty
+well ruled the school.
+
+"It's coming to a fine pass!" exclaimed Cyril Dare, when the result of
+the trial was carried into the school. "Here's the town clerk's own son
+passed over as nobody, and that snob of a Halliburton put in! Somebody
+ought to have told the dean what snobs they are."
+
+"What would the dean have cared?" grumbled another, whose young brother
+had been amongst the rejected ones. "To get good voices in the choir is
+all he cares for in the matter."
+
+"I say, where do they live--that set?"
+
+"In a house of Ashley's, in the London Road," answered Cyril Dare. "They
+couldn't pay the rent, and my father put a bum in."
+
+"Bosh, Dare!"
+
+"It's true," said Cyril Dare. "My father manages Ashley's rents, you
+know. They'd have had every stick and stone sold, only Ashley--he is a
+regular soft over some things--took and gave them time. Oh, they are a
+horrid lot! They don't keep a servant!"
+
+The blank astonishment this last item of intelligence caused at the
+desk, can't be described. Again Cyril's word was disputed.
+
+"They don't, I tell you," he repeated. "I taxed Halliburton senior with
+it one day, and he told me to my face they could not afford one. He
+possesses brass enough to set up a foundry, does that fellow. The eldest
+one is at Ashley's manufactory, errand-boy. Errand-boy! And here's this
+one promoted to the choir, over gentlemen's heads! He ought to be
+pitched into, ought Halliburton senior."
+
+In the school, Frank was Halliburton senior; Gar, Halliburton junior.
+"How is it that he says he was at King's College before he came here? I
+heard him tell Keating so," asked a boy.
+
+At this moment Mr. Keating's voice was heard. "Silence!" Cyril Dare let
+a minute elapse, and then began again.
+
+"Such a low thing, you know, not to keep servants! We couldn't do at all
+without five or six. I'll tell you what: the school may do as it likes,
+but our desk shall cut the two fellows here."
+
+And the desk did so; and Frank and Gar had to put up with many
+mortifications. There was no help for it. Frank was brave as a young
+lion; but against some sorts of oppression there is no standing up. More
+than once was the boy in tears, telling his griefs to his mother. It
+fell more on Frank than it did on Gar.
+
+Jane could only strive to console him, as she did William. "Patience and
+forbearance, my darling Frank! You will outlive it in time."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+SHADOWS IN HONEY FAIR.
+
+
+August was hot in Honey Fair. The women sat at their open doors, or even
+outside them; the children tumbled in the gutters; the refuse in the
+road was none the better for the month's heat.
+
+Charlotte East sat in her kitchen one Tuesday afternoon, busy as usual.
+Her door was shut, but her window was open. Suddenly the latch was
+lifted and Mrs. Cross came in: not with the bold, boisterous movements
+that were common to Honey Fair, but with creeping steps that seemed
+afraid of their own echoes, and a scared face.
+
+Mrs. Cross was in trouble. Her two daughters, Amelia and Mary Ann, to
+whom you have had the honour of an introduction, had purchased those
+lovely cross-barred sarcenets, green, pink, and lilac, and worn them at
+the party at the Alhambra: which party went off satisfactorily, leaving
+nothing behind it but some headaches for the next day, and a trifle of
+pecuniary embarrassment to Honey Fair in general. What with the finery
+for the party, and other finery, and what with articles really useful,
+but which perhaps _might_ have been done without, Honey Fair was pretty
+deeply in with the Messrs. Bankes. In Mrs. Cross's family alone, herself
+and her daughters owed, conjointly, so much to these accommodating
+tradesmen that it took eight shillings a week to keep them quiet. You
+can readily understand how this impoverished the weekly housekeeping;
+and the falsehoods that had to be concocted, by way of keeping the
+husband, Jacob Cross, in the dark, were something alarming. This was the
+state of things in many of the homes of Honey Fair.
+
+Mrs. Cross came in with timid steps and a scared face. "Charlotte, lend
+me five shillings for the love of goodness!" cried she, speaking as if
+afraid of the sound of her own voice. "I don't know another soul to ask
+but you. There ain't another that would have it to lend, barring Dame
+Buffle, and she never lends."
+
+"You owe me twelve shillings already," answered Charlotte, pausing for a
+moment in her sewing.
+
+"I know that. I'll pay you off by degrees, if it's only a shilling a
+week. I am a'most drove mad. Bankes's folks was here yesterday, and me
+and the girls had only four shillings to give 'em. I'm getting in
+arrears frightful, and Bankes's is as cranky over it as can be. It's all
+smooth and fair so long as you're buying of Bankes's and paying 'em; but
+just get behind, and see what short answers and sour looks you'll have!"
+
+"But Amelia and Mary Ann took in their work on Saturday and had their
+money?"
+
+"My patience! I don't know what us should do if they hadn't! We have to
+pay up everywhere. We're in debt at Buffle's, in debt to the baker, in
+debt for shoes; we're in debt on all sides. And there's Cross spending
+three shilling good of his wages at the public-house! It takes what me
+and the girls earn to pay a bit up here and there, and stop things from
+coming to Cross's ears. Half the house is in the pawn-shop, and what'll
+become of us I don't know. I can't sleep o' nights, hardly, for thinking
+on't."
+
+Charlotte felt sure that, were it her case, she should not sleep at all.
+
+
+"The worst is, I have to keep the little 'uns away from school. Pay for
+'em I can't. And a fine muck they get into, playing in the road all day.
+'What does these children do to theirselves at school, to get into this
+dirty mess?' asks Cross, when he comes in. 'Oh, they plays a bit in the
+gutter coming home,' says I. 'We plays a bit, father,' cries they, when
+they hears me, a-winking at each other to think how we does their
+father."
+
+Charlotte shook her head. "I should end it all."
+
+"End it! I wish we could end it! The girls is going to slave theirselves
+night and day this week and next. But it's not for my good: it's for
+their'n. They want to get their grand silks out o' pawn! Nothing but
+outside finery goes down with them, though they've not an inside rag to
+their backs. They leave care to me. Fools to be sure, they was, to buy
+them silks! They have been in the pawn-shop ever since, and Bankes's
+a-tearing 'em to pieces for the money!"
+
+"I should end it by confessing to Jacob," said Charlotte, when she could
+get in a word. "He is not a bad husband----"
+
+"And look at his passionate temper!" broke in Mrs. Cross. "Let it get to
+his ears that we have gone on tick to Bankes's and elsewhere, and he'd
+rave the house out of winders."
+
+"He would be angry at first, no doubt; but when he cooled down he would
+see the necessity of something being done, and help in it. If you all
+set on and put your shoulders to the wheel you might soon get clear.
+Live upon the very least that will satisfy hunger--the plainest
+food--dry bread and potatoes. No beer, no meat, no finery, no luxuries;
+and with the rest of the week's money begin to pay up. You'd be clear in
+no time."
+
+Mrs. Cross stared in consternation. "You be a Job's comforter,
+Charlotte! Dry bread and taters! who could put up with that?"
+
+"When poor people like us fall into trouble, it is the only way that I
+know of to get out of it. I'd rather mortify my appetite for a year than
+have my rest broken by care."
+
+"Your advice is good enough for talking, Charlotte, but it don't answer
+for acting. Cross must have his bit o' meat and his beer, his butter and
+his cheese, his tea and his sugar--and so must the rest on us. But about
+this five shillings?--do lend it me, Charlotte! It is for the landlord:
+we're almost in a fix with him."
+
+"For the landlord!" repeated Charlotte involuntarily. "You must keep
+_him_ paid, or it would be the worst of all."
+
+"I know we must. He was took bad yesterday--more's the blessing!--and
+couldn't get round; but he's here to-day as burly as beef. We haven't
+paid him for this three weeks," she added, dropping her voice to an
+ominous whisper; "and I declare to you, Charlotte East, that the sight
+of him at our door is as good to me as a dose of physic. Just now, round
+he comes, a-lifting the latch, and me turning sick the minute I sees
+him. 'Ready, Mrs. Cross?' asks he, in his short, surly way, putting his
+brown wig up. 'I'm sorry I ain't, Mr. Abbott, sir,' says I; 'but I'll
+have some next week for certain.' 'That won't do for me,' says he: 'I
+must have it this. If you can't give me some money, I shall apply to
+your husband.' The fright this put me into I've not got over yet,
+Charlotte; for Cross don't know but what the rent's paid up regular. 'I
+know what's going on,' old Abbott begins again, 'and I have knowed it
+for some time. You women in this Honey Fair, you pay your money to them
+Bankeses, which is the blight o' the place, and then you can't pay me.'
+Only fancy his calling Bankeses a blight!"
+
+"That's just what they are," remarked Charlotte.
+
+"For shame, Charlotte East! When one's way is a bit eased by being able
+to get a few things on trust, you must put in your word again it! Some
+of us would never get a new gown to our backs if it wasn't for Bankeses.
+Abbott's gone off to other houses, collecting; warning me as he'd call
+again in half an hour, and if some money wasn't ready for him then he'd
+go straight off to Jacob, to his shop o' work. If you can let me have
+one week for him, Charlotte--five shillings--I'll be ever grateful."
+
+Charlotte rose, unlocked a drawer, and gave five shillings to Mrs.
+Cross, thinking in her own mind that the kindest course would be for the
+landlord to go to Cross, as he had threatened.
+
+Mrs. Cross took the money. Her mind so far relieved, she could indulge
+in a little gossip; for Mr. Abbott's half-hour had not yet expired.
+
+"I say, Charlotte, what d'ye think? I'm afraid Ben Tyrrett and our Mary
+Ann is a-going to take up together."
+
+"Indeed!" exclaimed Charlotte. "That's new."
+
+"Not over-new. They have been talking together on and off, but I never
+thought it was serious till last Sunday. I have set my face dead against
+it. He has a nasty temper of his own; and he's nothing but a jobber at
+fifteen shillings a week, and his profits of the egg-whites. Our Mary
+Ann might do better than that."
+
+"I think she might," assented Charlotte. "And she is over-young to think
+of marrying."
+
+"Young!" wrathfully repeated Mrs. Cross. "I should think she is young!
+Girls are as soft as apes. The minute a chap says a word to 'em about
+marrying, they're all agog to do it, whether it's fit, or whether it's
+unfit. Our Mary Ann might look inches over Ben Tyrrett's head, if she
+had any sense in her. Hark ye, Charlotte! When you see her, just put in
+a word against it; maybe it'll turn her. Tell her you'd not have Tyrrett
+at a gift."
+
+"And that's true," replied Charlotte, with a laugh, as her guest
+departed.
+
+A few minutes, and Charlotte received another visitor. This was the wife
+of Mark Mason--a tall, bony woman, with rough black hair and a loud
+voice. That voice and Mark did not get on very well together. She put
+her hands back upon her hips, and used it now, standing before Charlotte
+in a threatening attitude.
+
+"What do you do, keeping our Carry out at night?"
+
+Charlotte looked up in surprise. She was thinking of something else, or
+her answer might have been more cautious, for she was one of those who
+never willingly make mischief.
+
+"I do not keep Caroline out. She is here of an evening now and then--not
+often."
+
+Mrs. Mason laughed--a low derisive laugh of mockery. "I knew it was a
+falsehood when she told it me! There she goes out, night after night,
+night after night; so I set Mark on to her, for I couldn't keep her in,
+neither find out where she went to. Mark was in a passion--something had
+put him out, and Carry was frightened, for he had hold of her arm
+savage-like. 'I am at Charlotte East's of a night, Mark,' she said. 'I
+shall take no harm there.'"
+
+Charlotte did not lift her eyes from her work. Mrs. Mason stood
+defiantly.
+
+"Now, then! Where is it she gets to?"
+
+"Why do you apply to me?" returned Charlotte. "I am not Caroline Mason's
+keeper."
+
+"If you bain't her keeper, you be her adviser," retorted Mrs. Mason.
+"And that's worse."
+
+"When I advise Caroline at all, I advise her for her good."
+
+"My eyes are opened now, if they was blind before," continued Mrs.
+Mason, apostrophizing in no gentle terms the offending Caroline. "Who
+gave Carry that there shawl?--who gave, her that there fine gown?--who
+gave her that gold brooch, with a stone in it 'twixt red and yaller, and
+a naked Cupid in white aflying on it? 'A nice brooch you've got there,
+miss,' says I to her. 'Yes,' says she, 'they call 'em cameons.' 'And
+where did you get it, pray?' says I. 'And that's my business,' answers
+she. Next there was a neck-scarf, green and lavender, with yaller fringe
+at its ends, as deep as my forefinger. 'You're running up a tidy score
+at Bankes's, my lady,' says I. 'I shan't come to you to pay for it,'
+says she. 'No,' thinks I to myself, 'but you be living in our house, and
+you may bring Mark into trouble over it,' for he's a soft-hearted gander
+at times. So down I goes to Bankes's place last night. 'Just turn to the
+debt-book, young man,' says I to the gentleman behind the counter--it
+were the one with the dark hair--'and tell me how much is owed by
+Caroline Mason.' 'Come to settle it?' asks he. 'Maybe, and maybe not,'
+says I. 'I wants my question answered, whether or no.' Are you
+listening, Charlotte East?"
+
+Charlotte lifted her eyes from her work. "Yes."
+
+"He lays hold of a big book," continues Mrs. Mason, who was talking her
+face crimson, "and draws his finger down its pages. 'Caroline
+Mason--Caroline Mason,' says he. 'I don't think we have anything against
+her. No: it's crossed off. There was a trifle against her, but she paid
+it last week.' Well, I stood staring at the man, thinking he was
+deceiving me, saying she had _paid_. 'When did she pay for that shawl
+she had in the winter, and how much did it cost?' asks I. 'Shawl?' says
+he. 'Caroline Mason hasn't had no shawl of us.' 'Nor a gown at Easter--a
+fancy sort of thing, with stripes?' I goes on: 'nor a cameon brooch last
+week? nor a scarf with yaller fringe?' 'Nothing o' the sort,' says he,
+decisive. 'Caroline Mason hasn't bought any of those things from us. She
+had some bonnet ribbon, and that she paid for.' Now, what was I to
+think?" concluded Mrs. Mason.
+
+Charlotte did not know.
+
+"I comes home a-pondering, and at the corner of the lane I catches sight
+of a certain gentleman loitering about in the shade. The truth flashed
+into my mind. 'He's after our Caroline,' says I to myself; 'and it's him
+that has given her the things, and we shall just have her a world's
+spectacle!' I accused Eliza Tyrrett of being the confidant. 'It isn't
+me,' says she; 'it's Charlotte East.' So I bottled up my temper till
+now, and now I've come to learn the rights on't."
+
+"I cannot tell you the rights," replied Charlotte. "I do not know them.
+I have striven to give Caroline some good advice lately, and that is all
+I have had to do with it. Mrs. Mason, you know that I should never
+advise Caroline, or any one else, but for her good."
+
+Mrs. Mason would have acknowledged this in a cooler moment. "Why did
+that Tyrrett girl laugh at me, then? And why did Carry say she spent her
+evenings here?" cried she. "The gentleman I see was young Anthony Dare:
+and Carry had better bury herself alive than be drawn aside by his
+nonsense."
+
+"Much better," acquiesced Charlotte. "Where is Caroline?"
+
+"Under lock and key," said Mrs. Mason.
+
+"Under lock and key!" echoed Charlotte.
+
+"Yes; under lock and key; and there she shall stop. She was out all this
+blessed morning with Eliza Tyrrett, and never walked herself in till
+after Mark had had his dinner and was gone. So then I began upon her. My
+temper was up, and I didn't spare her. I vowed I'd tell Mark what I had
+seen and heard, and what sort of a wolf she allowed to make her presents
+of fine clothes. With that she turned wild and flung up to her room in
+the cock-loft, and I followed and locked her in."
+
+"You have done very wrong," said Charlotte. "It is not by harshness that
+any good will be done with Caroline. You know her disposition: a child
+might lead her by kindness, but she rises up against harshness. My
+opinion is that she never would have given the least trouble at all had
+you made her a better home."
+
+This bold avowal took away Mrs. Mason's breath. "A better home!" cried
+she, when she could speak. "A better home! Fed upon French rolls and
+lobster salad and apricot tarts, and give her a lady's maid to
+hook-and-eye her gown for her! My heart! that beats all."
+
+"I don't speak of food, and that sort of thing," rejoined Charlotte. "If
+you had treated her with kind words instead of cross ones she would have
+been as good a girl as ever lived. Instead of that you have made your
+home unbearable; and so driven her out, with her dangerous good looks,
+to be told of them by the first idler who came across her: and that
+seems to have been Anthony Dare. Go home and let her out of where you
+have locked her in; do, Hetty Mason! Let her out, and speak kindly to
+her, and treat her as a sister; and you'll undo all the bad yet."
+
+"I shan't then!" was the passionate reply. "I'll see you and her hung
+first, before I speak kind to her to encourage her in her loose ways!"
+
+Mrs. Mason flung out of the house as she concluded, giving the door a
+bang which only had the effect of sending it open again. Charlotte
+sighed as she rose to close it: not only for any peril that Caroline
+Mason might be in, but for the general blindness, the distorted views of
+right and wrong, which seemed to obtain amidst the women of Honey Fair.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+THE DARES AT HOME.
+
+
+A profusion of glass and plate glittered on the dining-table of Mr.
+Dare. It was six o'clock, and they had just sat down. Mrs. Dare, in a
+light gauze dress and blonde head-dress, sat at the head of the table.
+There was a large family of them; four sons and four daughters; and all
+were present; also Miss Benyon, the governess. Anthony and Herbert sat
+on either side Mrs. Dare; Adelaide and Julia, the eldest daughters, near
+their father; the four other children, Cyril and George, Rosa and Minny,
+were between them.
+
+Mr. Dare was helping the salmon. In due course, a plate, followed by the
+sauce, was carried to Anthony.
+
+"What's this! Melted butter! Where's the lobster sauce?"
+
+"There is no lobster sauce to-day," said Mrs. Dare. "We sent late, and
+the lobsters were all gone. There was a small supply. Joseph, take the
+anchovy to Mr. Anthony."
+
+Mr. Anthony jerked the anchovy sauce off the salver, dashed some on to
+his plate, and jerked the bottle back again. Not with a very good grace:
+his palate was a dainty one. Indeed, it was a family complaint.
+
+"I wouldn't give a fig for salmon without lobster sauce," he cried. "I
+hope you won't send late again."
+
+"It was the cook's fault," said Mrs. Dare. "She did not fully understand
+my orders."
+
+"Deaf old creature!" exclaimed Anthony.
+
+"Anthony, there's cucumber," said Julia, looking down the table at her
+brother. "Ann, take the cucumber to Mr. Anthony."
+
+"You know I never eat cucumber with salmon," grumbled Anthony, in reply.
+And it was not graciously spoken, for the offer had been dictated by
+good-nature.
+
+A pause ensued. It was at length broken by Mrs. Dare.
+
+"Herbert, are you growing more reconciled to office-work?"
+
+"No; and never shall," returned Herbert. "From ten till five is an awful
+clog upon one's time; it's as bad as school."
+
+Mr. Dare looked up from his plate. "You might have been put to a
+profession that would occupy a great deal more time than that, Herbert.
+What calls have you upon your time, pray, that it is so valuable? Will
+you take some more fish?"
+
+"Well, I don't know. I think I will. It is good to-day; very good with
+the cucumber, that Anthony despises."
+
+Ann took his plate up to Mr. Dare.
+
+"Anthony," said that gentleman, as he helped the salmon, "where were you
+this afternoon? You were away from the office altogether, after two
+o'clock."
+
+"Out with Hawkesley," shortly replied Anthony.
+
+"Yes; it is all very well to say, 'Out with Hawkesley,' but the office
+suffers. I wish you young men were not quite so fond of taking your
+pleasure."
+
+"A little more fish, sir?" asked Joseph of Anthony.
+
+"Not if I know it."
+
+The second course came in. A quarter of lamb, asparagus and other
+vegetables. Herbert looked cross. He had recently taken a dislike to
+lamb, or fancied he had done so.
+
+"Of course there's something coming for me!" he said.
+
+
+"Oh, of course," said Mrs. Dare. "Cook knows you don't like lamb."
+
+Nothing, however, came in. Ann was sent to inquire the reason of the
+neglect. The cook had been unable to procure veal cutlet, and Master
+Herbert had said if she ever sent him up a mutton-chop again he should
+throw it at her head. Such was the message brought back.
+
+"What an old story-teller she must be to say she could not get veal
+cutlet!" exclaimed Herbert. "I hate mutton and lamb, and I am not going
+to eat either one or the other."
+
+"I heard the butcher say this morning that he had no veal, Master
+Herbert," interposed Ann. "This hot weather they don't kill much meat."
+
+"Why have you taken this dislike to lamb, Herbert?" asked Mr. Dare. "You
+have eaten it all the season."
+
+
+"That's just it," answered Herbert. "I have eaten so much of it that I
+am sick of it."
+
+"Never mind, Herbert," said his mother. "There's a cherry tart coming
+and a delicious lemon pudding. I don't think you can be so very hungry;
+you went twice to salmon."
+
+Herbert was not in a good humour. All the Dares had been culpably
+pampered, and of course it bore its fruits. He sat drumming with his
+silver fork upon the table, condescending to try a little asparagus, and
+a great deal of both pie and pudding. Cheese, salad, and dessert
+followed, of which Herbert partook plentifully. Still he thought he was
+terribly used in not having had different meat specially provided for
+him; and he could not recover his good humour. I tell you the Dares had
+been most culpably indulged. The house was one of luxury and profusion,
+and every little whim and fancy had been studied. It is one of the worst
+schools a child can be reared in.
+
+The three younger daughters and the governess withdrew, after taking
+each a glass of wine. Cyril and George went off likewise, to their
+lessons or to play. It was their own affair, and Mr. Dare made it no
+concern of his. Presently Mrs. Dare and Adelaide rose.
+
+"Hawkesley's coming in this evening," called out Anthony, as they were
+going through the door.
+
+Adelaide turned. "What did you say, Anthony?"
+
+"Lord Hawkesley's coming. At least he said he would look in for an hour.
+But there's no dependence to be placed on him."
+
+"We must be in the large drawing-room, mamma, this evening," said
+Adelaide, as they crossed the hall. "Miss Benyon and the children can
+take tea in the school-room."
+
+"Yes," assented Mrs. Dare. "It is bad form to have one's drawing-room
+cucumbered with children, and Lord Hawkesley understands all that. Let
+them be in the school-room."
+
+"Julia also?"
+
+Mrs. Dare shrugged her shoulders. "If you can persuade her into it. I
+don't think Julia will consent to take tea in the school-room. Why
+should she?"
+
+Adelaide vouchsafed no reply. Dutiful children they were
+not--affectionate children they were not--they had not been brought up
+to be so. Mrs. Dare was of the world, worldly: very much so: and that
+leaves very little time upon the hands for earnest duties. She had taken
+no pains to train her children: she had given them very little love.
+This conversation had taken place in the hall. Mrs. Dare went upstairs
+to the large drawing-room, a really handsome room. She rang the bell and
+gave sundry orders, the moving motive for all being the doubtful visit
+of Viscount Hawkesley--ices from the pastrycook's, a tray of
+refreshments, the best china, the best silver. Then Mrs. Dare reclined
+in her chair for her after-dinner nap--an indulgence she much favoured.
+
+Adelaide Dare entered the smaller drawing-room, an apartment more
+commonly used, and opening from the hall. Julia was reading a book just
+brought in from the library. Miss Benyon was softly playing, and the two
+little ones were quarrelling. Miss Benyon turned round from the piano
+when Adelaide entered.
+
+"You must make tea in the school-room this evening, Miss Benyon, for the
+children. Julia, you are to take yours there."
+
+Julia looked up from her book. "Who says so?"
+
+"Mamma. Lord Hawkesley's coming, and we cannot have the drawing-room
+crowded."
+
+"I am not going to keep out of the drawing-room for Lord Hawkesley,"
+returned Julia, a quiet girl in appearance and manner. "Who is Lord
+Hawkesley, that he should disarrange the economy of the house? There's
+so much ceremony and parade observed when he comes that it upsets all
+comfort. Your lordship this, and your lordship that; and papa my-lording
+him to the skies. I don't like it. He looks down upon us--I know he
+does--although he condescends to make a sort of friend of Anthony."
+
+Adelaide Dare's dark eyes flashed and her face crimsoned. She was a
+handsome girl. "Julia! I do think you are an idiot!"
+
+"Perhaps I am," composedly returned Julia, who was of a careless, easy
+temper; "but I am not going to be kept out of the drawing-room for my
+Lord Hawkesley. Let me go on with my book in peace, Adelaide: it is a
+charming one."
+
+Meanwhile Herbert Dare, seeing no prospect of more wine in store--for
+Mr. Dare, with wonderful prudence, told Herbert that two glasses of port
+were sufficient for him--left his seat, and bolted out at the
+dining-room window, which opened on to the ground. He ran into the hall
+for his hat, and then, speeding across the lawn, passed into the
+high-road. Anthony remained alone with his father; and Anthony was
+plucking up courage to speak upon a subject that was causing him some
+perplexity. He plunged into it at once.
+
+"Father, I am in a mess. I have managed to outrun the constable."
+
+Mr. Dare was at that moment holding his glass of wine between his eye
+and the light. The words quite scared him. He set his glass down and
+looked at Anthony.
+
+"How's that? How have you managed that?"
+
+"I don't know how it has come about," was Anthony's answer. "It is so,
+sir; and you must be so good as to help me out of it."
+
+"Your allowance is sufficient--amply so. Do you forget that I set you
+clear of debt at the beginning of the year? What money do you want?"
+
+Anthony Dare began pulling the fringe out of the dessert napkin, to the
+great detriment of the damask. "Two hundred pounds, sir."
+
+"Two hundred pounds!" echoed Mr. Dare, a dark expression clouding his
+handsome face. "Do you want to ruin me, Anthony? Look at my expenses!
+Look at the claims upon me! I say that your allowance is a liberal one,
+and you ought to keep within it."
+
+Anthony sat biting his lip. "I would not have applied to you, sir, if I
+could have helped it; but I am driven into a corner and _must_ find
+money. I and Hawkesley drew some bills together. He has taken up two,
+and I----"
+
+"Then you and Hawkesley were a couple of fools for your pains,"
+intemperately interrupted Mr. Dare. "There's no game so dangerous, so
+delusive, as that of drawing bills. Have I not told you so, over and
+over again? Simple debt may be put off from month to month, and from
+year to year; but bills are nasty things. When I was a young man I lived
+for years upon promises to pay, but I took care not to put my name to a
+bill."
+
+"Hawkesley----"
+
+"Hawkesley may do what you must not," interrupted Mr. Dare, drowning his
+son's voice. "He has his father's long rent-roll to turn to. Recollect,
+Anthony, this must not occur again. It is impossible that I can be
+called upon periodically for these sums. Herbert is almost a man, and
+Cyril and George are growing up. A pretty thing, if you were all to come
+upon me in this manner. I have to exert my wits as it is, I can tell
+you. I'll give you a cheque to-morrow; and I should serve you right if I
+were to put you upon half allowance until I am repaid."
+
+Mr. Dare finished his wine, rang for the table to be cleared, and left
+the room. Anthony remained standing against the side of the window, half
+in, half out, buried in a brown study, when Herbert came up, leaping
+over the grass. Herbert was nearly as tall as Anthony. He had been for
+some time articled to his father, but had only joined the office the
+previous Midsummer. He looked into the room and saw it was empty.
+
+"Where's the governor?"
+
+"Gone somewhere. Into the drawing-room, perhaps," replied Anthony.
+
+
+"What a nuisance!" ejaculated Herbert. "One can't talk to him before the
+girls. I want twenty-five shillings from him. Markham has the primest
+fishing-rod to sell, and I must have it."
+
+"Twenty-five shillings for a fishing-rod!" cried Anthony.
+
+"And cheap at the price," answered Herbert. "You don't often see so
+complete a thing as this. Markham would not part with it--it's a relic
+of his better days, he says--only his old mother wants some comfort or
+other which he can't otherwise afford. The case----"
+
+"You have half-a-dozen fishing-rods already."
+
+"Half a dozen rubbish! That's what they are, compared with this one.
+It's no business of yours, Anthony."
+
+"Not at all. But you'll oblige me, Herbert, by not bothering the
+governor for money to-night. I have been asking him for some, and it has
+put him out."
+
+"Did you get it?"
+
+Anthony nodded.
+
+"Then you'll let me have the one-pound-five, Anthony?"
+
+"I can't," returned Anthony. "I shall have a cheque to-morrow, and I
+must pay it away whole. _That_ won't clear me. But I didn't dare to tell
+of more."
+
+"If I don't get that fishing-rod to-night, Markham may sell it to some
+one else," grumbled Herbert.
+
+"Go and get it," replied Anthony. "Promise him the money for to-morrow.
+You are not obliged to give it, you know. The governor has just said
+that he lived for years upon promises to pay."
+
+"Markham wants the money down."
+
+"He'll think that as good as down if you tell him he shall have it
+to-morrow. Bring the fishing-rod away; possession's nine points of the
+law, you know."
+
+"He'll make such an awful row afterwards, if he finds he does not get
+the money."
+
+"Let him. You can row again. It's the easiest thing on earth to fence
+off little paltry debts like that. People get tired of asking for them."
+
+Away vaulted Herbert for the fishing-rod. Anthony yawned, stretched
+himself, and walked out just as twilight was fading. He was going out to
+keep an appointment.
+
+Herbert Dare went back to Markham's. The man--though, indeed, so far as
+birth went he might be called a gentleman--lived a little way beyond Mr.
+Dare's. The cottage was situated in the midst of a large garden, in
+which Markham worked late and early. He had a very, very small patrimony
+upon which he lived and kept his mother. He was bending over one of the
+beds when Herbert returned. "He would take the fishing-rod then, and
+bring the money over at nine in the morning, before going to the office.
+Mr. Dare was gone out, or he would have brought it at once," was the
+substance of the words in which Herbert concluded the negotiation.
+
+Could they have looked behind the hedge at that moment, Herbert Dare and
+Markham, they would have seen two young gentlemen suddenly duck down
+under its shelter, creep silently along, heedless of the ditch, which,
+however, was tolerably dry at that season, make a sudden bolt across the
+road, when they got opposite Mr. Dare's entrance, and whisk within its
+gates. They were Cyril and George. That they had been at some mischief
+and were trying to escape detection, was unmistakable. Under cover of
+the garden-wall, as they had previously done under cover of the hedge,
+crept they; sprang into the house by the dining-room window, tore up the
+stairs, and took refuge in the drawing-room, startlingly arousing Mrs.
+Dare from her after-dinner slumbers.
+
+In point of fact, they had reckoned upon finding the room unoccupied.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+THROWING AT THE BATS.
+
+
+Aroused thus abruptly out of sleep, cross and startled, Mrs. Dare
+attacked the two boys with angry words. "I will know what you have been
+doing," she exclaimed, rising and shaking out the flounces of her dress.
+"You have been at some mischief! Why do you come violently in, in this
+manner, looking as frightened as hares?"
+
+"Not frightened," replied Cyril. "We are only hot. We had a run for it."
+
+"A run for what?" she repeated. "When I say I will know a thing, I mean
+to know it. I ask you what you have been doing?"
+
+"It's nothing very dreadful, that you need put yourself out," replied
+George. "One of old Markham's windows has come to grief."
+
+"Then that's through throwing stones again!" exclaimed Mrs. Dare. "Now I
+am certain of it, and you need not attempt to deny it. You shall pay for
+it out of your own pocket-money if he comes here, as he did the last
+time."
+
+"Ah, but he won't come here," returned Cyril. "He didn't see us. Is tea
+not ready?"
+
+"You can go to the school-room and see. You are to take it there this
+evening."
+
+The boys tore away to the school-room. Unlike Julia, they did not care
+where they took it, provided they had it. Miss Benyon was pouring out
+the tea as they entered. They threw themselves on a sofa, and burst into
+a fit of laughter so immoderate and long that their two young sisters
+crowded round eagerly, asking to hear the joke.
+
+"It was the primest fun!" cried Cyril, when he could speak. "We have
+just smashed one of Markham's windows. The old woman was at it in a
+nightcap, and I think the stone must have touched her head. Markham and
+Herbert were holding a confab together and they never saw us!"
+
+"We were chucking at the leathering bats," put in George, jealous that
+his brother should have all the telling to himself, "and the stone----"
+
+"It is leather-winged bat, George," interrupted the governess. "I
+corrected you the other night."
+
+"What does it matter?" roughly answered George. "I wish you wouldn't put
+me out. A leathering-bat dipped down nearly right upon our heads, and we
+both heaved at him, and one of the stones went through the window,
+nearly taking, as Cyril says, old Mother Markham's head. Won't they be
+in a temper at having to pay for it! They are as poor as charity."
+
+"They'll make you pay," said Rosa.
+
+"Will they?" retorted Cyril. "No catch, no have! I'll give them leave to
+make us pay when they find us out. Do you suppose we are donkeys, you
+girls? We dipped down under the hedge, and not a soul saw us. What's for
+tea?"
+
+"Bread and butter," replied the governess.
+
+"Then those may eat it that like! I shall have jam."
+
+Cyril rang the bell as he spoke. Nancy, the maid who waited on the
+school-room, came in answer to it. "Some jam," said Cyril. "And be quick
+over it."
+
+"What sort, sir?" inquired Nancy.
+
+"Sort? oh--let's see: damson."
+
+"The damson jam was finished last week, sir. It is nearly the season to
+make more."
+
+Cyril replied by a rude and ugly word. After some cogitation, he decided
+upon black currant.
+
+"And bring me up some apricot," put in George.
+
+"And we'll have some gooseberry," called out Rosa. "If you boys have
+jam, we'll have some too."
+
+Nancy disappeared. Cyril suddenly threw himself back on the sofa, and
+burst into another ringing laugh. "I can't help it," he exclaimed. "I am
+thinking of the old woman's fright, and their dismay at having to pay
+the damage."
+
+"Do you know what I should do in your place, Cyril?" said Miss Benyon.
+"I should go back to Markham, and tell him honourably that I caused the
+accident. You know how poor they are; they cannot afford to pay for it."
+
+Cyril stared at Miss Benyon. "Where'd be the pull of that?" asked he.
+
+"The 'pull,' Cyril, would be, that you would repair a wrong done to an
+unoffending neighbour, and might go to sleep with a clear conscience."
+
+The last suggestion amused Cyril amazingly he and conscience had not a
+great deal to do with each other. He was politely telling Miss Benyon
+that those notions were good enough for old maids, when Nancy appeared
+with the several sorts of jam demanded. Cyril drew his chair to the
+table, and Nancy went down.
+
+"Ring the bell, Rosa," said Cyril, before the girl could well have
+reached the kitchen. "I can't see one sort from another; we must have
+candles."
+
+"Ring it yourself," retorted Rosa.
+
+"George, ring the bell," commanded Cyril.
+
+George obeyed. He was under Cyril in the college school, and accustomed
+to obey him.
+
+"You might have told Nancy when she was here," remarked Miss Benyon to
+Cyril. "It would have saved her a journey."
+
+"And if it would?" asked Cyril. "What were servants' legs made for, but
+to be used?"
+
+Nancy received the order for the candles, and brought them up. It was to
+be hoped her legs _were_ made to be used, for scarcely had Cyril begun
+to enjoy his black currant jam when they were heard coming up the stairs
+again.
+
+"Master Cyril, Mr. Markham wants to see you."
+
+Cyril and the rest exchanged looks. "Did you say I was at home?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Then you were an idiot for your pains! I can't come down, tell him. I
+am at tea."
+
+Down went Nancy accordingly. And back she came again. "He says he must
+see you, Master Cyril."
+
+"Be a man, Cyril, and face it," whispered Miss Benyon in his ear.
+
+Cyril jerked his head rudely away from her. "I won't go down. There!
+Nancy, you may tell Markham so."
+
+"He has sat down on the garden bench, sir, outside the window to wait,"
+explained Nancy. "He says, if you won't see him he shall ask for Mr.
+Dare."
+
+Cyril appeared to be in for it. He dashed his bread and jam on the
+table, and clattered down. "Who's wanting me?" called out he, when he
+got outside. "Oh!--is it you, Markham?"
+
+"How came you to throw a stone just now, and break my window, Cyril
+Dare?"
+
+The words threw Cyril into the greatest apparent surprise. "_I_ throw a
+stone and break your window!" repeated he. "I don't know what you mean."
+
+"Either you or your brother threw it; you were both together. It entered
+my mother's bedroom window, and went within an inch of her head. I'll
+trouble you to send a glazier round to put the pane in."
+
+"Well, of all strange accusations, this is about the strangest!" uttered
+Cyril. "We have not been near your window; we are upstairs at our tea."
+
+
+At this juncture, Mr. Dare came out. He had heard the altercation in the
+house. "What's this?" asked he. "Good evening, Markham."
+
+Markham explained. "They crouched down under the hedge when they had
+done the mischief," he continued, "thinking, no doubt, to get away
+undetected. But, as it happened, Brooks the nurseryman was in his ground
+behind the opposite hedge, and he saw the whole. He says they were
+throwing at the bats. Now I should be sorry to get them punished, Mr.
+Dare; we have been boys ourselves; but if young gentlemen will throw
+stones, they must pay for any damage they do. I have requested your son
+to send a glazier round in the morning. I am sorry he should have denied
+the fact."
+
+Mr. Dare turned to Cyril. "If you did it, why do you deny it?"
+
+Cyril hesitated for the tenth part of a second. Which would be the best
+policy? To give in, or to hold out? He chose the latter. His word was as
+good as that confounded Brooks's, and he'd brave it out! "We didn't do
+it," he angrily said; "we have not been near the place this evening.
+Brooks must have mistaken others for us in the dusk."
+
+"They did do it, Mr. Dare. There's no mistake about it. Brooks had been
+watching them, and he thinks it was the bigger one who threw that
+particular stone. If I had set a house on fire," Markham added to Cyril,
+"I'd rather confess the accident, than deny it by a lie. What sort of a
+man do you expect to make?"
+
+"A better one than you!" insolently retorted Cyril.
+
+"Wait an instant," said Mr. Dare. He proceeded to the school-room to
+inquire of George. That young gentleman had been an admiring hearer of
+the colloquy from a staircase-window. He tore back to the school-room on
+the approach of his father; hastily deciding that he must bear out Cyril
+in the denial. "Now, George," said Mr. Dare, sternly, "did you and Cyril
+do this, or did you not?"
+
+"Of course we did not, papa," was the ready reply. "We have not been
+near Markham's. Brooks must be a fool."
+
+Mr. Dare believed him. He was leaving the room when Miss Benyon
+interposed.
+
+"Sir, I should be doing wrong to allow you to be deceived. They did
+break the window."
+
+The address caused Mr. Dare to pause. "How do you know it, Miss Benyon?"
+
+Miss Benyon related what had passed. Mr. Dare cast his eyes sternly upon
+his youngest son. "It is you who are the fool, George, not Brooks. A lie
+is sure to get found out in the end; don't attempt to tell another."
+
+Mr. Dare went down. "I cannot come quite to the bottom of this
+business, Markham," said he, feeling unwilling to expose his sons more
+than they had exposed themselves. "At all events you shall have the
+window put in. A pane of glass is not much on either side."
+
+"It is a good deal to my pocket, Mr. Dare. But that's all I ask. And you
+know my character too well to fear I would make a doubtful claim. Brooks
+is open to inquiry."
+
+He departed; and Mr. Dare touched Cyril on the arm. "Come with me."
+
+He took him into the room, and there ensued an angry lecture. Cyril
+thought George had confessed, and stood silent before his father. "What
+a sneak he must have been!" thought Cyril. "Won't I serve him out!"
+
+"If you have acquired the habit of speaking falsely, you had better
+relinquish it," resumed Mr. Dare. "It will not be a recommendation in
+the eyes of Mr. Ashley."
+
+"I am not going to Ashley's," burst forth Cyril; for the mention of the
+subject was sure to anger him. "Turn manufacturer, indeed! I'd
+rather----"
+
+"You'd rather be a gentleman at large," interrupted Mr. Dare. "But," he
+sarcastically added, "gentlemen require something to live upon. Listen,
+Cyril. One of the finest openings that I know of in this city, for a
+young man, is in Ashley's manufactory. _You_ may despise Mr. Ashley as a
+manufacturer; but others respect him. He was reared a gentleman--he is
+regarded as one; he is wealthy, and his business is large and
+flourishing. Suppose you could drop into this, after him?--succeed to
+this fine business, its sole proprietor? I can tell you that you would
+occupy a better position, and be in receipt of a far larger income than
+either Anthony or Herbert will be."
+
+"But there's no such chance as that, for me," debated Cyril.
+
+"There is the chance: and that's why you are to be placed there. Henry,
+from his infirmity, is not to be brought up to business, and there is no
+other son. You will be apprenticed to Mr. Ashley, with a view to
+succeeding, as a son would, first of all to a partnership with him,
+eventually to the whole. Now, this is the prospect before you, Cyril;
+and prejudiced though you are, you must see that it is a fine one."
+
+"Well," acknowledged Cyril, "I wouldn't object to drop into a good thing
+like that. Has Mr. Ashley proposed it?"
+
+"No, he has not distinctly proposed it. But he did admit, when your
+apprenticeship was being spoken of, that he might be wanting somebody to
+succeed him. He more than hinted that whoever might be chosen to succeed
+him, or to be associated with him, must be rendered fit for the
+connection by being an estimable and a good man; one held in honour by
+his fellow citizens. No other could be linked with the name of Ashley.
+And now, sir, what do you think he, Mr. Ashley, would say to your
+behaviour to-night?"
+
+Cyril looked rather shame-faced.
+
+"You will go to Mr. Ashley's, Cyril. But I wish you to remember, to
+remember always, that the ultimate advantages will depend upon yourself
+and your conduct. Become a good man, and there's little doubt they will
+be yours; turn out indifferently, and there's not the slightest chance
+for you."
+
+"I shan't succeed to any of Ashley's money, I suppose?" complacently
+questioned Cyril, who somewhat ignored the conditions, and saw himself
+in prospective Mr. Ashley's successor.
+
+"It is impossible to say what you may succeed to," replied Mr. Dare, in
+so significant a tone as to surprise Cyril. "Henry Ashley's I should
+imagine to be a doubtful life; should anything happen to him, Mary
+Ashley will, of course, inherit all. And he will be a fortunate man who
+shall get into her good graces and marry her."
+
+It was a broad hint to a boy like Cyril. "She's such a proud thing, that
+Mary Ashley!" grumbled he.
+
+"She is a very sweet child," was the warm rejoinder of Mr. Dare. And
+Cyril went upstairs again to his jam and his interrupted tea.
+
+Meanwhile the evening went on, and the drawing-room was waiting for Lord
+Hawkesley. Mrs. Dare and Adelaide were waiting for him--waiting
+anxiously in elegant attire. Mr. Dare did not seem to care whether he
+came or not; and Julia, who was buried in an easy chair with her book,
+would have preferred, of the two, that he stayed away. Between eight and
+nine he arrived. A little man; young, fair, with light eyes and sharp
+features, a somewhat cynical expression habitually on his lips.
+Helstonleigh, in its gossip, conjectured that he must be making young
+Anthony Dare useful to him in some way or other, or he would not have
+condescended to the intimacy. For Lord Hawkesley, a proud man by nature,
+had been reared as an earl's son and heir; which meant an exclusiveness
+far greater in those days than it is in these. This was the third
+evening visit he had paid to Mrs. Dare. Had Adelaide's good looks any
+attraction for him? _She_ was beginning to think so, and to weave
+visions upon the strength of it. Entrenched as the Dares were in their
+folly and assumption, Adelaide was blind to the wide social gulf that
+lay between herself and Viscount Hawkesley.
+
+She sat down at the piano at his request and sang an Italian song. She
+had a good voice, and her singing was better than her Italian accent.
+Lord Hawkesley stood by her and looked over the music.
+
+"I like your style of singing very much," he remarked to her when the
+song was over. "You must have learnt of a good master."
+
+"_Comme ca_," carelessly rejoined Adelaide. As is the case with many
+more young ladies who possess a superficial knowledge of French, she
+thought it the perfection of good taste to display as much of it as she
+did know. "I had the best professor that Helstonleigh can give; but what
+are Helstonleigh professors compared with those of London? We cannot
+expect first-rate talent here."
+
+"Do you like London?" asked Lord Hawkesley.
+
+"I was never there," replied Adelaide, feeling the confession, when made
+to Lord Hawkesley, to be nothing but a humiliation.
+
+"Indeed! You would enjoy a London season."
+
+"Oh, so much! I know nothing of the London season, except from books. A
+contrast to your lordship, you will say," she added, with a laugh. "You
+must be almost tired of it; _desillusionne_."
+
+"What's that in English?" inquired Lord Hawkesley, whose French studies,
+as far as they had extended, had been utterly thrown away upon him.
+Labouring under the deficiency, he had to make the best of it, and did
+it with a boast. "Used up, I suppose you mean?"
+
+Adelaide coloured excessively. She wondered if he was laughing at her,
+and made a mental vow never to speak French to a lord again.
+
+"Will you think me exacting, Miss Dare, if I trespass upon you for
+another song?"
+
+Adelaide did not think him exacting in the least. She was ready to sing
+as long as he pleased.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+CHARLOTTE EAST'S PRESENT.
+
+
+Towards dusk, that same evening, Charlotte East went over to Mrs.
+Buffle's for some butter. After she was served, Mrs. Buffle--who was a
+little shrimp of a woman, with a red nose--crossed her arms upon the
+counter and bent her face towards Charlotte's. "Have you heered the
+news?" asked she. "Mary Ann Cross is going to make a match of it with
+Ben Tyrrett."
+
+"Is she?" said Charlotte. "They had better wait a few years, both of
+them, until they shall have put by something."
+
+"They're neither of them of the putting-by sort," returned Mrs. Buffle.
+"Them Crosses is the worst girls to spend in all the Fair: unless it's
+Carry Mason. She don't spare her back, she don't. The wonder is, how she
+gets it."
+
+"Young girls will dress," observed Charlotte, carelessly.
+
+Mrs. Buffle laughed. "You speak as if you were an old one."
+
+"I feel like one sometimes, Mrs. Buffle. When children are left, as I
+and Robert were, with a baby brother to bring up, and hardly any means
+to do it upon, it helps to steady them. Tom----"
+
+Eliza Tyrrett burst in at the door, with a violence that made its bell
+twang and tinkle. "Half-a-pound o' dips, long-tens, Dame Buffle, and be
+quick about it," was her order. "There's such a flare-up, in at
+Mason's."
+
+"A flare-up!" repeated Mrs. Buffle, who was always ripe and ready for a
+dish of scandal, whether it touched on domestic differences, or on young
+girls' improvidence in the shape of dress. "Is Mason and her having a
+noise?"
+
+"It's not him and her. It's about Carry. Hetty Mason locked Carry up
+this afternoon, and Mason never came home at all to tea; he went and had
+some beer instead, and a turn at skittles, and she wouldn't let Carry
+out. He came in just now, and his wife told him a whole heap about
+Carry, and Mason went up to the cock-loft, undid the door, and
+threatened to kick Carry down. They're having it out in the kitchen, all
+three."
+
+"What has Carry done?" asked Mrs. Buffle eagerly.
+
+"Perhaps Charlotte East can tell," said Eliza Tyrrett, slyly. "She has
+been thick with Carry lately. _I_ am not a-going to spoil sport."
+
+Charlotte took up her butter, and bending a severe look of caution on
+the Tyrrett girl, left the shop. Anthony Dare's reputation was not a
+brilliant one, and the bare fact of Caroline Mason's allowing herself to
+walk with him would have damaged her in the eyes of Honey Fair. As well
+keep it, if possible, from Mrs. Buffle and other gossips.
+
+As Charlotte crossed to her own door, she became conscious that some one
+was flying towards her in the dusk of the evening: a woman with a fleet
+foot and panting breath. Charlotte caught hold of her. "Caroline, where
+are you going?"
+
+"Let me alone, Charlotte East"--and Caroline's nostrils were working,
+her eyes flashing. "I have left their house for ever, and am going to
+one who will give me a better."
+
+Charlotte held her tight. "You must not go, Caroline."
+
+"I will," she defiantly answered. "I have chosen my lot this night for
+better or for worse. Will I stay to be taunted without a cause? To be
+told I am what I am not? No! If anything should happen to me, let them
+reproach themselves, for they have driven me on to it."
+
+Charlotte tried her utmost to restrain the wild girl. "Caroline," she
+urged, "this is the turning-point in your life. A step forward, and you
+may have passed it beyond recall; a step backwards, and you may be saved
+for ever. Come home with me."
+
+Caroline in her madness--it was little else--turned her ghastly face
+upon Charlotte. "You shan't stop me, Charlotte East! You go your way,
+and I'll go mine. Shall Mark and she go on at me without cause, I say,
+calling me false names?"
+
+"Come home with me, Caroline. You shall stay with me to-night; you
+shan't go back to Hetty. My bed's not large, but it will hold us."
+
+"I won't, I won't!" she uttered, struggling to be free.
+
+"Only for a minute," implored Charlotte. "Come in for a minute until you
+are calm. You are mad just now."
+
+"I am driven to it. There!"
+
+With a jerk she wrenched herself from Charlotte's grasp, passion giving
+her strength: and she flew onwards and was lost in the dark night.
+Charlotte East ran home. Her brothers were there. "Tom," said she, "put
+this butter in the cupboard for me;" and out she went again. At the end
+of Honey Fair, a road lay each way. Which should she take? Which had
+Caroline taken?
+
+She chose the one to the right--it was the most retired--and went
+groping about it for twenty minutes. As it happened, as such things
+generally do happen, Caroline had taken the other.
+
+In a sheltered part of that, which lay back, away from the glare of the
+gas lamps, Caroline had taken refuge. She had expected some one would be
+there to meet her; but she found herself mistaken. Down she sat on a
+stone, and her wild passion began to diminish.
+
+Nearly half an hour afterwards, Charlotte found her there. Caroline was
+talking to Anthony Dare, who had just come up. Charlotte grasped
+Caroline.
+
+"You must come with me, Caroline."
+
+
+"Who on earth are you, and what do you want intruding here?" demanded
+Anthony Dare, turning round with a fierce stare on Charlotte.
+
+"I am Charlotte East, sir, if it is any matter to you to know my name,
+and I am a friend of Caroline Mason's. I am here to take her out of
+harm's way."
+
+"There's nothing to harm her here," haughtily answered young Anthony.
+"Mind your own business."
+
+"I am afraid there is one thing to harm her, sir, and that's you," said
+brave Charlotte. "You can't come among us people in Honey Fair for any
+good. Folks bent on good errands don't need to wait till dark before
+they pay their visits. You had better give up prowling about this place,
+Mr. Anthony Dare. Stay with your equals, sir; with those that will be a
+match for you."
+
+"The woman must be deranged!" uttered Anthony, going into a terrible
+passion. "How dare you presume to say such things to me?"
+
+"How dare you, sir, set yourself out to work ill?" retorted Charlotte.
+"Come along, Caroline," she added to the girl, who was now crying
+bitterly. "As for you, sir, if you mean no harm, as you say, and it is
+necessary that you should condescend to visit Honey Fair, please to pay
+your visits in the broad light of day."
+
+No very pleasant word broke from Anthony Dare. He would have liked to
+exterminate Charlotte. "Caroline," foamed he, "order this woman away. If
+I could see a policeman, I'd give her in charge."
+
+"Sir, if you dare attempt to detain her, I'll appeal to the first
+passer-by. I'll tell them to look at the great and grand Mr. Anthony
+Dare, and to ask him what he wants here, night after night."
+
+Even as Charlotte spoke, footsteps were heard, and two gentlemen,
+talking together, advanced. The voice of one fell familiarly on the ear
+of Anthony Dare, familiarly on that of Charlotte East. The latter
+uttered a joyful cry.
+
+"There's Mr. Ashley! Loose her, sir, or I'll call to him."
+
+To have Mr. Ashley "called to" on the point would not be altogether
+agreeable to the feelings of young Anthony. "You fool!" he exclaimed to
+Charlotte East, "what harm do you suppose I meant, or thought of? You
+must be a very strange person yourself, to get such a thing into your
+imagination. Good night, Caroline."
+
+And turning on his heel haughtily, Anthony Dare stalked off in the
+direction of Helstonleigh. Mr. Ashley passed on, having noticed nothing,
+and Charlotte East wound her arm round the sobbing girl, subdued now,
+and led her home.
+
+Anthony went straight to Pomeranian Knoll, and threw himself on to a
+sofa in a very ill humour. Lord Hawkesley was occupied with Adelaide and
+her singing, and paid little attention to him.
+
+At the close of the evening they left together, Anthony going out with
+Lord Hawkesley, and linking arms as they proceeded towards the Star
+Hotel, Lord Hawkesley's usual quarters when in Helstonleigh.
+
+"I have got two hundred out of the governor," began Anthony in a
+confidential tone. "He will give me the cheque to-morrow."
+
+"What's two hundred, Dare?" slightingly spoke his lordship. "It's
+nothing."
+
+"It was of no use trying for more to-night. The two hundred will stop
+present worry, Hawkesley; the future must be provided for when it
+comes." And they walked on with a quicker step.
+
+Mrs. Dare had looked at her watch as they departed. It was half-past
+eleven. She said she supposed they might as well be going to bed, and
+Mr. Dare roused himself. For the last half-hour he had been half-asleep;
+quite asleep he did not choose to fall, in the young man's presence. A
+viscount to Lawyer Dare was a viscount. "Where's Herbert?" asked he,
+stretching himself. Master Herbert, Joseph answered, had had supper
+served (not being able to recover from the short allowance at dinner),
+and had gone to bed. The rest, excepting Adelaide, had gone before, free
+from want, from care, full of the good things of this life. The young
+Halliburtons, their cousins once removed, had knelt and thanked God for
+the day's good, even though that day to them had been what all their
+days were now, one of poverty and privation. Not so the Dares. As
+children, for they were not in a heathen land, they had been taught to
+say their prayers at night; but as they grew older, the custom was
+suffered to fall into disuse. The family attended church on Sundays,
+fashionably attired, and there ended their religion.
+
+To bed and to sleep went they, all the household, old and young--Joseph,
+the manservant, excepted. Sleepy Joseph stretched himself in a large
+chair to wait the return of Mr. Anthony: sleepy Joseph had so to stretch
+himself most nights. Mr. Anthony might come in in an hour's time, or Mr.
+Anthony might not come in until it was nearly time to commence the day's
+duties in the morning. It was all a chance; as poor Joseph knew to his
+cost.
+
+Nine o'clock was the breakfast hour at Mr. Dare's, and the family were
+in general pretty punctual at it. On the following morning they were all
+assembled at the meal, Anthony rather red about the eyes, when Ann, the
+housemaid, entered.
+
+"Here's a parcel for you, Mr. Anthony."
+
+She held in her arms a large untidy sort of bundle, done round with
+string. Anthony turned his wondering eyes upon it.
+
+"That! It can't be for me."
+
+"A boy brought it and said it was for you, sir," returned Ann, letting
+the cumbersome parcel fall on a chair. "I asked if there was any answer,
+and he said there was not."
+
+"It must be from your tailor, Anthony," said Mrs. Dare.
+
+Anthony's consequence was offended at the suggestion. "My tailor send me
+a parcel done up like that!" repeated he. "He had better! He would get
+no more of my custom."
+
+"What an extraordinary direction!" exclaimed Julia, who had got up, and
+drawn near, in her curiosity: "'Young Mister Antony Dare!' Just look,
+all of you."
+
+Anthony rose, and the rest followed, except Mr. Dare, who was busy with
+a county paper, and paid no attention. A happy thought darted into
+Minny's mind. "I know!" she cried, clapping her hands. "Cyril and George
+are playing Anthony a trick, like the one they played Miss Benyon."
+
+Anthony, too hastily taking up the view thus suggested, and inwardly
+vowing a not agreeable chastisement to the two, as soon as they should
+rush in to breakfast from school, took out his penknife and severed the
+string. The paper fell apart, and the contents rolled on to the floor.
+
+What on earth were they? What did they mean? A woman's gown, tawdry but
+pretty; a shawl; a neck-scarf, with gold-coloured fringe; two pairs of
+gloves, the fingers worn into holes; a bow of handsome ribbon; a cameo
+brooch, fine and false; and one or two more such articles, not new,
+stood disclosed. The party around gazed in sheer amazement.
+
+"If ever I saw such a collection as this!" exclaimed Mrs. Dare. "It is a
+woman's clothing. Why should they have been sent to you, Anthony?"
+
+Anthony's cheek wore rather a conscious colour just then. "How should I
+know?" he replied. "They must have been directed to me by mistake. Take
+the rags away, Ann"--spurning them with his foot--"and throw them into
+the dust-bin. Who knows what infected place they may have come from?"
+
+Mrs. Dare and the young ladies shrieked at the last suggestion, gathered
+their skirts about them, and retired as far as the limits of the room
+allowed. Some enemy of malicious intent must have done it, they became
+convinced. Ann--no more liking to be infected with measles or what not
+than they--seized the tongs, gingerly lifted the articles inside the
+paper, dragged the whole outside the door, and called Joseph to carry
+them to the receptacle indicated by Mr. Anthony.
+
+Charlotte East had thought she would not do her work by halves.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+THE FEAR GROWING GREATER.
+
+
+We must leap over some months. A story, you know, cannot stand still,
+any more than we can.
+
+Spring had come round. The sofa belonging to Mrs. Reece's parlour was in
+Mrs. Halliburton's, and Janey was lying on it--her blue eyes bright, her
+cheeks hectic, her fair curls falling in disorder. Through autumn,
+through winter, it had appeared that Dobbs's prognostications of evil
+for Jane were not to be borne out, for she had recovered from the
+temporary indications of illness, and had continued well; but, with the
+early spring weather, Jane failed, and failed rapidly. The cough came
+back, and great weakness grew upon her. She was always wanting to be at
+rest, and would lie about anywhere. Spreading a cloak on the floor, with
+a pillow for her head, Janey would plant herself between her mother and
+the fire, pulling the cloak up on the side near the door. One day Dobbs
+came in and saw her there.
+
+"My heart alive!" uttered Dobbs, when she had recovered her surprise;
+"what are you lying down there for?"
+
+"I am tired," replied Janey; "and there's nowhere else to lie. If I put
+three chairs together, it is not comfortable, and the pillow rolls off."
+
+"There's the sofa in our room," said Dobbs. "Why don't you lie on that?"
+
+
+"So I do, you know, Dobbs; but I want to talk to mamma sometimes."
+
+Dobbs disappeared. Presently there was a floundering and thumping heard
+in the passage, and the sofa was propelled in by Dobbs, very red with
+the exertion. "My missis is indignant to think that the child should be
+upon the floor," cried she, wrathfully. "One would suppose some folks
+were born without brains, or the sofa might have been asked for."
+
+"But, Dobbs," said Janey--and _she_ was allowed to "Dobbs" as much as
+she pleased, unreproved--"what am I to lie on in your room?"
+
+"Isn't there my easy chair, with the high foot-board in front--as good
+as a bed when you let it out?" returned Dobbs, proceeding to place Janey
+comfortably on the sofa. "And now let me say what I came in to say, when
+the sight of that child on the cold floor sent me shocked out again,"
+she added, turning to Jane. "My missis's leg is no better to-day, and
+she has made up her mind to have Parry. It's erysipelas, as sure as a
+gun. Every other spring, about, she's laid up with it in her legs, one
+or the other of 'em. Ten weeks I have known her in bed with it----"
+
+"The very best preventive to erysipelas is to take an occasional warm
+bath," interrupted Jane.
+
+The suggestion gave immense offence to Dobbs. "A warm bath!" she
+uttered, ironically. "And how, pray, should my missis take a warm bath?
+Sit down in a mashing-tub, and have a furnace of boiling water turned on
+to her? Those new-fangled notions may do for Londoners, but they are not
+known at Helstonleigh. Warm baths!" repeated Dobbs, with increased
+scorn: "hadn't you better propose a water-bed at once? I have heard that
+they are inventing _them_ also."
+
+"I have heard so, too," pleasantly replied Jane.
+
+"Well, my missis is going to have Parry up, and she intends that he
+shall see Janey and give her some physic--if physic will be of use,"
+added Dobbs, with an incredulous sniff. "My missis says it will. She
+puts faith in Parry's physic as if it was gold; it's a good thing she's
+not ill often, or she'd let herself be poisoned if quantity could poison
+her! And, Janey, you'll take the physic, like a precious lamb; and heaps
+of nice things you shall have after it, to drive the taste out. Warm
+baths!" ejaculated Dobbs, as she went out, returning to the old
+grievance. "I wonder what the world's coming to?"
+
+Mr. Parry was called in, and soon had his two regular patients there.
+Mrs. Reece was confined to her bed with erysipelas in her leg; and if
+Janey seemed better one day, she seemed worse the next. The surgeon did
+not say what was the matter with Jane. He ordered her everything good in
+the shape of food; he particularly ordered port wine. An hour after the
+latter order had been given Dobbs appeared, with a full decanter in her
+hand.
+
+"It's two glasses a day that she is to take--one at eleven and one at
+three," cried she without circumlocution.
+
+"But, indeed, I cannot think of accepting so costly a thing from Mrs.
+Reece as port wine," interrupted Jane, in consternation.
+
+"You can do as you like, ma'am," said Dobbs with equanimity. "Janey will
+accept it; she'll drink her two glasses of wine daily, if I have to come
+and drench her with it. And it won't be any cost out of my missis's
+pocket, if that's what you are thinking of," logically proceeded Dobbs.
+"Parry says it will be a good three months before she can take her wine
+again; so Janey can drink it for her. If my missis grudged her port wine
+or was cramped in pocket, I should not take my one glass a day, which I
+do regular."
+
+"I can never repay you and Mrs. Reece for your kindness and generosity
+to Jane," sighed Mrs. Halliburton.
+
+"You can do it when you are asked," was Dobbs's retort. "There's the
+wing and merrythought of a fowl coming in for her dinner, with a bit of
+sweet boiled pork. I don't give myself the ceremony of cloth-laying, now
+my missis is in bed, but just eat it in the rough; so the child had
+better have hers brought in here comfortably, till my missis is down
+again. And, Janey, you'll come upstairs to tea to us; I have taken up
+the easy chair."
+
+"Thank you very much, Dobbs," said Janey.
+
+"And don't you let them cormorants be eating her dinners or drinking her
+wine," said Dobbs, fiercely, as she was going out. "Keep a sharp
+look-out upon 'em."
+
+"They would not do it!" warmly replied Jane. "You do not know my boys
+yet, if you think they would rob their sick sister."
+
+"I know that boys' stomachs are always on the crave for anything that's
+good," retorted Dobbs. "You might skin a boy if you were forced to it,
+but you'd never drive his nature out of him; and that's to be always
+eating!"
+
+So she had even _this_ help--port wine! It seemed almost beyond belief,
+and Jane lost herself in thought.
+
+"Mamma, you don't hear me!"
+
+"Did you speak, Janey?"
+
+"I say I think Dobbs got that fowl for me. Mrs. Reece is not taking
+meat, and Dobbs would not buy a fowl for herself. She will give me all
+the best parts, and pick the bones herself. You'll see. How kind they
+are to me! What should I have done, mamma, if I had only our plain food?
+I know I could not eat it now."
+
+"God is over us, my dear child," was Jane's reply. "It is He who has
+directed this help to us: never doubt it, Jane. Whether we live or die,"
+she added pointedly, "we are in His hands, and He orders all things for
+the best."
+
+"Can to die be for the best?" asked Janey, sitting up to think over the
+question.
+
+"Why, yes, my dear girl; certainly it is, if God wills it. How often
+have I talked to you about the REST after the grave! No more tears, no
+more partings. Which is best--to be here, or to go to that rest? Oh,
+Janey! we can put up surely with illness and with crosses here, if we
+may only attain to that. This world will last only for a little while at
+best; but that other will abide for ever and for ever."
+
+A summons from Mr. Parry's boy: Miss Halliburton's medicine had arrived.
+Miss Halliburton made a grievous face over it, when her mamma poured the
+dose out. "I never _can_ take it! It smells so nasty!"
+
+Jane held the wine-glass towards her, a grave, kind smile upon her face.
+"My darling, it is one of earth's little crosses; _try_ and not rebel
+against it. Here's a bit of Patience's jam left, to take after it."
+
+Janey smiled bravely as she took the glass. "It was not so bad as I
+thought, mamma," said she, when she had swallowed it.
+
+"Of course not, Janey; nothing is that we set about with a brave heart."
+
+But, with every good thing, Janey did not improve. Her mother shrank
+from admitting the fact that was growing only too palpable; and Dobbs
+would come in and sit looking at Janey for a quarter of an hour
+together, never speaking.
+
+"Why do you look at me so, Dobbs?" asked Janey, one day, suddenly. "You
+were crying when you looked at me last night at dusk."
+
+Dobbs was rather taken to. "I had been peeling onions," said she.
+
+"Why do you shrink from looking at the truth?" an inward voice kept
+repeating in Mrs. Halliburton's heart. "Is it right, or wise, or well to
+do so?" No; she knew that it could not be.
+
+That same day, after Mr. Parry had paid his visit to Mrs. Reece, he
+looked in upon Janey. "Am I getting better?" she asked him. "I want to
+go into the green fields again, and run about."
+
+"Ah," said he, "we must wait for that, little maid."
+
+Jane went out to the door with him. When he put out his hand to say good
+morning, he saw that she was white with emotion, and could not speak
+readily. "Will she live or die, Mr. Parry?" was the whispered question
+that came at last.
+
+"Now don't distress yourself, Mrs. Halliburton. In these lingering cases
+we must be content to wait the issue, whatever it may be."
+
+"I have had so much trouble of one sort or another, that I think I have
+become inured to it," she continued, striving to speak more calmly.
+"These several days past I have been deciding to ask you the truth. If
+I am to lose her, it will be better that I should know it beforehand: it
+will be easier for me to bear. She is in danger, is she not?"
+
+"Yes," he replied; "I fear she is."
+
+"Is there any hope?"
+
+"Well, you know, Mrs. Halliburton, while there is life there is hope."
+
+His tone was kindly; but she could not well mistake that, of human hope,
+there was none. Her lips were pale--her bosom was heaving. "I
+understand," she murmured. "Tell me one other thing: how near is the
+end?"
+
+"That I really cannot tell you," he more readily replied. "These cases
+vary much in their progression. Do not be downcast, Mrs. Halliburton. We
+must every one of us go, sooner or later. Sometimes I wish I could see
+all mine gone before me, rather than leave them behind to the cares of
+this troublesome world."
+
+He shook hands and departed. Jane crept softly upstairs to her own room,
+and was shut in for ten minutes. Poor thing! _she_ could not spare time
+for the indulgence of grief, as others might! she must hasten to her
+never-ceasing work. She had her task to do; and ten minutes lost from it
+in the day must be made up at night.
+
+As she was going downstairs, with red eyes, Mrs. Reece heard her
+footstep and called to her from her bed. "Is that you, ma'am?"
+
+So Jane had to go in. "Are you better?" she inquired.
+
+"No, ma'am, I don't see much improvement," replied the old lady. "Mr.
+Parry is going to change the lotion; but it's a thing that will have its
+course. How is Janey? Does he say?"
+
+"She is much the same," said Jane. "She grows no better. I fear she
+never will."
+
+"Ay! so Dobbs says; and it strikes me Parry has told her so. Now, ma'am,
+you spare nothing that can do her good. Whatever she fancies, tell
+Dobbs, and it shall be had. I would not for the world have a dying child
+stinted while I can help it. Don't spare wine; don't spare anything."
+
+"A dying child!" The words, in spite of Jane's previous convictions;
+nay, her knowledge; caused her heart to sink with a chill. She
+proceeded, as she had done many times before, to express a tithe of her
+gratitude to Mrs. Reece for the substantial kindness shown to Janey.
+
+"Don't say anything about it, ma'am," returned the old lady in her
+simple, straightforward way. "I have neither chick nor child of my own,
+and both I and Dobbs have taken a liking for Janey. We can't think
+anything we can do too much for her. I have spoken to Parry--therefore
+don't spare his services; at any hour of the day or night send for him
+if you deem it necessary."
+
+With another attempt at heartfelt thanks, Jane went down. Full as her
+cup was to the brim, she was yet overwhelmed with the sense of kindness
+shown. From that time she set herself to the task of preparing Janey for
+the great change by gradual degrees--a little now, a little then: to
+make her long for the translation to that better land.
+
+One evening, about eight o'clock, Patience entered--partly to inquire
+after Janey, partly to ask William if he would go to bring Anna from
+Mrs. Ashley's, where she had been taking tea. Samuel Lynn was detained
+in the town on business, and Grace had been permitted to go out:
+therefore Patience had no one to send. William left his books, and went
+out with alacrity. Patience sat down by Janey's sofa.
+
+"I get so tired, Patience. I wish I had some pretty books to read! I
+have read all Anna's over and over again."
+
+"And she won't eat solids now, and she grows tired of mutton-broth, and
+sago, and egg-flip, and those things," put in Dobbs, in an injured tone,
+who was also sitting there.
+
+"I would try her with a little beef-tea, made with plenty of carrots and
+thickened with arrowroot," said Patience.
+
+"Beef-tea, made with carrots and thickened with arrowroot!" ungraciously
+responded Dobbs, who held in contempt every one's cooking except her
+own.
+
+"I can tell thee that it is one of the nicest things taken," said
+Patience. "It might be a change for the child."
+
+"How's it made?" asked Dobbs. "It might do for my missis: _she's_ tired
+of mutton broth."
+
+"Slice a pound of lean beef, and let it soak for two hours in a quart of
+cold water," replied Patience. "Then put meat and water into a saucepan,
+with a couple of large carrots scraped and sliced. Let it warm
+gradually, and then simmer for about four hours, thee putting salt to
+taste. Strain it off; and, when cold, take off the fat. As the broth is
+wanted, stir it up, and take from it as much as may be required, boiling
+the portion, for a minute, with a little arrowroot."
+
+Dobbs condescended to intimate that perhaps she might try it; though
+she'd be bound it was poor stuff.
+
+William had hastened to Mr. Ashley's. He was shown into a room to wait
+for Anna, and his attention was immediately attracted by a shelf full of
+children's story-books. He knew they were just what Janey was longing
+for. He had taken some in his hand, when Anna came in, ready for him,
+accompanied by Mrs. Ashley, Mary, and Henry. Then William became aware
+of the liberty he had taken in touching the things, and, in his
+self-consciousness, the colour, as usual, rushed to his face. It was a
+frank, ingenuous face, with its fair, open forehead, and its earnest,
+dark grey eyes; and Mrs. Ashley thought it so.
+
+"Were you looking at our books?" asked Henry, who was in a remarkably
+good humour.
+
+"I am sorry to have touched them," replied William. "I was thinking of
+something else."
+
+"I would be nearly sure thee were thinking of thy sister," cried Anna,
+who had an ever-ready tongue.
+
+"Yes, I was," replied William candidly. "I was wishing she could read
+them."
+
+"I have told her about the books," said Anna, turning from William to
+the rest. "I related to her as much as I could remember of 'Anna Ross:'
+that book which thee had in thy hand, William. She would so like to read
+them; she is always ill."
+
+"Is she very ill?" inquired Mrs. Ashley.
+
+"She is dying," replied Anna.
+
+It was the first intimation William had received of the great fear. His
+countenance changed, his heart beat wildly. "Oh, Anna! who says it?" he
+cried out, in a low, wailing tone.
+
+There was a dead silence. Anna's announcement sounded sufficiently
+startling, and Mrs. Ashley looked with sympathy at the evidently
+agitated boy.
+
+"There! that's my tongue!" cried Anna repentantly. "Patience says she
+wonders some one does not cut it out for me."
+
+Mary Ashley--a fair, gentle little girl, with large brown eyes, like
+Henry's--stepped forward, full of sympathy. "I have heard of your sister
+from Anna," she said. "She is welcome to read all my books; you can take
+some to her now, and change them as often as you like."
+
+How pleased William was! Mary selected four, and gave them to him. "Anna
+Ross," "The Blind Farmer," "Theophilus and Sophia," and "Margaret
+White." Very old, some of the books, and childish; but admirably suited
+to what people were beginning to call Jane--a dying child.
+
+"I say," cried out Henry, a little aristocratic patronage in his tone,
+as William was departing, "how do you get on with your Latin?"
+
+"I get on very well. Not quite so fast as I should with a master. I have
+to puzzle out difficulties for myself, and I am not sure but that's one
+of the best ways to get on. I go on with my Greek, too; and Euclid,
+and----"
+
+"How much time do you work?" burst forth Henry.
+
+"From six o'clock till half-past nine. A little of the time I am helping
+my brothers."
+
+"There's perseverance, Henry!" cried Mrs. Ashley; and Master Henry
+shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"Anna," began William, as they walked along, "how do you know that Janey
+is so ill?"
+
+"Now, William, thee must ask thy mother whether she is ill or not. She
+may get well--how do I know? She was ill last summer, and Hannah Dobbs
+would have it she was in a bad way then; but she recovered. Dost thee
+know what Patience says?"
+
+"What?" asked William eagerly.
+
+"Patience says I have ten ears where I ought to have two; and I think
+thee hast the same. Fare thee well," she added, as they reached her
+door. "Thank thee for coming for me."
+
+William waited at the gate until Anna was admitted, and then hastened
+home. Jane was alone, working as usual.
+
+"Mamma, is it true that Janey is dying?"
+
+Jane's heart gave a leap; and poor William, as she saw, could scarcely
+speak for agitation. "Who told you that?" she asked in low tones.
+
+"Anna Lynn. _Is_ it true?"
+
+"William, I fear it may be. Don't grieve, child! don't grieve!"
+
+William had laid his head down upon the table, the sobs breaking forth.
+His poor mother left her seat, and bent her head down beside him,
+sobbing also.
+
+"William, for my sake don't grieve!" she whispered. "God alone knows
+what is good. He would not take her unless it were for the best."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+THE END.
+
+
+April passed. May was passing; and the end of Jane Halliburton was at
+hand. There was no secret now about her state; but she was going away
+very peacefully.
+
+In this month, May, there occurred another vacancy in the choir of the
+cathedral. Little Gar--but he was growing too big now to be called
+Little Gar--proved to be the successful candidate; so that both boys
+were now in the choir.
+
+"It will be such a help to me, learning to chant, should I ever try for
+a minor canonry," boasted Gar, who never tired of telling them that he
+meant to be a clergyman.
+
+"Gar, dear, did you ever sit down and count the cost?" asked Mrs.
+Halliburton. "I fear it will not be your luck to go to college."
+
+"Labor omnia vincit," cried out Gar. "You have heard us stumbling over
+our Latin often enough, mamma, to know what that means. Frank will need
+to count the cost, too, if he is ever to make himself into a barrister;
+and he says he _will_ be one."
+
+"Oh, you two vain boys!" cried Jane, laughing.
+
+"Mamma," spoke up Janey from the sofa--and her breathing was laboured
+now--"is there harm in their wishing this?"
+
+"Not at all. They are laudable aims. Only Frank and Gar are so poor and
+friendless that I fear the hopes are too ambitious to end in anything
+but disappointment."
+
+Janey called Gar to her, and pulled his face down to a level with hers,
+whispering softly, "Strive well, Gar, and trust in God."
+
+Later, when Jane had to be out on an indispensable errand, Dobbs came in
+to sit with Janey. She brought her some jelly in a saucer.
+
+"I am nearly tired of it, Dobbs," said Janey. "I grow tired of
+everything. And I don't like to say so, because it seems so ungrateful."
+
+"It's the nature of illness to get tired of things," responded Dobbs,
+who thought it was her mission never to cease buoying Janey up with
+hope. "You'll be better when the hot weather comes in."
+
+"No, I shan't, Dobbs. I shall never get better now."
+
+A combination of feelings, indignation predominating, nearly took away
+Dobbs's breath. "Who on earth has been putting that grim notion in your
+head?" asked she.
+
+"It is true, Dobbs."
+
+"True!" ejaculated Dobbs. "Who has been saying it to you? I want to know
+that."
+
+"Mamma for one. She----"
+
+"Of all the stupids!" burst forth Dobbs, drowning what Janey was about
+to say. "To frighten the child by telling her she's going to die!"
+
+"It does not frighten me, Dobbs. I like to lie and think of it."
+
+Dobbs fell into a doubt whether Janey was in her senses. "Like to lie
+and think of being screwed down in a coffin, and put into the cold
+ground, and left there till the judgment day!" uttered she.
+
+"Oh, but, Dobbs, you must know better than that," returned Jane. "_We_
+are not put into the coffin; it is only our bodies that are put into the
+coffin; we go into the world of departed spirits."
+
+"De-par-ted what?" ejaculated Dobbs, whose notions of the future--the
+life after this life--were not very definite; and who could not have
+been more astonished had Jane begun to talk to her in Greek.
+
+"Mamma has always tried to explain these things to us," said Jane. "She
+has made them as clear to us as they can be made, and she has taught us
+not to fear death. She says a great mistake is often made by those who
+bring up children. They are taught to run away from death as something
+gloomy and frightful, instead of being shown its bright side."
+
+"Well, I never heard the like!" exclaimed Dobbs, lost in wonder. "How
+can there be a bright side to death?--in a horrid coffin, with brass
+nails and tin-tacks that screw you down?"
+
+Tears filled Janey's eyes. "Oh, Dobbs, you must learn better than that,
+or how will you ever be reconciled to death? Don't you know that when
+we die, we--our spirit, that is, for it is our spirit that lives and
+thinks--leave our body behind us? There's no more consciousness in our
+body, and it is put into the grave till the last day. It is like the
+shell that the silkworm casts away when it comes into the moth: the life
+is in the moth: not in the cast-off shell. You cannot think what trouble
+mamma has taken with us always to explain these things; and she has
+talked to me so much lately."
+
+"And where does the spirit go--by which, I suppose, you mean the soul?"
+asked Dobbs.
+
+Janey shook her head, to express her ignorance at the best. "It is all a
+mystery," she said; "but mamma has taught us to believe that there's a
+place for the departed, and that we shall be there. It is not to be
+supposed that the soul, a thing of life, could be boxed up in a coffin,
+Dobbs. When Jesus Christ said to the thief on the cross, 'To-day shalt
+thou be with me in paradise,' he meant that world. It is a place of
+light and rest."
+
+"And the good and bad are there together?"
+
+Again Janey shook her head. "Don't you remember, in the parable of the
+rich man and the beggar, there was a great gulf between them, and
+Abraham said that it could not be passed? I dare say it will be very
+peaceful and happy there: quite different from this world, where there's
+so much trouble and sickness. Why should I be afraid of death, Dobbs?"
+
+Dobbs sat looking at her, and was some minutes before she spoke. "Not
+afraid to die!" she slowly said. "Well, I should be."
+
+Janey's eyes were wet. "Nobody need be afraid to die when they have
+learnt to trust in God. Don't you know," she answered with something
+like enthusiasm, "that many people, when dying, have seen Jesus waiting
+for them? What does it matter, then, where our bodies are put? We are
+going to be with Jesus. Indeed, Dobbs, there's nothing sad in dying, if
+you only can look at it in the right way. It is those who look at it in
+the wrong way that are afraid to die."
+
+"The child's as learned as a minister!" was Dobbs's inward comment.
+"Ours told us last Sunday evening at Chapel that we were all on the high
+road to perdition. I'd rather listen to her creed than to his: it sounds
+more encouraging. Their ma hasn't brought 'em up amiss; and that's the
+truth!"
+
+The soliloquy was interrupted by the return of Mrs. Halliburton. Almost
+immediately afterwards some visitors came in--Mary Ashley and Anna Lynn.
+It was the first time Mary had been there, and she had come to bring
+Janey some more books. She was one of those graceful children whom it is
+pleasant to look at. A contrast in attire she presented to the little
+Quakeress, with her silk dress, her straw hat, trimmed with a wreath of
+flowers and white ribbons, her dark curls falling beneath it. She was
+much younger than her brother Henry; but there was a great resemblance
+between them--in the refined features, the bright complexion, and the
+soft dark eyes. Somehow, through a remark made by Dobbs, the
+conversation turned upon Jane's inability to recover; and Mary Ashley
+heard with extreme wonder that death was not dreaded. "Her ma has taught
+her different," was Dobbs's comment.
+
+"Mamma takes great pains with us," observed Mary; "but I should not like
+to die. How is it?" she added, turning to Mrs. Halliburton. "Jane is not
+much older than I, and yet she does not dread it!"
+
+"My dear," was the reply, "I think it is simply this. Those whom God is
+intending to take from the world, He often, in His mercy and wisdom,
+weans from the love of it. You are healthy and strong, and the world is
+pleasant to you. Jane has been so long weak and ill that she no longer
+finds enjoyment in it; and this naturally causes her to look beyond this
+world to the rest and peace of the next. All things are well ordered."
+
+Mary Ashley began to think they must be. Chattering Anna, vain Anna, sat
+gazing at Mary's pretty hat, her drooping curls; none, except Anna
+herself, knew with what envious longing. Anna, at any rate, was not
+tired of the world.
+
+The end grew nearer and nearer. There came a day when Jane did not get
+up; there came a second, and a third. On the fourth morning, Janey, who
+had passed a comfortable night, compared with some nights which had
+preceded it, was sitting up in bed when her brothers came in from
+school. They hurried over their breakfast and ran up to her, carrying
+the remains of it in their hands.
+
+The first few minutes after breakfast had always been devoted by Jane to
+reading to her children; in spite of her necessity for close working
+they were so devoted still. "I will read here this morning," she
+observed, as the boys stood around the bed.
+
+"Mamma," interrupted Janey, "read about the holy city, in the Book of
+Revelation."
+
+Mrs. Halliburton turned to the twenty-first chapter, and had read to the
+twenty-third verse--"And the city had no need of the sun, neither of the
+moon, to shine in it: for the glory of God did lighten it, and the Lamb
+is the light thereof"--when Jane suddenly started forward in bed, her
+eyes fixed on some opposite point. Mrs. Halliburton paused, and
+endeavoured to put her gently back again.
+
+"Oh, mamma, don't keep me!" she said in a strangely thrilling tone;
+"don't keep me! I see the light! I see papa!"
+
+There was a strange light, not as of earth, in her own face, an
+ineffable smile on her lip, that told more of heaven. Her arms dropped;
+and she sank back on the pillow. Jane Halliburton had gone to her
+Heavenly Father; it may be also to her earthly one. Gar screamed.
+
+Dobbs arrived in the midst of the commotion. And when Dobbs saw what had
+happened, she fell into a storm of anger, of passionate sobs, half ready
+to knock down Mrs. Halliburton with words, and the poor boys with blows.
+Why was she not called to see the last of her? The only young thing she
+had cared for in all the world, and yet she could not be allowed to wish
+her farewell! She'd never love another again as long as her days lasted!
+In vain they strove to explain to her that it was sudden, unexpected,
+momentary: Dobbs would not listen.
+
+Mrs. Halliburton stole away from Dobbs's storm--anywhere. Her heart was
+brimful. Although she had known that this must be the ending, now that
+it had come she was as one unprepared. In her grief and sorrow, she was
+tempted for a moment--but only for a moment--to question the goodness
+and wisdom of God.
+
+Some one called to her from the foot of the stairs, and she went down.
+She had to go down; she could not shut herself up, as those can who have
+servants to be their deputies. Anna Lynn stood there, dressed for
+school.
+
+"Friend Jane Halliburton, Patience has sent me to ask after Janey this
+morning. Is she better?"
+
+"No, Anna. She is dead."
+
+Jane spoke with unnatural calmness. The child, scared at the words,
+backed away out at the garden door, and then flew to Patience with the
+news. It brought Patience in. Jane was nearly prostrate then.
+
+"Nay, but thee art grieving sadly! Thee must not take on so."
+
+"Oh, Patience! why should it be?" she wailed aloud in her despair and
+bereavement. "Anna left in health and joyousness; my child taken! Surely
+God is dealing hardly with me."
+
+"Thee must not say that," returned Patience gravely. "But thee art not
+thyself just now. What truth was it that I heard thee impress upon thy
+child not a week ago? That God's ways are not as our ways."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+A WEDDING IN HONEY FAIR.
+
+
+But that such contrasts are all too common in life, you might think it
+scarcely seemly to go direct from a house of death to a house of
+marriage. This same morning which witnessed the death of Jane
+Halliburton, witnessed also the wedding of Mary Ann Cross and Ben
+Tyrrett. Upon which there was wonderful rejoicing at the Crosses'
+house.
+
+Of course, whether a wedding was a good one or a bad one (speaking from
+a pecuniary point of view), it was equally the custom to feast over it
+in Honey Fair. Benjamin Tyrrett was only what is called a jobber in the
+glove trade, earning fifteen or sixteen shillings a week; but Mary Ann
+Cross made up her mind to have him--in defiance of parental and other
+admonitions that she ought to look over Ben's head. They had gone to
+work Honey Fair fashion, preparing nothing. Every shilling that Mary Ann
+Cross could spare went in finery--had long gone in finery. In vain
+Charlotte East impressed upon her the necessity of saving: of waiting.
+Mary Ann would do neither one nor the other.
+
+"All that you can spare from back debts, and from present actual wants,
+you should put by," Charlotte had urged. "You don't know how many more
+calls there are for money after marriage than before it."
+
+"There'll be two of us to earn it then," logically replied Mary Ann.
+
+"And two of you to live," said Charlotte. "To marry upon nothing is to
+rush into trouble."
+
+"How you do go on, Charlotte East! He'll earn his wages, and I shall
+earn mine. Where'll be the trouble? I shan't want to spend so much upon
+my back when I am married."
+
+"To marry as you are going to do, must bring trouble," persisted
+Charlotte. "He will manage to get together a few bits of cheap
+furniture, just what you can't do without, to put into one room; and
+there you will be set up, neither of you having one sixpence laid by to
+fall back upon; and perhaps the furniture unpaid, hanging like a log
+upon you. What shall you do when children come, Mary Ann?"
+
+Mary Ann Cross giggled. "If ever I heard the like of you, Charlotte! If
+children do come, they must come, that's all. We can't send 'em back
+again."
+
+"No, you can't," said Charlotte. "They generally arrive in pretty good
+troops: and sometimes there's little to welcome them on. Half the
+quarrels between man and wife, in our class of life, spring from nothing
+but large families and small means. Their tempers get soured with each
+other, and never get pleased again."
+
+"Folks must take their chance, Charlotte."
+
+"There's no _must_ in it. You are nineteen, Ben Tyrrett's twenty-three;
+suppose you made up your minds to wait two or three years. You would be
+quite young enough then: and meanwhile, if both of you laid by, you
+would have something in hand to meet extra expenses, or sickness if it
+came."
+
+"Opinions differs," shortly returned Mary Ann. "If folks tell true, you
+were putting by ever so long for your marriage, and it all ended in
+smoke. I'd rather make sure of a husband when I can get him."
+
+An expression of pain crossed the face of Charlotte East. "Whether I
+marry or not," she answered calmly, "I shall be none the worse for
+having laid money by instead of squandering it. If the best man that
+ever was born came to me, I would not marry him if we had made no better
+provision for a rainy day than you and Tyrrett have. What can come of
+such unions, Mary Ann?"
+
+"It's the way most of us girls do marry," returned Mary Ann.
+
+"And what comes of it, I ask? _Blows_ sometimes, Mary Ann; the workhouse
+sometimes; trouble always."
+
+"Is it true that you put by, Charlotte?"
+
+"Yes. I put by what I can."
+
+"But how in wonder do you manage it? You dress as well as we do. I'm
+sure our backs take all our money; father pretty nigh keeps the house."
+
+"I dress better than you in one sense, Mary Ann. I don't have on a silk
+gown one day and a petticoat in rags the next. No one ever sees me
+otherwise than neat and clean, and my clothes keep good a long while.
+It's the finery that runs away with your money. I am not ashamed to make
+a bonnet last two years; you'd have two in a season. Another thing, Mary
+Ann: I do not waste my time--I sit to my work; and I dare say I earn
+double what you do."
+
+"Let us hear what you earned last week, if it isn't impertinent," was
+Mary Ann's answer.
+
+"Ten and ninepence."
+
+"Look at that!" cried the girl, lifting her hands. "I brought out but
+five and twopence, and I left no money for silk, and am in debt two
+quarterns. 'Melia was worse. Hers came to four and eleven. That surly
+old foreman says to me when he was paying, 'What d'ye leave for silk,
+Mary Ann Cross? There's two quarterns down.' 'I know there is, sir,'
+says I, 'but I don't leave nothing to-day.' He gave a grunt at that, the
+old file did."
+
+"And I suppose you spent your five shillings in some useless thing?"
+
+"I had to pay up at Bankes's, and the rest went in a new peach
+bonnet-ribbon."
+
+"Peach! You should have bought white, if you must be married."
+
+"Thank you, Charlotte! What next? Do you suppose I'm going to be married
+in that shabby old straw, that I've worn all the spring? Not if I know
+it."
+
+"Where's your money to come from for a new one? There will be other
+things wanted, more essential than a bonnet."
+
+"I'll have a new one if I go in trust for it," returned Mary Ann.
+"Tyrrett buys the ring. And it is of no use for you to preach,
+Charlotte; if you preach your tongue out, it'll do no good."
+
+Charlotte might, indeed, have preached a very long sermon before she
+could effect any change in the system of improvidence obtaining in Honey
+Fair. Neither Benjamin Tyrrett nor Mary Ann Cross was gifted with
+forethought, and they took no pains to acquire it.
+
+The marriage was carried out, and this was the happy day. Mrs. Cross
+gave an entertainment in honour of the event, at which the bride and
+bridegroom assisted--as the French say--with as many others as the
+kitchen would hold. Tea for the ladies, pipes and ale for the gentlemen,
+supper for all, with spirits-and-water handed round.
+
+How Mrs. Cross had contrived to go on so long without an _expose_, she
+scarcely knew herself. The wonder was, that she had gone on at all. It
+took the energies of her life to patch up her embarrassments, and hide
+her difficulties from her husband. The evil day, however, was only
+delayed. It could not be averted.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+AN EXPLOSION FOR MRS. CROSS.
+
+
+The evil day, hinted at in the last chapter, was not long in coming. It
+might not have fallen quite so soon but for a misfortune which overtook
+Jacob Cross. The manufacturer for whom he worked died suddenly, and the
+business was immediately given up--the made gloves being bought by up a
+London house, and the stock in trade, leather machines, etc., sold by
+auction. He had been a first-class manufacturer, doing nearly as large a
+business as Mr. Ashley; and not only Jacob Cross, but many more men in
+Honey Fair were thrown out of work--one of whom was Andrew Brumm;
+another, Timothy Carter. This happened only a few months after Mary Ann
+Cross's marriage.
+
+It struck terror to the heart of Mrs. Cross. Though she had paid some of
+her debts, she had incurred others: indeed, the very fact of her having
+to pay had caused her to incur fresh ones. Her position was ominous. She
+and Amelia had worked for this same manufacturer, now dead, and of
+course they were at a standstill. Mary Ann Tyrrett had likewise worked
+for him; but she had left the paternal home; and with her we have
+nothing just now to do. The position of others was ominous, as well as
+that of Mrs. Cross. It was the autumn season, and trade was flat. Winter
+orders had gone in, and there was no necessity to hurry those for the
+spring; so that the hands thrown out of work, both men and women, stood
+every chance of remaining out.
+
+A gloom overspread Honey Fair. In many a household the articles least
+needed went, week after week, to the pawnbrokers, without being redeemed
+on the Saturday night, as in more prosperous times. Upon the proceeds
+the families had to exist. It was bad enough for those who were free
+from debt; but for those already labouring under it--above all,
+labouring under secret debt--it was something not to be told. Mrs.
+Cross had nightmares regularly every night. Visions would come over her
+now and again of running away, if she had only known where to run to.
+The men would stand or sit at their doors all day, with pipes in their
+mouths: money was sure to be found for tobacco, by hook or by crook.
+There they would lounge in gloomy silence, varied by an occasional wordy
+war with their wives, who wished them anywhere else; or they and their
+pipes would saunter up and down the road, forming into groups to condole
+with each other and to abuse the glove trade.
+
+One Monday afternoon there was a small assemblage in the kitchen of
+Jacob Cross--himself, Andrew Brumm, and Timothy Carter. Brumm and Carter
+were, in one sense, more fortunate than Cross; inasmuch as that their
+respective wives worked each for another house, not the one which had
+closed; therefore they retained their employment. The fact, however,
+appeared to afford little consolation to the two men, for they were
+keeping up a chorus of grumbling, when Joe Fisher staggered in--if you
+have not forgotten him.
+
+Fisher had hitherto managed, to the intense surprise of every one, to
+keep out of the workhouse. He would be taken on for a job of work now
+and then; but manufacturers were chary of employing Joe Fisher. For one
+thing, he gave way to drink. A disreputable-looking object had he
+become: a tattered coat and waistcoat, pantaloons in rags, and not the
+ghost of a shirt. People wondered how he found money for drink.
+
+"Who'll give us house-room?" was his salutation, as he pushed himself
+in, his eyes haggard, his legs unsteady, his face thin from incipient
+famine. "Will nobody give us a corner to lie in?"
+
+The men took their pipes from their mouths. "Turned out at last, Joe?"
+
+"Turned out," replied Joe. "And my missis close upon her down-lying."
+
+Mrs. Cross, who was at the back of the kitchen, washing out her potato
+saucepan, of which frugal edible, seasoned with salt, the family dinner
+had consisted, put in her word.
+
+"You couldn't expect nothing else, Joe Fisher. There you have been, in
+them folks' furnished room, paying nothing, and paying nothing, and you
+drinking everlasting. They have threatened you long enough. Last week,
+you know, they took a vow you should go this."
+
+"Where's the wife and little 'uns?" asked meek Timothy Carter.
+
+"You can look at 'em," responded Fisher. "They're not a hundred miles
+off. They bain't out of view."
+
+He gave a flourish of his hand towards the road, and the men and Mrs.
+Cross crowded to the door to reconnoitre. In the middle of the lane,
+crouched down in its mud, for the weather had been bad, and it was very
+wet under foot, was untidy Sukey Fisher--a woman all skin and bone now,
+her face hopeless and desperate. She wore no cap, and her matted hair
+fell on to her gown--such a gown! all tatters and dirt. Several young
+children huddled around her.
+
+"Untidy creature!" muttered Mrs. Cross to herself. "She is as fond of a
+drop as her lazy, quarrelsome husband; and this is what they have
+brought it to between 'em! Them poor little objects of young 'uns 'ud be
+as well dead as alive."
+
+"Look at 'em!" began Fisher. "And they call this a free country! They
+call it a country as is a pattern to others and a refuge for the needy.
+Why don't Government, that opened our ports to them foreign French and
+keeps 'em open, come down and take a look at my wife squatting
+there?--turned out of our room without a place to put our heads into!"
+
+"If you hadn't put quite as much inside your head, Joe Fisher, and been
+doing of it for years, you might have had more for the outside on't
+now," again spoke Mrs. Cross in her sharp tones. The woman was not
+naturally sharp, as were some in Honey Fair; but the miserable fear she
+lived in, added to their present privations, told upon her temper.
+
+"Hold your magging," said Joe Fisher. "I never like to quarrel with
+petticuts, one's own belongings excepted. All as I say, Mother Cross,
+is, don't _you_ mag."
+
+Mrs. Cross made no reply to this, and Fisher resumed.
+
+"This comes of letting the Government and the masters have their own
+way! If we had that there strike among us, that I've so often told ye
+on, things would be different. Let a man sit down a minute, Cross."
+
+Cross civilly pushed a chair towards him, concentrating his attention
+afterwards upon Mrs. Fisher. A crowd had collected round her; and Mrs.
+Buffle, with a feeling of humanity that few had given that lady credit
+for possessing, sent out an old woollen shawl to the shivering woman,
+and a basin of hasty pudding. The mother could not feed the whining
+children fast enough with the one iron spoon.
+
+A young man ran up to Cross's door. It was Adam Thorneycroft. He did not
+live in Honey Fair, but often found his way to it, although Charlotte
+had rejected him. "Is Joe Fisher here?" asked he. "Fisher, why don't you
+go to the workhouse and tell them the state your wife is in? She can't
+stop there."
+
+"Her state is no concern of your'n, Master Thorneycroft," was the sullen
+answer.
+
+Thorneycroft turned on his heel, a scornful gesture escaping him at
+Fisher's half-stupid condition. "I must be off to my work," he
+observed; "but can't one of you, who are gentlemen at large, just go to
+the workhouse and acquaint them with the woman's helplessness, and that
+of her children around her?"
+
+Timothy Carter responded to it. "I'll go," said he; "I haven't nothing
+to do with myself this afternoon."
+
+Timothy and Adam walked away together, Tim treading with gingerly feet
+past his own door, lest his wife should recognise his step, bolt out,
+and stop him. Charlotte East was standing at her door, and Adam halted.
+Timothy walked on: he did not feel himself perfectly safe yet.
+
+"What a life that poor woman's is!" exclaimed Charlotte.
+
+"Ay," assented Adam; "and all through Fisher's not sticking to his
+work."
+
+Charlotte moved her face gravely towards him. "Say through his drinking,
+Adam."
+
+"Do you speak that as a warning, Charlotte?" he continued. "I think you
+mean well by me, but you go just the wrong way to show it. If you wanted
+me to keep steady, you should have come and helped me in it. Good-bye. I
+am late."
+
+"Gentlemen at large, young Thorney called us!" cried Jacob Cross to his
+friend Brumm, as Fisher went off and they sat down again. "He's not far
+out. What's to be the end on't?"
+
+"Why, the work'us," responded Mrs. Cross, who rarely let an opportunity
+slip of putting in her own opinion. "The work'us for us as well as for
+the Fishers, unless things take a turn. When great, big, able-bodied men
+is throwed out o' work, and yet has to eat and drink, and other folks at
+home has to eat and drink, and nothing to stay their stomachs upon, the
+work'us can't be far off."
+
+"Never for me!" said Andrew Brumm. "I'll work to keep me and mine out on
+it, if it is at breaking stones upon the road. I know one thing--if ever
+I do get into certain work again, I'll make my missis be a bit
+providenter than she was before."
+
+"Bell Brumm ain't one of the provident sort," dissented Mrs. Cross. "How
+do you manage to get along at all, Drew, these bad times? You don't seem
+to get into trouble."
+
+"Well, we manage somehow," replied Andrew. "But we have to pinch. My
+missis sticks at her work, now I be out on't. She hardly looks off it;
+and I does the house, and sees to the children. Nine shilling, all but
+her silk, she earned last week. And finding that we _can_ exist on that
+after a fashion, has set me thinking that when my good wages was added
+to it we ought to have put by for a rainy day," he continued, after a
+pause. "Just let me get the chance again!"
+
+"It's surprising the miracles wages works when folks ain't earning
+none!" put in Mrs. Cross in a tone of irony, who did not altogether like
+the turn the conversation was taking. "When you get into work again,
+Drew Brumm, your wife won't be more able to save than the rest of us."
+
+"But she shall," returned Andrew. "And she sees for herself now that it
+might be done."
+
+"I was a-making a calkelation yesterday how long we might hold out on
+our household things," observed Jacob Cross--a silent man, in general.
+"If none of us can get work, they'll have to go, piecemeal. One can't
+clam; one must live upon something."
+
+"I'm resolved upon one point--that I won't have no underhand debt
+again," resumed Brumm. "Last spring I found out the flaring trade my
+missis was carrying on with them Bankes's--and the way I come to know of
+it was funny: but never mind that. 'Bell,' says I to her, 'I'd rather
+sell off all I've got and go tramping the country, than I'd live with a
+sword over my head'--which debt is. And I went down to Bankes's and said
+to 'em, 'If you let my wife get into debt again, I won't pay it, as I
+now give you notice, and I'll have you up before the justices for a
+pest.' I thought I'd make it strong, you see, Cross. And I paid off
+their bill, so much a week, and got shut of 'em. Them Bankes's does more
+mischief in Honey Fair than everything else put together."
+
+"Why, what do Bankes's do?" asked Jacob, in happy ignorance.
+
+"Do!" returned Brumm. "Don't you know----"
+
+But at that critical moment, Mrs. Cross, in bustling behind Andrew
+Brumm's chair, which was on the tilt, contrived to get her foot
+entangled in it. Brumm, his chair, and his pipe, all came down together.
+
+"Mercy on us!" uttered Jacob Cross, coming to the rescue. "How did you
+manage that, Brumm?"
+
+Before Brumm could answer, or had well gathered himself up, there was
+another visitor--Mr. Abbott, the landlord of at least a third of Honey
+Fair. He had come on his usual Monday's errand. Jacob Cross put down his
+pipe and touched his hat, which, in the manners of Honey Fair, was worn
+indoors. It was not often that the landlord and the men came into
+contact with each other.
+
+"Are you ready for me, Mrs. Cross?"
+
+"We are not ready to-day, sir," interposed Jacob. "You must please to
+give us a little grace these hard times, sir. The moment I be in work
+again, I'll think of you, before I think of ourselves."
+
+"I have given all the grace I can give," replied Mr. Abbott, a hard,
+surly man. "You must either pay, or turn out: I don't care which."
+
+"I'll pay you as soon as I am in work, sir; you may count upon it. As to
+turning out, sir, where could I turn to? You'd not let me take out my
+furniture, and we can't sit down in the street, as Fisher's wife is
+doing."
+
+Mr. Abbott turned to the door. When he came back, a man was with him. "I
+must trouble you to give this man house-room for a few days. As you
+won't go out, he must stop in, to see that your goods stop in."
+
+Cross's spirit rose within him. "It's a hard way to treat a man, sir! I
+have lived under you for years, and you have had your rent regular."
+
+"Regular!" exclaimed the landlord. "I have had more trouble to get it
+from your wife, since Bankes's came to Helstonleigh, than from anybody
+else in Honey Fair."
+
+Cross did not understand this. He was too much absorbed by the point in
+question to ask an explanation. "There's only three weeks owing to you,
+sir, and----"
+
+"Three weeks!" interrupted Mr. Abbott; "there are nine weeks owing to
+me. Nine weeks to-day."
+
+Jacob Cross stood confounded. "Who says there's nine weeks?" asked he.
+
+"I say so. Your wife can say so. Ask her."
+
+But Mrs. Cross, with a scared face and white lips, whisked through the
+door and hurried down Honey Fair. The explosion had come.
+
+Mr. Abbott, wasting no more words, departed, leaving the unwelcome
+visitor behind him. Andrew Brumm came in again from outside, where he
+had stood, out of delicacy, feeling thankful that _his_ rent was all
+right. It was pinching work; but Andrew was beginning to learn that debt
+pinches the mind, more than hunger pinches the body.
+
+"Comrade," whispered he, grasping Cross's hand, "it's all along of them
+Bankes's. The women buy their fal-lals and their finery, and the weekly
+payments to 'em must be kept up, whether or no, for fear Bankes's should
+let out on't to us, and ask us for the money. Of course the rent and
+other things gets behind. Half the women round us are knee-deep in
+Bankes's books."
+
+"Why couldn't you have told me this before?" demanded Cross, in his
+astonishment.
+
+"It's not my province to interfere with other men's wives," was Brumm's
+sensible answer.
+
+"Where's she got to?" cried Jacob, looking round for his wife. "I'll
+come to the bottom of this. Nine weeks' rent owing; and her salving me
+up that it was only three!"
+
+Jacob might well say, "Where's she got to?" Mrs. Cross had glided down
+Honey Fair into the first friendly door that happened to be open. That
+was Mrs. Carter's. "For mercy's sake, let's stop here a minute,
+Elizabeth Carter!" exclaimed she. "We have got the bums in!"
+
+Mrs. Carter was rubbing up some brass candlesticks. Work ran short with
+her that week, and therefore she spent it in cleaning, which was her
+notion of taking holiday; scrubbing and scouring from morning till
+night. She turned round and stared at Mrs. Cross, who, with white face
+and gasping breath, had sunk down upon a chair.
+
+"What on earth's the matter?"
+
+"Abbott has brought it out to my husband that I owes nine weeks' rent,
+and he's telling him about Bankes's, and now he has gone and put a bum
+into the house!"
+
+"More soft you, to have had to do with Bankes's!" was the sympathy
+offered by Mrs. Carter. "You couldn't expect nothing less."
+
+"That old skinflint, Abbott----"
+
+Mrs. Cross stopped short. She opened the staircase door about an inch,
+and humbly twisted herself through the aperture. Who should be standing
+there to hear her, having followed her in, but Mr. Abbott himself.
+
+He had no need to say, "Ready, Mrs. Carter?" Mrs. Carter always was
+ready. She paid him weekly, and asked no favour. The payment made, he
+departed again, and Mrs. Cross emerged from her retreat.
+
+"_You_ can pay him!" she exclaimed, with some envy. "And Timothy's out
+o' work, too; and you be slack. How do you manage it?"
+
+"I'm not a fool," was the logical response of Mrs. Carter. "If I spent
+my earnings when they are coming in regular, or let Tim keep his to his
+own cheek, where should we be in a time like this? I have my
+understanding about me."
+
+Mrs. Carter did not praise her understanding without cause. Whatever
+social virtues she may have lacked, she was rich in thrift, in
+forethought. Had Timothy remained out of work for a twelvemonth, they
+would not have been put to shifts.
+
+"I'm afraid to go back!" cried Mrs. Cross.
+
+"So should I be, if I got myself into your mess."
+
+The offered sympathy not being consolatory to her present frame of mind,
+Mrs. Cross departed. Home, at present, she dared not go. She went about
+Honey Fair, seeking the gossiping pity which Elizabeth Carter had
+declined to give, but which she was yearning for. Thus she spent an hour
+or two.
+
+Meanwhile the news had been spreading through Honey Fair, "Crosses had
+the bums in;" and Mary Ann, hearing it, flew home to know whether it was
+correct. She--partly through fear, partly in the security from paternal
+correction, imparted to her by the feeling that she was Mary Ann
+Tyrrett, and no longer Mary Ann Cross--yielded to her father's
+questions, and made full confession. Debts here, debts there, debts
+everywhere. Cross was overwhelmed; and when his wife at length came in,
+he quietly knocked her down.
+
+The broker advanced to the rescue. "If you dare to come between man and
+wife," raved Cross, lifting his arm menacingly, "I'll serve you the
+same." He was a quiet-tempered man, but this business had terribly
+exasperated him. "You'll come to die in the work'us," he uttered to his
+wife. "And serve you right! It's your doings that have broke up our
+home."
+
+"No," retorted she passionately, as she lifted herself from the floor;
+"it's your squanderings in the publics o' nights, that have helped to
+break up our home."
+
+It was a little of both.
+
+The quarrel was interrupted by a commotion outside, and Mrs. Cross
+darted out to look--glad, perhaps, to escape from her husband's anger.
+An official from the workhouse had come down with an order for the
+admission of Susan Fisher instanter. Timothy Carter, in his meek and
+humane spirit, had so enlarged upon the state of affairs in general,
+touching Mrs. Fisher, that the workhouse bestirred itself. An officer
+was despatched to marshal them into it at once. The uproar was caused by
+her resistance: she was still sitting in the road.
+
+"I won't go into the work'us," she screamed; "I won't go there to be
+parted from my children and my husband. If I'm to die, I'll die out
+here."
+
+"Just get up and march, and don't let's have no row," said the officer.
+"Else I'll fetch a wheel-barrer, and wheel ye to it."
+
+She resisted, shrieking and flinging her arms and her wild hair about
+her, as only a foolish woman would do; the children, alarmed, clung to
+her and cried, and all Honey Fair came out to look. Mr. Joe Fisher also
+staggered up, in a state not to be described. He had been invited by
+some friend, more sympathizing than judicious, to solace his troubles
+with strong waters; and down he fell in the mud, helpless.
+
+"Well, here's a pretty kettle of fish!" cried the perplexed workhouse
+man. "A nice pair, they are! How I am to get 'em both there, is beyond
+me! She can walk, if she's forced to it; but he can't! They spend their
+money in sotting, and when they have no more to spend they come to us to
+keep 'em! I must get an open cart."
+
+The cart was procured somewhere and brought to the scene, a policeman in
+attendance; and the children were lifted into it one by one. Next the
+man was thrown in, like a clod; and then came the woman's turn. With
+much struggling and kicking, with shrieks that might have been heard a
+mile off, she was at length hoisted into it. But she tumbled out again:
+raving that "no work'us shouldn't hold her." The official raved in turn;
+and Honey Fair hugged itself. It had not had the gratification of so
+exciting a scene for many a day; to say nothing of the satisfaction it
+derived from hearing the workhouse set at defiance.
+
+The official and the policeman at length conquered. She was secured, and
+the cart started at a snail's pace with its load--Mrs. Fisher setting up
+a prolonged and dismal lamentation not unlike an Irish howl: and Honey
+Fair, in its curiosity, following the cart as its train.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+A STRAY SHILLING.
+
+
+"Whose shilling is this on my desk?" inquired Mr. Ashley of Samuel Lynn,
+one morning towards the close of the summer.
+
+"I cannot tell thee," was the reply of the Quaker. "I know nothing of
+it."
+
+"It is none of mine, to my knowledge," remarked Mr. Ashley.
+
+"What shilling is that on the master's desk?" repeated Samuel Lynn to
+William when he returned into his own room, where William was.
+
+"I put a shilling on the desk this morning," replied William. "I found
+it in the waste-paper basket."
+
+"Thee go in, then, and tell the master."
+
+William did so. "The shilling rolled out of the waste-paper basket,
+sir," said he, entering the counting-house and approaching Mr. Ashley.
+
+Mr. Ashley was remarkably exact in his accounts. He had missed no
+shilling, and he did not think it was his. "What should bring a shilling
+in the waste-paper basket?" he asked. "It may have rolled out of your
+own pocket."
+
+William could have smiled at the remark. A shilling out of _his_ pocket!
+"Oh, no, sir, it did not."
+
+Mr. Ashley sat looking earnestly at William--as the latter fancied. In
+reality he was buried deep in his own thoughts. But William felt
+uncomfortable under the survey, and his face flushed to a glow. Why
+should he feel uncomfortable? What should cause the flush?
+
+This. Since Janey's death, some months ago now, their circumstances had
+been more straitened than ever; of course, there had been expenses
+attending it, and Mrs. Halliburton was paying them off weekly. Bread and
+potatoes, and a little milk, would often be their food. On the previous
+night Jane had a sick headache. Some tea would have been acceptable, but
+she had neither tea nor money in the house; and she was firm in her
+resolution not to purchase on trust. On this morning early, when William
+rose, he found his mother down before him, at her work as usual. Her
+head felt better, she said; it might get quite well if she had only some
+tea; but she had not, and--there was an end of it. William went out,
+ardently wishing (in the vague profitless manner that he might have
+wished for Aladdin's lamp) that he had only a shilling to procure some
+for her. When, half an hour after, this shilling rolled out of the
+waste-paper basket, as he was shaking it in Mr. Ashley's counting-house,
+a strong temptation--not to take it, but to wish that he might take it,
+that it was not wrong to take it--rushed over him. He put it down on
+the desk and turned from it--turned from the temptation, for the
+shilling seemed to scorch his fingers. The remembrance of this wish--it
+sounded to him like a dishonest one--had brought the vivid colour to his
+face, under what he thought was Mr. Ashley's scrutiny. That gentleman
+observed it.
+
+"What are you turning red for?"
+
+This crowned all. William's face changed to scarlet.
+
+Mr. Ashley was surprised. He came to the conclusion that some mystery
+must be connected with the shilling--something wrong. He determined to
+fathom it. "Why do you look confused?" he resumed.
+
+"It was only at my own thoughts, sir."
+
+"What are they? Let me hear them."
+
+William hesitated. "I would rather not tell them, sir."
+
+"But I would rather you did." Mr. Ashley spoke quietly, as usual; but
+there lay command in the quietest tone of Mr. Ashley's.
+
+Implicit obedience had been enjoined upon the Halliburtons from their
+earliest childhood. In that manufactory Mr. Ashley was William's
+_master_, and he believed he had no resource but to comply with his
+desire. William was of a remarkably ingenuous nature; and if he had to
+impart a thing, he did not do it by halves, although it might tell
+against himself.
+
+"When I found that shilling this morning, sir, the thought came over me
+to wish it was mine--to wish that I might take it without doing ill. The
+thought did not come over me _to take it_," he added, raising his
+truthful eyes to Mr. Ashley's, "only to wish that it was not wrong to do
+so. When you looked at me so earnestly, sir, I fancied you could see
+what my thoughts had been. And they were not honourable thoughts."
+
+"Did you ever take money that was not yours?" asked Mr. Ashley, after a
+pause.
+
+William looked surprised. "No, sir, never."
+
+Mr. Ashley paused again. "I have known children help themselves to
+halfpence and pence, and think it little crime."
+
+The boy shook his head. "We have been taught better than that, sir. And,
+besides the crime, money taken in that way would bring us no good, only
+trouble. It could not prosper."
+
+"Tell me why you think that."
+
+"My mother has always taught us that a bad action can never prosper in
+the end."
+
+"I suppose you coveted the shilling for marbles; or for sweetmeats?"
+
+"Oh no, sir. It was not for myself that I wished it."
+
+"Then for whom? For what?"
+
+This caused William's face to flush again. Mr. Ashley questioned till he
+drew from him the particulars--how that he had wished to buy some tea,
+and why he had wished it.
+
+"I have heard," remarked Mr. Ashley, after listening, "that you have
+many privations to put up with."
+
+"It is true, sir. But we don't so much care for them if we only _can_
+put up with them. My mother says she knows better days will be in store
+for us, if we only bear on patiently. I am sure we boys ought to do so,
+if she can. It is worse for her than for us."
+
+There ensued another searching question from Mr. Ashley. "Have you ever,
+when alone in the egg-house, amidst its thousands of eggs, been tempted
+to pocket a few to carry home?"
+
+For one moment William suffered a flash of resentment to cross his
+countenance. The next his eyes filled with tears. He felt deeply hurt.
+
+"No, sir, I have not. I hope you do not fear that I am capable of it?"
+
+"No, I do not," said Mr. Ashley. "Your father was a clergyman, I think I
+have heard?"
+
+"He was intended for a clergyman, sir, but he did not get to the
+University. His father was a clergyman--a rector in Devonshire, and my
+mother's father was a clergyman in London. My uncle Francis is also a
+clergyman, but only a curate. We are gentlepeople, though we are poor.
+We would not take eggs or anything else."
+
+Mr. Ashley suppressed a smile. "I conclude that you and your brothers
+live in hope some time of regaining your position in life?"
+
+"Yes, sir. I think it is that hope that makes us put up with hard things
+so well."
+
+"What do you think of being?"
+
+William's countenance fell. "There is not so much chance of my getting
+on, sir, as there is for my brothers. Frank and Gar are hopeful enough;
+but I don't look forward to anything good for me. My mother says if I
+only help her I shall be doing my duty."
+
+"Your sister died in a decline," remarked Mr. Ashley. "These home
+privations must have told upon her."
+
+William's face brightened. "She had everything she wanted, sir;
+everything, even to port wine. Mrs. Reece and Dobbs took a liking to her
+when they first came, and they never let her want for anything. Mamma
+says that Jane's wants having been supplied in so extraordinary a
+manner, ought to teach us how certainly God is looking over us and
+taking care of us--that all things, when they come to be absolutely
+needed, will no doubt be supplied to us, as they were to her."
+
+"What a perfect trust in God that boy seems to have!" mused Mr. Ashley,
+when he dismissed William. "Mrs. Halliburton must be a mother in a
+thousand. And he will make a man in a thousand, unless I am mistaken.
+Truthful, open, candid--_I_ don't know a boy like him!"
+
+About five minutes before the great bell was rung at one o'clock,
+William was called into the counting-house. "I have been casting up my
+cash and find I am a shilling short," observed Mr. Ashley, "therefore
+the shilling that you found is no doubt the missing one. I shall give it
+to you," he continued: "a reward for telling me the straightforward
+truth when I questioned you."
+
+William took the shilling--as he supposed. "Here are two!" he exclaimed,
+in his surprise.
+
+"You cannot buy much tea with one; and that is what you were thinking
+of. Would you like to be apprenticed to me?" Mr. Ashley resumed,
+drowning the boy's thanks.
+
+The question took William by storm: he was at a loss what to answer. He
+would have been equally at a loss had he been accorded a whole week to
+deliberate upon it. He looked foolish, and said he could not tell.
+
+"Would you like the business?" pursued Mr. Ashley.
+
+"I like the business very well, sir, now I'm used to it. But I could not
+hope ever to get on to be a master."
+
+"There's no knowing what you may get on to be, if you are steady and
+persevering. Masters don't begin at the top of the tree; they begin at
+the bottom and work up to it. At least, that is the case with a great
+many. In becoming an apprentice you would occupy a better position in
+the manufactory than you do now."
+
+"Joe Stubbs is an apprentice, is he not, sir?"
+
+"I will explain it to you, if you do not understand," said Mr. Ashley.
+"Joe Stubbs is apprenticed to one branch of the business, the cutting;
+John Braithwait is an apprentice to the staining, and so on. These lads
+expect to remain workmen all their lives, working at their own peculiar
+branch. You would not be apprenticed to any one branch, but to the
+whole, with a view to becoming hereafter a manager or a master; in the
+same manner that I might apprentice my son, were he intended for the
+business."
+
+William thought he should like this. Suddenly his countenance fell.
+
+"What now?" asked Mr. Ashley.
+
+"I have heard, sir, that the apprentices do not earn wages at first.
+I--I am afraid we could not well do at home without mine."
+
+"You need not concern yourself with what you hear, or with what others
+earn or don't earn. I should give you eight shillings a-week, instead of
+four, and you would retain your evenings for study, as you do now. I do
+not see any different or better opening for you," continued Mr. Ashley;
+"but should any arise hereafter, through your mother's relatives, or
+from any other channel, I would not stand in the way of your
+advancement, but would consent to cancel your indentures. Do you
+understand what I have been saying?"
+
+"Yes, sir, I do. Thank you very much."
+
+"You can speak to Mrs. Halliburton about it, and hear what her wishes
+may be," concluded Mr. Ashley.
+
+The result was, that William was apprenticed to Mr. Ashley. "I can tell
+thee, thee hast found favour with the master," remarked Samuel Lynn to
+William. "He has made thee his apprentice, and has admitted thee, I
+hear, to the companionship of his son. They are proofs that he judges
+well of thee. Pay thee attention to deserve it."
+
+It was quite true that William was admitted to the occasional
+companionship of Henry Ashley. Henry had taken a fancy to him, and would
+get him there to help him stumble through his Latin.
+
+The next to be apprenticed to Mr. Ashley, and almost at the same time,
+was Cyril Dare. But when he found that he was to be the
+fellow-apprentice of William Halliburton, the two on a level in every
+respect, wages excepted--and of wages Master Cyril was at first to earn
+none--he was most indignant, and complained explosively to his father.
+"Can't you speak to Mr. Ashley, sir?"
+
+"Where would be the use?" asked Mr. Dare. "There's not a man in
+Helstonleigh would brook interference in his affairs less than Thomas
+Ashley. If one of the two apprentices must leave, because they are too
+much for each other's company, it would be you, Cyril, rely upon it."
+
+Cyril growled; but, as Mr. Dare said, there was no help for it. And he
+and William had to get on together in the best way they could. Cyril had
+thought that he should be the only gentleman-apprentice at Mr. Ashley's.
+There was a marked distinction observed in a manufactory between the
+common apprentices, who did the rough work, and what were called the
+gentleman-apprentices. It did not please Cyril that William should have
+been made one of the latter.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+THE SCHOOLBOYS' NOTES.
+
+
+As the time went on, Jane's brain grew very busy. Its care was the
+education of her boys--a perplexing theme. So far as the classics went,
+they were progressing. Frank and Gar certainly were not pushed on as
+they might have been, for Helstonleigh collegiate school was not at that
+time renowned for its pushing qualities; but the boys had a spur in
+themselves. Jane never ceased to urge them to attention, to strive after
+progress; not by the harsh reproaches some children have to hear, but
+by loving encouragement and gentle persuasion. She would call up
+pleasant pictures of the future, when they should have surmounted the
+difficulties of toil, and be reaping their reward. It had ever been her
+custom to treat her children as friends; as friends and companions, more
+than as children. I am not sure that it is not a good plan in all cases,
+but it undoubtedly is so where children are naturally well disposed and
+intelligent. Even when they were little, she would converse and reason
+with them, so far as their understandings would permit. The primary
+thing she inculcated was the habit of unquestioning obedience. This
+secured in their earliest childhood, she could afford to reason with
+them as they grew older; to appeal to their own sense of intelligence;
+to show them how to form and exercise a right judgment. Had the children
+been wilful, deceitful, or opposed to her, her plan must have been
+different; compulsion must have taken the place of reasoning. When they
+did anything wrong--all children will, or they are not children--she
+would take the offender to her alone. There would be no scolding; but in
+a grave, calm, loving voice she would say, "Was this right? Did you
+forget that you were doing wrong and would grieve me? Did you forget
+that you were offending God?" And so she would talk; and teach them to
+do right in all things, for the sake of right, for the sake of doing
+their duty to Heaven and to man. These lessons from a mother loved as
+Jane was, could not fail to take root and bear seed. The young
+Halliburtons were in fair training to make not only good, but admirable
+men.
+
+Jane inculcated another valuable lesson. In all perplexity, trouble, or
+untoward misfortune, she taught them to _look it full in the face_; not
+to fly from it, as is the too-common custom, but to meet it and do the
+best with it. She knew that in trouble, as in terror, looking it in the
+face takes away half its sting: and so she was teaching them to look,
+not only by precept, but by example. With such minds, such training to
+work upon, there was little need to _urge_ them to apply closely to
+their studies; they saw its necessity themselves, and acted upon it. "It
+is your only chance, my darlings, of getting on in life," she would say.
+"You wish to be good and great men; and I think perhaps you may be, if
+you persevere. It is a tempting thing, I know, to leave wearying tasks
+for play or idleness; but do not yield to it. Look to the future. When
+you feel tired, out of sorts, as if Latin were the greatest grievance
+upon earth, say to yourselves, 'It is my duty to keep on, and my duty I
+must do. If I turn idle now, my past application will be lost; but, if I
+persevere, I may go bravely on to the end.' Be brave, darlings, for my
+sake."
+
+And the boys were so. Thus it would happen that when the rest of the
+school were talking, or idling, or being caned, the Halliburtons were at
+work. The head master could not fail to observe their steady
+application; and he more than once held them up as an example to the
+school.
+
+So far so good. But though the classics are essential parts of a good
+education, they do not include all its requisites. And nothing else was
+taught in the college school. There certainly was a writing master, and
+something like an initiation into the first rules of arithmetic was
+attempted; but not a boy in the charity school, hard by, that could not
+have shamed the college boys in adding up a column of figures or in
+writing a page. As to their English----You should have seen them attempt
+to write a letter. In short, the college school ignored everything
+except Latin and Greek.
+
+This state of affairs gave Jane great concern. "Unless I can organize
+some plan, my boys will grow up dunces," she said to herself. And a plan
+she did organize. None could remedy this so well as herself; she, so
+thoroughly educated in all essential branches. It would take two hours
+from her work, but for the sake of her boys she would sacrifice that.
+Every night, therefore, except Saturday, as soon as they had prepared
+their lessons for school--and in doing that they were helped by
+William--she left her work and became their instructor. History,
+geography, astronomy, composition, and so on. You can fill up the list.
+
+And she had her reward. The boys advanced rapidly. As the months and
+quarters went on, it was only so much the more instruction gained by
+them.
+
+I think you must be indulged with a glance at one of these college
+school notes. But, first of all, suppose we read one written by Frank.
+
+     "DEAR GLENN,--Thanks for wishing me to join your fishing
+     expedition the day after to-morrow, but I can't come. My mother
+     says, as I had a holiday from college one day last week, it
+     will not do to ask for it again. You told me to send word this
+     evening whether or not, so I drop you this note. I should like
+     to go, and shall be thinking of you all day. Mind you let me
+     have a look at the fish you bring home. Yours,
+
+     "FRANK HALLIBURTON."
+
+The note was addressed "Glenn senior," and Gar was ordered to deliver it
+at Glenn senior's house. Glenn senior, who was a king's scholar, not a
+chorister, made a wry face over it when delivered, and sat down on the
+spur of the moment to answer it:
+
+     "DEER HALIBURTON,--Its all stuf about not asking for leve again
+     what do the musty old prebens care who gets leve therell be
+     enuff to sing without you tell your mother I cant excuse you
+     from our party theirs 8 of us going and a stunning baxket of
+     progg as good go out for a day's fishing has stop at home on a
+     holiday for the benefit of that preshous colledge bring me word
+     you'll come to-morrow at skool for we want to arrange our plans
+     yours old fellow
+
+     "P GLENN."
+
+Master P. Glenn was concluding his note when his father passed through
+the room and glanced over the boy's shoulder. He (Mr. Glenn) was a
+surgeon; one of the chief surgeons attached to the Helstonleigh
+infirmary, and in excellent practice. "At your exercise, Philip?"
+
+"No, papa. I am writing a note to one of our fellows. I want him to be
+of our fishing party on Wednesday."
+
+"Wednesday! Have you a holiday on Wednesday?"
+
+"Yes. Don't you know it will be a saint's day?"
+
+"Not I," said Mr. Glenn. "Saints' days don't concern me as they do you
+college boys. That's a pretty specimen of English!" he added, running
+his amused eyes over Philip's note.
+
+"Are there any mistakes in it?" returned Philip. "But it's no matter,
+papa. We don't profess to write English in the college school."
+
+"It is well you don't profess it," remarked Mr. Glenn. "But how is it
+your friend Halliburton can turn out good English?" He had taken up
+Frank's letter.
+
+"Oh! they are such chaps for learning, the two Halliburtons. They stick
+at it like a horse-leech--never getting the cane for turned lessons.
+They have school at home in the evenings for English, and history, and
+such stuff that they don't get at college."
+
+"Have they a tutor?"
+
+"They are not rich enough for a tutor. Mrs. Halliburton's the tutor.
+What do you think Gar Halliburton did the other day? Keating was having
+a row with the fourth desk, and he gave them some extra verses to do. Up
+goes Gar Halliburton, before he had been a minute at his seat. 'If you
+please, sir,' says he to Keating, 'I had better have another piece.'
+'Why so?' asks Keating. 'Because,' says Gar, 'I did these same verses
+with my brother at home a week ago.' He meant his eldest brother; not
+Frank. But, now, was not that honourable, papa?"
+
+"Yes, it was," answered Mr. Glenn.
+
+"That's just the Halliburtons all over. They are ultra-honourable."
+
+"I should like to see your friend Frank, and inquire how he manages to
+pick up his English."
+
+"Let me bring him to tea to-morrow night!" cried Philip eagerly.
+
+"You may, if you like."
+
+"Hurrah!" shouted Philip. "And you'll persuade him not to mind his
+mother, but to come to our fishing party?"
+
+"Philip!"
+
+"Well, papa, I don't mean that, exactly. But I do not see the use of
+boys listening to their mothers just in everything."
+
+Philip Glenn seized his note, and added a postscript:--"My father sais
+you are to come to tea to-morrow we shall be so joly." And it was
+despatched to Frank by a servant in livery.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+A LESSON FOR PHILIP GLENN.
+
+
+Frank was as eager to accept the invitation as Philip had been to offer
+it. When the afternoon arrived, and school was over, Frank tore home,
+donned his best clothes, and then tore back again to Mr. Glenn's house.
+Philip received him in the small room, where he and his brother prepared
+their lessons.
+
+"How is it that you and my boys write English so differently?" inquired
+Mr. Glenn, when he had made Frank's acquaintance.
+
+Frank broke into a broad smile, suggested by the remembrance of Philip's
+English. "We study it at home, sir."
+
+"But some one teaches you?"
+
+"Mamma. She was afraid that we should grow up ignorant of everything
+except Latin and Greek; so she thought she would remedy the evil."
+
+"And she takes you in an evening?"
+
+"Yes, sir; every evening except Saturday, when she is sure to be busy.
+She comes to the table as soon as our lessons for school are prepared,
+and we commence English. The easier portions of our Latin and Greek we
+do in the day, I and Gar: we crib the time from play-hours; and my
+brother William helps us at night with the more difficult parts."
+
+"Where is your brother at school?" asked Mr. Glenn.
+
+"He is not at school, sir. He is at Mr. Ashley's, with Cyril Dare.
+William has not been to school since papa died. But he was well up in
+everything, for papa had taken great pains with him, and he has gone on
+by himself since."
+
+"Can he do much good by himself?"
+
+"Good!" echoed Frank, speaking bluntly in his eagerness; "I don't think
+you could find so good a scholar for his age. There's not one could come
+near him in the college school. At first he found it hard work. He had
+no one to explain difficult points for him, and was obliged to puzzle
+them out with his own brains. And it's that that has got him on."
+
+Mr. Glenn nodded. "Where a good foundation has been laid, a hard-working
+boy may get on better without a master than with one, provided----"
+
+"That is just what William says," interrupted Frank, his dark eyes
+sparkling with animation. "He would have given anything at one time to
+be at the college school with us; but he does not care about it now."
+
+"Provided his heart is in his work, I was about to add," said Mr. Glenn,
+smiling at Frank's eagerness.
+
+"Oh, of course, sir. And that's what William's is. He has such capital
+books, too--all the best that are published. They were papa's. I hardly
+know how I and Gar should get on, without William's help."
+
+"Does he help you?"
+
+"He has helped us ever since papa died; before we went to college, and
+since. We do algebra and Euclid with him."
+
+"In--deed!" exclaimed Mr. Glenn, looking hard at Frank. "When do you
+contrive to do all this?"
+
+"In the evening. Tea is over by half-past five, and we three--William,
+I, and Gar--turn at once to our lessons. In about two hours mamma joins
+us, and we work with her about two hours more. Of course we have
+different nights for different studies, Latin every night, Greek nearly
+every night, Euclid twice a week, algebra twice a week, and so on. And
+the lessons we do with mamma are portioned out; some one night, some
+another."
+
+"You must be very persevering boys," cried Mr. Glenn. "Do you never
+catch yourselves looking off to play; to talk and laugh?"
+
+"No, sir, never. We have got into the habit of sticking to our lessons;
+mamma brought us into it. And then, we are anxious to get on: half the
+battle lies in that."
+
+"I think it does. Philip, my boy, here's a lesson for you, and for all
+other lazy scapegraces."
+
+Philip shrugged his shoulders, with a laugh. "Papa, I don't see any good
+in working so hard."
+
+"Your friend Frank does."
+
+"We are obliged to work, sir," said Frank, candidly. "We have no money,
+and it is only by education that we can hope to get on. Mamma thinks it
+may turn out all for the best. She says that boys who expect money very
+often rely upon it and not upon themselves. She would rather turn us out
+into the world with our talents cultivated and a will to use them, than
+with a fortune apiece. There's not a parable in the Bible mamma is
+fonder of reading to us than that of the ten talents."
+
+"No fortune!" repeated Mr. Glenn in a dreamy tone.
+
+"Not a penny; mamma has to work to keep us," returned Frank, making the
+avowal as freely as though he had proclaimed that his mother was
+lady-in-waiting to the Queen, and he one of her pages. Jane had
+contrived to convince them that in poverty itself there lay no shame or
+stigma; but a great deal in paltry attempts to conceal it.
+
+"Frank," said Mr. Glenn, "I was thinking that you must possess a fortune
+in your mother."
+
+"And so we do!" said Frank. "When Philip's note came to me last night,
+and we were--were----"
+
+"Laughing over it!" suggested Mr. Glenn, helping out Frank's hesitation,
+and laughing himself.
+
+"Yes, that's it; only I did not like to say it," acknowledged Frank.
+"But I dare say you know, sir, how most of the college boys write. Mamma
+said then, how glad we ought to be that she can make time to teach us
+better, and that we have the resolution to persevere."
+
+
+"I wish your mother would admit my sons to her class," said Mr. Glenn,
+half-seriously, half-jokingly. "I would give her any recompense."
+
+"Shall I ask her?" cried Frank.
+
+"Perhaps she would feel hurt?"
+
+"Oh no, she wouldn't," answered Frank impulsively. "I will ask her."
+
+"I should not like such a strict mother," avowed Philip Glenn.
+
+"Strict!" echoed Frank. "Mamma's not strict."
+
+"She must be. She says you shan't come fishing with us to-morrow."
+
+"No, she did not. She said she wished me not to go, and thought I had
+better not, and then she left it to me."
+
+Philip Glenn stared. "You told me at school this morning that it was
+decided you were not to come. And now you say Mrs. Halliburton left it
+to you."
+
+"So she did," answered Frank. "She generally leaves these things to us.
+She shows us what we ought to do, and why it is right that we should do
+it, and then she leaves it to what she calls our own good sense. It is
+like putting us upon our honour."
+
+"And you do as you know she wishes you would do?" interposed Mr. Glenn.
+
+"Yes, sir, always."
+
+"Suppose you were to take your own will for once against hers?" cried
+Philip in a cross tone. "What then?"
+
+"Then I dare say she would decide herself the next time, and tell us we
+were not to be trusted. But there's no fear. We know her wishes are sure
+to be right; and we would not vex her for the world. The last time the
+dean was here there was a fuss about the choristers getting holiday so
+often; and he forbade its being done."
+
+"But the dean's away," impatiently interrupted Philip Glenn. "Old Ripton
+is in residence, and he would give it you for the asking. He knows
+nothing about the dean's order."
+
+"That's the very reason," returned Frank. "Mamma put it to me whether it
+would be an honourable thing to do. She said, if Dr. Ripton had known of
+the dean's order, then I might have asked him, and he could do as he
+pleased. She makes us wish to do what is right--not only what appears
+so."
+
+"And you'll punish yourself by going without the holiday, for some
+rubbishing notion of 'doing right'! It's just nonsense, Frank."
+
+"Of course we have to punish ourselves sometimes," acknowledged Frank.
+"I shall be wishing all day long to-morrow that I was with you. But when
+evening comes, and the day's over, then I shall be glad to have done
+right. Mamma says if we do not learn to act rightly and self-reliantly
+as boys we shall not do so as men."
+
+Mr. Glenn laid his hand on Frank's shoulder. "Inculcate your creed upon
+my sons, if you can," said he, speaking seriously. "Has your mother
+taught it to you long?"
+
+"She has always been teaching it to us; ever since we were little,"
+rejoined Frank. "If we had to begin now, I don't know that we should
+make much of it."
+
+Mr. Glenn fell into a reverie. As Mr. Ashley had once judged by some
+words dropped by William, so Mr. Glenn was judging now--that Mrs.
+Halliburton must be a mother in a thousand. Frank turned to Philip.
+
+"Have you done your lessons?"
+
+"Done my lessons! No. Have you?"
+
+Frank laughed. "Yes, or I should not have come. I have not played a
+minute to-day--but cribbed the time. Scanning, and exercise, and Greek;
+I have done them all."
+
+"It seems to me that you and your brothers make friends of your lessons,
+whilst most boys make enemies," observed Mr. Glenn.
+
+"Yes, that's true," said Frank.
+
+"Philip," said Mr. Glenn to his son that evening after Frank had
+departed, "I give you _carte blanche_ to bring that boy here as much as
+you like. If you are wise, you will make a lasting friend of him."
+
+"I like the Halliburtons," replied Philip. "The college school doesn't,
+though."
+
+"And pray, why?"
+
+"Well, I think Dare senior first set the school against them--that's
+Cyril, you know, papa. He was always going on at them. They were snobs
+for sticking to their lessons, he said, which gentlemen never did; and
+they were snobs because they had no money to spend, which gentlemen
+always had; and they were snobs for this, and snobs for the other; and
+he got his desk, which ruled the school, to cut them. They had to put up
+with a good deal then, but they are bigger now, and can fight their way;
+and, since Dare senior left, the school has begun to like them. If they
+are poor, they can't help it," concluded Philip, as if he would
+apologize for the fact.
+
+"Poor!" retorted Mr. Glenn. "I can tell you, Master Philip, and the
+college school too, that they are rich in things that you want. Unless I
+am deceived, the Halliburtons will grow up to be men of no common
+order."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+MAKING PROGRESS.
+
+
+Trifles, as we all know, lead to great events. When Frank Halliburton
+had gone home, in his usual flying, eager manner, plunging headlong into
+the subject of Mr. Glenn's request, and Jane consented to grant it, she
+little thought that it would lead to a considerable increase to her
+income, enabling them to procure several comforts, and rendering better
+private instruction than her own easy for her sons.
+
+Not that she yielded to the request at once. She took time for
+consideration. But Frank was urgent; and she was one of those ever ready
+to do a good turn for others. The Glenns, as Frank said, did write
+English wretchedly; and if she could help to improve them without losing
+time or money, neither of which she could afford, why not do so? And she
+consented.
+
+It certainly did occur to Mrs. Halliburton to wonder that Mr. Glenn had
+not provided private instruction for his sons, to remedy the
+deficiencies existing in the college school system. Mr. Glenn suddenly
+awoke to the same wonder himself. The fact was, that he, like many other
+gentlemen in Helstonleigh who had sons in the college school, had been
+content to let things take their chance: possibly he assumed that
+spelling and composition would come to his sons by intuition, as they
+grew older. The contrast Frank Halliburton presented to Philip aroused
+him from his neglect.
+
+Jane consented to allow the two young Glenns to share the time and
+instruction she gave to her own boys. Mr. Glenn received the favour
+gladly; but, at first, there was great battling with the young gentlemen
+themselves. They could not be made to complete their lessons for school,
+so as to be at Mrs. Halliburton's by the hour appointed. At length it
+was accomplished, and they took to going regularly.
+
+Before three months had elapsed, great improvement had become visible in
+their spelling. They were also acquiring an insight into English
+grammar; had learnt that America was not situated in the Mediterranean,
+or watered by the Nile; and that English history did not solely consist
+of two incidents--the beheading of King Charles, and the Gunpowder Plot.
+Improvement was also visible in their manners and in the bent of their
+minds. From being boisterous, self-willed, and careless, they became
+more considerate, more tractable; and Mr. Glenn actually once heard
+Philip decline to embark in some tempting scrape, because it would "not
+be right."
+
+For it was impossible for Jane to have lads near her, and not gently try
+to counteract their faults and failings, as she would have done by her
+own sons; whilst the remarkable consideration and deference paid by the
+young Halliburtons to their mother, their warm affection for her, and
+the pleasant peace, the refinement of tone and manner distinguishing
+their home, told upon Philip and Charles Glenn with good influence. At
+the end of three months, Mr. Glenn wrote a note of warm thanks to Mrs.
+Halliburton, expressing a hope that she would still allow his sons the
+privilege of joining her own, and, in a delicate manner, begging grace
+for his act, enclosed four guineas; which was payment at the rate of
+sixteen guineas a year for the two.
+
+Jane had not expected it. Nothing had been hinted to her about payment,
+and she did not expect to receive any: she did not understand that the
+boys had joined on those terms. It was very welcome. In writing back to
+Mr. Glenn, she stated that she had not expected to receive remuneration;
+but she spoke of her straitened circumstances and thanked him for the
+help it would be.
+
+"That comes from a gentlewoman," was his remark to his wife, when he
+read the note. "I should like to know her."
+
+"I hinted as much to Frank one day, but he said his mother was too much
+occupied to receive visits or to pay them," was Mrs. Glenn's reply.
+
+As it happened, however, Mr. Glenn did pay her a visit. A friend of his,
+whose boys were in the college school, struck with the improvement in
+the Glenns, and hearing of its source, wondered whether his boys might
+not be received on the same terms, and Mr. Glenn undertook to propose
+it. The result of all this was, that in six months from the time of that
+afternoon when Frank first took tea at Mr. Glenn's, Jane had ten evening
+pupils, college boys. There she stopped. Others applied, but her table
+would not hold more, nor could she do justice to a greater number. The
+ten would bring her in eighty guineas a year; she devoted to them two
+hours, five evenings in the week.
+
+Now she could command somewhat better food, and more liberal instruction
+for her own boys, William included, in those higher branches of
+knowledge which they could not, or had not, commenced for themselves. A
+learned professor, David Byrne, whose lodgings were in the London Road,
+was applied to, and he agreed to receive the young Halliburtons at a
+very moderate charge, three evenings in the week.
+
+"Mamma," cried William, one day, with his thoughtful smile, soon after
+this agreement was entered upon, "we seem to be getting on amazingly. We
+can learn something else now, if you have no objection."
+
+"What is that?" asked Jane.
+
+"French. As I and Samuel Lynn were walking home to-day, we met Monsieur
+Colin. He said he was about to organize a French class, twelve in
+number, and would be glad if we would make three of the number. What do
+you say?"
+
+"It is a great temptation," answered Jane. "I have long wished you could
+learn French. Would it be very expensive?"
+
+"Very cheap to us. He said he considered you a sister professor----"
+
+"The idea!" burst forth Frank, hotly. "Mamma a professor!"
+
+"Indeed, I don't know that I can aspire to anything so formidable," said
+Jane, with a laugh. "A schoolmistress would be a better word."
+
+Frank was indignant. "You are not a schoolmistress, mamma. I----"
+
+"Frank," interrupted Jane, her tone changing to seriousness.
+
+"What, mamma?"
+
+"I am _thankful_ to be one."
+
+The tears rose to Frank's eyes. "You are a _lady_, mamma. I shall never
+think you anything else. There!"
+
+Jane smiled. "Well, I hope I am, Frank; although I help to make gloves
+and teach boys English."
+
+"How well Mr. Lynn speaks French!" exclaimed William.
+
+"Does he speak it?"
+
+"As a native. I cannot tell what his accent may be, but he speaks it as
+readily as Monsieur Colin. Shall we learn, mamma? It will be the
+greatest advantage to us, Monsieur Colin conversing with us in French."
+
+"But what about the time, William?"
+
+"Oh, if you will manage the money, we will manage the time," returned
+William, laughing. "Only trust to us, mother. We will make it, and
+neglect nothing."
+
+"Then, William, you may tell Monsieur Colin that you shall learn."
+
+"Fair and easy!" broke out Frank; a saying of his when pleased. "Mamma,
+I think, what with one thing and another turning up, we boys shall be
+getting quite first-class education."
+
+"Although mamma feared we never should accomplish it," returned William.
+"As did I."
+
+"Fear!" cried Frank. "I didn't. I knew that 'where there's a will
+there's a way.' _Degeneres animos timor arguit_," added he, finishing
+off with one of his favourite Latin quotations; but forgetting, in his
+flourish, that he was paying a poor compliment to his mother and his
+brother.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+WILLIAM HALLIBURTON'S GHOST.
+
+
+This chapter may be said to commence the second part of this history,
+for some years have elapsed since the events last recorded.
+
+Do you doubt that the self-denying patience displayed by Jane
+Halliburton, her persevering struggles, her never-fainting industry,
+joined to her all-perfect trust in the goodness and guidance of the Most
+High God, could fail to bring their reward? It is not possible. But do
+not fancy that it came suddenly in the shape of a coach-and-six. Rewards
+worth having are not acquired so easily. Have you met with the following
+lines? They are somewhat applicable.
+
+    "How rarely, friend, a good, great man inherits
+    Honour and wealth, with all his worth and pains!
+    It seems a fable from the land of spirits
+    When any man obtains that which he merits,
+    Or any merits that which he obtains.
+    For shame, my friend! renounce this idle strain:
+    What would'st thou have the good, great man obtain--
+    Wealth? title? dignity? a golden chain?
+    Or heaps of corpses which his sword hath slain?
+    Goodness and greatness are not means, but ends.
+    Hath he not always treasures, always friends,
+    The good, great man? Three treasures--
+    Love; and life; and calm thoughts, equable as infants' breath.
+    And three fast friends, more sure than day or night,
+    Himself; his Maker; and the angel, Death."
+
+Jane's reward was in progress: it had not fully come. At present it was
+little more than that of an approving conscience for having fought her
+way through difficulties in the patient continuance of well-doing, and
+in the fulfilment, in a remarkable manner, of the subject she had had
+most at heart--that of giving her sons an education that would fit them
+to fulfil any part they might be called upon to play in the destinies of
+life--in watching them grow up full of promise to make good and great
+men.
+
+In circumstances, Jane was tolerably at ease now. Time had wrought its
+changes. Mrs. Reece had gone--not into other lodgings, but to join Janey
+Halliburton on the long journey. And Dobbs--Dobbs!--was servant to Mrs.
+Halliburton! Dobbs had experienced misfortune. Dobbs had put by a good
+round sum in a bank, for Dobbs had been provident all her life; and the
+bank broke and swallowed up Dobbs's savings; and nearly all Dobbs's
+surly independence went with it. Misfortunes do not come alone; and Mrs.
+Reece died almost immediately after Dobbs's treacherous bank went. The
+old lady's will had been good to leave Dobbs something, but she had not
+the power to do so: the income she had enjoyed went at her death to her
+late husband's relatives. She had made Dobbs handsome presents from time
+to time, and these Dobbs had placed with the rest of her money. It had
+all gone.
+
+Poor Dobbs, good for nothing in the first shock of the loss, paid Mrs.
+Halliburton for a bedroom weekly, and sat down to fret. Next, she tried
+to earn a living at making gloves--an employment Dobbs had followed in
+her early days. But, what with not being so young as she was, neither
+eyes nor fingers, Dobbs found she could make nothing of the work. She
+went about the house doing odd tasks for Mrs. Halliburton, until that
+lady ventured on a proposal (with as much deference as though she had
+been making it to an Indian Begum), that Dobbs should remain with her as
+her servant. An experienced, thoroughly good servant she required now;
+and that she knew Dobbs to be. Dobbs acquiesced; and forthwith went
+upstairs, moved her things into the dark closet, and obstinately adopted
+it as her own bedroom.
+
+The death of Mrs. Reece had enabled Jane to put into practice a plan she
+had long thought of--that of receiving boarders into her house, after
+the manner of the dames at Eton. Some of the foundation boys in the
+college school lived at a distance, and it was a great matter with the
+parents to place them in families where they would find a good home. The
+wife of the head master, Mrs. Keating, took in half-a-dozen; Jane
+thought she might do the same. She had been asked to do so; but had not
+room while Mrs. Reece was with her. She still held her class in the
+evening. As one set of boys finished with her, others were only too glad
+to take their places: there was no teaching like Mrs. Halliburton's.
+Upon making it known that she could receive boarders, applications
+poured in; and six, all she had accommodation for, came. They, of
+course, attended the college school during the day. Thus she could
+afford to relinquish working at the gloves; and did so, to Samuel Lynn's
+chagrin: a steady, regular worker, as Jane had been, was valuable to the
+manufactory. Altogether, what with her evening class, and the sum paid
+by the boarders, her income was between two and three hundred a year,
+not including what was earned by William.
+
+William had made progress at Mr. Ashley's, and now earned thirty
+shillings a week. Frank and Gar had not left the college school. Frank's
+time was out, and more than out: but when a scholar advanced in the
+manner that Frank Halliburton had done, Mr. Keating was not in a hurry
+to intimate to him that his time had expired. So Frank remained on,
+studying hard, one of the most finished scholars Helstonleigh Collegiate
+School had ever turned out.
+
+There sat one great desire in Frank's heart; it had almost grown into a
+passion; it coloured his dreams by night and his thoughts by day--that
+of matriculating at one of the two Universities. The random and somewhat
+dim idea of Frank's early days--studying for the Bar--had become the
+fixed purpose of his life. That he was especially gifted with the
+tastes and qualifications necessary to make a good pleader, there could
+be no doubt about; therefore, Frank had probably not mistaken his
+vocation. Persevering in study, keen in perceptive intellect, equable in
+temper, fluent and persuasive in speech, a true type was he of an embryo
+barrister. He did not quite see his way yet to getting to college.
+Neither did Gar; and Gar had set _his_ mind upon the Church.
+
+One cold January evening, bright, clear, and frosty, Samuel Lynn stopped
+away from the manufactory. He had received a letter by the evening post
+saying that a friend, on his way from Birmingham to Bristol, would halt
+for a few hours at his house and go on by the Bristol mail, which passed
+through the city at eleven o'clock. The friend arrived punctually, was
+regaled with tea and other good things in the state parlour, and he and
+Samuel Lynn settled themselves to enjoy a pleasant evening together,
+Patience and Anna forming part of the company. Anna's luxuriant curls
+and her wondrous beauty--for, in growing up, that beauty had not belied
+the promise of her childhood--were shaded under the demure Quaker's cap.
+Something else had not belied the promise of her childhood, and that was
+her vanity.
+
+Apparently, she did not find the evening or the visitor to her taste. He
+was old, as were her father and Patience: every one above thirty Anna
+was apt to class as "old." She fidgeted, was restless, and, just as the
+clock struck seven--as if the sound rendered any further inaction
+unbearable--she rose and was quietly stealing from the room.
+
+"Where are thee going, Anna?" asked her father.
+
+Anna coloured, as if taken by surprise. "Friend Jane Halliburton
+promised to lend me a book, father: I should like to fetch it."
+
+"Sit thee still, child; thee dost not want to read to-night when friend
+Stanley is with us. Show him thy drawings. Meanwhile, I will get the
+chessmen. Thee'd like a game?" turning to his visitor.
+
+"Ay, I should," was the ready answer. "Remember, friend Lynn, I beat
+thee last time."
+
+"Maybe my skill will redeem itself to-night," nodded the Quaker, as he
+rose for the chessboard. "It shall try its best."
+
+"Would thee like a candle?" asked Patience, who was busy sewing.
+
+"Not at all. My chamber is light as day, with the moon so near the
+full."
+
+Mr. Lynn went up to his room. The chessboard and men were kept on a
+table near the window. As he took them from it he glanced out at the
+pleasant scene. His window, at the back, faced the charming landscape,
+and the Malvern Hills in the horizon shone out almost as distinctly as
+by day. Not, however, on the landscape were Samuel Lynn's eyes fixed;
+they had caught something nearer, which drew his attention.
+
+Pacing the field-path which ran behind his low garden hedge was a male
+figure in a cloak. To see a man, whether with a cloak or without it,
+abroad on a moonlight night, would not have been extraordinary; but
+Samuel Lynn's notice was drawn by this one's movements. Beyond the
+immediate space occupied by the house, the field-path was hidden: on one
+side, by the high hedge intervening between his garden and Mrs.
+Halliburton's; on the other, by a wall. The figure--whoever it might
+be--would come to one of these corners, stealthily peep at Samuel Lynn's
+house and windows, and then continue his way past it, until he reached
+the other corner, where he would halt and peep again, partially hiding
+himself behind the hedge. That he was waiting for something or some one
+was apparent, for he stamped his feet occasionally in an impatient
+manner.
+
+"What can it be that he does there?" cried the Quaker, half aloud: "this
+is the second time I have seen him. He cannot be taking a sketch of my
+house by moonlight! Were it any other than thee, William Halliburton, I
+should say it wore a clandestine look."
+
+He returned to the parlour, and took his revenge on his friend by
+checkmating him three times in succession. At nine o'clock supper came
+in, and at ten Mr. Stanley, accompanied by Samuel Lynn, left, to walk
+leisurely into Helstonleigh and await the Bristol mail. As they turned
+out of the house they saw William Halliburton going in at his own door.
+
+"It is a cold night," William remarked to Mr. Lynn.
+
+"Very. Good night to thee."
+
+You cannot see what he is like by this light, especially in that
+disguising cloak, and the cap with its protecting ears. But you can see
+him the following morning, as he stands in Mr. Ashley's counting-house.
+
+A well-grown, upright, noble form, a head taller than Samuel Lynn, by
+whose side he is standing, with a peculiarly attractive face. Not for
+its beauty--the face cannot boast of very much--but for its broad brow
+of intellect, its firm, sweet mouth, and its truthful dark-grey eyes.
+None could mistake William Halliburton for anything but a gentleman,
+although they had seen him, as now, with a white apron tied round his
+waist. William was making up gloves: a term, as you may remember, which
+means sorting them according to their qualities--work that was sometimes
+done in Mr. Ashley's room, on account of its steady light, for it bore a
+north aspect. A table, or counter, was fixed down one side, under its
+windows. Mr. Lynn stood by his side, looking on.
+
+"Thee can do it tolerably well, William," he observed, after some
+minutes' close inspection.
+
+William smiled. The Quaker never bestowed decided praise, and never
+thought any one could be trusted in the making-up department, himself
+and James Meeking excepted. William had been exercised in the making-up
+for the past eighteen months, and he thought he ought to do it pretty
+well by this time. Mr. Lynn was turning away, when his keen sight fell
+on several dozens at a little distance. He took up one of the top pairs
+with a hasty movement, knitted his brow, and then took up others.
+
+"Thee has not exercised thy judgment or thy caution here, friend
+William."
+
+"I did not make up those," replied William.
+
+"Who did, then?"
+
+"Cyril Dare."
+
+"I have told Cyril Dare he is not to attempt the making-up," returned
+
+Samuel Lynn, in severe tones. "When did he do these?"
+
+"Yesterday afternoon."
+
+"There, again! He knows the gloves are not made up in a winter's
+afternoon. I myself would not do it by so obscure a light. Thee go over
+these thyself when thee has finished the stack before thee."
+
+Samuel Lynn was not one who spared work. He mixed the offending dozens
+together indiscriminately, and pushed them towards William. Then he
+turned to his own place, and went on with his work: he was also making
+up. Presently he spoke again.
+
+"What does thee do at the back of my house of a night? Thee must find
+the walk cold."
+
+William turned his head with a movement of surprise. "I don't do
+anything at the back of your house. What do you mean?"
+
+"Not walk about there, watching it, as thee did last night?"
+
+"Certainly not! I do not understand you."
+
+Samuel Lynn's brows knit heavily. "William, I deemed thee truthful. Why
+deny what is a palpable fact?"
+
+William Halliburton put down the pair of gloves he had in his hand, and
+turned to the Quaker. "In saying that I do not walk at the back of your
+house at night, or at the back of any house, I state the truth."
+
+"Last night at seven o'clock, I _saw_ thee parading there in thy cloak.
+I saw thee, I say, William. The night was unusually light."
+
+"Last night, from tea-time until half-past nine, I never stirred out of
+my mother's parlour," rejoined William. "I was at my books as usual. At
+half-past nine I ran up to say a word to Henry Ashley. You saw me
+returning."
+
+"But I saw thee at the back with my own eyes," persisted the Quaker. "I
+saw thy cloak. Thee had on that blue cap of thine: it was tied down over
+thy ears; and the collar of the cloak was turned up, to protect thee, as
+I surmised, from the cold."
+
+
+"It must have been my ghost," responded William. "_Should_ I be likely
+to pace up and down a cold field, for pastime, on a January night?"
+
+"Will thee oblige me by putting on thy cloak?" was all the answer
+returned by Samuel Lynn.
+
+"What--now?"
+
+"Please."
+
+William, laughing, went out of the room, and came back in his cloak. It
+was an old-fashioned cloak--a remarkable cloak--a dark plaid, its collar
+lined with red. Formerly worn by gentlemen, they had now become nearly
+obsolete; but William had picked this up for much less than half its
+value. He did not care much for fashion, and it was warm and comfortable
+in winter weather.
+
+"Perhaps you wish me to put on my cap?" said William, in a serio-comic
+tone.
+
+"Yes; and turn down the ears."
+
+He obeyed, very much amused. "Anything more?" asked he.
+
+"Walk thyself about an instant."
+
+His lips smiling, his eyes dancing, William marched from one side of the
+room to the other. While this was in process Cyril Dare bustled in, and
+stood in amazement, staring at William. The Quaker paid no attention to
+his arrival, except that he took out his watch and glanced at it. He
+continued to address William.
+
+"And thee can assure me to my face, that thee was not pacing the field
+last night in the moonlight, dressed as now?"
+
+"I can, and do," replied William.
+
+"Then, William, it is one of two things. My eyes or thy word must be
+false."
+
+"Did you see my face?" asked William.
+
+"Not much of that. With the ears down and the collar up, thy face was
+pretty effectually concealed. There's not another cloak like thine in
+all Helstonleigh."
+
+"You are right there," laughed William; "there's not one half so
+handsome. Admire the contrast of the purple and green plaid and the
+scarlet collar."
+
+"No, not another like it," emphatically repeated the Quaker. "I tell
+thee, William Halliburton, in the teeth of thy denial, that I saw thee,
+or a figure precisely similar to thee, parading the field-path last
+night, and stealthily watching my windows."
+
+"It's a clear case of ghost," returned William, with an amused look at
+Cyril Dare. "How much longer am I to make a walking Guy of myself, for
+your pleasure and Cyril's astonishment?"
+
+"Thee can take it off," replied the Quaker, his curt tone betraying
+dissatisfaction. Until that moment he had believed William Halliburton
+to be the very quintessence of truth. His belief was now shaken.
+
+In the small passage between Mr. Ashley's room and Samuel Lynn's,
+William hung up the cloak and cap. The Quaker turned to Cyril Dare, who
+was taking off his great-coat, stern displeasure in his tone.
+
+"Dost thee know the time?"
+
+"Just gone half-past nine," replied Cyril.
+
+Mr. Lynn held out his watch to Cyril. It wanted seventeen minutes to
+ten. "Nine o'clock is thy hour. I am tired of telling thee to be more
+punctual. And thee did not come before breakfast."
+
+"I overslept myself," said Cyril.
+
+"As thee dost pretty often, it seems. If thee can do no better than thee
+did yesterday, as well oversleep thyself for good. Look at these
+gloves."
+
+"Well!" cried Cyril, who was a good-looking young man, in stature not
+far short of William. At least he would have been good-looking, but for
+his eyes; there was a look in them, almost amounting to a squint; and
+they did not gaze openly and honestly into another's eyes. His face was
+thin, and his features were well-formed. "Well!" cried he.
+
+"It is well," repeated the Quaker; "well that I looked at them, for they
+must be done again. Firsts are mixed with seconds, thirds with firsts; I
+do not know that I ever saw gloves so ill made up. What have I told
+thee?"
+
+"Lots of things," responded Cyril, who liked to set the manager at
+defiance, as far as he dared.
+
+"I have desired thee never to attempt to make up the gloves. I now
+forbid thee again; and thee will do well not to forget it. Begin and
+band these gloves that William Halliburton is making ready."
+
+Cyril jerked open the drawer where the paper bands were kept, took some
+out of it, and carried them to the counter, where William stood. Mr.
+Lynn interposed with another order.
+
+"Thee will please put thy apron on."
+
+Now, having to wear this apron was the very bugbear of Cyril Dare's
+life. "There's no need of an apron to paper gloves," he responded.
+
+"Thee will put on thy apron, friend," calmly repeated Samuel Lynn.
+
+"I hate the apron," fumed Cyril, jerking open another drawer, and
+jerking out his apron; for he might not openly disobey the authority of
+Samuel Lynn. "I should think I am the first gentleman that ever was made
+to wear one."
+
+"If thee are practically engaged in a glove manufactory, thee must wear
+an apron, gentleman or no gentleman," equably returned the Quaker. "As
+we all do."
+
+"All don't!" retorted Cyril. "The master does not."
+
+"Thee are not in the master's position yet, Cyril Dare. And I would
+advise thee to exercise thy discretion more and thy tongue less."
+
+The discussion was interrupted by the entrance of Mr. Ashley, and the
+room dropped into silence. There might be no presuming in the presence
+of the master. He sat down to his desk, and opened his morning letters.
+Presently a young man put his head in and addressed Samuel Lynn.
+
+"Noaks, the stainer, has come in, sir. He says the skins given out to
+him yesterday would be better for coloured than blacks."
+
+"Desire James Meeking to attend to him," said Mr. Lynn.
+
+"James Meeking isn't here, sir. He's up in the cutters' room, or
+somewhere."
+
+Samuel Lynn, upon this, went out himself. Cyril Dare followed him. Cyril
+was rather fond of taking short trips about the manufactory, as
+interludes to his work. Soon after, the master lifted his head.
+
+"Step here, William."
+
+William put down the gloves he was examining and approached the desk.
+"What sort of a French scholar are you?" inquired Mr. Ashley.
+
+"A very good one, sir," he replied, after a pause given to surprise. "I
+know it thoroughly. I can read and write it as readily as I can
+English."
+
+"But I mean as to speaking. Could you make yourself understood, for
+instance, if you were suddenly dropped down into a French town, where
+the natives spoke nothing but their own language?"
+
+William smiled. "I don't think I should have much difficulty over it. I
+have been so much with Monsieur Colin that I talk as fast as he does. He
+stops me occasionally to grumble at what he calls _l'accent anglais_."
+
+"I am not sure that I shall not send you on a mission to France,"
+resumed Mr. Ashley. "You can be better spared than Samuel Lynn; and it
+must be one of you. Will you undertake it?"
+
+"I will undertake anything that you wish me to do, sir, that I could
+accomplish," replied William, lifting his clear earnest eyes to those of
+his master.
+
+"You are an exceedingly good judge of skins: even Samuel Lynn admits
+that. I want some intelligent, trustworthy person to go over to France,
+look about the markets there, and pick up what will suit us. The demand
+for skins is great at the present time, and the markets must be watched
+to select suitable bales before other bidders step in and pounce upon
+them. By these means we may secure some good bargains and good skins: we
+have succeeded lately in doing neither."
+
+"At Annonay, I presume you mean, sir."
+
+"Annonay and its neighbourhood; that's the chief market for dressed
+skins. The undressed pelts are to be met with best, as you are aware, in
+the neighbourhood of Lyons. You would have to look after both. I have
+talked the matter over with Mr. Lynn, and he thinks you may be trusted
+both as to ability and conduct."
+
+"I will do my best if I am sent," replied William.
+
+"Your stay might extend over two or three months. We can do with a great
+deal; both of pelts and dressed skins. The dressers at Annonay----Cyril,
+what are you doing there?"
+
+Cyril could scarcely have told. He had come into the counting-house
+unnoticed, and his ears had picked up somewhat of the conversation. In
+his anger and annoyance, Cyril had remained, his face turned towards the
+speakers, listening for more.
+
+For it had oozed out at Pomeranian Knoll, through a word dropped by
+Henry Ashley, that Mr. Ashley had it in contemplation to despatch some
+one from the manufactory on this mission to France, and that the some
+one would not be Samuel Lynn. Cyril received the information with
+avidity, never doubting that _he_ would be the one fixed upon. To give
+him his due, he was really a good judge of skins--not better than
+William; but somehow Cyril had never given a thought to William in the
+matter. Greatly had he anticipated the journey to the land of pleasure,
+where he would be under no one's control but his own. In that moment,
+when he heard Mr. Ashley speaking to William upon the subject, not to
+him, Cyril felt at war with every one and everything; with the master,
+with William, and especially with the business, which he hated as much
+as he had ever done.
+
+But Mr. Ashley was not one to do things in a hurry, and he had only
+broached the subject.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+"NOTHING RISK, NOTHING WIN."
+
+
+It was Saturday night, the Saturday after the above conversation, and
+Mr. Lynn was making ready to pay the men. James Meeking was payer in a
+general way; but James Meeking was also packer; that is, he packed, with
+assistance, the goods destined for London. A parcel was being sent off
+this evening, so that it fell to Mr. Lynn's lot to pay the workmen. He
+stood before the desk in the serving-room, counting out the money in
+readiness. There was a quantity of silver in a bag, and a great many
+brown paper packets of halfpence; each packet containing five
+shillings. But they all had to be counted, for sometimes a packet would
+run a penny or twopence short.
+
+The door at the foot of the stairs was heard to open, and a man's step
+came up. It proved to be a workman from a neighbouring manufactory.
+
+"If you please, Mr. Lynn, could you oblige our people with twelve or
+fourteen pounds' worth of change?" he asked. "We couldn't get in enough
+to-day, try as we would. The halfpence seem as scarce as the silver."
+
+Now it happened that the Ashley manufactory was that evening abundantly
+supplied. Samuel Lynn went into the counting-house to the master, who
+was seated at the desk. "The Dunns have sent in to know if we can oblige
+them with twelve or fourteen pounds' worth of change," said he. "We have
+plenty to-night; but to send away so much may run us very short. Dost
+thee happen to have any gold that thee can spare?"
+
+Mr. Ashley looked at his own cash drawer. "Here are six, seven
+sovereigns."
+
+"That will be sufficient," replied Samuel Lynn, taking them from his
+hand, and going back to the applicant in the serving-room. "How much has
+thee need of?" asked he.
+
+"Fourteen pounds, please, sir. I have the cheque here, made out for it.
+Silver or copper, it doesn't matter which; or a little gold. I have
+brought a basket along with me."
+
+Mr. Lynn gave the money, and took the cheque. The man departed, and the
+Quaker carried the cheque to Mr. Ashley.
+
+Mr. Ashley put the cheque into one of the pigeon-holes of his desk. He
+had the account in duplicate before him, of the goods going off, and was
+casting it up. William and Cyril were both in the counting-house, but
+not engaged with Mr. Ashley. William was marking small figures on
+certain banded gloves; Cyril was looking on, an employment that suited
+Cyril amazingly. His want of occupation caught the Quaker's eye.
+
+"If thee has nothing to do, thee can come and help me count the papers
+of coppers."
+
+Cyril dared not say "No," before Mr. Ashley. He might have hesitated to
+say it to Samuel Lynn; nevertheless, it was a work he especially
+disliked. It is _not_ pleasant to soil the fingers counting innumerable
+five-shilling brown-paper packets of copper money; to part them into
+stacks of twelve pence, or twenty-four halfpence. In point of fact, it
+was James Meeking's work; but there were times when Samuel Lynn,
+William, and Cyril had each to take his turn at it. Perhaps the two
+former liked it no better than did Cyril Dare.
+
+Cyril ungraciously followed to the serving-room. In a few minutes James
+Meeking looked in at the counting-house. "Is the master ready?"
+
+Mr. Ashley rose and went into the next room, carrying one of the
+duplicate lists. The men were waiting to pack--James Meeking and the
+other packer, a young man named Dance. The several papers of boxes were
+ready on a side counter; and Mr. Ashley stood with the list in his hand,
+ready to verify them. Had Samuel Lynn not been occupied with serving, he
+would have done this.
+
+"Three dozen best men's outsizes, coloured," called out James Meeking,
+reading the marks on the first parcel he took up.
+
+"Right," responded Mr. Ashley.
+
+James Meeking laid it upon the packing-table--clear, except for an
+enormous sheet of brown paper as thick as card-board--turned to the side
+counter and took up another of the parcels.
+
+"Three dozen best men's outsizes, coloured," repeated he.
+
+"Right," replied Mr. Ashley.
+
+And so on, till all the parcels were told through and were found to
+tally with the invoice. Then began the packing. It made a large parcel,
+about four feet square. Mr. Ashley remained, looking on.
+
+"You will not have enough string there," he observed, as the men were
+placing the string round it in squares.
+
+"I told you we shouldn't, Meeking," said George Dance.
+
+"There's no more downstairs," was Meeking's answer, "I thought it might
+be enough."
+
+Neither of the men could leave the parcel. They were mounted on steps on
+either side of it. Mr. Ashley called to William. "Light the lantern, and
+go upstairs to the string-closet. Bring down a ball."
+
+Candles were not allowed to be carried about the premises. William came
+forth, lighted the lantern, and went upstairs. At the same moment, Cyril
+Dare, who had finished his disagreeable copper counting, strolled into
+the counting-house. Finding it empty, he thought he could not do better
+than take a survey of Mr. Ashley's desk, the lid of which was propped
+open. He had no particular motive in doing this, except that that
+receptacle might present some food or other to gratify his curiosity,
+which the glove-laden counters could not be supposed to do. Amidst other
+things his eyes fell on the Messrs. Dunns' cheque, which lay in one of
+the pigeon-holes.
+
+"It would set me up for a fortnight, that fourteen pounds!" ejaculated
+he. "No one would find it out, either. Ashley would suspect any one in
+the manufactory before he'd suspect _me_!"
+
+He stood for a moment in indecision, his hand stretched out. Should it
+be drawn back, and the temptation resisted; or, should he yield to it?
+"Here goes!" cried Cyril. "Nothing risk, nothing win!"
+
+He transferred the cheque to his own pocket, and stole out of the
+counting-house into the small narrow passage which intervened between it
+and Mr. Lynn's room, where the parcel was being made up. Passing
+stealthily through the room, at the back of the huge parcel, which hid
+him from the eyes of the men and of Mr. Ashley, he emerged in safety
+into the serving-room, took up his position close to Samuel Lynn, and
+began assiduously to count over some shilling stacks which he had
+already verified. Samuel Lynn, his face turned to the crowd of men who
+were on the other side the counter receiving their wages, had not
+noticed the absence of Cyril Dare. Upon this probable fact Cyril had
+reckoned.
+
+"Any more to count?" asked Cyril.
+
+Samuel Lynn turned his head round. "Not if thee has finished all the
+packets." Had he seen what had just taken place, he might have entrusted
+packets of coppers to Mr. Cyril less confidently.
+
+Cyril jumped upon the edge of the desk, and remained perched there.
+William Halliburton came back with the twine, which he handed to George
+Dance. Blowing out the lantern, he returned to the counting-house.
+
+The parcel was completed, and James Meeking directed it in his plain,
+clerk-like hand--"Messrs. James Morrison, Dillon, and Co., Fore Street,
+London." It was then conveyed to a truck in waiting, to be wheeled to
+the parcels office. Mr. Ashley returned to his desk and sat down.
+Presently Cyril Dare came in.
+
+"Halliburton, don't you want to be paid to-night? Every one's paid but
+you. Mr. Lynn's waiting to close the desk."
+
+"Here is a letter for the post, William," called out Mr. Ashley.
+
+"I am coming back, sir. I have not set the counter straight yet."
+
+He received his money--thirty shillings a week now. He then put things
+straight in the counting-house, to do which was as much Cyril's work as
+his, and took a letter from the hands of Mr. Ashley. It contained one of
+the duplicate lists, and was addressed as the parcel had been. William
+generally had charge of the outward-bound letters now; he did not forget
+them as he had done in his first unlucky essay. He threw on the elegant
+cloak of which you have heard, took his hat, and went through the town,
+as far as the post-office, Cyril Dare walking with him. There they
+parted; Cyril continuing his way homewards, William retracing his steps.
+
+All had left the manufactory except Mr. Ashley and Samuel Lynn. James
+Meeking had gone down. On a late night, as the present, when all had
+done except the master and Samuel Lynn, the latter would sometimes say
+to the foreman, "Thee can go on to thy supper; I will lock up, and bring
+thee the keys." Mr. Ashley was setting his desk straight--putting sundry
+papers in their places; tearing up others. He unlocked his cash drawer,
+and put his hand into the pigeon-hole for the cheque. It was not there.
+Neither there nor anywhere, that he could see.
+
+"Why, where's that cheque?" he exclaimed.
+
+It caused Samuel Lynn to turn. "Cheque?" he repeated.
+
+"Dunns' cheque, that you brought me an hour ago."
+
+"I saw thee put it in the second pigeon-hole," said the Quaker,
+advancing to the desk, and standing by Mr. Ashley.
+
+"I know I did. But it is gone."
+
+"Thee must have moved it. Perhaps it is in thy private drawer?"
+
+Mr. Ashley shook his head: he was deep in consideration. "I have not
+touched it since I placed it there," he presently said. "Unless--surely
+I cannot have torn it up by mistake?"
+
+He and Samuel Lynn both stooped over the waste-paper basket. They could
+detect nothing of the sort amidst its contents. Mr. Ashley was
+nonplussed. "This is a curious thing, Samuel," said he. "No one was in
+the room during my absence except William Halliburton."
+
+"He would not meddle with thy desk," observed the Quaker.
+
+"No: nor suffer any one else to meddle with it. I should like to see
+William. He may possibly throw some light upon the subject. The cheque
+could not vanish into thin air."
+
+Samuel Lynn went down to James Meeking's, whom he disturbed at supper.
+He bade him watch at the entrance-gate for the return of William from
+the post-office, and request him to walk into the manufactory. William
+was not very long in making his appearance. He received the
+message--that the master and Mr. Lynn wanted him--and in he went with
+alacrity, having jumped to the conclusion that some conference was about
+to be held touching the French journey.
+
+Considerably surprised was he to learn what the matter really was. He
+quite laughed at the idea of the cheque's being gone, and believed that
+Mr. Ashley must have torn it up. Very minutely went he over the contents
+of the paper-basket. Its relics were not there.
+
+"It's like magic!" exclaimed William. "No one entered the
+counting-house; not even Mr. Lynn or Cyril Dare."
+
+"Cyril Dare was with me," said the Quaker. "Verily it seems to savour of
+the marvellous."
+
+It certainly did; and no conclusion could be come to. Neither could
+anything be done that night.
+
+It was late when William reached home--a quarter past ten. Frank was
+sitting over the fire, waiting for him. Gar had gone to bed tired; Mrs.
+Halliburton with headache; Dobbs, because there was nothing more to do.
+
+"How late you are!" was Frank's salutation; "just because I want to have
+a talk with you."
+
+"Upon the old theme," said William, with a smile. "Oxford or Cambridge?"
+
+"I say, William, if you are going to throw cold water upon it----But it
+won't put a damper upon me," broke off Frank, gaily.
+
+"I would rather throw hot water on it than cold, Frank."
+
+"Look here, William. I am growing up to be a man, and I can't bear the
+idea of living longer upon my mother. At my age I ought to be helping
+her. I am no nearer the University than I was years ago; and if I cannot
+get there, all my labour and my learning will be thrown away."
+
+"Not thrown away," said William.
+
+"Thrown away as far as my views are concerned. I must go to the Bar, or
+go to nothing--_aut Caesar, aut nullus_. To the University I _will_ go;
+and I see nothing for it but to do so as a servitor. I shan't care a fig
+for the ridicule of those who get there by a golden road. There's Lacon
+going to Christchurch at Easter, a gentleman commoner; Parr goes to
+Cambridge, to old Trinity."
+
+"They are the sons of rich men."
+
+"I am not envying them. We have not faced the difficulties of our
+position so long, and made the best of them, for me to begin envying
+others now. Wall's nephew goes up at Easter----"
+
+"Oh, does he?" interrupted William. "I thought he could not manage it."
+
+"Nor can he manage it in that sense. His father has too large a family
+to help him, and there's no chance of the exhibition. It is promised,
+Keating has announced. The exhibitions in Helstonleigh College don't go
+by right."
+
+"Right or merit, do you mean, Frank?"
+
+"I suppose I mean merit; but the one implies the other. They go by
+neither."
+
+"Or you think that Frank Halliburton would have had it?"
+
+"At any rate, he has not got it. Neither has Wall. Therefore, we have
+made up our minds, he and I, to go to Oxford as servitors."
+
+"All right! Success to you both!"
+
+Frank fell into a reverie. The friend of whom he spoke, Wall, was nephew
+of the under-master of the college school. "Of course I never expected
+to get to college in any other way," continued Frank, taking up the
+tongs and balancing them on his fingers. "If an exhibition did at odd
+moments cross my hopes, I would not dwell upon it. There are fellows in
+the school richer and greater than I. However, the exhibition is _gone_,
+and there's an end of it. The question now is--if I do go as a servitor,
+can my mother find the little additional expense necessary to keep me
+there?"
+
+"Yes, I am sure she can: and will," replied William.
+
+"There'll be the expenses of travelling, and sundry other little
+things," went on Frank. "Wall says it will cost each of us about fifteen
+pounds a year. We have dinner and supper free. Of course, I should
+never think of tea, and for breakfast I would take milk and plain bread.
+There'd be living at home between terms--unless I found something to
+do--and my clothes."
+
+"It can be managed. Frank, you'll drop those tongs."
+
+"What we shall have to do as servitors neither I nor Wall can precisely
+tell," continued Frank, paying no attention to the warning. "Wall says,
+brushing clothes, and setting tables for meals, and waiting on the other
+students at dinner, will be amongst the refreshing exercises. However it
+may be, my mind is made up _to do_. If they put me to black shoes, I
+shall only sing over it, and sit down to my studies with a better will
+when the shoes have come to an end."
+
+William smiled. "Blacking shoes will be no new employment to you,
+Frank."
+
+"No. And if ever I catch myself coveting the ease and dignity of the
+lordly hats, I shall just cast my thoughts back again to our early
+privations; to what my mother struggled through for us; and that will
+bring me down again. We owe all to her; and I hope she will owe
+something to us in the shape of comforts before she dies," warmly added
+Frank, the tears rising to his eyes.
+
+"It is what I have hoped for years," replied William, in a low tone. "It
+is coming, Frank."
+
+"Well, I think I do now see one step before me. You remember papa's
+dream, William?"
+
+William simply bowed his head.
+
+"Lately I have not even seen that step. Between ourselves, I was losing
+some of my hopefulness; and you know that is what I never lost, whatever
+the rest of you may have done."
+
+"We none of us lost hope, Frank. It was hope that enabled us to bear on.
+You were over-sanguine."
+
+"It comes to the same thing. The step I see before me now is to go to
+Oxford as a servitor. To St. John's if I can, for I should like to be
+with Wall. He is a good, plodding fellow, though I don't know that he is
+over-burthened with brains."
+
+"Not with the quick brains of Frank Halliburton."
+
+Frank laughed. "You know Perry, the minor canon? He also went to St.
+John's as a servitor. I shall get him to tell me----"
+
+Frank stopped. The tongs had gone down with a clatter.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+MRS. DARE'S GOVERNESS.
+
+
+"There's such a row at our place!" suddenly announced Cyril Dare, at the
+Pomeranian Knoll dinner-table, one Monday evening.
+
+"What about?" asked Mr. Dare.
+
+"Some money's missing. At least, a cheque; which amounts to the same
+thing."
+
+"Not quite the same," dissented Mr. Dare. "Unless it has been cashed."
+
+"I mean the same as regards noise," continued Cyril. "There's as much
+fuss being made over it as if it had been fourteen pounds' weight of
+solid gold. It was a cheque of Dunns'; and the master put it into his
+desk, or says he did so. When he came to look for it, it was gone."
+
+"Who took it?" inquired Mr. Dare.
+
+"Who's to know? That's what we want to find out."
+
+"What was the amount?"
+
+"Fourteen pounds, I say. A paltry sum. Ashley makes a boast, and says
+it's not the amount that bothers him, but the feeling that we must have
+some one false near us."
+
+"Don't speak so slightingly of money," rebuked Mr. Dare. "Fourteen
+pounds are not so easily picked up that it should be pleasant to lose
+them."
+
+"I'm sure I don't want to speak slightingly of money," returned Cyril,
+rebelliously. "You keep me too short, sir, for me not to know the full
+value of it. But fourteen pounds cannot be much of a loss to Mr.
+Ashley."
+
+"If I keep you short, you have forced me to it by your
+extravagances--you and the rest of you," responded Mr. Dare, in short,
+emphatic tones.
+
+An unpleasant pause ensued. When the father of a family intimates that
+his income is diminishing, it is not a welcome announcement. The young
+Dares had been obliged to hear it often lately. Adelaide broke the
+silence.
+
+"How was the cheque taken?"
+
+"It was a cheque brought by Dunns' people on Saturday night, in exchange
+for money, and the master placed it in his open desk in the
+counting-house," explained Cyril. "He went into Lynn's room to watch the
+packing, and was away an hour. When he returned, the cheque was gone."
+
+"Who was in the counting-house?"
+
+"Not a soul except Halliburton. He was there all the time."
+
+"And no one else went in?" cried Mr. Dare.
+
+"No one," replied Cyril, sending up his plate for more meat.
+
+"Why, then, it would look as if Halliburton took it?" exclaimed Mr.
+Dare.
+
+Cyril raised his eyebrows. "No one would venture to suggest as much in
+the hearing of the manufactory. It appears to be impressed with the
+opinion that Halliburton, like kings, can do no wrong."
+
+"Mr. Ashley is so?"
+
+"Mr. Ashley, and downwards."
+
+"But, Cyril, if the facts are as you state, Halliburton must have been
+the one to take it," objected Mr. Dare. "Possibly the cheque may have
+been only mislaid?"
+
+"The counting-house underwent a thorough search this morning, and every
+corner of the master's desk was turned out, but nothing came of it.
+Halliburton appears to be in a world of surprise as to where it can have
+gone; but he does not seem to glance at the fact that suspicion may
+attach to him."
+
+"Of course Mr. Ashley intends to investigate it officially?" said Mr.
+Dare.
+
+"He does not say," replied Cyril. "He had the two packers before him
+this morning separately, inquiring if they saw any one pass through the
+room to the counting-house on Saturday night. He also questioned me. We
+had none of us seen anything of the sort."
+
+"Where were you at the time, Cyril?" eagerly questioned Mr. Dare.
+
+Knowing what we know, it may seem a pointed question. It was not,
+however, so spoken. Mr. Dare would probably have suspected the whole
+manufactory before casting suspicion upon his son. The thought that
+really crossed his mind was, that if his son _had_ happened to be in the
+way and had seen the thief, whoever he might be, steal into the
+counting-house, so that through him he might be discovered, it would
+have been a feather in Cyril's cap in the sight of Mr. Ashley. And to
+find favour with Mr. Ashley Mr. Dare considered ought to be the ruling
+aim of Cyril's life.
+
+"I was away from it all, as it happened," said Cyril, in reply to the
+question. "Old Lynn nailed me on Saturday to help to pay the men. While
+the cheque was disappearing, I was at the delightful employment of
+counting coppers."
+
+"Did one of the packers get in?"
+
+"Impossible. They were under Mr. Ashley's eye the whole time."
+
+"Look here, Cyril," interrupted Mrs. Dare, the first word she had
+spoken: "is it sure that that yea-and-nay Simon of a Quaker has not
+helped himself to it?"
+
+Cyril burst into a laugh. "He is not a Simon in the manufactory, I can
+tell you, ma'am. He is too much of a martinet."
+
+"Will Mr. Ashley be at the manufactory this evening, Cyril?" questioned
+Mr. Dare.
+
+"You may as well ask me whether the moon will shine," was the response
+of Cyril. "Mr. Ashley comes sometimes in an evening; but we never know
+whether he will or not, beforehand."
+
+"Because he may be glad of legal assistance," remarked Mr. Dare, who
+rarely failed to turn an eye to business.
+
+You may remember the party that formerly sat round Mr. Dare's
+dinner-table on that day, some years ago, when Herbert was pleased to
+fancy that he fared badly, not appreciating the excellences of lamb. Two
+of that party were now absent from it--Julia Dare and Miss Benyon. Julia
+had married, and had left England with her husband; and Miss Benyon had
+been discarded for a more fashionable governess.
+
+This fashionable governess now sat at the table. She was called
+Mademoiselle Varsini. You must not mistake her for a French woman; she
+was an Italian. She had been a great deal in France, and spoke the
+language as a native--indeed, it was more easy to her now than her
+childhood's tongue; and French was the language she was required to
+converse in with her pupils, Rosa and Minny Dare. English also she spoke
+fluently, but with a foreign accent.
+
+She was peculiar looking. Her complexion was of pale olive, and her eyes
+were light blue. It is not often that light blue eyes are seen in
+conjunction with so dark a skin. Strange eyes they were--eyes that
+glistened as if they were made of glass; they had at times a hard,
+glazed appearance. Her black hair was drawn from her face and twisted
+into innumerable rolls at the back of her head. It was smooth and
+beautiful, as if a silken rope had been coiled there. Her lips were thin
+and compressed in a remarkable degree, which may have been supposed to
+indicate firmness of character. Tall, and full across the bust for her
+years, her figure would have been called a fine one. She wore a
+closely-fitting dress of some soft, dark material, with small
+embroidered cuffs and collar.
+
+What were her years? She said twenty-five: but she might be taken for
+either older or younger. It is difficult to guess with certainty the age
+of an Italian woman. As a rule they look much older than English women;
+and, when they do begin to show age, they show it rapidly. Mr. Dare had
+never approved of the engagement of this foreign governess. Mrs. Dare
+had picked her up from an advertisement, and had persisted in engaging
+her, in spite of the written references being in French and that she
+could only read one word in ten of them. Mr. Dare's scruples were solely
+pecuniary. The salary was to be fifty pounds a year; exactly double the
+amount paid to Miss Benyon; and he had great expenses on him now. "What
+did the girls want with a fashionable foreign governess?" he asked. But
+he made no impression upon Mrs. Dare. The lady was engaged, and arrived
+in Helstonleigh: and Mr. Dare had declared, from that hour to this, that
+he could not make her out. He professed to be a great reader of the
+human face, and of human character.
+
+"Has there been any attempt made to cash the cheque?" resumed Mr. Dare
+to Cyril.
+
+"Ashley said nothing about that," replied Cyril. "It was lost after
+banking hours on Saturday night; therefore he would be sure to stop it
+at the bank before Monday morning. It is Ashley's loss; Dunns, of
+course, have nothing to do with it."
+
+"It would be no difficult matter to change it in the town," remarked
+Anthony Dare. "Anyone would cash a cheque of Dunns': it is as good as a
+banknote."
+
+Cyril lifted his shoulders. "The fellow had better not be caught at it,
+though."
+
+"What would be the punishment in Angleterre for such a crime?" spoke up
+the governess.
+
+"Transportation for a longer or a shorter period," replied Mr. Dare.
+
+"What you would phrase _aux galeres_ mademoiselle," struck in Herbert.
+
+"Ah, ca!" responded mademoiselle.
+
+As they called her "mademoiselle" we must do the same. There had been a
+discussion as to what she was to be called when she first came. _Miss_
+Varsini was not grand enough. Signora Varsini was not deemed familiar
+enough for daily use. Therefore "mademoiselle" was decided upon. It
+appeared to be all one to mademoiselle herself. She had been accustomed,
+she said, to be called mademoiselle in France.
+
+Mr. Dare hurried over his dinner and his wine, and rose. He was going to
+find out Mr. Ashley. He was in hopes some professional business might
+arise to him in the investigation of the loss spoken of by Cyril. He was
+not a particularly covetous man, and had never been considered grasping,
+especially in business; but circumstances were rendering him so now. His
+general expenses were enormous--his sons contrived that their own
+expenses should be enormous; and Mr. Dare sometimes did not know which
+way to turn to meet them. Anthony drained him--it was Mr. Dare's own
+expression; Herbert drained him; Cyril wanted to drain him; George was
+working on for it. Small odds and ends arising in a lawyer's practice,
+that years ago Mr. Dare would scarcely have cared to trouble himself to
+undertake, were eagerly sought for by him now. He must work to live. It
+was not that his practice was a bad one; it was an excellent practice;
+but, do as Mr. Dare would, his expenses outran it.
+
+He bent his steps to the manufactory. Had Mr. Ashley not been there, Mr.
+Dare would have gone on to his house. But Mr. Ashley was there. They
+were shut into the private room, and Mr. Ashley gave the particulars of
+the loss, more in detail than Cyril had given them.
+
+"There is only one opinion to be formed," observed Mr. Dare. "Young
+Halliburton was the thief. The cheque could not go of itself; and no one
+else appears to have been near it."
+
+In urging the case against William, Mr. Dare was influenced by no covert
+motive. He drew his inferences from the circumstances related to him,
+and spoke in accordance with them. The resentment he had once felt
+against the Halliburtons for coming to Helstonleigh (though the
+resentment was on Mrs. Dare's part rather than on his) had long since
+died away. They did not cross his path or he theirs; they did not
+presume upon the relationship; had not, so far as Mr. Dare knew, made it
+known abroad; therefore they were quite welcome to be in Helstonleigh
+for Mr. Dare. To do Mr. Dare justice, he was rather kindly disposed
+towards his fellow-creatures, unless self-interest carried him the other
+way. Cyril often amused himself at home by abusing William Halliburton:
+they were tolerable friends and companions when together, but Cyril
+could not overcome his feeling of dislike; a feeling to which jealousy
+was now added, for William found more favour with Mr. Ashley than he
+did. Cyril gave vent to his anger in explosions at home, and William was
+not spared in them: but Mr. Dare had learnt what his son's prejudices
+were worth.
+
+"It must have been Halliburton," repeated Mr. Dare.
+
+"No," replied Mr. Ashley. "There are four persons, of all those who were
+in my manufactory on Saturday night, for whom I will answer as
+confidently as I would for myself. James Meeking and George Dance are
+two. I believe them both to be honest as the day; and if additional
+confirmation that it was not they were necessary, neither of them
+stirred from beneath my own eye during the possible time of the loss.
+The other two are Samuel Lynn and William Halliburton. Samuel Lynn is
+above suspicion; and I have watched William grow up from boyhood--always
+upright, truthful and honourable; but more truthful, more honourable,
+year by year, as the years have passed."
+
+"I dare say he is," acquiesced Mr. Dare. "Indeed, I like his look
+myself. There's something unusually frank about it. Of course you will
+have it officially investigated? I came down to offer you my services in
+the matter."
+
+"You are very good," was the reply of Mr. Ashley. "Before entering
+farther into the affair, I must be fully convinced that the cheque's
+disappearance was not caused by myself. I----"
+
+"By yourself?" interrupted Mr. Dare, in surprise.
+
+"I do not _think_ it was, mind; but there is a chance of it. I remember
+tearing up a paper or two after I received the cheque, and putting the
+pieces, as I believe, into the waste-paper basket. But I won't answer
+for it that I did not put them into the fire instead, as I passed it on
+my way to Mr. Lynn's room to call over the parcels bill."
+
+"But you would not tear up the cheque?" cried Mr. Dare.
+
+"Certainly not, intentionally. If I did it through carelessness, all I
+can say is, I have been _very_ careless. No; I shall not stir in this
+matter for a day or two."
+
+"But why wait?" asked Mr. Dare.
+
+"If the cheque was stolen, it was probably changed somewhere in the town
+that same night; and this will soon be known. I shall wait."
+
+
+Mr. Dare could not bring Mr. Ashley to a more business-like frame of
+mind. He left the manufactory, and went straight to the police-station,
+there to hold an interview with Mr. Sergeant Delves, a popular officer,
+with whom Mr. Dare had had dealings before. He stated the case to him,
+and desired Mr. Delves to ferret out what he could.
+
+"Privately, you know, Delves," said he, winking at the sergeant, whom he
+held by the shoulder. "There's no doubt, in my opinion, that the cheque
+was changed that same night--probably at a public-house. Go to work _sub
+rosa_--you understand; and any information you may obtain bring quietly
+to me. Don't take it to Mr. Ashley."
+
+"I understand," replied Sergeant Delves, a portly man with a padded
+breast and a red face, who, in his official costume, always looked as if
+he were choking. "I'll see to it."
+
+And he did so; and very effectively.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+TAKING AN ITALIAN LESSON.
+
+
+But the evening is not yet over at Pomeranian Knoll.
+
+The dinner-table had broken up. Anthony Dare left the house soon after
+his father. Mrs. Dare turned to the fire for her after-dinner nap: the
+young ladies, Adelaide excepted, proceeded to the drawing-room. Adelaide
+Dare was thinner than formerly; and there was a worn, restless look upon
+her face, that told of care or of disappointment. She remained in her
+seat at the dessert-table, and, fencing herself round with a newspaper,
+lest Mrs. Dare's eyes should open, took a letter from her pocket and
+spread it on the table.
+
+Viscount Hawkesley had never come forward to make her the Viscountess;
+but he had not given up his visits to Pomeranian Knoll, and Adelaide had
+never ceased hoping. It was one of his letters that she was poring over
+now. Two or three years ago she might have married well. A clergyman had
+desired to make her his wife. Adelaide declined. She had possibly her
+own private reasons for believing in the good faith of Lord Hawkesley.
+Adelaide Dare was not the first who has thrown away the substance to
+grasp the shadow.
+
+Mademoiselle Varsini, on leaving the dinner-table, had gone up to the
+school-room. There she stirred the fire into a blaze, sat down in a
+chair, and bent her head in what seemed to be an attitude of listening.
+
+She did not listen in vain. Soon, stealthy footsteps were heard
+ascending the stairs, and a streak of vermilion flashed into her olive
+cheek, and she pressed her hand upon her bosom, as if to still its
+beating. "_Que je suis bete!_" she murmured. French was far more
+familiar to her than her native tongue.
+
+The footsteps proved to be those of Herbert Dare. A tall, handsome man
+now, better-looking than Anthony. He, Herbert, would have been very
+handsome indeed, but that his features were spoiled by the free
+expression they had worn in his youth--free as that which characterised
+the face of Mr. Dare. He was coming in to pay a visit to the governess.
+He paid her a good many visits: possibly thought it polite to do so.
+Some gentlemen are polite, and some are the contrary; some take every
+opportunity of improving their minds; some don't care whether they
+improve them or not. Herbert Dare we should place amidst the former: a
+thirst for foreign languages must, undoubtedly, be reckoned one of the
+desires for improvement. Minny Dare had one evening broken in upon a
+visit her brother was paying to mademoiselle, and she (very
+impertinently, it must be owned) inquired what he was doing there.
+"Taking an Italian lesson," Herbert answered, and he did not want Minny
+to bother him over it. Minny made a wry face at the books spread out
+between Herbert and mademoiselle, seated opposite each other at either
+end of the table, and withdrew with all speed lest the governess should
+press her to share in it. Minny did not like Italian lessons as much as
+Herbert appeared to do.
+
+He came in with quiet footsteps, and the first thing he did was to--lock
+the door. The action may have been intended as a quiet reproof to Miss
+Minny: if so, it is a pity she was not there to profit by it.
+
+"Have they asked for me in the salon?" began the governess.
+
+"Not they," replied Herbert. "They are too much occupied with their own
+concerns."
+
+"Herbert, why were you not here on Saturday night?" she asked.
+
+"On Saturday night? Oh--I remember. I had to go out to keep an
+engagement."
+
+"You might have spoken to me first, then," she answered resentfully.
+"Just one little word. I did come up here, and I waited--I waited! After
+the tea I came up, and I waited again. Ah! quelle patience!"
+
+"Waited to give me my Italian lesson?"
+
+Herbert Dare spoke in a voice of laughing raillery. The Italian girl did
+not seem inclined to laugh. She stood on one side the fire, and its
+blaze--it was the only light in the room--flickered on her compressed
+lips. More compressed than ever were they to-night.
+
+"Now, what's the use of turning cross, Bianca?" continued Herbert, still
+laughing. "You are as exacting as if I paid you a guinea a lesson, and
+went upon a system of 'no lesson, no pay.' If----"
+
+"Bah!" interrupted mademoiselle angrily: and it certainly was not
+respectful of Herbert, as pupil, to call her by her Christian name--if
+it was that which angered her. "I am getting nearly tired of it all."
+
+"Tired of me! You might have a worse pupil----"
+
+
+"Will you be quiet, then!" cried she, stamping her foot. "I am not
+inclined for folly to-night. You shall not say again you are coming
+here, if you don't come, mind, as you did on Saturday night."
+
+"Well, I had an engagement, and I went straight off from the
+dinner-table to keep it," answered Herbert, becoming serious. "Upon my
+word of honour it was not my fault, Bianca; it was a business
+engagement. I had not time to come here before I went."
+
+"Then you might have come when you returned," she said.
+
+"Scarcely," replied he. "I was not home till two in the morning."
+
+Bianca Varsini lifted her strange eyes to his. "Why tell me that?" she
+asked, her voice changing to one of mournful complaint. "I know you went
+out from dinner--I watched you out; and I saw you when you went out
+again. It was past ten. I saw you with my own eyes."
+
+"You must have good eyes, Bianca. I went out from the dinner-table----"
+
+"Not then--not then; I speak not of then," she vehemently interrupted.
+"You might have come here before you went out the second time."
+
+"I declare I don't know what you mean," he said, staring at her. "I did
+not come in until two in the morning. It was past two."
+
+"But I saw you," she persisted. "It was moonlight, and I saw you cross
+the lawn from the dining-room window, and go out. I was at this window,
+and I watched you go in the direction of the gate. It was long past
+ten."
+
+"Bianca, you were dreaming! I was not near the house."
+
+Again she stamped her foot. "_Why_ you deceive me? Would I say I saw you
+if I did not?"
+
+Herbert had once seen Bianca Varsini in a passion. He did not care to
+see her in one again. When he said that he had not come near the house,
+from the time of his leaving it on rising from dinner, until two in the
+morning, he had spoken the strict truth. What the Italian girl was
+driving at, he could not imagine: but he deemed it as well to drop the
+subject.
+
+"You are a folle, Bianca, as you often call yourself," said he
+jestingly, taking her hands. "You go into a temper for nothing. I'd get
+rid of that haste, if I were you."
+
+"It was my mother's temper," she answered, drawing her hands away and
+letting them fall by her side. "Do you know what she once did! She spit
+in the face of the Archeveque of Paris!"
+
+"She was a lady!" cried Herbert ironically. "How was that?"
+
+"He offended her. He was passing her in procession at the _Fete Dieu_,
+and he said something reproachful to her, and it put her in a temper,
+and she spit at him! She could do worse than that if she liked! She
+could have died for those who were kind to her; but let them offend
+her--je les en fais mes compliments!"
+
+"I say, mademoiselle, who was your mother?"
+
+"Never you mind! She was on the stage; not what you English call good.
+But she was good to me; and she wished me to be what she was not. When I
+was twelve she put me into a convent. La maudite place!"
+
+Herbert laughed. He knew enough of French to understand the expression.
+
+"It was maudite to me. I must not dance; I must not sing; I must not
+have my liberty to do the simplest thing on earth. I must be up in the
+morning to prayers; and then at my lessons all day; and then at prayers
+again. I did pray. I did pray to the Virgin to take me from it. I nearly
+prayed my heart out--and she never heard me! I had been there a
+year--figure to yourself, a year!--when my mother came to see me. She
+had been back in Italy. 'Take me away,' I said to her, 'before I die!'
+'No, Bianca mia,' she answered, 'I leave you here that you may not die;
+that your life may be happier than mine is, for mine is the vraie
+misere.' I not tell you in Italian, as she spoke, for you not understand
+it," rapidly interrupted mademoiselle. "My mother, she continued to me:
+'When you are instructed, you shall become a gouvernante in a family of
+the noblesse; you shall consort with the princes without shame; and
+perhaps you will make a good parti in marriage. Though you have no
+fortune, you will be accomplished; you will have the maniere and the
+tournure; you will be belle.' Do you think me belle?" she abruptly broke
+off again.
+
+"Enchanting!" answered Herbert. "Have I not told you so five hundred
+times?"
+
+She stole a glance at the little old-fashioned oval glass which hung
+over the mantel-piece, and then went on.
+
+"My mother would not take me out. Though I lay on the flagstones of the
+visitors' parlour, though I wept for it, she would not take me out. 'It
+is for your good, Bianca mia,' she said. And I remained there seven
+years. Seven years! Do you figure it?"
+
+"But I suppose you grew reconciled?"
+
+"We grow reconciled to the worst in time," she answered, dreamily gazing
+into the fire with her strange eyes. "I pressed down my despair into
+myself at first, and I looked out for the opportunity to run away. We
+were as closely kept as the nuns in their cells, in their barred rooms,
+in their grated chapel; but, sooner than not have had my will and get
+away, I would have set the place on fire!"
+
+"I say, mademoiselle, don't you talk treason!" cried Herbert, laughing.
+
+"Do you think I would not?" she answered, turning to him, a gleaming
+look in her eyes. "But I had to wait for the opportunity to escape; and,
+while I waited, news came that my mother had died. She caught cold one
+night when she was in her evening robe, and it settled in her throat,
+and formed a depot, and she died. And so it was all over with my escape!
+My mother gone, I had nowhere to fly to. And I stopped in that enfer
+seven years."
+
+"You are complimentary to convents, Bianca. Maudite in one breath, enfer
+in another!"
+
+"They are all that, and worse!" intemperately responded the Italian
+girl. "They are--mais n'importe; c'est fini pour moi. I had to beat down
+my heart then, and stop in one. Ah! I know not how I did it. I look back
+and wonder. Seven years!"
+
+"But who paid for you all that time?"
+
+"My mother was not poor. She had enough for that. She made the
+arrangements with a priest when she was dying, and paid the money to
+him. The convent educated me, and dressed me, and made me hard. Their
+cold rules beat down my rebellious heart; beat it down to hardness. I
+should not have been so hard but for that convent!"
+
+"Oh, you are hard, then?" was the remark of Herbert Dare.
+
+"I can be!" nodded Mademoiselle Varsini. "Better not cross _me_!"
+
+"And how did you get out of the convent?"
+
+"When I was nineteen, they sent me out into a situation, to teach music
+and my own language, and French and English. They taught well in the
+convent: I could speak English then as readily as I speak it now: and
+they gave me a box of clothes and four five-franc pieces, saying that
+was the last of my mother's effects. What cared I? Had they turned me
+out penniless, I should have jumped to go. I served in that first
+situation two years. It was easy, and it was good pay."
+
+"French people?"
+
+"But certainly: Parisians. It was not more than one mile from the
+convent. There was but one little pupil."
+
+"Why did you leave?"
+
+"I was put into a passion one day, and madame said after that she was
+frightened to keep me. Ah! I have had adventures, I can tell you. In the
+next place I did not stay three months; the ennui came to me, and I left
+it for another that I found; and the other one I liked--I had my
+liberty. I should have stayed in that, but one came and turned me out of
+it."
+
+"A fresh governess?"
+
+"No; a man. A hideous. He was madame's brother, and he was wrinkled and
+yellow, and his long skinny fingers were like claws. He wanted me to
+marry him; he said he was rich. Sell myself to that monster?
+No!--continue a governess, rather. One evening madame and my two pupils
+had gone to the Odeon, and he came to the little etude where I sat. He
+locked the door, and said he would not unlock it till I gave him a
+promise to be his wife. I stormed, and I stormed: he tried to take my
+hand, the imbecile! He laughed at me, and said I was caged----"
+
+"Why did you not ring the bell?" interrupted Herbert.
+
+"Bon! Do we have bells in every room in the old Parisian houses? I would
+have pulled open the window, but he stood against the fastening,
+laughing still; so I dashed my hand through a pane, and the glass
+clattered down to the court below, and the servants came out to look up.
+'I cannot undo the etude door,' I called to them; 'come and break it
+open!' So that hideous undid it then, and the servants got some water
+and bathed my hand. 'But why need the signora have put her hand through
+the glass? Why not have opened the window?' said one. 'What is that to
+you?' I said. 'You will not have to pay for it. Bind my hand up.' They
+wrapped it in a handkerchief, and I put on my bonnet and cloak, and went
+out. Madeleine--she was the cook, and a good old soul--saw me. 'But
+where is the signorina going so late as this?' she asked. 'Where should
+I be going, but to the pharmacien's?' I answered; and I went my way."
+
+"We say chemist's in England," observed Herbert. "Did he find your hand
+much damaged?"
+
+"I did not go there. Think you I made attention to my hand? I went to
+the--what you call it?--cutler's shops, through the Rue Montmartre, and
+I bought a two-edged stiletto. It was that long"--pointing from her
+wrist to the end of her finger--"besides the handle. I showed it to that
+hideous the next day. 'You come to the room where I sit again,' I said
+to him, 'and you will see.' He told madame his sister, and she said I
+must leave."
+
+Herbert Dare looked at her--at her pale face, which had gone white in
+the telling, her glistening, stony eyes, her drawn lips. "You would not
+have dared to use the stiletto, though!" he cried, in some wonder.
+
+"I not dare! You do not know me. When I am roused, there's not a thing I
+would not dare to do. I am not ruffled at trifles: things that excite
+others do not trouble me. 'Bah! What matter trifles?' I say. My mother
+always told me to let the evil spirit lie torpid within me, or I should
+not die in my bed."
+
+"I say," cried Herbert, half mockingly, "what religion do you call
+yourself?"
+
+She took the question literally. "I am a Catholic or Protestant as is
+agreeable to my places," was the very candid answer. "I am not a
+devote--a saint. Where's the use of it?"
+
+"That is why you generally have those violent headaches on Sunday," said
+Herbert Dare, laughing. "You ought----"
+
+There was an interruption. Rosa Dare's footsteps were heard on the
+stairs, and they halted at the door.
+
+"Mademoiselle!" she called out.
+
+Mademoiselle did not answer. Herbert Dare flung his handkerchief over
+the handle of the door in a manner that hid the key-hole. Rosa Dare
+tried the door, found it fastened, and went off grumbling.
+
+"It's my belief mademoiselle locks herself in there to get a nap after
+dinner, as mamma does in the dining-room!"
+
+She was heard to enter the drawing-room and slam the door. Herbert
+softly opened that of the school-room, and went down after his sister.
+
+"I say, Herbert," cried Rosa, when he entered, "have you seen anything
+of mademoiselle?"
+
+"I!" responded Herbert. "Do you think I keep mademoiselle in my pocket?"
+
+
+"She goes and locks herself up in the school-room after dinner, and I
+can't think what she does there, or what she can be at," retorted Rosa.
+
+"At her devotions, perhaps," suggested Herbert.
+
+The words did not please Mrs. Dare, who had then joined the circle.
+"Herbert, I will not have Mademoiselle Varsini ridiculed," she said
+quite sternly. "She is a most efficient instructress for Rosa and Minny,
+and we must be careful not to give her offence, or she might leave."
+
+"I'm sure I have heard of foreign women telling their beads till
+cock-crowing," persisted Herbert.
+
+"Those are Roman Catholics. A Protestant, as is Mademoiselle
+Varsini----"
+
+Mrs. Dare's angry words were cut short by the appearance of Mademoiselle
+Varsini herself. She, the governess, turned to Rosa. "What did you want
+just now when you came to the school-room door?"
+
+"I wanted you here to show me that filet stitch," answered Rosa, slight
+impertinence peeping out in her tone. "And I don't see why you should
+not answer when I knock, mademoiselle."
+
+"It may not always suit me to answer," was the calm reply of the
+governess. "My time is my own after dinner; and Madame Dare will agree
+with me that a governess should hold full control over her school-room."
+
+"You are perfectly right, mademoiselle," acquiesced Mrs. Dare.
+
+Mademoiselle went to the piano and dashed off a symphony. She was a
+brilliant player. Herbert, looking at his watch, and finding it later
+than he thought, hurried from the house.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+
+A VISION IN HONEY FAIR.
+
+
+The surmise that the missing cheque had been changed into good money on
+the Saturday night, proved to be correct. White, the butcher at the
+corner of the shambles, had given change for it, and locked up the
+cheque in the cash-box. Had he paid it into the bank on Monday, he would
+have found what it was worth. But he did not do so. Mr. White was a fat
+man with a good-humoured countenance and black hair. Sergeant Delves
+proceeded to his house some time on the Tuesday.
+
+"I hear you cashed a cheque of the Messrs. Dunn on Saturday night,"
+began he. "Who brought it to you?"
+
+"Ah, what about that cheque?" returned the butcher. "One of your men has
+been in here, asking a lot of questions."
+
+"A good deal about it," said the sergeant. "It was stolen from Mr.
+Ashley."
+
+"Stolen from Mr. Ashley!" echoed the butcher, staring at Sergeant
+Delves.
+
+"Stolen out of his desk. And you stand a nice chance, White, of losing
+the money. You should be more cautious. Who was it brought it here?"
+
+"A gentleman. A respectable man, at any rate. Who says it's stolen?"
+
+"I do," replied the sergeant, sitting himself down on the
+meat-block--rather a damp seat from its just having been washed with hot
+water. Delves liked to make himself familiar with his old friends in
+Helstonleigh in a patronising manner; it was only lately he had been
+promoted to sergeant. "Now! let's have the particulars, White."
+
+"I had just shut up my shop, all but the door, when in come a gentleman
+in a cloak and cap. 'Could you oblige the Messrs. Dunn with change for a
+cheque, Mr. White?' says he, handing a cheque to me. 'Yes, sir,' said I,
+'I can; very happy to oblige 'em. Would you like it in gold?' Well, he
+said he would like it in gold, and I gave it to him. 'Thank ye,' said
+he; 'I'd have got it nearer if I could, for I'm troubled to death with
+tooth-ache; but people are shut up:' and I noticed that he had kept his
+white handkerchief up to his mouth and nose. He went out with the gold,
+and I put up the cheque. And that's all I know about it, Delves."
+
+"Don't you know who it was?"
+
+"No, I don't. He had a cap on, with the ears coming down his cheeks;
+and, what with that, and the peak over his eyes, and the white
+handkerchief held up to his nose, I didn't so much as get a sight of his
+face. The shop was pretty near dark, too, for the gas was out. There was
+only a candle at the pay window."
+
+"If a man came in disguised like that, asking to have a cheque changed
+into gold, it might have occurred to some tradesmen there'd be something
+wrong about it," cried the sergeant.
+
+"I didn't know he was disguised," objected the butcher. "I saw it was a
+good cheque of the Messrs. Dunn, and I never gave a thought to anything
+else. I've had their cheques before to-day. Mr. William Dunn has dealt
+here this twenty year. But now that it's put into my head, I begin to
+think he _was_ disguised," continued the butcher. "His voice was odd,
+thick and low, and he spoke as if he had plums in his mouth."
+
+"Should you know him again?"
+
+"Ay. That is if he came in dressed as he was then. I'd know the cloak
+out of a hundred. It was one of them old-fashioned plaid rockelows."
+
+"Roquelaures," corrected the sergeant.
+
+"Something of that. The collar was lined with red, with a little edge of
+fur on it. There's a few such shaped cloaks in the town now, made of
+blue serge or cloth."
+
+"What time was it?" asked the sergeant.
+
+"Just eleven. I was shutting up."
+
+Sergeant Delves took possession of the cheque and proceeded to the
+office of Mr. Dare. A long conference ensued, and then they went out
+together towards Mr. Ashley's manufactory. On the road they happened to
+meet Cyril, and Mr. Dare drew him aside.
+
+"Do you happen to know any one who wears an old-fashioned plaid cloak?"
+he asked.
+
+"Halliburton wears one," replied Cyril: "the greatest object of a thing
+you ever saw. I say," continued Cyril, "what's old Delves doing with
+you?"
+
+"Not much," carelessly said Mr. Dare. "He has been looking after a
+little private business for me."
+
+"Oh, is that all?" and Cyril, feeling reassured, tore off on the errand
+he was bound for. For reasons best known to himself, it would not have
+pleased him that Sergeant Delves should be pressed into the affair of
+the cheque. At least, Cyril would have preferred that the matter should
+be allowed to rest.
+
+He executed his commission, one that he had been charged with by Samuel
+Lynn, turned back, passed the manufactory, and took his way to Honey
+Fair on a little matter of his own. It was only the purchase of a
+dog--not to make a mystery of it. A dog that had taken Cyril's fancy,
+and for which he and the owner had not yet been able to come to terms.
+So he was going up again to try his powers of persuasion.
+
+As he walked rapidly through Honey Fair, he saw a little bit of by-play
+on the opposite side. A young woman in a tattered gown, and a dirty
+bonnet drawn over her face, was walking along as rapidly as he. Her bent
+head, her humble attitude, her shrinking air, her haste to get out of
+sight of others, all betrayed that she, from some cause or other, was
+not in good odour with the world around. That she felt herself under a
+cloud, was only too apparent: it was a cloud of humiliation, for which
+she had only herself to thank. The women who met her hurried past with a
+toss of the head and then stood to peep after her as she disappeared in
+the distance.
+
+_She_ hurried--hurried past them--glad, it seemed, to be away from their
+stern looks and condemning eyes. Had you seen her, you would never have
+recognised her. In the dim eye, darker than of yore, the white cheek,
+the wasted form, no likeness remained of the once-blooming Caroline
+Mason.
+
+Just as she passed opposite to Cyril, Eliza Tyrrett came out of a house
+and met her; and Eliza, picking up her skirts, lest they should become
+contaminated, swept past with a sidelong glance of reproach and a
+scornful gesture. Caroline's head only bent the lower as she glided away
+from her old companion.
+
+It had been just as well that Charlotte East had not sent back that
+bundle, years ago, to surprise Anthony Dare. It was years now since
+Charlotte herself had come to the same conclusion.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+THE DUPLICATE CLOAKS.
+
+
+Leaning back against the corner of the mantel-piece by the side of the
+blazing fire in his private room, calmly surveying those ranged before
+him, and listening to their tale with an impassive face, was Thomas
+Ashley. Sergeant Delves and Mr. Dare were giving him the account of the
+changing of the cheque, obtained from White the butcher. Samuel Lynn
+stood near the master's desk, his brow knit in perplexity, his
+countenance keen and anxious. The description of the cloak, tallying so
+exactly with the one worn by William Halliburton, led Mr. Dare to the
+conclusion, nay, to the positive conviction that the butcher's visitor
+could have been no other than William. The sergeant held the same view;
+but the sergeant adopted it with difficulty.
+
+"It's an odd thing for _him_ to turn thief," said he, reflectively. "I'd
+have trusted that young fellow, sir, with untold gold," he added, to Mr.
+Ashley. "Here's another proof how we may be deceived."
+
+"I told you," said Mr. Dare, turning to Mr. Ashley, "that it could be no
+other than Halliburton."
+
+"Thee will permit me to say, friend Dare, that I do not agree with thy
+deductions," interposed the Quaker, before Mr. Ashley could answer.
+
+"Why, what would you have?" returned Mr. Dare. "Nothing can be plainer.
+Ask Sergeant Delves if he thinks further proof can be needed."
+
+"Many a man has been hanged upon less," was the oracular answer of
+Sergeant Delves.
+
+"What part of my deductions do you object to?" inquired Mr. Dare of the
+Quaker.
+
+"Thee art assuming--if I understand thee correctly--that there is no
+other cloak in the city so similar to William's as to be mistaken for
+it."
+
+"Just so."
+
+"Then, friend, I tell thee that there is."
+
+Mr. Dare opened his eyes. "Who wears it?" he asked.
+
+"That is another question," said Samuel Lynn. "I should be glad to find
+out myself, for curiosity's sake."
+
+Then Mr. Lynn told the story of his having observed a man, whom he had
+taken for William, walking at the back of his house, apparently waiting
+for something. "I saw him on two evenings," he observed, "at some
+considerable interval of time. The figure bore a perfect resemblance to
+William Halliburton; the height, the cloak, the cap--all appeared to be
+his. I taxed him with it. He denied it _in toto_, said he had not been
+walking there at all, and I believed he was attempting, for the first
+time since I have known him, to deceive me. I----"
+
+"Are you sure he was not?" put in Mr. Dare.
+
+"Thee should allow me to finish, friend. Last night I was home somewhat
+earlier than usual--thee can recollect why," the Quaker added, looking
+at Mr. Ashley. "I was up in my room, and I saw the same figure pacing
+about in precisely the same manner. William's denial had staggered me,
+otherwise I could have been ready to affirm that it was himself and no
+other. The moon was not up; but it was a very light night, and I marked
+every point in the cloak--it was as like William's as two peas are like
+each other. What he could want, pacing at the back of my house and of
+his, puzzled me much. I----"
+
+
+"What time was this, Mr. Lynn?" interrupted the sergeant.
+
+"Past eight o'clock. Later than the hour at which I had seen him on the
+two previous occasions. 'It is William Halliburton, of a surety,' I said
+to myself; and I thought I would pounce upon him, and so convict him of
+the falsehood he had told. I left my house by the front door, went down
+the road, past the houses, and entered the gate admitting into the
+field. I walked up quietly, keeping under the hedge as much as possible,
+and approached William--as I deemed him to be. He was then standing
+still, and gazing at the upper windows of my house. In spite of my
+caution, he heard me, and turned round. Whether he knew me or not, I
+cannot say; but he clipped the cloak around him with a hasty movement,
+and made off right across the field. I would not be balked if I could
+help it. I opened friend Jane Halliburton's back gate, and proceeded
+through the garden and house to the parlour, which I entered without
+ceremony. There sat William at his books."
+
+"Then it was not he, after all!" cried Mr. Dare, interested in the tale.
+
+
+"Of a surety it was not he. I tell thee, friend, he was seated quietly
+at his studies. 'Hast thee lent thy cloak to a friend to-night?' I asked
+him. He looked surprised, and said he had not. But, to be convinced, I
+requested to see his cloak, and he took me outside the door, and there
+was the cloak hanging up in the passage, his cap beside it. That is why
+I did not approve of thy deductions, friend Anthony Dare, in assuming
+that the cloak, which the man had on who changed the cheque, must be
+William Halliburton's," concluded Mr. Lynn.
+
+"You say the man looked like William when you were close to him?"
+inquired Mr. Ashley, who thought the whole affair very curious, and now
+broke silence for the first time.
+
+"Very much like him," answered Samuel Lynn. "But the resemblance may
+have been only in the cloak and cap. The face was not discernible; by
+accident or design, it was concealed. I think there need not be better
+negative proof that it was not William who changed the cheque."
+
+Mr. Ashley smiled. "Without this evidence of Mr. Lynn's I could have
+told you it was waste of time to cast suspicion on William Halliburton
+to me," said he, addressing the sergeant and Mr. Dare. "Were you to come
+here and accuse myself, it would make just as much impression upon me.
+Wait an instant, gentlemen."
+
+He went to the door, opened it, and called William. The latter came in,
+erect, courteous, noble--never suspecting the sergeant's business there
+could have anything to do with him.
+
+"William," began his master, "who is it that wears a similar cloak to
+yours, in the town?"
+
+"I am unable to say, sir," was William's ready reply. "Until last
+night," and he turned to Samuel Lynn with a smile, "I should have said
+there was not another like it. I suppose now there must be one."
+
+"If there is one, there may be more," remarked Mr. Ashley. "The fact is,
+William, the cheque has been traced. It was changed at White's, the
+butcher; and the person changing it wore a cloak, it seems, very much
+like yours."
+
+"Indeed!" cried William, with animation. "Well, sir, of course there may
+be many such cloaks in the town. All I can say is, I have not seen
+them."
+
+"There can't be many," spoke up the sergeant, "if it be the
+old-fashioned sort of thing described to me."
+
+William looked the sergeant full in the face with his open countenance,
+his honest eyes. No guilt there. "Would you like to see my cloak?" he
+asked. "It may be a guide, if you think the one worn resembled it."
+
+The sergeant nodded. "I was going to ask you to bring it in, if it was
+here."
+
+William brought it in. "It is one of the bygones," said he laughing. "I
+have some thoughts of forwarding it to the British Museum, as a specimen
+of antiquity. Stay! I will put it on, that you may see its beauties the
+better."
+
+He threw the cloak over his shoulders, and exhibited himself off, as he
+had done once before in that counting-house for the benefit of Samuel
+Lynn. "I think the British Museum will get it," he continued, in the
+same joking spirit. "Not until winter's over, though. It is a good
+friend on a cold night."
+
+Sergeant Delves' eyes were riveted on the cloak. "Where have I seen that
+cloak?" he mused, in a dreamy tone. "Lately, too!"
+
+"You may have seen me in it," said William.
+
+The sergeant shook his head. He lifted one hand to his temples, and
+proceeded to rub them gently, as if the process would assist his memory,
+never once relaxing his gaze.
+
+"Did White say the changer of the cheque was a tall man?" asked Mr.
+Ashley.
+
+"Yes," said Mr. Dare. "Whether he meant as tall as William Halliburton,
+I cannot say. There are not--why, I should think there are not a hundred
+men in the town who come up to that height," he added, looking at
+William.
+
+"Yourself one of them," said William, turning to him with a smile.
+
+Mr. Dare shook his head, a regret for his past youth crossing his heart.
+"Ay, once. I am beginning to grow downward now."
+
+Mr. Ashley was buried in reflection. There was a curious sound of
+mystery about the tale altogether, to his ears. That there were many
+thieves in Helstonleigh, he did not doubt--people who would appropriate
+a cheque, or anything else that came in their way; but why the same
+person--if it was the same--should pace the cold field at night,
+watching Samuel Lynn's house, was inexplicable. "It may not be the
+same," he observed aloud. "Shall you watch for the man again?" he asked
+of Mr. Lynn.
+
+"I shall not give myself much trouble over it now," was the reply.
+"While I was concerned to ascertain William's truthfulness----"
+
+"I scarcely think you need have doubted it, Mr. Lynn," interrupted
+William.
+
+"True. I have never doubted thee yet. But it appeared to be thy word
+against the sight of my own eyes. The master will understand----"
+
+A most extraordinary interruption came from Sergeant Delves. He threw up
+his head with a start, and gave vent to a shrill, prolonged whistle. "It
+looks dark!" cried he.
+
+"What didst thee say, friend Delves?"
+
+"I beg pardon, gentlemen," answered the sergeant. "I was not speaking to
+any of you; I was following up the bent of mine own thoughts. It
+suddenly flashed into my mind who it is that I have seen in one of these
+cloaks."
+
+"And who is it?" asked Mr. Dare.
+
+"You must excuse me, sir, if I keep that to myself," was the answer.
+
+"As tall a man as William Halliburton?"
+
+The sergeant ran his eyes up and down William's figure. "A shade taller,
+I should say, if anything."
+
+"And it struck me that the man who made off across the field was a shade
+taller," observed Samuel Lynn.
+
+"Well, I can't make sense of it," resumed Mr. Dare, breaking a pause.
+"Let us allow, if you like, that there are fifty such cloaks in the
+town. Unless one, wearing such, had access to Mr. Ashley's
+counting-house, to this very room that we are now in, how does the fact
+of there being others remove the suspicion from William Halliburton?"
+
+Mr. Dare had not intended wilfully to cause him pain. He had forgotten
+for the moment that William was a stranger to the doubt raised touching
+himself. Amidst the deep silence that ensued, William looked from one to
+the other.
+
+"Who suspects me?" he asked, surprise the only emotion in his tone.
+
+Sergeant Delves tapped him significantly on the shoulder. "Never you
+trouble yourself, young sir. If what has come into my mind be right, it
+isn't _you_ who are guilty."
+
+When he and Mr. Dare went out, Mr. Ashley followed them to the outer
+gate. As they stood there talking, Frank Halliburton passed. "Look
+here," thought the sergeant to himself, "there's not much doubt as to
+the black sheep--I see that: but it's as well, to be on the sure side.
+Young man," cried he aloud to Frank, in the authoritative, patronizing
+manner which Sergeant Delves was fond of assuming when he could, "what
+time did your brother William get home last Saturday night? I suppose
+you know, if you were at home yourself."
+
+Frank looked at him rather haughtily. "_I_ know," he replied. "I have
+yet to learn why you need know."
+
+"Tell him, Frank," said Mr. Ashley, with a smile.
+
+"It was a little after ten," said Frank.
+
+"Did he go out again?" asked the sergeant.
+
+"Out again at that time!" cried Frank. "No: he did not go out again. We
+sat talking together ever so long, and then went up to bed."
+
+"Ah!" rejoined the sergeant. It was all he answered. And he wished Mr.
+Ashley good day, and departed with Mr. Dare.
+
+"I am going to Oxford at Easter, Mr. Ashley," cried Frank with
+animation.
+
+"I am pleased to hear it."
+
+"But only as a servitor. I don't mind," he added, throwing back his head
+with pardonable pride. "Let me once get a start, and I hope to rise
+above some who go there as gentlemen-commoners. I intend to make this my
+circuit," he went on, half jokingly, half seriously.
+
+"You are ambitious, Frank. I heartily wish you success. There's nothing
+like keeping a good heart."
+
+"Oh yes, success is not doubtful. I'll do battle with all the
+obstructions in my course. Good afternoon, sir."
+
+William, curious and anxious, could make nothing of his books that night
+at home. At length he threw up, put on the notable cloak, and went down
+to the manufactory. He found Mr. Ashley there; and the counting-house
+soon received an addition to its company in the person of Sergeant
+Delves. He had come in search of William. Not being aware that William
+was allowed the privilege of spending his evenings at home, he had
+supposed the manufactory was the place to find him in.
+
+
+"I want you down at White's," said the sergeant. "Put on your cloak,
+will you be so good, Mr. Halliburton, and come with me?"
+
+"Do you suspect me?" was William's answer.
+
+"No, I don't," returned the sergeant. "I told you before, to-day, that I
+did not. The fact is"--dropping his voice to a mysterious whisper--"I
+want to do a little bit of private inquiry on my own account. I have a
+clue to the party: and I should like to work it out."
+
+"If you have a sufficient clue, the party had better be arrested at
+once," observed Mr. Ashley.
+
+"Ah, but it's not sufficient for that," nodded the sergeant. "No, Mr.
+Ashley, sir; my strong advice to you is, keep quiet a bit."
+
+They started for the butcher's, William wearing his cloak and cap, and
+Mr. Ashley accompanying them. Mr. Ashley possessed his own curiosity
+upon various points; perhaps his own doubts.
+
+"It is strange who this man can be who walks at the back of your house,"
+observed Mr. Ashley to William, as they went along. "What can be his
+motive for walking there, dressed like you?"
+
+"It is curious, sir."
+
+"I should suppose it can only arise from a desire that he should be
+taken for you," continued Mr. Ashley. "But to what end? Why should he
+walk there at all?"
+
+"Why, indeed!" responded William.
+
+"What coloured gloves are you wearing?" abruptly interrupted Sergeant
+Delves.
+
+William took his hands from beneath his cloak, and held them out. They
+were of the darkest possible colour, next to black; the shade called in
+the glove trade "corbeau." "These are all I have in use at present," he
+said. "They are nearly new."
+
+"Have you worn any light gloves lately? Tan or fawn?"
+
+"I scarcely ever wear tan gloves. I have not put on a pair for months."
+
+They arrived at the butcher's and entered. White was standing at his
+block, chopping a bone in two. He lifted his head, and touched his hair
+to Mr. Ashley.
+
+"Is this the gentleman who had the money of you for the cheque?" began
+Sergeant Delves, without circumlocution.
+
+Mr. White put down his chopper, and took a survey of William. "It's like
+the cloak and cap that the other wore," said he.
+
+Sergeants take up words quickly. "That the 'other' wore? Then you do not
+think it was this one?"
+
+"No, I don't," decided the butcher. "The one who brought the cheque was
+a shorter man."
+
+"Shorter!" repeated Mr. Ashley, remembering it had been said in his
+counting-house that the man who appeared to be personating William was
+thought to have the advantage the other way. "You mean taller, White."
+
+"No, sir, I mean shorter. I am sure he was shorter. Not much, though."
+
+There was a pause. "You observed that his gloves were tan, I think,"
+said the sergeant.
+
+"Something of that sort. Clean light gloves they were, such as gentlemen
+wear."
+
+
+"Finally, then, White, you decide that this was not the gentleman?"
+
+"Not he," said the butcher. "It's not the same voice."
+
+"The voice goes for nothing," said Sergeant Delves. "The other one had
+plums in his mouth."
+
+"Well," said the butcher, "I think I should have known Mr. Halliburton,
+in spite of any disguise, had he come in."
+
+"Don't make too sure, White," said the sergeant, with one of his wise
+nods. "He who came might have turned out to be just as familiar to you
+as Mr. Halliburton, if he had let you see his face. The fact is, White,
+there's some one going about with a cloak like this, and we want to find
+out who it is. Mr. Halliburton would give a pound out of his pocket, I'm
+sure, to know."
+
+"I'd give two," said Mr. Ashley, with a smile.
+
+"Sir," asked the butcher of Mr. Ashley, "what about the money? Shall I
+lose it?"
+
+"Now, White, just wait a bit," put in the sergeant. "If it was a
+gentleman that changed it, perhaps we shall get it out of _him_. Any
+way, you keep quiet."
+
+They left the shop--standing a moment together before parting. The
+sergeant's road lay one way; Mr. Ashley's and William's another. "This
+only makes the matter more obscure," observed Mr. Ashley, alluding to
+what had passed.
+
+"Not at all. It makes it all the more clear," was the cool reply of the
+sergeant.
+
+"White says the man was shorter than Mr. Halliburton."
+
+"It's just what I expected him to say," nodded the sergeant. "If I am on
+the right scent--and I'd lay a thousand pound on it!--the man who
+changed the cheque _is_ shorter. I just wanted White's evidence on the
+point," he added, looking at William; "and that is why I asked you to
+come down, dressed in your cloak. Good night, gentlemen."
+
+He turned up the Shambles. And Mr. Ashley and William walked away side
+by side.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+IN THE STARLIGHT.
+
+
+The conversation at Mr. Dare's dinner-table again turned upon the loss
+of the cheque, and the proceedings thereon. It was natural that it
+should turn upon it. Mr. Dare's mind was full of it; and he gave
+utterance to various conjectures and speculations, as they occurred to
+him.
+
+"In spite of what they say, I cannot help thinking that it must have
+been William Halliburton," he remarked with emphasis. "He alone was in
+the counting-house when the cheque disappeared; and the person changing
+it at White's, is proved to have borne the strongest possible
+resemblance to him; at all events, to his dress. The face was hidden--as
+of course it would be. People who attempt to pass off stolen cheques,
+take pretty good care that their features are not seen.
+
+"But who hesitates to bring it home to Halliburton?" inquired Mrs. Dare.
+
+"They all do--as it seems to me. Ashley won't hear a word: laughs at the
+idea of Halliburton's being capable of it, and says we may as well
+accuse himself. That's nothing: as Cyril says, Mr. Ashley appears to be
+imbued with the idea that Halliburton can do no wrong: but now Delves
+has veered round. He shifts the blame entirely off Halliburton."
+
+"Upon whom does he shift it?" asked Anthony Dare.
+
+"He won't say," replied Mr. Dare. "He has grown mysterious over it since
+the afternoon; nodding and winking, and giving no explanation. He says
+he knows who it is who possesses the second cloak."
+
+"The second cloak!" The words were a puzzle to most at table, and Mr.
+Dare had to explain that another cloak, similar to that worn by William
+Halliburton, was supposed to be in existence.
+
+Cyril looked up, with wonder marked on his face. "Does Delves say there
+are two such cloaks?" asked he.
+
+"That there are two such cloaks appears to be an indisputable fact,"
+replied Mr. Dare. "The one cloak was parading behind the Halliburtons'
+house last night. Samuel Lynn went up to it----"
+
+"The cloak parading tout seul--alone?" interrupted Signora Varsini, with
+a perplexed air.
+
+A laugh went round the table. "Accompanied by the wearer, mademoiselle,"
+said Mr. Dare, continuing the account of Samuel Lynn's adventure. "Thus
+the fact of there being two cloaks is established," he proceeded.
+"Still, that tells nothing; unless the owner of the other has access to
+Mr. Ashley's counting-house. I pointed this fact out to them. But
+Delves--which is most unaccountable--differed from me; and when we
+parted he expressed an opinion, with that confident nod of his, that it
+was not Halliburton's cloak which had been in the mischief at the
+butcher's, but the other."
+
+"What a thundering falsehood!" burst forth Herbert Dare.
+
+"_Sir!_" cried Mr. Dare, while all around the table stared at Herbert's
+excited manner.
+
+Herbert had the grace to feel ashamed of his abrupt and intemperate
+rudeness. "I beg your pardon, sir; I spoke in my surprise. I mean that
+Delves must be telling a falsehood, if he seeks to throw the guilt off
+Halliburton. The very fact of the fellow's wearing a strange cloak such
+as that, when he went to get rid of the cheque, must be proof positive
+of Halliburton's guilt."
+
+"So I think," acquiesced Mr. Dare.
+
+"What sort of a cloak is this that you laugh at, and call scarce?"
+inquired the governess.
+
+"The greatest scarecrow of a thing you can conceive, mademoiselle,"
+responded Mr. Dare. "I had the pleasure of seeing it to-day on
+Halliburton. It is a dark green-and-blue Scotch plaid, made very full,
+with a turned up collar lined with red, and a bit of fur edging it."
+
+"Plaid? Plaid?" repeated mademoiselle. "Why it must be----"
+
+"What?" asked Mr. Dare, for she had stopped.
+
+"It must be very ugly," concluded she. But somehow Mr. Dare gathered an
+impression that it was not what she had been about to say.
+
+"What is it that Delves says about the cloaks?" eagerly questioned
+Cyril. "I cannot make it out."
+
+"Delves says he knows who it is that owns the other; and that it was the
+other which went to change the cheque at White's."
+
+"What mysterious words, papa!" cried Adelaide. "The cloak went to change
+the cheque!"
+
+"They were Delves' own words," replied Mr. Dare. "He did seem remarkably
+mysterious over it."
+
+"Is he going to hunt up the other cloak?" resumed Cyril.
+
+"I conclude so. He was pondering over it for some time before he could
+remember who it was that he had seen wear a similar cloak. When the
+recollection came to him, he started up with surprise. Sharp men, these
+police-officers!" added Mr. Dare. "They forget nothing."
+
+"And they ferret out everything," said Herbert with some testiness.
+"Instead of wasting time over vain speculations touching cloaks, why
+does not he secure Halliburton? It is impossible that the other
+cloak--if there is another--could have had anything to do with the
+affair."
+
+"I dropped a note to Delves after he left me, recommending him to follow
+up the suspicion on Halliburton, whether Mr. Ashley is agreeable or
+not," said Mr. Dare. "I have rarely in my life met with a stronger case
+of presumptive evidence."
+
+So, many, besides Mr. Dare, would have felt inclined to say. Herbert,
+like his father, was firm in the belief that William Halliburton must
+have taken the money; that it must have been he who paid the visit to
+the butcher. What Cyril thought may be best inferred from his actions. A
+sudden fear had come over him that Sergeant Delves was really going to
+search out the other cloak. A most inconvenient procedure for Cyril,
+lest, in the process, the sergeant should search out _him_. He laid down
+his knife and fork. He had had quite enough dinner for one day.
+
+"Are you not hungry, Cyril?" asked his mother.
+
+"I had a tremendous lunch," answered Cyril. "I can't eat more now."
+
+He sat at the table until they had finished, feeling that he was being
+choked with dread. But that a guilty conscience deprives us of free
+action, he would have left the table and gone about some work he was now
+eager to do.
+
+He rose when the rest did, looked about for a pair of large scissors,
+and glided with them up the staircase, his eyes and ears on the alert,
+lest there should be any watching him. No human being in that house had
+the slightest knowledge of what Cyril was about to do, or that he was
+going to do anything; but to Cyril's guilty conscience it seemed that
+all must be on the look-out.
+
+A candle and scissors in hand he stole up to Herbert's room and locked
+himself in. Inside a closet within the room hung a dark blue camlet
+cloak, and Cyril took it from the hook. It had a plaid lining: a lining
+of the precise pattern and colours that the material of William
+Halliburton's cloak was composed of. The cloak was of the same full,
+old-fashioned make; its collar was lined with red, tipped with fur: in
+short, the one cloak worn on the right side and the other worn on the
+wrong side, could not have been told apart. This cloak belonged to
+Herbert Dare; occasionally, though not often, he went out at dusk,
+wearing it wrong side outermost. It was he, no doubt, whom Sergeant
+Delves had seen wearing one. He was a little taller than William
+Halliburton, towering above six feet. What his motive had been in
+causing a cloak to be lined so that, turned, it should resemble William
+Halliburton's, or whether the similarity in the lining had been
+accidental, was only known to Herbert himself.
+
+With trembling fingers, and sharp scissors that were not particular
+where they cut, Cyril began his task of taking out this plaid lining.
+That he had worn it to the butcher's, and that he feared it might tell
+tales of him, were facts only too apparent. Better put it out of the way
+for ever! Unpicking, cutting, snipping, Cyril tore away at the lining,
+and at length got it out, the cloak suffering considerable damage in the
+shape of cuts and rents, and loose threads. Hanging the cloak up again,
+he twisted the lining together.
+
+He was thus engaged when the handle of the door was briskly turned, as
+if some one essayed to enter who had not expected to find it fastened.
+Cyril dashed the lining under the bed, and made a spring to the window.
+To leap out? surely not: for the fall would have killed him. But he had
+nearly lost all presence of mind in his perplexity and fear.
+
+Another turn at the handle, and the steps went on their way. Cyril
+thought he recognized them for the housemaid's, Betsy. He supposed she
+was going her evening round of the chambers. Gathering the lining under
+his arm, he halted to think. His hands shook, and his face was white.
+
+What should he do with this tell-tale thing? He could not eat it; he
+dared not burn it. There was no room, of those which had fires, where he
+might make sure of being alone: and the smell would alarm the house.
+What _was_ he to do with it?
+
+Dig a hole and bury it, came a prompting voice within him; and Cyril
+waited for no better suggestion, but crept with it down the stairs, and
+out to the garden.
+
+Seizing a spade, he dug a hole rapidly in an unfrequented place; and
+when it was large enough thrust the stuff in. Then he covered it over
+again, to leave the spot apparently as he found it.
+
+"I wish those stars would give a stronger light," grumbled Cyril,
+looking up at the dark blue canopy. "I must come again in the morning, I
+suppose, and see that it's all safe. It wouldn't do to bring a lantern."
+
+Now it happened that Mr. Herbert Dare was bound on a private errand that
+evening. His intention was to go abroad in his cloak while he executed
+it. Just about the time that Cyril was putting the finishing touch to
+the hole, Herbert went up to his room to get the cloak.
+
+To get the cloak, indeed! When Herbert opened the closet-door, nothing
+except the mutilated object just described met his eye. A torn, cut
+thing, the threads hanging from it loosely. Nothing could exceed
+Herbert's consternation as he stared at it. He thought he must be in a
+dream. _Was_ it his cloak? Just before dinner, when he came up to wash
+his hands, he had seen his cloak hanging there, perfect. He shook it, he
+pulled it, he peered at it. His cloak it certainly was; but who had
+destroyed it? A suspicion flashed into his mind that it might be the
+governess. He made but a few steps to the school-room, carrying the
+cloak with him.
+
+The governess was sitting there, listlessly enough. Perhaps she was
+waiting for him. "I say, mademoiselle," he began, "what on earth have
+you been doing to my cloak?"
+
+"To your cloak!" responded she. "What should I have been doing to it?"
+
+"Look here," he said, spreading it out before her. "Who or what has done
+this? It was all right when I went down to dinner."
+
+She stared at it in astonishment great as Herbert's, and threw off a
+volley of surprise in her foreign tongue. But she was a shrewd woman.
+Ay, never was there a shrewder than Bianca Varsini. Mr. Sergeant Delves
+was not a bad hand at ferreting out conclusions; but she would have
+beaten the sergeant hollow.
+
+"Tenez," cried she, putting up her forefinger in thought, as she gazed
+at the cloak. "Cyril did this."
+
+"Cyril!"
+
+She nodded her head. "You stood it out to me that you did not come in on
+Saturday evening and go out again between ten and eleven----"
+
+"I did not," interrupted Herbert. "I told you truth, but you would not
+believe me."
+
+"But this cloak went out. And it was turned the plaid side outwards, and
+your cap was on, tied down at the ears. Naturally I thought it was you.
+It must have been Cyril! Do you comprehend?"
+
+"No, I don't," said Herbert. "How mysteriously you are speaking!"
+
+"It must have been Cyril who robbed Mr. Ashley."
+
+"Mademoiselle!" interrupted Herbert indignantly.
+
+"Ecoutez, mon ami. He was blanched as white as a mouchoir, while your
+father spoke of it at dinner--did you see that he could not eat? 'You
+look guilty, Monsieur Cyril,' I said to myself, not really thinking him
+to be so. But be persuaded it was no other. He must have taken the
+paper-money--or what you call it--and come home here for your cloak and
+cap to wear, while he changed it for gold, thinking it would fall on
+that other one who wears the cloak; that William Hall----I cannot say
+the name; c'est trop dur pour les levres. It is Cyril, and no other. He
+has turned afraid now, and has torn the lining out."
+
+Herbert could make no rejoinder at first, partly in dismay, partly in
+astonishment. "It cannot have been Cyril!" he reiterated.
+
+"I say it is Cyril," persisted the young lady. "I saw him creep up the
+stairs after dinner, with a candle and your mother's great scissors in
+his hand. He did not see me. I was in the dark, looking out of my room.
+Depend he was going to do it then."
+
+"Then, of all blind idiots, Cyril's the worst!--if he did take the
+cheque," uttered Herbert. "Should it become known, he is done for; and
+that for life. And my father helping to fan the flame!"
+
+The governess shrugged her shoulders. "I not like Cyril," she said. "I
+have never liked him since I came."
+
+"But you will not tell against him!" cried Herbert, in fear.
+
+"No, no, no. Tell against your brother! Why should I? It is no concern
+of mine. Unless people meddle with me, I not meddle with them. Cyril is
+safe, for me."
+
+"What on earth am I to do for my cloak to-night?" debated Herbert. "I
+was going--going where I want it."
+
+"Why you want it so to-night?" asked mademoiselle sharply.
+
+"Because it's cold," responded Herbert. "The cloak was warmer than my
+overcoat is."
+
+"Last night you go out, to-night you go out, to-morrow you go out. It is
+always so now!"
+
+"I have a lot of perplexing business upon me," answered Herbert. "I have
+no time to see about it in the day."
+
+Some little time longer he remained talking with her, partially
+disputing. The Italian, from some cause or other, went into ill-humour
+and said some provoking things. Herbert, it must be confessed, received
+them with good temper, and she grew more affable. When he left her, she
+offered to pick the loose threads out of the cloak, and hem up the
+bottom.
+
+"You'll lock the door while you do it?" he urged.
+
+"I will take it to my chamber," she said. "No one will molest me there."
+
+Herbert left it with her and went out. Cyril went out. Anthony had
+already gone out. Mr. Dare remained at home. He and his wife were
+conversing over the dining-room fire, in the course of the evening, when
+Joseph came in.
+
+"You are wanted, please, sir," he said to his master.
+
+"Who wants me?" asked Mr. Dare.
+
+"It's Policeman Delves, sir."
+
+"Oh, show him in here," said Mr. Dare. "I hope something will be done in
+this," he added to his wife. "It may turn out a good slice of luck for
+me."
+
+Sergeant Delves came in. In point of fact, he had just returned from
+that interview with the butcher, where he had been accompanied by Mr.
+Ashley and William.
+
+"Well, Delves, did you get my note?" asked Mr. Dare.
+
+"Yes, sir, I did," said the sergeant, taking the seat offered him. "It's
+what I have come up about."
+
+"Do you intend to act upon my advice?"
+
+"Why--no, I think not," replied the sergeant. "Not, at any rate, until I
+have had a talk with you."
+
+"What will you take?"
+
+"Well, sir, the night's cold. I don't mind a drop of brandy-and-water."
+
+It was brought, and Mr. Dare joined his visitor in partaking of it. He
+agreed with him that the night was cold. But nothing could Mr. Dare make
+of him. As often as he turned the conversation on the subject in hand,
+so often did the sergeant turn it off again. Mrs. Dare grew tired of
+listening to nothing; and she departed, leaving them together.
+
+Then the manner of Sergeant Delves changed. He drew his chair forward;
+and bent towards Mr. Dare.
+
+"You have been urging me to go against young Halliburton," he began. "It
+won't do. Halliburton no more fingered that cheque, or had anything to
+do with it, than you or I had. Mr. Dare, don't you stir in this matter
+any further."
+
+"My present intention is to stir it to the bottom," returned Mr. Dare.
+
+"Look here," said the sergeant in an undertone; "I am not obliged to
+take notice of offences that don't come legally in my way. Many a thing
+has been done in this town--ay, and is being done now--that I am obliged
+to wink at; it don't lay right in my duty to take notice of it, so I
+keep my eyes shut. Now that's just it in this case. So long as the
+parties concerned, Mr. Ashley, or White, don't put it into my hands
+officially, I am not obliged to take so-and-so into custody, or to act
+upon my own suspicions. And I won't do it upon suspicions of my own: I
+promise it. If I am forced, that's another matter."
+
+"Are you alluding to Halliburton?"
+
+"No. You are on the wrong scent, I say."
+
+"And you think you are on the right one?"
+
+"I could put my finger out this night and lay it on the fox. But I tell
+you, sir, I don't want to, unless I am compelled. Don't _you_ compel me,
+Mr. Dare, of all people in the world."
+
+Mr. Dare leaned back in his chair, his thumbs in his waistcoat armholes.
+No suspicion of the truth had crossed him, and he could not understand
+either the sergeant or his manner. The latter rose to depart.
+
+"The other cloak, similar to young Halliburton's, belongs to your son
+Herbert," he whispered, as he passed Mr. Dare. "It was his brother,
+Cyril, who wore it on Saturday night, and who changed the cheque:
+therefore we may give a guess as to who took the cheque out of Mr.
+Ashley's desk. Now you be still over it, sir, for his sake, as I shall
+be. If I can, I'll call at your office to-morrow, Mr. Dare, and talk
+further. White must have the money refunded to him, or _he_ won't be
+still."
+
+Anthony Dare fell into a confusion of horror and consternation, leaving
+the sergeant to bow himself out. Mrs. Dare heard the departure, and
+returned to the room.
+
+"Well," cried she briskly, "is he going to accuse Halliburton?"
+
+Mr. Dare did not answer. He looked up in a beseeching, helpless sort of
+manner, as one who is stunned by a blow.
+
+"What is the matter?" she questioned, gazing at him closely. "Are you
+ill?"
+
+He rose up shaking, as if ague were upon him. "No--no."
+
+"Perhaps you are cold," said Mrs. Dare. "I asked you what Delves was
+going to do. Will he accuse Halliburton?"
+
+"Be still!" sharply cried Mr. Dare in a tone of pain. "The matter is to
+be hushed up. It was not Halliburton."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI.
+
+A PRESENT OF TEA-LEAVES.
+
+
+How went on Honey Fair? Better and worse, better and worse, according to
+custom; the worse prevailing over the better.
+
+Of all its inhabitants, none had advanced so well as Robert East.
+Honestly to confess it, that is not saying much; since the greater
+portion, instead of advancing in the world's social scale, had
+retrograded. Robert had left the manufactory he had worked for and was
+now second foreman at Mr. Ashley's. He was also becoming through
+perseverance an excellent scholar in a plain way. He had had one friend
+to help him; and that was William Halliburton.
+
+The Easts had removed to a better house; one of those which had a garden
+in front of it. No garden was more fragrant than theirs; and it was kept
+in order by Robert and Thomas East. The house was larger than they
+required, and part of it was occupied by Stephen Crouch and his
+daughter. It was known that the Easts were putting by money: and Honey
+Fair wondered: for none lived more comfortably, more respectably. Honey
+Fair--taking it as a whole--lived neither comfortably nor respectably.
+The Fishers had never come out of the workhouse, and Joe was dead. The
+Crosses, turned from their home, their furniture sold, had found
+lodgings; two rooms. Improvident as ever, were they. They did not
+attempt to rise even to their former condition; but grovelled on, living
+from hand to mouth. The Masons, man and wife, passed their time
+agreeably in quarrels. At least, that it was agreeable may be assumed,
+for the quarrels never ceased. Now and then they were diversified by a
+fight. The children were growing up without training; and Caroline--ah!
+I don't know that it will do much good to ask after her. Caroline, years
+ago, had taken a false step; and, try as she would, she could not
+regain her footing. She lived in a garret alone. She had so lived a long
+while; and she worked her fingers to the bone to keep body and soul
+together, and went about with her head down. Honey Fair looked askance
+at her, and gathered up its petticoats when they saw her coming, as you
+saw Eliza Tyrrett gather up hers, lest they should come into contact
+with those contaminations. The Carters thrived; the Brumms, also, were
+better off than they used to be; and the Buffles did so excellently that
+a joke went about that they would be retiring on their fortune: but the
+greater portion of Honey Fair was full of trouble and improvidence.
+
+William Halliburton frequently found himself in Honey Fair. It was the
+most direct road from his house to that of Monsieur Colin, the French
+master. William, sociably inclined by nature, had sometimes dropped in
+at one or other of the houses. He would find Robert East labouring at
+his books much more than he need have laboured had some little
+assistance been given him in his progress. William good-naturedly
+undertook to supply it. It became quite a common thing for him to go
+round and pass an hour with the Easts and Stephen Crouch.
+
+The unpleasant social features of Honey Fair thus obtruded themselves on
+William Halliburton's notice; it was impossible that any one passing
+much through Honey Fair should not be struck with them. Could nothing be
+done to rescue the people from this degraded condition?--and a degraded
+one it was, compared with what it might have been. Young and
+inexperienced as he was, it was a question that sometimes arose to
+William's mind. Dirty homes, scolding mothers, ragged and pining
+children, rough and swearing husbands! Waste, discomfort, evil. The
+women laid the blame on the men: reproached them with wasting their
+evenings and their money at the public-house. The men retorted upon the
+women, and said they had not a home "fit for a pig to come into."
+Meanwhile the money, whether earned by husband or wife, _went_. It went
+somehow, bringing apparently nothing to show for it, and the least
+possible return of good. Thus they struggled and squabbled on, their
+lives little better than one continued scene of scramble, discomfort,
+and toil. At a year's end they were not in the least bettered, not in
+the least raised, socially, morally, or physically, from their condition
+at the year's commencement. Nothing had been achieved; except that they
+were one year nearer to the great barrier which separates time from
+eternity.
+
+Ask them what they were toiling and struggling for. They did not know.
+What was their end, their aim? They had none. If they could only rub on,
+and keep body and soul together (as poor Caroline Mason was trying to do
+in her garret), it appeared to be all they cared for. They did not
+endeavour to lift up their hopes or their aspirations above that; they
+were willing so to go on until death should come. What a life! what an
+end!
+
+A feeling would now and then come over William that he might in some way
+help them to attempt better things. To do so was a duty which seemed to
+be lying across his path, that he might take it up and make it his. How
+to set about it, he knew no more than the Man in the Moon. Now and then
+disheartening moments would come upon him. To attempt to sweep away the
+evils of Honey Fair appeared a far more formidable task than to cleanse
+the Augean Stables could ever have appeared to Hercules. He knew that
+any endeavour, whether on his part or on that of others, who might be
+far more experienced and capable than he, would be utterly fruitless
+unless the incentive to exertion, to strive to do better, should be
+first born within themselves. Ah, my friends! the aid of others may be
+looked upon as a great thing; but without self-struggle and self-help
+little good will be effected.
+
+One evening in passing the house partially occupied by the Crosses the
+door was flung violently open, a girl of fifteen flew shrieking out and
+a saucer of wet tea-leaves came flying after her. The tea-leaves
+alighted on the girl's neck, just escaping William's arm. It was the
+youngest girl of the family, Patty. The tea-leaves had come from Mrs.
+Cross. Her face was red with passion, her voice loud; the girl, on her
+part, was insulting and abusive. Mrs. Cross had her hands stretched out,
+to scratch, or tear, or pull hair, and a personal skirmish would
+inevitably have ensued but for the chance of William's being there. He
+received the hands upon his arm and contrived to detain them.
+
+"What's the matter, Mrs. Cross?"
+
+"Matter!" raved Mrs. Cross. "She's a idle, impedent wicked huzzy--that's
+what's the matter. She knows I've my gloving to get in for Saturday, and
+not a stroke'll she help. There's the dishes lying dirty from dinner,
+the tea-cups lying from tea, and touch 'em she won't. She expects me to
+do it, and me with my gloving to find 'em in food! I took hold of her
+arm to make her do it, and she turned and struck at me, the
+good-for-nothing faggot! I hope none on it didn't go on you, sir," added
+Mrs. Cross, somewhat modifying her voice, and pausing to recover breath.
+
+"Better that it had gone on my coat than on Patty's neck," replied he,
+in a good-natured, half-joking tone; though, indeed, the girl, with her
+evil look at her mother, her insolent air, stood there scarcely worth
+his defence. "If my mother asked me to wash tea-things or do anything
+else, Patty, I should do it, and think it a pleasure to help her," he
+added, to the girl.
+
+Patty pushed her tangled hair behind her ears, and turned a defiant look
+upon her mother. Hidden as she had thought it from William, he saw it.
+
+"You just wait," nodded Mrs. Cross, in answer as defiant. "I'll make
+your back smart by-and-by."
+
+Which of the two was the more in fault? It was hard to say. The girl had
+never been brought up to know her duty, or to do it. The mother from her
+earliest childhood had given abuse and blows; no kindly, persuasive
+words; no training. Little wonder, now Patty was growing up, that she
+turned again. It was the usual sort of maternal government throughout
+Honey Fair. In these, and similar cases, where could interference or
+counsel avail, unless the spirit of the mothers and daughters could be
+changed?
+
+William walked on, after the little episode of the tea-leaves. He could
+not help contrasting these homes with his home; their life with his
+life. He was given to reflection beyond his years, and he wished these
+people could be aroused to improvement both of mind and body. They were
+living for no end; toiling only to satisfy the wants of the day--nay, to
+arrest the wants, rather than to satisfy them. How many of them were so
+much as thinking of another world? Their toil and turmoil in this was
+too great to enable them to cast a thought to the next.
+
+"I wonder," mused William, as he stepped towards M. Colin's, "whether
+some of the better-conducted of the men might not be induced to come
+round to East's in an evening? It might be a beginning, at any rate.
+Once wean the men from the public-houses, and there's no knowing what
+reform might be effected. I would willingly give up an hour or two of my
+evenings to them!"
+
+His visit to M. Colin over, he retraced his steps to Honey Fair and
+turned into Robert East's. It was past eight o'clock then. Robert and
+Stephen Crouch were home from work, and were getting out their books.
+Charlotte sat by, at work as usual, and Tom East was drawing Charlotte's
+head towards him, to whisper something to her.
+
+"Robert," said William, speaking impulsively, the moment he entered, "I
+wonder whether you could induce a few of your neighbours to come here of
+an evening?"
+
+"What for, sir?" asked Robert turning round from the book-shelves where
+he stood, searching for some volume.
+
+"It might be so much better for them. It might end in being so. I wish,"
+he added with sudden warmth, "we could get all Honey Fair here!"
+
+"All Honey Fair!" echoed Stephen Crouch in astonishment.
+
+"I mean what I say, Crouch."
+
+"Why, sir, the room wouldn't hold a quarter or a tenth part, or a
+hundredth part of them."
+
+William laughed. "No, that it would not, practically. There is so much
+discomfort around us, and--and ill-doing--I must call it so, for want of
+a better name--that I sometimes wish we could mend it a little."
+
+"Who mend it, sir?"
+
+"Any one who would try. You two might help towards it. If you could
+seduce a few round here, and get them to be interested in your own
+evening occupation--books and rational conversation--and so wean them
+from the public-houses, it would be a great thing."
+
+"There'd never be any good done with the men, take them as a whole, sir.
+They are an ignorant, easy-going lot, and don't care to be better."
+
+"That's just it, Crouch. They don't care to be better. But they might be
+taught to care. It would be a very great thing if Honey Fair could be
+brought to spend its evenings as you spend yours. If the men gave up
+spending their money, and reeling home after it; and the women kept tidy
+hearths and civil tongues. As Charlotte does," he added looking round at
+her.
+
+"There's no denying that, sir."
+
+"I think something might be done. By degrees, you understand; not in a
+hurry. Were you to take the men by storm--to say, 'We want you to lead
+changed lives, and are going to show you how to do it,' your movement
+would fail, and you would get laughed at into the bargain. Say to the
+men, 'You shan't go to the public-house, because you waste your time,
+your money, and your temper,' and, rely upon it, it would have as much
+effect as if you spoke to the wind. But get them to come here as a sort
+of change, and you may secure them for good if you make the evenings
+pleasant to them. In short, give them some employment or attraction that
+will outweigh the attractions of the public-house."
+
+"It would certainly be a good thing," said Stephen Crouch, musingly.
+"They might be for trying to raise themselves then."
+
+"Ay," spoke William, with enthusiasm. "Once let them find the day-spring
+within themselves, the wish to do right, to be raised above what they
+are now, and the rest will be easy. When once that day-spring can be
+found, a man is made. God never sent a man here, but he implanted that
+within him. The difficulty is, to awaken it."
+
+"And it is not always done, sir," said Charlotte, lifting her face from
+her work with a kindling eye, a heightened colour. _She_ had found it.
+
+"Charlotte, I fear it is rarely done, instead of not always. It lies
+pretty dormant, to judge by appearances, in Honey Fair."
+
+William was right. It is an epoch in a man's life, that finding what he
+had not inaptly called the day-spring. Self-esteem, self-reliance, the
+courage of long-continued patience, the striving to make the best of the
+mind's good gifts--all are born of it. He who possesses it may soar to a
+bright and, happy lot, bearing in mind--may he always bear it!--the rest
+and reward promised hereafter.
+
+"At any rate, it would be giving them a chance, as it seems to me,"
+observed William. "I think I know one who would come. Andrew Brumm."
+
+"Ah, _he_ would, and be glad to come," replied Robert East. "He is
+different from many of them. I know another who would, sir; and that's
+Adam Thornycroft."
+
+Charlotte bent her head over her work.
+
+"Since that cousin of his died of _delirium tremens_, Thornycroft has
+said good-bye to the public-houses. He spends his evenings at home with
+his mother: but I know he would like to spend them here. Tim Carter
+would come, sir."
+
+"If Mrs. Tim will let him," put in Tom East saucily. And a laugh went
+round.
+
+"Ever so few to begin with, will set the example to others," remarked
+William. "There's no knowing what it may grow to. Small beginnings make
+great endings. I have talked with my mother about Honey Fair. She has
+always said: 'Before Honey Fair's conduct can be improved, its minds
+must be improved.'"
+
+"There will be the women yet, sir," spoke Charlotte. "If they are to
+remain as they are, it will be of little use the men doing anything for
+themselves."
+
+"Charlotte, once begun, I say there's no knowing where the work may
+end," he gravely answered.
+
+The rain, which had been threatening all the evening, was coming down
+pretty smartly as William walked through Honey Fair on his return.
+Standing against a shutter near his own door was Jacob Cross. "Good
+night, Jacob," said William.
+
+"Goodnight, sir," answered Jacob sullenly.
+
+"Are you standing in the rain that it may make you grow, as the children
+say?" asked William in his ever-pleasant tone.
+
+"I'm standing here 'cause I've nowhere else to stand," said the man, his
+voice full of resentment. "I'm turned out of our room, and I have no
+money for the Horned Ram."
+
+"A good thing you have not," thought William. "What has turned you out
+of your room?" he asked.
+
+"I'm turned out, sir, by the row there is in it. Our Mary Ann's come
+home."
+
+"Mary Ann?" repeated William, not quite understanding.
+
+"Our Mary Ann, what took and married Ben Tyrrett. A fine market she have
+brought her pigs to!"
+
+"What has she done?" questioned William.
+
+"She's done enough," wrathfully answered Cross. "We told her when she
+married Tyrrett that he was nothing but a jobber at fifteen shillings
+a-week--and it's all he was, sir, as you know. 'Wait,' I says to her;
+'somebody better than him'll turn up.' Her mother says 'Wait.' Others
+says 'Wait.' No, not she; the girls are all marrying mad. Well, she took
+her own way; she would take it; and they got married, and set up upon
+nothing. Neither of 'em had saved a two-penny-piece; and Ben fond of the
+public; and our Mary Ann fond of laziness and finery; and not knowing
+how to keep house any more than her young sister Patty did."
+
+William remembered the little interlude of that evening in which Miss
+Patty had played her part. Jacob continued.
+
+"It was all fine and sunshiny with 'em for a few days or a few weeks,
+till the novelty wears off, and then they finds things going cranky. The
+money, _that_ begins to run short; and Mary Ann, she finds that Ben
+likes his glass; and Ben, he finds that she's just a doll, with no
+gumption or management inside her. They quarrels--naterally, and they
+comes to us to settle it. 'You was both red-hot for the bargain,' says
+I, 'and you must just make the best of it and of one another.' And so
+they went back: and it has gone on till this, quarrelling continual. And
+now he's took to beat her, and home she came to-night, not half an hour
+ago, with her three children and a black eye, vowing she'll stop at home
+and won't go back to him again. And she and her mother's having words
+over it, and the babies a-squalling--enough noise to raise the ceiling
+off, and I come out of it. I wish I was dead, I do!"
+
+Jacob's account of the noise was scarcely exaggerated. It penetrated to
+where they stood, two or three houses off. William had moved closer,
+that the umbrella might give Cross part of its shelter. "Not a very
+sensible wish, that of yours, is it, Cross?" remarked he.
+
+"I have wished it long, sir, sensible or not sensible. I slaves away my
+days and have nothing but a pigsty to step into at home, and angry words
+in it. A nice place for a tired man! I can't afford the public more than
+three or four nights a-week; not that, always. They're getting corky at
+the beer-shops, nowadays, and won't give trust. Wednesday this is;
+Thursday, to-morrow; Friday, next night: three nights, and me without a
+shelter to put my head in!"
+
+"I should like to take you to one to-morrow night," said William. "Will
+you go with me?"
+
+"Where to?" ungraciously asked Cross.
+
+"To Robert East's. You know how he and Crouch spend their evenings.
+There's always something going on there interesting and pleasant."
+
+"Crouch and East don't want me."
+
+"Yes, they do. They will be only too glad if you, and a few more
+intelligent men, will join them. Try it, Cross. There's a warm room to
+sit in, at all events, and nothing to pay."
+
+"Ah, it's all very fine for them Easts! We haven't their luck. Look at
+me! Down in the world."
+
+William put his hand on the man's shoulder. "Why should you be down in
+the world?"
+
+"Why should I?" repeated Cross, in surprise. "Because I am," he
+logically answered.
+
+"That is not the reason. The reason is because you do not try to rise in
+the world."
+
+"It's no use trying."
+
+"Have you ever tried?"
+
+"Why, no! How can I try?"
+
+"You wished just now that you were dead. Would it not be better to wish
+to live?"
+
+"Not such a life as mine."
+
+"But to wish to live would seem to imply that it must be a better life.
+And why need your life be so miserable? You gain fair wages; your wife
+earns money. Altogether I suppose you must have twenty-six or
+twenty-eight shillings a week----"
+
+"But there's no thrift with it," exclaimed Cross. "It melts away
+somehow. Before the middle of the week comes, it's all gone."
+
+"You spend some at the Horned Ram, you know," said William, not in a
+reproving tone.
+
+
+"She squanders away in rubbish more than that," was Jacob's answer,
+pointing towards his house, and not giving at all a complimentary stress
+upon the "she."
+
+"And with nothing to show for it in return, either of you. Try another
+plan, Jacob."
+
+"I'd not be backward--if I could see one to try," said he, after a
+pause.
+
+"Be here at half-past eight to-morrow evening, and I will go in with you
+to East's. If you cannot see any better way, you can spend a pleasant
+evening. But now, Jacob, let me say a word to you, and do you note it.
+If you find the evening pass agreeably, go the next evening, and the
+next; go always. You can't tell all that may arise from it in time. I
+know of one thing that will."
+
+"What's that, sir?"
+
+"Why, that instead of wishing yourself dead, you will grow to think life
+too short, for the good you find in it."
+
+He went on his way. Jacob Cross, deprived of the umbrella, stood in the
+rain as before and looked after him, indulging his reflections.
+
+"He is a young man, and things wear their bright side to him. But he has
+a cordial way with him, and don't look at folks as if they was dirt."
+
+And that had been the origin of the _soirees_ held at Robert East's. By
+degrees ten or a dozen men took to going there, and--what was more--to
+like to go, and to find an interest in it. It was a great improvement
+upon the Horned Ram.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII.
+
+HENRY ASHLEY'S OBJECT IN LIFE.
+
+
+On one of the warm, bright days that we sometimes have in the month of
+February, all the brighter from their contrast to the passing winter,
+William Halliburton was walking home to tea from the manufactory, and
+overtook Henry Ashley limping along.
+
+Henry was below the middle height, and slight in form, with the same
+beautiful face that had marked his boyhood, delicately refined in
+feature, brilliant in colour; the same upright lines of pain knit in the
+smooth white brow.
+
+"Just the man I wanted," said he, linking his arm within William's. "You
+are a good help up a hill, and I am hot and tired."
+
+"Wrapped up in that coat, with its fur lining, I should think you are! I
+have doffed my elegant cloak, you see, to-day."
+
+"Is it off to the British Museum?"
+
+William laughed. "I have not had time to pack it up."
+
+"I am glad I met you. You must come home to tea with me. Well? Why are
+you hesitating? You have no engagement?"
+
+"Nothing more than usual. My studies----"
+
+"You are study mad!" interrupted Henry Ashley. "What do you want to be?
+A Socrates? An Admirable Crichton?"
+
+"Nothing so formidable. I want to be useful."
+
+"And you make yourself accomplished, as a preliminary step to it. Mary
+took up the fencing-sticks for you yesterday. Herbert Dare was at our
+house--some freak is taking him to be a pretty constant visitor just
+now--and the talk turned upon Frank. You know," broke off Henry in his
+quaint way, "I never use long words when short ones will do: you learned
+ones would say 'conversation.' Mr. Keating had said to my father that
+Frank Halliburton was a brilliant scholar, and I retailed it to Herbert.
+I knew it would put him up, and there's nothing I like half so much as
+to _rile_ the Dares. Herbert sneered. 'And he owes it partly to
+William,' I went on, 'for if Frank's a brilliant scholar, William's a
+brilliant_er_!' 'William Halliburton a brilliant scholar!' stormed
+scornful Herbert. 'Has he learnt to be one at the manufactory? So long
+as he knows how gloves are made, that's enough for him. What does _he_
+want with the requirements of gentlemen?' Up looked Miss Mary; her
+colour rising, her eyes flashing. She was at her drawing: at which, by
+the way, she makes no progress; nothing to be compared with Anna Lynn.
+'William Halliburton has forgotten more than you ever learnt, Herbert
+Dare,' cried she; 'and there's more of the true gentleman in his little
+finger than there is in your whole body.' 'There's for you, Herbert
+Dare,' whistled I; 'but it's true, lad, like it or not as you may!'
+Herbert _was_ riled."
+
+Henry turned his head as he concluded, and looked up at William. A gleam
+like a sunbeam had flashed into William's eyes; a colour to his cheeks.
+
+"Well?" cried Henry sharply, for William did not speak. "Have you
+nothing to say?"
+
+"It was generous of Miss Ashley."
+
+"I don't mean that. Oh dear!" sighed Henry, who appeared to be in one of
+his fitful moods; "who is to know whether things will turn out crooked
+or straight in this world of ours? What objection have you to coming
+home with me for the evening? That's what I mean."
+
+"None. I can give up my books for a night, bookworm as you think me. But
+they will expect me at East's."
+
+"Happy the man that expecteth nothing!" responded Henry. "Disappoint
+them."
+
+"As for disappointing them, I shouldn't so much mind, but I can't abide
+to disappoint myself," returned William, quoting from Goldsmith's good
+old play, of which both he and Henry were fond.
+
+"You don't mean to say it would be a disappointment to _you_, not giving
+the lesson, or whatever it is, to those working chaps!" uttered Henry
+Ashley.
+
+"Not as you would count disappointment. When I do not get round for an
+hour, it seems as a night lost. I know the men like to see me; and I am
+always fearing that we are not sure of them."
+
+"You speak as though your whole soul were in the business," returned
+Henry Ashley.
+
+"I think my heart is in it."
+
+Henry looked at him wistfully, and his tone grew serious. "William, I
+would give all I am worth, present, and to come, to change places with
+you."
+
+"To change places with me!" echoed William, in surprise.
+
+"Yes: for you have an object in life. You may have many. To be useful in
+your generation is one of them."
+
+"And so may you have objects in life."
+
+"With this encumbrance!" He stamped his lame leg, and a look of keen
+vexation settled itself in his face. "You can go forth into the world
+with your strong limbs, your unbroken health; you can work, or you can
+play; you can be active, or you can be still, at will. But what am I? A
+poor, weak creature; infirm of temper, tortured by pain, condemned half
+my days to the monotony of a sick-room. Compare my lot with yours!"
+
+"There are those who would choose your lot in preference to mine, were
+the option given them," returned William. "I must work. It is a duty
+laid upon me. You can play."
+
+"Thank you! How?"
+
+"I am not speaking literally. Every good and pleasing thing that money
+can purchase is at your command. You have only to enjoy them, so far as
+you may. One, suffering as you do, bears not upon him the responsibility
+to _use_ his time, that a healthy man does. Lots, in this world, Henry,
+are, as I believe, pretty equally balanced. Many would envy you your
+life of calm repose."
+
+"It is not calm," was the abrupt rejoinder. "It is disturbed by pain,
+and aggravated by temper; and--and--tormented by uncertainty."
+
+"At any rate, you can subdue the one."
+
+"Which, pray?"
+
+"The temper. Henry"--dropping his voice--"a victory over your own temper
+may be one of the few obligations laid upon you."
+
+"I wish I could live for an object," grumbled Henry.
+
+"Come round with me to East's, sometimes."
+
+"I--daresay!" retorted Henry, when he could recover from his amazement.
+"Thank you again, Mr. Halliburton."
+
+William laughed. But he soon resumed his seriousness. "I can understand
+that for you, the favoured son of Mr. Ashley, reared in refinement and
+exclusiveness----"
+
+"Enshrined in pride--the failing that Helstonleigh is pleased to call my
+besetting sin; sheltered under care and coddling so great that the very
+winds of heaven are not suffered to visit my face too roughly!" was the
+impetuous interruption of Henry Ashley. "Come! bring it all out. Don't,
+from motives of delicacy, keep in any of my faults, virtues, or
+advantages!"
+
+"I can understand, I say, why you are unwilling to break through the
+reserve of your home habits," William calmly continued. "But, if you did
+so, you might no longer have to complain of the want of an object in
+life."
+
+At this moment they came in view of William's house. Mrs. Halliburton
+happened to be at one of the windows. William nodded his greeting, and
+Henry raised his hat. Presently Henry began again.
+
+"Pray, do you join the town in its gratuitous opinion that Henry Ashley,
+of all in it, is the proudest amid the proud?"
+
+"I do not find you proud," said William.
+
+"You! As far as you and I are concerned, I think the boot might be on
+the other leg. You might set up for being proud over me."
+
+William could not help laughing. "Putting joking aside, my opinion is,
+Henry, that your shyness and sensitiveness are in fault; not your pride.
+It is your reserved manner alone which has caused Helstonleigh to take
+up the impression that you are unduly proud."
+
+"Right, old fellow!" returned Henry in emphatic tones. "If you knew how
+far I and pride stand apart--but let it pass."
+
+Arrived at the entrance to Mr. Ashley's, William threw open the gate for
+Henry, retreating himself. "I must go home first, Henry. I won't be a
+quarter of an hour."
+
+Henry looked cross. "Why on earth, then, did you not go in as we passed?
+What was the use of your coming up here to go back again?"
+
+"I thought my arm was helping you."
+
+"So it was. But--there! don't be an hour."
+
+As William walked rapidly back, he met Mrs. Ashley's carriage. She and
+Mary were in it. Mrs. Ashley nodded as he raised his hat, and Mary
+glanced at him with a smile and a heightened colour. She had grown up to
+excessive beauty.
+
+A few moments, and William met beauty of another style--Anna Lynn. Her
+cheeks were the flushed, dimpled cheeks of her childhood; the same
+sky-blue eyes gleaming from between their long dark lashes; the same
+profusion of silky, brown hair; the same gentle, sweetly modest manners.
+William stopped to shake hands with her.
+
+"Out alone, Anna?"
+
+"I am on my way to take tea with Mary Ashley."
+
+"Are you? We shall meet there, then."
+
+"That will be pleasant. Fare thee well for the present, William."
+
+She continued her way. William ran in home, and to his chamber. Dressing
+himself hastily, he went to the room where his mother sat, and stood
+before her.
+
+"Does my coat fit me, mother?"
+
+"Why, where are you going?" she asked.
+
+"To Mrs. Ashley's. I have put on my new coat. Does it do? It seems all
+right"--throwing up his arms.
+
+"Yes, it fits you exactly. I think you are growing a dandy. Go along. I
+must not look at you too long."
+
+"Why not?" he asked in surprise.
+
+"In case I grow proud of my eldest son. And I would rather be proud of
+his goodness than of his looks."
+
+William laughingly gave his mother a farewell kiss. "Tell Gar I am sorry
+he will not have me at his elbow this evening, to find fault with his
+Greek. Good-bye, mother dear."
+
+In truth, there was something remarkably noble in William Halliburton's
+appearance. As he entered Mrs. Ashley's drawing-room, the fact seemed to
+strike upon Henry with unusual force, who greeted him from his distant
+sofa.
+
+"So that's what you went back for!--to turn yourself into a buck!" he
+called out as William approached him. "As if you were not well enough
+before! Did you dress for me, pray?"
+
+"For you!" laughed William. "That's good!"
+
+"In saying 'me,' I include the family," returned Henry quaintly.
+"There's no one else to dress for."
+
+"Yes, there is. There's Anna Lynn."
+
+Now, in good truth, William had no covert meaning in giving this answer.
+The words rose to his lips, and he spoke them lightly. Perhaps he could
+have given a very different one, had he been compelled to speak out the
+inmost feeling of his heart. Strange, however, was the effect on Henry
+Ashley. He grasped William's arm with emotion, and pulled his face down
+to him as he lay.
+
+"What do you say? What do you mean?"
+
+"I mean nothing in particular. Anna _is_ here."
+
+"You shall not evade me," gasped Henry. "I must have it out, now or
+later. WHAT is it that you mean?"
+
+William stood, almost confounded. Henry was evidently in painful
+excitement; every vestige of colour had forsaken his sensitive
+countenance, and his white hands shook as they held William.
+
+"What do _you_ mean?" William whispered. "I said nothing to agitate you
+thus, that I am aware of. Are we at cross-purposes?"
+
+A spot, bright as carmine, began to flush into the invalid's pale
+cheeks, and he moved his face so that the light did not fall upon it.
+
+"I'll have it out, I say. What is Anna Lynn to you?"
+
+"Nothing," answered William, a smile parting his lips.
+
+"What is she to you?" reiterated Henry, his tone painfully earnest.
+
+William edged himself on to the sofa, so as to cover Henry from the gaze
+of any eyes that might be directed to him from the other parts of the
+room. "I like Anna very much," he said in a clear, low tone; "almost as
+I might like a sister; but I have no love for her, in the sense you
+would imply--if I am not mistaking your meaning. And I never shall
+have."
+
+Henry looked at him wistfully. "On your honour?"
+
+"Henry! was there need to ask it? On my honour, if you will."
+
+"No, no; there was no need: you are always truthful. Bear with me,
+William! bear with my infirmities."
+
+"My sister Anna Lynn might be, and welcome. My wife never."
+
+Henry did not answer. His face was growing damp with physical pain.
+
+"You have one of your fits of suffering coming on!" breathed William.
+"Shall I get you anything?"
+
+"Hush! only sit there, to hide me from them: and be still."
+
+William did as he was requested, sitting so as to screen him from Mrs.
+Ashley and the rest. He held his hands, and the paroxysm, sharp while it
+lasted, passed away. Henry's very lips had grown white with pain.
+
+"You see what a poor wretch I am!"
+
+"I see that you suffer," was William's compassionate answer.
+
+"From henceforth there is a fresh bond of union between us, for you
+possess my secret. It is what no one else in the world does. William,
+_that's_ my object in life."
+
+William did not reply. Perplexity was crowding on his mind, shading his
+countenance.
+
+"Well!" cried Henry, beginning to recover his equanimity, and with it
+his sharp retorts. "Why are you looking so blue?"
+
+"Will it be smooth sailing for you, Henry, with Mr. Ashley?"
+
+"Yes, I think it will," was the hasty rejoinder: its very haste, its
+fractious tone, proving that Henry was by no means so sure of it as he
+would imply. "I am not as others are: therefore he will let minor
+considerations yield to my happiness."
+
+William looked uncommonly grave. "Mr. Ashley is not all," he said,
+arousing from a reverie. "There may be difficulties elsewhere. She must
+not marry out of their own society. Samuel Lynn is one of its strictest
+members."
+
+"Rubbish! Samuel Lynn is my father's servant, and I am my father's son.
+If Samuel should take a strait-laced fit, and hold out, why, I'll turn
+broadbrim."
+
+"Samuel Lynn is my father's servant!" In that very fact, William saw
+cause to fear that it might not be such plain sailing with Mr. Ashley as
+Henry wished to anticipate. He could not help looking the doubts he
+felt. Henry observed it.
+
+"What's the matter now?" he peevishly asked. "I do think you were born
+to be the plague of my life! My belief is, you want her for yourself."
+
+"I am only anxious for you, Henry. I wish you could have assured
+yourself that it would go well, before--before allowing your feelings to
+be irrevocably bound up in it. A blow, for you, might be hard to bear."
+
+"How could I help my feelings?" retorted Henry. "I did not fix them
+purposely on Anna Lynn. Before I knew anything about it, they had fixed
+themselves. Almost before I knew that I cared for her, she was more to
+me than the sun in the heavens. There has been no help for it at all, I
+tell you. So don't preach."
+
+"Have you spoken to her?"
+
+Henry shook his head. "The time has not come for it. I must make it
+right with the master before I can stir a step: and I fear it is not
+quite ripe for that. Mind _you_ don't talk."
+
+William smiled. "I will mind."
+
+"You'd better. If that Quaker society got a hint of it, there's no
+knowing what a hullabaloo they might make. They might be for reading
+Anna a public lecture at Meeting: or get Samuel Lynn to vow he'd not
+give his consent."
+
+"I should argue in this way, were I you, Henry. With my love so firmly
+fixed on Anna Lynn----I beg your pardon, Miss Ashley."
+
+William started up. Mary Ashley was standing close to the sofa. Had she
+caught the sense of the last words?
+
+"Mamma spoke twice, but you were too busily engaged to hear," said Mary.
+"Henry, James is waiting to wheel your sofa to the tea-table."
+
+Henry rose. Passing his arm through William's, he approached the group.
+The servant pushed the sofa after them. Standing together were Mary
+Ashley and Anna Lynn. They presented a great contrast to each other.
+Mary wore an evening dress of shimmering silk, its low body trimmed with
+rich white lace; white lace hung from its drooping sleeves: and she had
+on ornaments of gold. Anna was in grey merino, high in the neck, close
+at the wrists; not a bit of lace about her, not an ornament; nothing but
+a plain white linen collar. "Catch me letting her wear those
+Methodistical things when she shall be mine!" thought Henry. "I'll make
+a bonfire of the lot."
+
+But the Quaker cap? Ah! it was not there. Anna had continued her habit
+at home of throwing it off, as formerly. Patience reprimanded in vain.
+She was not seconded by Samuel Lynn. "We are by ourselves, Patience; it
+does not much matter," he would say; "the child says she is cooler
+without it." But had Samuel Lynn known that Anna was in the habit of
+discarding it on every possible occasion when she was from home, he had
+been as severe as Patience. At Mr. Ashley's, especially, she would sit,
+as now, without it, her lovely face made more lovely by its falling
+curls. Anna did wrong, and she knew it; but she was a wilful girl, and a
+vain one. That pretty, timid, retiring manner concealed much self-will,
+much vanity; though in some things she was as easily swayed as a child.
+
+She disobeyed Patience in another matter. Patience would say to her,
+"Should Mary Ashley be opening her instrument of music, thee will mind
+not to listen to her songs: thee can go into another room."
+
+"Oh, yes, Patience," she would answer; "I will mind."
+
+But, instead of not listening, Miss Anna would place herself near the
+piano, and drink in the songs as if her whole heart were in the music.
+Music had a great effect upon her; and there she would sit entranced, as
+though she were in some earthly Elysium. She said nothing of this at
+home; but the deceit was wrong.
+
+They were sitting down to tea, when Herbert Dare came in. The hours for
+meals were early at Mr. Ashley's: the medical men considered it best for
+Henry. Herbert could be a gentleman when he chose; good-looking also;
+quite an addition to a drawing-room. He took his seat between Mary and
+Anna.
+
+"I say, how is it you are not dining at home this evening?" asked Henry,
+who somehow did not regard the Dares with any great favour.
+
+"I dined in the middle of the day," was Herbert's reply.
+
+"The condescension! I thought only plebeians did that. James, is there a
+piece of chalk in the house? I must chalk that up."
+
+"Henry! Henry!" reproved Mrs. Ashley.
+
+"Oh, let him talk, Mrs. Ashley," said Herbert, with supreme good humour.
+"There's nothing he likes so well as a wordy war."
+
+"Nothing in the world," acquiesced Henry. "Especially with Herbert
+Dare."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+ATTERLY'S FIELD.
+
+
+Laughing, talking, playing at proverbs, earning and paying forfeits, it
+was a merry group in Mrs. Ashley's drawing-room. That lady herself was
+not joining in the merriment. She sat apart at a small table, some work
+in her hand, speaking a word now and then, and smiling to herself in
+echo to some unusual burst of laughter. It was so surprising that only
+five voices could make so much noise. They were sitting in a circle;
+Mary Ashley between William Halliburton and Herbert Dare, Anna Lynn
+between Herbert Dare and Henry Ashley, Henry and William side by side.
+
+Time, in these happy moments, passes rapidly. In due course, the hands
+of the French clock on the mantel-piece pointed to half-past eight, and
+its silver tones rang out the chimes. They were at the end of the game,
+and just settling themselves to commence another. The half-hour aroused
+William, and he glanced towards the clock.
+
+"Half-past eight! who would have thought it? I had no idea it was so
+late. I must leave you just for half an hour," he added, rising.
+
+"Leave for what?" cried Henry Ashley.
+
+"To go as far as East's. I will not remain there."
+
+Henry broke into a "wordy war," as Herbert Dare had called it earlier in
+the evening. William smiled, and overruled him in his quiet way.
+
+"They have my promise to go round this evening," he said. "I gave it
+them unconditionally, and must just go round to tell them I cannot
+come--if that's not a contradiction. Don't look so cross, Henry."
+
+"Of course, you don't mean to come back," resentfully spoke Henry. "When
+you get there, you'll stop there."
+
+"No; I have told you I will not. But if I let them expect me all the
+evening, they will be looking and waiting, and do no good."
+
+He went out as he spoke, and left the house. As he reached the gate Mr.
+Ashley was coming in. Mr. Ashley had been in the manufactory; he did not
+often go there after tea. "Going already, William?" Mr. Ashley exclaimed
+in accents of surprise.
+
+"Not for long, sir. I must just look in at East's."
+
+"Is that scheme likely to prosper? Can you keep the men?"
+
+"Yes, indeed, I think so. My hopes are strong."
+
+"Well, there's nothing like hope," answered Mr. Ashley, with a laugh.
+"But I shall wonder if you do keep them. William," he added, after a
+slight pause, his tone changing to a business one, "I have a few words
+to say to you. I was about to speak to you in the counting-house this
+afternoon, but something put it aside. I have changed my plans with
+respect to this Lyons journey. Instead of despatching you, as I had
+thought of doing, I believe I shall send Samuel Lynn."
+
+Mr. Ashley paused. William did not immediately reply.
+
+"Samuel Lynn's experience is greater than yours. It is a new thing, and
+he will see, better than you could do, what can and what cannot be
+done."
+
+"Very well, sir," at length answered William.
+
+"You speak as though you were disappointed," remarked Mr. Ashley.
+
+William was disappointed. But his motive for the feeling lay far deeper
+than Mr. Ashley supposed. "I should like to have gone, sir, very much.
+But--of course, my liking, or not liking, has nothing to do with it.
+Perhaps it is as well that I should not go," he resumed, more in
+soliloquy, as if he were trying to reconcile himself to the
+disappointment by argument, than in observation to Mr. Ashley. "I do not
+see how the men would have done without me at East's."
+
+"Ay, that's a grave consideration," replied Mr. Ashley jokingly, as he
+turned to walk to his own door.
+
+William stood still, nailed as it were to the spot, looking after his
+master. A most unwelcome thought had flashed over him; and in the
+impulse of the moment he followed Mr. Ashley, to speak it out. Even in
+the night's obscurity, his emotion was perceptible.
+
+"Mr. Ashley, the suspicion cast on me, at the time that cheque was lost,
+has not been the reason--the reason for your declining to intrust me
+with this commission?"
+
+Mr. Ashley looked at him in surprise. But that William's agitation was
+all too real, he would have laughed at him.
+
+"William, I think you are turning silly. No suspicion was cast on you."
+
+"You have never stirred in the matter, sir; you have never spoken to me
+to tell me you were satisfied that I was not in any way guilty," was
+William's impulsive answer.
+
+"Spoken to you! where was the need? Why, William, my whole life, my
+daily intercourse with you, is only so much proof that _you_ have my
+full confidence. Should I admit you to my home, to the companionship of
+my children, if I had no more faith in you than that?"
+
+"True," said William, beginning to recover himself. "It was a thought
+that flashed over me, sir, when you said I was not to be sent on this
+journey. I should not like you to doubt me; I could not live under it."
+
+"William, you reproached me with not having stirred in----"
+
+"I beg your pardon, sir. I never thought of such a thing as reproach. I
+would not presume to do it."
+
+"I have not stirred in the matter," resumed Mr. Ashley. "A very
+disagreeable suspicion arises in my mind at times, as to how the cheque
+went; and I do not choose to stir in it. Have you no suspicion on the
+point?"
+
+The question took William by surprise. He stammered in his answer; an
+unusual thing for him to do. "N--o."
+
+"I ask if you have a suspicion?" quietly repeated Mr. Ashley, meaningly,
+as if he took William's answer for nothing, or had not heard it.
+
+Then William spoke out readily. "A suspicion has crossed my mind, sir.
+But it is one I should not like to breathe to you."
+
+"That's enough. I see. White voluntarily took the loss of the money on
+himself. He came to me to say so; therefore, I infer that it has in some
+private way been refunded to him. Mr. Dare veered round, and advised me
+not to investigate the affair, as I was no loser by it; Delves hinted
+the same thing. Altogether, I can see through the thing pretty clearly,
+and I am content to let it rest. Are you satisfied? If not----"
+
+Mr. Ashley broke off abruptly. William waited.
+
+"So, don't turn foolish again. You and I now understand each other.
+William!" he emphatically added, "I am growing to like you almost as I
+like my own children. I am proud of you; and I shall be prouder yet. God
+bless you, my boy!"
+
+It was so very rare that the calm, dignified Thomas Ashley was betrayed
+into anything like demonstrativeness, that William could only stand and
+look. And while he looked, the door closed on his master.
+
+He went way with all speed, calling at his home. Were the truth to be
+told, perhaps William was quite as anxious to be back again at Mr.
+Ashley's as Henry was that he should be there. Scarcely stopping for a
+word of greeting, he opened a drawer, took from it a small case of
+fossils, and then searched for something else; something which
+apparently he could not find.
+
+"Have any of you seen my microscope?" he asked, turning to the group at
+the table bending over their books.
+
+Jane looked round. "My dear, I lent it to Patience to-day. I suppose she
+forgot to return it. Gar, will you go and ask her for it?"
+
+"Don't disturb yourself, Gar," said William. "I am going out, and will
+ask Patience myself."
+
+Patience was alone in her parlour. She returned him the microscope,
+saying that the reason she had not sent it in was, that she had not had
+time to use it. "Thee art in evening dress!" she remarked to William.
+
+"I am at Mrs. Ashley's. I have only come out for a few minutes. Thank
+you. Good night, Patience."
+
+"Wait thee a moment, William. Is Anna ready to come home?"
+
+"No, that she is not. Why?"
+
+"I want to send for her. Samuel Lynn is spending the evening in the
+town, so I must send Grace. And I don't care to send her late. She will
+only get talking to John Pembridge, if she goes out after he is home
+from work."
+
+William smiled. "It is natural that she should, I suppose. When are they
+going to be married?"
+
+"Shortly," answered Patience, in a tone not quite so equable as usual.
+Patience saw no good in people getting married in general; and she was
+vexed at the prospect of losing Grace in particular. "She leaves us in a
+fortnight from this," she continued, alluding to Grace, "and all her
+thoughts seem to be bent now upon meeting John Pembridge. Could thee
+bring Anna home for me?"
+
+"With pleasure," replied William.
+
+"That is well, then. Grace does not deserve to go out to-night, for she
+wilfully crossed me to-day. Good evening, William."
+
+Fossil-case in hand, and the microscope in his pocket, William made the
+best of his way to Honey Fair. Robert East, Stephen Crouch, Brumm,
+Thornycroft, Carter, Cross, and some half-dozen others, were crowded
+round Robert's table. William handed them the fossils and the
+microscope; told the men to amuse themselves with them for that night,
+and he would explain more about them on the morrow. He was ever anxious
+that the men should have some object of amusement as a rallying point on
+these evenings; anything to keep their interest awakened.
+
+Before the half-hour had expired, he was back at Mr. Ashley's. Proverbs
+had been given up, and Mary was at the piano. Mr. Ashley had been
+accompanying her on the flute, on which instrument he was a brilliant
+player, and when William entered she was singing a duet with Herbert
+Dare. Anna--disobedient Anna--was seated, listening with all her ears
+and heart to the music, her up-turned countenance quite wonderful to
+look upon in its rapt delight.
+
+"I think you could sing," spoke Henry Ashley to her, in an undertone,
+after watching her while the song lasted.
+
+
+Anna shook her head. "I may not try," she said, raising her blue eyes to
+him for one moment, and then dropping them.
+
+"The time may come when you may," returned Henry, in a deeper whisper.
+
+She did not answer, she did not lift her eyes; but the faintest possible
+smile parted her rosy lips--a smile which seemed to express a
+consciousness that perhaps that time might come. And Henry, shy and
+sensitive, stood apart and gazed upon her, his heart beating.
+
+"Young lady," said William, advancing, "do you know that a special
+honour has been assigned me to-night? One that concerns you."
+
+Anna raised her eyes now. She felt as much at ease with William as she
+did with her father or Patience. "What dost thee say, William? An
+honour?"
+
+"That of seeing you safely home. I----"
+
+"What's that for?" interrupted Anna. "Where's my father?"
+
+"He is not at home this evening. And Patience did not care to send out
+Grace. I'll take care of you."
+
+William could not but observe the sudden flush, the glow of pleasure, or
+what looked like pleasure, that overspread Anna's countenance at the
+information. "What's that for?" he thought, echoing her recent words.
+But Mary began to sing again, and his attention was diverted.
+
+Ten o'clock was the signal for departure. As they were going
+out--William, Anna, and Herbert Dare, who took the opportunity to leave
+with them--Henry Ashley limped after them, and drew William aside in the
+hall.
+
+"Honour bright, mind, my friend!"
+
+William did not understand. "Honour bright, always," said he. "But what
+do you mean?"
+
+"You'll not get making love to her on your way home!"
+
+William could not help laughing. He turned his amused face full on
+Henry. "Be at rest. I would not care to make love to her, had I full
+leave and license from the Quaker society, granted me in public
+meeting."
+
+"Do you think I did not see her brightened countenance when you told her
+she was to go home with you?" retorted Henry.
+
+"I saw it too. I conclude she was pleased that her father was not coming
+for her, little undutiful thing! However it may have been, rely upon it
+that brightening was not for me."
+
+Pressing his hand warmly, with a pressure that no false friend ever
+gave, William hastened away. It was time. Herbert Dare and Anna had not
+waited for him, but were ever so far ahead.
+
+"Very polite of you!" cried William, when he caught them up. "Anna, had
+you gone pitching into that part of the path they are mending, I should
+have been responsible, you know. You might have waited for me."
+
+He spoke good-humouredly, making a joke of it. Herbert Dare did not
+appear to receive it as one. He retorted haughtily.
+
+"Do you suppose I am not capable of taking care of Miss Lynn? As much so
+as you, at any rate."
+
+"Possibly," coolly returned William, not losing his good-humoured tone.
+Herbert Dare had given Anna his arm. William walked near her on the
+other side. Thus they reached Mr. Lynn's.
+
+"Good night," said Herbert, shaking hands with her. "Good night to you,
+Halliburton."
+
+"Good night," replied William.
+
+Herbert Dare set off running. William knocked at the door and waited
+until it was opened. Then he also shook hands with Anna, and saw her in.
+
+Frank and Gar were putting up their books for the night when William
+entered. The boarders had gone to bed. Jane, a very unusual thing for
+her, was sitting by the fire, doing nothing.
+
+"Am I not idle, William?" she said.
+
+William bent to kiss her. "There's no need for you to be anything but
+idle now, mother."
+
+"No need! William, you know better. There's great need that none should
+be idle: none in the world. But I have a bad headache to-night."
+
+"William," called out Gar, "they brought this round for you from East's.
+Young Tom came with it."
+
+It was the case of fossils and the microscope. William observed that
+they need not have sent them, as he should want them there the next
+evening. "Patience said she had not had time to use the microscope," he
+continued. "I think I will take it in to her. I suppose she has been
+buying linen, and wants to see if the threads are even."
+
+"The Lynns will have gone to bed by this time," said Jane.
+
+"Not to-night. I have only just seen Anna home from Mrs. Ashley's; and
+Mr. Lynn has gone out to supper."
+
+He turned to leave the room with the microscope, but Gar was looking at
+the fossils and asked the loan of it. A few minutes, and William finally
+went out.
+
+Patience came to the door, in answer to his knock. She thanked him for
+the microscope and stood a minute or two chatting. Patience was fond of
+a gossip; there was no denying it.
+
+"Will thee not walk in?"
+
+"Not now," he said, turning away. "Good night, Patience."
+
+"Good night to thee. Thee send in Anna, please. She is having a pretty
+long talk with thy mother."
+
+William was at a loss. "I saw Anna in from Mr. Ashley's."
+
+"She did but ask whether her father was home, and then ran through the
+house," replied Patience. "She had a message for thy mother, she said,
+from Margaret Ashley."
+
+"Mrs. Ashley does not send messages to my mother," returned William, in
+some wonder. "They have no acquaintance with each other--beyond a bow,
+in passing."
+
+"She must have sent her one to-night--why else should the child go in to
+deliver it?" persisted Patience. "Not but that Anna is always running
+into thy house at nights. I fear she must trouble thy mother at her
+class."
+
+"She never stays long enough for that," replied William. "When she does
+come in--and it is not often--she just opens the door; 'How dost thee,
+friend Jane Halliburton?' and out again."
+
+"Then thee can know nothing about it, William. I tell thee she never
+stays less than an hour, and she is always there. I say to her that one
+of these evenings thy mother may likely be hinting to her that her room
+will be more acceptable than her company. Thee send her home now,
+please."
+
+William turned away. Curious thoughts were passing through his mind.
+That Anna did not go in, in the frequent manner Patience intimated; that
+she rarely stayed above a minute or two, he knew. He knew--at least, he
+felt perfectly sure--that Anna was not at his house now; had not been
+there. And yet Patience said "Send her home."
+
+"Has Anna been here?" he asked when he went in.
+
+"Anna? No."
+
+Not just that moment, to draw observation, but presently, William left
+the room, and went into the garden at the back. A very unpleasant
+suspicion had arisen in his mind. It might not have occurred to him, but
+for certain glances which he had observed pass that evening between
+Herbert Dare and Anna--glances of confidence--as if they had a private
+mutual understanding on some point or other. He had not understood them
+then: he very much feared he was about to understand them now.
+
+Opening the gate leading to the field at the back, commonly called
+Atterly's Field, he looked cautiously around. For a moment or two he
+could see nothing. The hedge was thick on either side, and no living
+being appeared to be beneath its shade. But he saw farther when his eyes
+became accustomed to the obscurity.
+
+Pacing slowly together, were Herbert Dare and Anna. Now moving on, a few
+steps; now pausing to converse more at ease. William drew a deep breath.
+He saw quite enough to be sure this was not the first time they had so
+paced together: and thought after thought crowded on his mind; one idea,
+one remembrance chasing another.
+
+Was this the explanation of the plaid cloak, which had paraded
+stealthily on that very field-path during the past winter? There could
+not be a doubt of it. And was it in this manner that Anna's flying
+absences from home were spent--absences which she, in her unpardonable
+deceit, had accounted for to Patience by saying that she was with Mrs.
+Halliburton? Alas for Anna! Alas for all who deviate by an untruth from
+the path of rectitude! If the misguided child--she was little better
+than a child--could only have seen the future that was before her! It
+may have been very pleasant, very romantic to steal a march on Patience,
+and pace out there in the cold, chattering to Herbert Dare; listening to
+his protestations that he cared for no one in the world but herself;
+never had cared, never should care: but it was laying up for Anna a day
+of reckoning, the like of which had rarely fallen on a young head.
+William seemed to take it all in at a glance; and, rising tumultuously
+over other unpleasant thoughts, came the remembrance of Henry Ashley's
+misplaced and ill-starred love.
+
+With another deep breath, that was more like a groan than anything
+else--for Herbert Dare never brought good to any one in his life, and
+William knew it--William set off towards them. Whether they heard
+footsteps, or whether they thought the time for parting had come,
+certain it was that Herbert was gone before William could reach them,
+and Anna was speeding towards her home with a fleet step. William placed
+himself in her way, and she started aside with a scream that went
+echoing through the field. Then they had not heard him.
+
+"William, is it thee? Thee hast frightened me nearly out of my senses."
+
+"Anna," he gravely said, "Patience is waiting for you."
+
+Anna Lynn's imagination led her to all sorts of fantastic fears. "Oh,
+William, thee hast not been in to Patience!" she exclaimed, in sudden
+trembling. "Thee hast not been to our house to seek me!"
+
+They had reached his gate now. He halted, and took her hand in his, his
+manner impressive, his voice firm. "Anna, I must speak to you as I would
+to my own sister; as I might to Janey, had she lived, and been drawn
+into this terrible imprudence. Though, indeed, I should not then speak,
+but act. What tales are they that Herbert Dare is deceiving you with?"
+
+"Hast thee been in to Patience? Hast thee been in to Patience?"
+reiterated Anna.
+
+"Patience knows nothing of this. She thinks you are at our house. I ask
+you, Anna, what foolish tales Herbert Dare is deceiving you with?"
+
+Anna--relieved on the score of her fright--shook her head petulantly.
+"He is not deceiving me with any. He would not deceive."
+
+"Anna, hear me. His very nature, as I believe, is deceit. I fear he has
+little truth, little honour within him. Is Herbert professing to--to
+love you?"
+
+"I will not answer thee aught. I will not hear thee speak against
+Herbert Dare."
+
+"Anna," he continued in a lower tone, "you ought to be _afraid_ of
+Herbert Dare. He is not a good man."
+
+How wilful she was! "It is of no use thy talking," she reiterated,
+putting her fingers to her ears. "Herbert Dare _is_ good. I will not
+hear thee speak against him."
+
+"Then, Anna, as you meet it in this way, I must inform your father or
+Patience of what I have seen. If you will not keep yourself out of
+harm's way, they must do it for you."
+
+It terrified her to the last degree. Anna could have died rather than
+suffer her escapade to reach the ears of home. "How can thee talk of
+harm, William? What harm is likely to come to me? I did no more harm
+talking to Herbert Dare here, than I did, talking to him in Margaret
+Ashley's drawing-room."
+
+"My dear child, you do not understand things," he answered. "The very
+fact of your stealing from your home to walk about in this manner,
+however innocent it may be in itself, would do you incalculable harm in
+the eyes of the world. And I am quite sure that in no shape or form can
+Herbert Dare bring you good, or contribute to your good. Tell me one
+thing, Anna: Have you learnt to care much for him?"
+
+"I don't care for him at all," responded Anna.
+
+"No! Then why walk about with him?"
+
+"Because it's fun to cheat Patience."
+
+"Oh, Anna, this is very wrong, very foolish. Do you mean what you
+say--that you do not care for him?"
+
+"Of course I mean it," she answered. "I think he is very kind and
+pleasant, and he gave me a pretty locket. But that's all. William, thee
+wilt not tell upon me?" she continued, clinging to his arm, her tone
+changing to one of entreaty, as the terror, which she had been
+endeavouring to conceal with light words, returned upon her. "William!
+thee art kind and obliging--thee wilt not tell upon me! I will promise
+thee never to meet Herbert Dare again, if thee wilt not."
+
+"It would be for your own sake, Anna, that I should speak. How do I
+know that you would keep your word?"
+
+"I give thee my promise that I will! I will not meet Herbert Dare in
+this way again. I tell thee I do not care to meet him. Canst thee not
+believe me?"
+
+He did believe her, implicitly. Her eyes were streaming; her pretty
+hands clung about him. He did like Anna very much, and he would not draw
+vexation upon her, if it could be avoided with expediency.
+
+"I will rely upon you then, Anna. Believe me, you could not choose a
+worse friend in all Helstonleigh, than Herbert Dare. I have your word?"
+
+"Yes. And I have thine."
+
+He placed her arm within his own, and led her to the back door of her
+house. Patience was standing at it. "I have brought you the little
+truant," he said.
+
+"It is well thee hast," replied Patience. "I had just opened the door to
+come after her. Anna, thee art worse than a wild thing. Running off in
+this manner!"
+
+
+It had not been in William's way to see much of Anna's inner qualities.
+He had not detected her deceit; he did not know that she could be
+untruthful when it suited her to be so. He had firm faith in her word,
+never questioning that it might be depended upon. Nevertheless, when he
+came afterwards to reflect upon the matter, he thought it might be his
+duty to give Patience a little word of caution. And this he could do
+without compromising Anna.
+
+He contrived to see Patience alone the very next day. She began talking
+of their previous evening at the Ashleys'.
+
+"Yes," observed William, "it was a pleasant evening. It would have been
+all the pleasanter, though, but for one who was there--Herbert Dare."
+
+"I do not admire the Dares," said Patience frigidly.
+
+"Nor I. But I observed one thing, Patience--that he admires Anna. Were
+Anna my sister, I should not like her to be too much admired by Herbert
+Dare. So take care of her."
+
+Patience looked steadily at him. William continued, his tone
+confidential.
+
+"You know what Herbert Dare is said to be, Patience--fonder of leading
+people to ill than to good. Anna is giddy--as you yourself tell her
+twenty times a day. I would keep her carefully under my own eyes. I
+would not even allow her to run into our house at night, as she is fond
+of doing," he added with marked emphasis. "She is as safe there as she
+is here; but it is giving her a taste of liberty that she may not be the
+better for in the end. When she comes in, send Grace with her, or bring
+her yourself: I will see her home again. Tell her she is a grown-up
+young lady now, and it is not proper that she should go out unattended,"
+he concluded, laughing.
+
+"William, I do not quite understand thee. Hast thee cause to say this?"
+
+"All I say, Patience, is--keep her out of the way of possible harm, of
+undesirable friendships. Were Anna to be drawn into a liking for Herbert
+Dare, I am sure it would not be agreeable to Mr. Lynn. He would never
+consider the Dares a desirable family for her to marry into----"
+
+"Marry into the family of the Dares!" interrupted Patience hotly. "Art
+thee losing thy senses, William?"
+
+"These likings sometimes lead to marriage," quietly continued William.
+"Therefore, I say, keep her away from all chance of forming them.
+Believe me, my advice is good."
+
+"I think I understand," concluded Patience. "I thank thee kindly,
+William."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV.
+
+ANNA'S EXCUSE.
+
+
+A very unpleasant part of the story has now to be touched upon.
+Unpleasant things occur in real life, and if true pictures have to be
+given of the world as it exists, as it goes on its round, day by day,
+allusion to them cannot be wholly avoided.
+
+Certain words of William Halliburton to Patience had run in this
+fashion: "Were Anna to be drawn into a liking for Herbert Dare, I am
+sure it would not be agreeable to Mr. Lynn. He would never consider the
+Dares a desirable family for her to marry into." In thus speaking,
+William had striven to put the case in a polite sort of form to the ears
+of Patience. As to any probability of marriage between one of the Dares
+and Anna Lynn, he would scarcely have believed it within the range of
+possibility. The Dares, one and all, would have considered Anna far
+beneath them in position, whilst the difference of religion would on
+Anna's side be an almost insurmountable objection. The worst that
+William had contemplated was the "liking" he had hinted at. He cared for
+Anna's welfare as he would have cared for a sister's, and he believed it
+would not contribute to her happiness that she should become attached to
+Herbert Dare. But for compromising Anna--and he had given his word not
+to do it--he would have spoken out openly and said there was a danger of
+this liking coming to pass, if she met him as he feared she had been in
+the habit of doing. Certainly he would not have alluded to the remote
+possibility of marriage, the mention of which had so scared Patience.
+
+What had William thought, what had Patience said, could they have known
+that this liking was already implanted in Anna's heart beyond recall?
+Alas! that it should have been so! Quiet, childish, timid as Anna
+outwardly appeared, the strongest affection had been aroused in her
+heart for Herbert Dare--was filling its every crevice. These apparently
+shy, sensitive natures are sometimes only the more passionate and
+wayward within. One evening a few months previously, Anna was walking
+in Atterly's Field, behind their house. Anna had been in the habit of
+walking there--nay, of playing there--since she was a child, and she
+would as soon have associated harm with their garden as with that field.
+Farmer Atterly kept his sheep in it, and Anna had run about with the
+lambs as long as she could remember. Herbert Dare came up
+accidentally--the path through it, leading along at the back of the
+houses, was public, though not much frequented--and he spoke to Anna.
+Anna knew him to say "Good day" when she passed him in the street; and
+she now and then saw him at Mrs. Ashley's. Herbert stayed talking with
+her a few minutes, and then went on his way.
+
+Somehow, from that time, he and Anna encountered each other there pretty
+frequently; and that was how the liking had grown. If a qualm of
+conscience crossed Miss Anna at times that it was not quite the thing
+for a young lady to do, thus to meet a gentleman in secret, she
+conveniently put the qualm away. That harm should arise from it in any
+way never so much as crossed her mind for a moment; and to do Herbert
+Dare justice, real harm was probably as far from his mind as from hers.
+
+He grew to like her, almost as she liked him. Herbert Dare did not, in
+the sight of Helstonleigh, stand out as a model of all the cardinal
+virtues; but he was not all bad. Anna believed him all good--all honour,
+truth, excellence; and her heart had flashed out a rebuke to William
+when he hinted that Herbert was not exactly a paragon. She only knew
+that the very sound of his footstep made her heart leap with happiness;
+she only knew that to her he appeared everything that was bright and
+fascinating. Her great dread was, lest their intimacy should become
+known and separation ensue. That separation would be inevitable, were
+her father or Patience to become cognizant of it, Anna rightly believed.
+
+Cunning little sophist that she was! She would fain persuade herself
+that an innocent meeting out of doors was justifiable, where a meeting
+indoors was out of the question. They had no acquaintance with the
+Dares; consequently Herbert could plead no excuse for calling in upon
+them--none at least that would be likely to carry weight with Patience.
+And so the young lady reconciled her conscience in the best way she
+could, stole out as often as she was able to meet him, and left
+discovery to take care of itself.
+
+Discovery came in the shape of William Halliburton. It was bad enough;
+but far less alarming to Anna than it might have been. Had her father
+dropped upon her, she would have run away and fallen into the nearest
+pond, in her terror and consternation.
+
+Though guilty of certain trifling inaccuracies--such as protesting that
+she "did not care" for Herbert Dare--Anna, in that interview with
+William, fully meant to keep the promise she made, not to meet him
+again. Promises, however, given under the influence of terror or other
+sudden emotion, are not always kept. It would probably prove so with
+Anna's. One thing was indisputable--that where a mind could so far
+forget its moral rectitude as to practise deceit in one particular, as
+Anna was doing, it would not be very scrupulous to keep its better
+promises.
+
+Anna's thoughts for many a morning latterly, when she arose, had been
+"This evening I shall see him," and the prospect seemed to quicken her
+fingers, as it quickened her heart. But on the morning after the
+discovery, her first thought was, "I must never see him again as I have
+done. How shall I warn him not to come?" That he would be in the field
+again that evening, unless warned, she knew: if William Halliburton saw
+him there a quarrel might ensue between them; at any rate, an unpleasant
+scene. Anna came down, feeling cross and petulant, and inclined to wish
+William had been at the bottom of the sea before he had found them out
+the previous evening.
+
+"Where there's a will, there's a way," it is said. Anna Lynn contrived
+that day to exemplify it. Her will was set upon seeing Herbert Dare, and
+she did see him: it can scarcely be said by accident. Anna contrived to
+be sent into the town by Patience on an errand, and she managed to
+linger so long in the neighbourhood of Mr. Dare's office, gazing in at
+the shops in West Street (if Patience had only seen her!), that Herbert
+Dare passed.
+
+"Anna!"
+
+"Herbert, I have been waiting in the hope of seeing thee," she
+whispered, her manner timid as a fawn, her pretty cheeks blushing. "Thee
+must not come again in the evening, for I cannot meet thee."
+
+"Why so?" asked Herbert.
+
+"William Halliburton saw me with thee last night, and he says it is not
+right. I had to give him my promise not to meet thee again, or he would
+have told my father."
+
+Herbert cast a word to William; not a complimentary one. "What business
+is it of his?" he asked.
+
+"I dare not stay talking to thee, Herbert. Patience will likely be
+sending Grace after me, finding me so long away. But I was obliged to
+tell thee this, lest thee should be coming again. Fare thee well!"
+
+Passing swiftly from him, Anna went on her way. Herbert did not choose
+to follow her in the open street. She went along, poor child, with her
+head down and her eyelashes glistening. It was little else than bitter
+sorrow thus to part with Herbert Dare.
+
+Patience was standing at the door, looking out for her when she came in
+sight of home. Patience had given little heed to what William
+Halliburton had said the previous night, or she might not have sent Anna
+into Helstonleigh alone. In point of fact, Patience had thought William
+a little fanciful. But when, instead of being home at four o'clock, as
+she ought to have been, the clock struck five, and she had not made her
+appearance, Patience began to think she did let her have too much
+liberty.
+
+"Now, where hast thee been?" was Patience's salutation, delivered in icy
+tones.
+
+"I met so many people, Patience. They stayed to talk with me."
+
+Brushing past Patience, deaf to her subsequent reproofs, Anna flew up to
+her own room. When she came down, her father had entered, and Patience
+was pouring out the tea.
+
+"Wilt thee tell thy father where thee hast been?"
+
+The command was delivered in Patience's driest tone. Anna, inwardly
+tormented, outwardly vexed, burst into tears. The Quaker looked up in
+surprise.
+
+Patience explained. Anna had left home at three o'clock to execute a
+little commission: she might well have been home in three-quarters of an
+hour and she had only made her appearance now.
+
+"What kept thee, child?" asked her father.
+
+"I only looked in at a shop or two," pleaded Anna, through her tears.
+"There were the prettiest new engravings in at Thomas Woakam's! If
+Patience had wanted me to run both ways, she should have said so."
+
+Notwithstanding the little spice of impertinence peeping out in the last
+sentence, Samuel Lynn saw no reason to correct Anna. That she could ever
+be wrong, he scarcely admitted to his own heart. "Dry thy tears, child,
+and take thy tea," said he. "Patience wanted thee, maybe, for some
+household matter; it can wait another opportunity. Patience," he added,
+as if to drown the sound of his words and their remembrance, "are my
+shirts in order?"
+
+"Thy shirts in order?" repeated Patience. "Why dost thee ask that?"
+
+"I should not have asked it without reason," returned he. "Wilt thee
+please give me an answer?"
+
+"The old shirts are as much in order as things, beginning to wear, can
+be," replied Patience. "Thy new shirts I cannot say much about. They
+will not be finished this side Midsummer, unless Anna sits to them a
+little closer than she is doing now."
+
+"Thy shirts will be ready quite in time, father; before the old ones are
+gone beyond wearing," spoke up Anna.
+
+"I don't know that," said Mr. Lynn. "Had they been ready, child, I might
+have wanted them now. I am going a journey."
+
+"Is it the French journey thee hast talked of once or twice lately?"
+interposed Patience.
+
+"Yes," said Samuel Lynn. "The master was speaking to me about it this
+afternoon. We were interrupted, and I did not altogether gather when he
+wishes me to start; but I fancy it will be immediately----"
+
+"Oh, father! couldst thee not take me?"
+
+The interruption came from Anna. Her blue eyes were glistening, her
+cheeks were crimson; a journey to the interior of France wore charms for
+her as great as it did for Cyril Dare. All the way home from West Street
+she had been thinking how she should spend her miserable home days,
+debarred of the evening snatches of Mr. Herbert's charming society.
+Going to France would be something.
+
+"I wish I could take thee, child! But thee art aware thee might as well
+ask me to take the Malvern Hills."
+
+In her inward conviction, Anna believed she might. Before she could
+oppose any answering but most useless argument, Samuel Lynn's attention
+was directed to the road. Parting opposite to his house, as if they had
+just walked together from the manufactory, were Mr. Ashley and William
+Halliburton. The master walked on. William, catching Samuel Lynn's eye,
+came across and entered.
+
+Mr. Ashley had been telling William some news. Though no vacillating man
+in a general way, it appeared that he had again reconsidered his
+determination with regard to despatching William to France. He had come
+to the resolve to send him, as well as Samuel Lynn. William could not
+help surmising that his betrayed emotion the previous night, his fears
+touching Mr. Ashley's reason for not sending him, may have had something
+to do with that gentleman's change of mind.
+
+"Will you be troubled with me?" asked he of Mr. Lynn, when he had
+imparted this to him.
+
+"If such be the master's fiat, I cannot help being troubled with thee,"
+was the answer of Samuel Lynn; but the tone of his voice spoke of
+anything rather than dissatisfaction. "Why is he sending thee as well as
+myself?"
+
+"He told me he thought it might be best that you should show me the
+markets, and introduce me to the skin merchants, as I should probably
+have to make the journey alone in future," replied William. "I had no
+idea, until the master mentioned it now, that you had ever made the
+journey yourself, Mr. Lynn; you never told me."
+
+"There was nothing, that I am aware of, to call for the information,"
+observed the Quaker, in his usual dry manner. "I went there two or three
+times on my own account when I was in business for myself. Did the
+master tell thee when he should expect us to start?"
+
+"Not precisely. The beginning of the week, I think."
+
+"I have been asking my father if he cannot take me," put in Anna, in
+plaintive tones, looking at William.
+
+"And I have answered her, that she may as well ask me to take the
+Malvern Hills," was the rejoinder of Samuel Lynn. "I could as likely
+take the one as the other."
+
+Likely or unlikely, Samuel Lynn would have taken her beyond all
+doubt--taken her with a greedy, sheltering grasp--had he foreseen the
+result of leaving her at home, the grievous trouble that was to fall
+upon her head.
+
+"Thee wilt drink a dish of tea with us this evening, William?"
+
+It was Patience who spoke. William hesitated, but he saw they would be
+pleased at his doing so, and he sat down. The conversation turned upon
+France--upon Samuel Lynn's experiences, and William's anticipations.
+Anna lapsed into silence and abstraction.
+
+In the bustle of moving, when Samuel Lynn was departing for the
+manufactory, William, before going home to his books, contrived to
+obtain a word alone with Anna.
+
+"Have you thought of our compact?"
+
+"Yes," she said, freely meeting his eyes in honest truth. "I saw him
+this afternoon in the street; I went on purpose to try and meet him. He
+will not come again."
+
+"That is well. Mind and take care of yourself, Anna," he added, with a
+smile. "I shall be away, and not able to give an eye to you, as I freely
+confess it had been my resolve to do."
+
+Anna shook her head. "He does not come again," she repeated. "Thee may
+go away believing me, William."
+
+And William did go away believing her--went away to France putting faith
+in her; thinking that the undesirable intimacy was at an end for ever.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV.
+
+PATIENCE COME TO GRIEF.
+
+
+In the early part of March, Samuel Lynn and William departed on their
+journey to France. And the first thought that occurred to Patience
+afterwards was one that is apt to occur to many thrifty housekeepers on
+the absence of the master--that of instituting a thorough cleansing of
+the house, from garret to cellar; or, as Anna mischievously expressed
+it, "turning the house inside out." She knew Patience did not like her
+wild phrases, and therefore she used them.
+
+Patience was parting with Grace--the servant who had been with them so
+many years. Grace had resolved to get married. In vain Patience assured
+her that marriage, generally speaking, was found to be nothing better
+than a bed of thorns. Grace would not listen. Others had risked the
+thorns before her, and she thought she must try her chance with the
+rest. Patience had no resource but to fall in with the decision, and to
+look out for another servant. It appeared that she could not readily
+find one; at least, one whom she would venture to engage. She was
+unusually particular; and while she waited and looked out, she engaged
+Hester Dell, a humble member of her own persuasion, to come in
+temporarily. Hester lived with her aged mother, not far off, chiefly
+supporting herself by doing fine needlework at her own, or at the
+Friends' houses. She readily consented to take up her abode with
+Patience for a month or so, to help with the housework, and looked upon
+it as a sort of holiday.
+
+"It's of no use to begin the house until Grace shall be gone," observed
+Patience to Anna. "She'd likely be scrubbing the paper on the walls,
+instead of the paint, for her head is turned just now."
+
+"What fun, if she should!" ejaculated Anna.
+
+"Fun for thee, perhaps, who art ignorant of cost and labour," rebuked
+Patience. "I shall wait until Grace has departed. The day that she goes,
+Hester comes in; and I shall have the house begun the day following."
+
+"Couldn't thee have it begun the same day?" saucily asked Anna.
+
+"Will thee attend to thy stitching?" returned Patience sharply. "Thy
+father's wristbands will not be done the better for thy nonsense."
+
+"Shall I be turned out of my bedroom?" resumed Anna.
+
+"For a night, perchance. Thee canst go into thy father's. But the top of
+the house will be done first."
+
+"Is the roof to be scrubbed?" went on Anna. "I don't know how Hester
+will hold on while she does it."
+
+"Thee art in one of thy wilful humours this morning," responded
+Patience. "Art thee going to set me at defiance now thy father's back is
+turned?"
+
+"Who said anything about setting thee at defiance?" asked Anna. "I
+_should_ like to see Hester scrubbing the roof!"
+
+"Thee hadst better behave thyself, Anna," was the retort of Patience.
+And Anna, in her lighthearted wilfulness, burst into a merry laugh.
+
+Grace departed, and Hester came in: a quiet little body, of forty
+years, with dark hair and defective teeth. Patience, as good as her
+word, was up betimes the following morning, and had the house up
+betimes, to institute the ceremony. Their house contained the same
+accommodation as Mrs. Halliburton's, with this addition--that the garret
+in the Quaker's had been partitioned off into two chambers. Patience
+slept in one; Grace had occupied the other. The three bedrooms on the
+floor beneath were used, one by Mr. Lynn, one by Anna; the other was
+kept as a spare room, for any chance visitor; the "best room" it was
+usually called. The house belonged to Mr. Lynn. Formerly, both houses
+had belonged to him; but at the time of his loss he had sold the other
+to Mr. Ashley.
+
+The ablutions were in full play. Hester, with a pail, mop,
+scrubbing-brush, and other essentials, was ensconced in the top
+chambers; Anna, ostensibly at her wristband stitching (but the work did
+not get on very fast), was singing to herself in an undertone in one of
+the parlours, the door safely shut; while Patience was exercising a
+general superintendence, giving an eye everywhere. Suddenly there echoed
+a loud noise, as of a fall, and a scream resounded throughout the house.
+It appeared to come from what they usually called the bedroom floor.
+Anna flew up the stairs, and Hester Dell flew down the upper ones. At
+the foot of the garret stairs, her head against the door of Anna's
+chamber, lay Patience and a heavy bed-pole. In attempting to carry the
+pole down from her room, she had somehow overbalanced herself, and
+fallen heavily.
+
+"Is the house coming down?" Anna was beginning to say. But she stopped
+in consternation when she saw Patience. Hester attempted to pick her up.
+
+"Thee cannot raise me, Hester. Anna, child, thee must not attempt to
+touch me. I fear my leg is br----"
+
+Her voice died away, her eyes closed, and a hue, as of death, overspread
+her countenance. Anna, more terrified than she had ever been in her
+life, flew round to Mrs. Halliburton's.
+
+Dobbs, from her kitchen, saw her coming--saw the young face streaming
+with tears, heard the short cries of alarm--and Dobbs stepped out.
+
+"Why, what on earth's the matter now?" asked she.
+
+Anna seized Dobbs, and clung to her; partly that to do so seemed some
+protection in her great terror. "Oh, Dobbs, come in to Patience!" she
+cried. "I think she's dying."
+
+The voice reached the ears of Jane. She came forth from the parlour.
+Dobbs was then running in to Samuel Lynn's, and Jane ran also,
+understanding nothing.
+
+Patience was reviving when they entered. All her cry was, that they must
+not move her. One of her legs was in some manner doubled under her, and
+doubled over the pole. Jane felt a conviction that it was broken.
+
+"Who can run fastest?" she asked. "We must have Mr. Parry here."
+
+Hester waited for no further instruction. She caught up her
+fawn-coloured Quaker shawl and grey bonnet, and was off, putting them on
+as she ran. Anna, sobbing wildly, turned and hid her face on Jane, as
+one who wants to be comforted. Then, her mood changing, she threw
+herself down beside Patience, the tears from her own eyes falling on
+Patience's face.
+
+"Patience, dear Patience, canst thee forgive me? I have been wilful and
+naughty, but I never meant to cross thee really. I did it only to tease
+thee; but I loved thee all the while."
+
+Patience, suffering as she was, drew down the repentant face to kiss it
+fervently. "I know it, dear child; I know thee. Don't thee distress
+thyself for me."
+
+Mr. Parry came, and Patience was carried into the spare room. Her leg
+was broken, and badly broken; the surgeon called it a compound fracture.
+
+So there was an end to the grand cleansing scheme for a long time to
+come! Patience lay in sickness and pain, and Hester had to make her her
+first care. Anna's spirits revived in a day or two. Mr. Parry said a
+cure would be effected in time; that the worst of the business was the
+long confinement for Patience; and Anna forgot her dutiful fit of
+repentance. Patience _would_ be well again, would be about as before;
+and, as to the present confinement, Anna rather grew to look upon it as
+the interposition of some good fairy, who must have taken her own
+liberty under its special protection.
+
+Whether Anna would have succeeded in eluding the vigilance of Patience
+_up_ cannot be told; she certainly did that of Patience _down_. Anna had
+told Herbert Dare that he was not to pay a visit to Atterly's field
+again, or expect her to pay one; but Herbert Dare was about the last
+person to obey such advice. Had William Halliburton remained to be--as
+Herbert termed it--a treacherous spy, there's no doubt that Herbert
+would have striven to set his vigilance at defiance: with William's
+absence, the field, both literally and figuratively, was open to him. In
+the absence of Samuel Lynn, it was doubly open. Herbert Dare knew
+perfectly well that if the Quaker once gained the slightest inkling of
+his secret acquaintance with Anna, it would effectually be put a stop
+to. To wear a cloak resembling William Halliburton's, on his visits to
+the field, had been the result of a bright idea. It had suddenly
+occurred to Mr. Herbert that if the Quaker's lynx eyes did by mischance
+catch sight of the cloak, promenading some fine night at the back of his
+residence, they would accord it no particular notice, concluding the
+wearer to be William Halliburton taking a moonlight stroll at the back
+of _his_ residence. Nevertheless, Herbert had timed his visits so as to
+make pretty sure that Samuel Lynn was out of view, safely ensconced in
+Mr. Ashley's manufactory; and he had generally succeeded. Not quite
+always, as the reader knows.
+
+Anna was of a most persuadable nature. In defiance of her promise to
+William, she suffered Herbert Dare to persuade her again into the old
+system of meeting him. Guileless as a child, never giving thought to
+wrong or to harm--beyond the wrong and harm of thus clandestinely
+stealing out, and that wrong she conveniently ignored--she saw nothing
+very grave in doing it. Herbert could not come indoors; Patience would
+be sure not to welcome him; and therefore, she logically argued to her
+own mind, she must go out to him.
+
+She had learnt to like Herbert Dare a great deal too well not to wish to
+meet him, to talk with him. Herbert, on his part, had learnt to like
+her. An hour passed in whispering to Anna, in mischievously untying her
+sober cap, and letting the curls fall, in laying his own hand fondly on
+the young head, and telling her he cared for her beyond every earthly
+thing. It had grown to be one of his most favourite recreations; and
+Herbert was not one to deny himself any recreation that he took a fancy
+to. He intended no harm to the pretty child. It is possible that, had
+any one seriously pointed out to him the harm that might arise to Anna,
+in the estimation of Helstonleigh, should these stolen meetings be found
+out, Herbert might for once have done violence to his inclinations, and
+not have persisted in them. Unfortunately--very unfortunately, as it was
+to turn out--there was no one to give this word of caution. Patience was
+ill, William was away: and no one else knew anything about it. In point
+of fact, Patience could not be said to know anything, for William's
+warning had not made the impression upon her that it ought to have done.
+Patience's confiding nature was in fault. For Anna deliberately to meet
+Herbert Dare or any other "Herbert" in secret, she would have deemed a
+simple impossibility. In the judgment of Patience, it had been nothing
+less than irredeemable sin.
+
+What did Herbert Dare promise himself, in thus leading Anna into this
+imprudence? Herbert promised himself nothing--beyond the passing
+gratification of the hour. Herbert had never been one to give any care
+to the future, for himself or for any one else; and he was not likely to
+begin to do it at present. As to seeking Anna for his wife, such a
+thought had never crossed his mind. In the first place, at the rate the
+Dares--Herbert and his brothers--were going on, a wife for any of them
+seemed amongst the impossibilities. Unless, indeed, she made the bargain
+beforehand to live upon air; there was no chance of their having
+anything else to live upon. But, had Herbert been in a position,
+pecuniarily considered, to marry ten wives, Anna Lynn would not have
+been one of them. Agreeable as it might be to him to linger with Anna,
+he considered her far beneath himself; and pride, with Herbert, was
+always in the ascendant. Herbert had been introduced to Anna Lynn at
+Mrs. Ashley's, and that threw a sort of prestige around her. She was
+also enshrined in the respectable Quaker body of the town. But for these
+facts, for being who she was, Herbert might have been less scrupulous in
+his behaviour towards her. He would not--it may be as well to say he
+dared not--be otherwise than considerate towards Anna Lynn; but, on the
+other hand, he would not have considered her worthy to become his wife.
+On the part of Samuel Lynn, he would far rather have seen his child in
+her coffin, than the wife of Herbert Dare. The young Dares did not bear
+a good name in Helstonleigh.
+
+In this most uncertain and unsatisfactory state of things, what on
+earth--as Dobbs had said to Anna--did Herbert want with her at all? Far,
+far better that he had allowed Anna to fall in with the sensible advice
+of William Halliburton--"Do not meet him again." It was a sad pity; and
+it is very probable that Herbert Dare regretted it afterwards, in the
+grievous misery it entailed. Misery to both; and without positive ill
+conduct on the part of either.
+
+But that time has not yet come, and we are only at the stage of Samuel
+Lynn's absence and Patience's broken leg. Anna had taken to stealing out
+again; and her wits were at work to concoct a plausible excuse for her
+absences to Hester Dell, that no tales might be carried to Patience.
+
+"Hester, Patience is a fidget. Thee must see that. She would like me to
+keep at my work all day, all day, evening too, and never have a breath
+of fresh air! She'd like me to shut myself up in this parlour, as she
+has now to be shut up in her room; never to be in the garden in the
+lovely twilight; never to run and look at the pretty lambs in the field;
+never to go next door, and say 'How dost thee?' to Jane Halliburton!
+It's a shame, Hester!"
+
+"Well, I think it would be, if it were true," responded Hester, a simple
+woman in mind and language, who loved Anna almost as well as did
+Patience. "But dost thee not think thee art mistaken, child? Patience
+seems anxious that thee should go out. She says I am to take thee."
+
+"I dare say!" responded Anna; "and leave her all alone! How would she
+come downstairs with her broken leg, if any one knocked at the door?
+She's a dreadful fidget, Hester. She'd like to watch me as a cat watches
+a mouse. Look at last night! It's all on account of these shirts. She
+thinks I shan't get them done. I shall."
+
+"Why, dear, I think thee wilt," returned Hester, casting her eyes on the
+work. "Thee art getting on with them."
+
+"I am getting on nicely. I have done all the stitching, and nearly the
+plain part of the bodies; I shall soon be at the gathers. What did she
+say to thee last night?"
+
+"She said, 'Go to the parlour, Hester, and See whether Anna does not
+want a light.' And I came and could not find thee. And then she said
+thee wast always running into the next door, troubling them, and she
+would not have it done. Thee came in just at the time, and she scolded
+thee."
+
+"Yes, she did," resentfully spoke Anna. "I tell thee, Hester, she's the
+worst fidget breathing. I give thee my word, Hester, that I had not been
+inside the Halliburtons' door. I had been in this garden and in the
+field. I had been close at work all day----"
+
+"Not quite all day, dear," interrupted Hester, willing to smooth matters
+to the child as far as she was able. "Thee hadst thy friend Mary Ashley
+here to call in the morning, and thee hadst Sarah Dixon in the
+afternoon."
+
+"Well, I had been at work a good part of the day," corrected Anna, "and
+I wanted some fresh air after it. Where's the crime?"
+
+"Crime, dear! It's only natural. If I had not my errands to go upon, and
+so take the air that way, I should like myself to run to the field, when
+my work was done."
+
+"So would any one else, except Patience," retorted Anna. "Hester, look
+thee. When she asks after me again, thee hast no need to tell her,
+should I have run out. It only fidgets her, and she is not well enough
+to be fidgeted. Thee tell her I am at my sewing. But I _can't_ be sewing
+for ever, Hester; I must have a few minutes' holiday from it now and
+then. Patience might have cause to grumble if I ran away and left it in
+the day."
+
+"Well, dear, I think it is only reasonable," slowly answered Hester,
+considering the matter over. "I'll not tell her thee art in the garden
+again; for she must be kept tranquil, friend Parry says."
+
+"She was just as bad when I was a little girl, Hester," concluded Anna.
+"She wouldn't let me run in the garden alone then, for fear I should eat
+the gooseberries. But it is not the gooseberry season now."
+
+"All quite true and reasonable," thought Hester Dell.
+
+And so the young lady contrived to enjoy a fair share of evening
+liberty. Not but that she would have done with more, had she known how
+to get it. And as the weeks went on, and the cold weather of early
+spring merged into summer days, more genial nights, she and Herbert Dare
+grew bold in their immunity from discovery, and scarcely an evening
+passed but they might have been seen, had any one been on the watch, in
+Farmer Atterly's field. Anna had reached the point of taking his arm
+now; and there they would pace under cover of the hedge, Herbert
+talking, and Anna dreaming that she was in Eden.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI.
+
+THE GOVERNESS'S EXPEDITION.
+
+
+Herbert Dare sat enjoying the beauty of the April evening in the garden
+of Pomeranian Knoll. He was hoisted on the back of a garden bench, and
+balanced himself astride it, the tip of one toe resting on the seat, the
+other foot dangling. The month was drawing to its close, and the beams
+of the setting sun streamed athwart Herbert's face. It might be supposed
+that he had seated himself there to bask in the soft, still air and
+lovely sunset. In point of fact, he hardly knew whether the sun was
+rising or setting--whether the evening was fair or foul--so buried was
+he in deep thought and perplexing care.
+
+The particular care which was troubling Herbert Dare, was one which has,
+at some time or other, troubled the peace of a great many of us. It was
+pecuniary embarrassment. Herbert had been in it for a long time; had, in
+fact, been sinking into it deeper and deeper. He had managed to ward it
+off hitherto in some way or other; but the time to do that much longer
+was going by. He was not given to forethought, it has been previously
+mentioned; but he could not conceal from himself that unpleasantness
+would ensue, and that speedily, unless something could be done. What was
+that something to be? He did not know; he could not imagine. His father
+protested that he had not the means to help him; and Herbert believed
+that Mr. Dare spoke the truth. Not that Mr. Dare knew of the extent of
+the embarrassment. Had he done so, it would have come to the same thing,
+so far as his help went. His sons, as he said, had drained him to the
+utmost.
+
+Anthony passed the end of the walk. Whether he saw Herbert or not,
+certain it was, that he turned away from his direction. Herbert lifted
+his eyes, an angry light in them. He lifted his voice also, angry too.
+
+"Here, you! Don't go skulking off because you see me sitting here. I
+want you."
+
+Anthony was taken to. It is more than probable that he _was_ skulking
+off, and that he _had_ seen Herbert, for he did not particularly care
+then to come into contact with his brother. Anthony was in embarrassment
+on his own score; was ill at ease from more reasons than one; and when
+the mind is troubled, sharp words do not tend to soothe it. Little else
+than sharp words had been exchanged latterly between Anthony and Herbert
+Dare.
+
+It was no temporary ill-feeling, vexed to-day, pleased to-morrow,
+which had grown up between them; the ill-will had existed a long time.
+Herbert believed that his brother had injured him, had wilfully
+played him false, and his heart bitterly resented it. That Anthony was
+in fault at the beginning was undoubted. He had drawn Herbert
+unsuspiciously--unsuspiciously on Herbert's part, you understand--into
+some mess with regard to bills. Anthony was fond of "bills;" Herbert,
+more wise in that respect, had never meddled with them: his opinion
+coincided with his father's: they were edged tools, which cut both ways.
+"Eschew bills if you want to die upon your own bed," was a saying of Mr.
+Dare's, frequently uttered for the benefit of his sons. Good advice, no
+doubt. Mr. Dare, as a lawyer, ought to know. Herbert had held by the
+advice; Anthony never had; and the time came when Anthony took care that
+his brother should not.
+
+In a period of deep embarrassment for Anthony, he had persuaded Herbert
+to sign two bills for him, their aggregate amount being large; assuring
+him, in the most earnest and apparently truthful manner, that the money
+to meet them, when due, was already provided. Herbert, in his good
+nature, fell into the snare. It turned out not only that the bills were
+not met at all, but Anthony had so contrived it that Herbert should be
+responsible, not he himself. Herbert regarded it as a shameful piece of
+treachery, and never ceased to reproach his brother. Anthony, who was of
+a sullen, morose temper, resented the reproach; and they did not lead
+together the happiest of lives. The bills were not settled yet; indeed,
+they formed part of Herbert's most pressing embarrassments. This was one
+cause of the ill-feeling between them, and there were others, of a
+different nature. Anthony and Herbert Dare had never been cordial with
+each other, even in childhood.
+
+Anthony, called by Herbert, advanced. "Who wants to skulk away?" asked
+he. "Are you judging me by yourself?"
+
+"I hope not," returned Herbert, in tones of the most withering contempt
+and scorn. "Listen to me. I've told you five hundred times that I'll
+have some settlement, and if you don't come to it amicably, I'll force
+you to it. Do you hear, you? I'll _force_ you to it."
+
+"Try it," retorted Anthony, with a mocking laugh; and he coolly walked
+away.
+
+Walked away, leaving Herbert in a towering rage. He felt inclined to
+follow him; to knock him down. Had Anthony only met the affair in a
+proper spirit, it had been different. Had he said, "Herbert, I am
+uncommonly vexed--I'll see what can be done," or words to that effect,
+half the sting in his brother's mind would have been removed; but, to
+taunt Herbert with having to pay--as he sometimes did--was almost
+unbearable. Had Herbert been of Anthony's temper, he would have proved
+that it was quite unbearable.
+
+But Herbert's temper was roused now. It was the toss of a die whether he
+followed Anthony and struck him down, or whether he did not. The die was
+cast by the appearance of Signora Varsini; and Anthony, for that
+evening, escaped.
+
+It was not very gallant of Herbert to remain where he was, in the
+presence of the governess, astride upon the garden bench. Herbert was
+feeling angry in no ordinary degree, and this may have been his excuse.
+She came up, apparently in anger also. Her brow was frowning, her
+compressed mouth drawn in until its lips were hidden.
+
+There is good advice in the old song or saying: "It is well to be off
+with the old love, before you are on with the new." As good advice as
+that of Mr. Dare's, relative to the bills. Herbert might have sung it in
+character. He should have made things square with the Signora Varsini,
+before entering too extensively on his friendship with Anna Lynn.
+
+Not that the governess could be supposed to occupy any position in the
+mind or heart of Herbert Dare, except _as_ governess; governess to his
+sisters. Herbert would probably have said so, had you asked him. What
+_she_ might have said, is a different matter. She looks angry enough to
+say anything just now. The fact appeared to be--so far as any one not
+personally interested in the matter could be supposed to gather it--that
+Herbert had latterly given offence to the governess, by not going to the
+school-room for what he called his Italian lessons. Of course he could
+not be in two places at once; and if his leisure hour after dinner was
+spent in Atterly's field, it was impossible that he could be in the
+school-room, learning Italian with the governess. But she resented it as
+a slight. She was of an exacting nature; probably of a jealous nature;
+and she regarded it as a personal slight, and resented it bitterly. She
+had been rather abrupt in speech and manner to Herbert, in consequence;
+and that, _he_ resented. But, being naturally of an easy temper, Herbert
+was no friend to unnecessary disputes. He tried what he could towards
+soothing the young lady; and, finding he effected no good in that way,
+he adopted the other alternative--he shunned her. The governess
+perceived this, and worked herself up into a state of semi-fury.
+
+She came down upon him in full sail. The moment Herbert saw her, he
+remembered having given her a half-promise the previous day to pay her a
+visit that evening. "Now for it," thought he to himself.
+
+"Why you keep me waiting like this?" began she, when she was close to
+him.
+
+"Have I kept you waiting?" civilly returned Herbert. "I am very sorry.
+The fact is, mademoiselle, I have a good deal of worry upon me, and I'm
+fit for nobody's company but my own to-night. You might not have thanked
+me for my visit, had I come."
+
+"That is my own look-out," replied the governess. "When a gentleman
+makes a promise to me, I expect him to keep it. I go up to the
+school-room, and I wait, I wait, I wait! Ah, my poor patience, how I
+wait! I have that copy of Tasso, that you said you would like to see.
+Will you come?"
+
+Herbert thought he was in for it. He glanced at the setting sun--at
+least, at the spot where the sun had gone down, for it had sunk below
+the horizon, leaving only crimson streaks in the grey sky to tell of
+what had been. Twilight was rapidly coming on, when he would depart to
+pay his usual evening visit: there was no time, he decided, for Tasso
+and the governess.
+
+"I'll come another evening," said he. "I have an engagement, and I must
+go out to keep it."
+
+A stony hardness settled on mademoiselle's face. "What engagement?" she
+imperatively demanded.
+
+It might be thought that Herbert would have been justified in civilly
+declining to satisfy her curiosity. What was it to her? Apparently he
+thought otherwise. Possibly he was afraid of an outbreak.
+
+"What engagement! Oh--I am going to play a pool at billiards with Lord
+Hawkesley. He is in Helstonleigh again."
+
+"And that is what you go for, every evening--to play billiards with Lord
+Hawkesley?" she resumed, her eyes glistening ominously.
+
+"Of course it is, mademoiselle. With Hawkesley or other fellows."
+
+"A lie!" curtly responded mademoiselle.
+
+"I say," cried Herbert, laughing good-humouredly: "do you call that
+orthodox language?"
+
+"It nothing to you what I call it," she cried, clipping her words in her
+vehemence, as she would do when excited. "It not with Milord Hawkesley,
+not to billiards that you go! I know it is not."
+
+
+"Then I tell you that I often play billiards," cried Herbert. "On my
+honour I do."
+
+"May-be, may-be," answered she, very rapidly. "But it not to billiards
+that you go every evening. Every evening!--every evening! Not an evening
+now, but you go out, you go out! I bought Tasso--do you know that I
+_bought_ Tasso?--that I have bought it with my money, that you may have
+the pleasure of hearing me read it, as you said--as you call it? Should
+I spend the money, had I thought you would not come when I had it--would
+not care to hear it read?"
+
+Had she been in a more amiable mood, Herbert would have told her that
+she was a simpleton for spending her money; he would have told her that
+Tasso, read in the original, would have been to him unintelligible as
+Sanscrit. He had a faint remembrance of saying to mademoiselle that he
+should like to read Tasso, in answer to a remark that Tasso was her
+favourite of the Italian poets: but he had only made the observation
+carelessly, without seriously meaning anything. And she had been so
+foolish as to go and buy it!
+
+"Will you come this evening and hear it begun?" she continued, breaking
+the pause, and speaking rather more graciously.
+
+"Upon my word of honour, Bianca, I can't to-night," he answered, feeling
+himself, between the two--the engagement made, and the engagement sought
+to be made--somewhat embarrassed. "I will come another evening; you may
+depend upon me."
+
+"You say to me yesterday that you would come this evening; that I might
+depend upon you. Much you care!"
+
+"But I could not help myself. An engagement arose, and I was obliged to
+fall in with it. I was, indeed. I'll hear Tasso another evening."
+
+"You will not break your paltry engagement at billiards to keep your
+word to a lady! C'est bien!"
+
+"It--it is not altogether that," replied Herbert, getting out of the
+reproach in the best way he could. "I have some business as well."
+
+She fastened her glistening eyes upon him. There was an expression in
+them which Herbert neither understood nor liked. "C'est tres bien!" she
+slowly repeated. "I know where you are going, and for what!"
+
+A smile--at her assumed knowledge, and what it was worth--flitted over
+Herbert Dare's face. "You are very wise," said he.
+
+"Take care of yourself, mon ami! C'est tout ce que je vous dis."
+
+"Now, mademoiselle, what is the matter, that you should look and speak
+in that manner?" he asked, still in the same good-humoured tone, as if
+he would fain pass the affair away in a joke. "I'm sure I have enough
+bother upon me, without your adding to it."
+
+"What is your bother?"
+
+"Never mind: it would give you no pleasure to know it. It is caused by
+Anthony--and be hanged to him!"
+
+"Anthony is worth ten of you!" fiercely responded mademoiselle.
+
+"Every one to his own liking," carelessly remarked Herbert. "It's well
+for me that all the world does not think as you do, mademoiselle."
+
+Mademoiselle looked as though she would like to beat him. "So!" she
+foamed, drawing back her bloodless lips; "now that your turn is served,
+Bianca Varsini may just be sent to the enfer! Garde-toi, mon camarade!"
+
+"Garde your voice," replied Herbert. "The cows yonder will think it's a
+tempest. I wish my turn _was_ served, in more ways than one. What
+particular turn do you mean? If it's buying Tasso, I'll purchase it from
+you at double price."
+
+He could not help giving her a little chaff. It was what he would have
+called it: chaff. Exacting people fretted his generally easy temper,
+and he was beginning to fear that she would detain him until it was too
+late to see Anna.
+
+But, on the latter score, he was set at rest. With a few words, spoken
+in Italian, she nodded her head angrily at him, and turned away. Fierce
+words, in spite of their low tone, Herbert was sure they were, but he
+could not catch one of them. Had he caught them all, it would have come
+to the same, so far as his understanding went. Excellent as Signora
+Varsini's method of teaching Italian may have been, her lessons had not
+as yet been very efficient for Herbert Dare.
+
+She crossed her hands before her, and went down the walk, taking the
+path to the house. Proceeding straight up to the school-room, she met
+Cyril on the stairs. He had apparently been dressing himself for the
+evening, and was going out to spend it. The governess caught him
+abruptly, pulled him inside the school-room, and closed the door.
+
+"I say, mademoiselle, what's that for?" asked Cyril, believing, by the
+fierce look of the young lady, that she was about to take some summary
+vengeance upon him.
+
+"Cyril! you tell me. Where is it that Herbert goes to of an evening?
+Every evening--every evening?"
+
+Cyril stared excessively. "What does it concern you to know where he
+goes, mademoiselle?" returned he.
+
+"I want to know for my own reasons, and that's enough for you, Monsieur
+Cyril. Where does he go?"
+
+"He goes out," responded Cyril.
+
+The governess stamped her foot petulantly. "I could tell you that he
+goes out. I ask you where it is that he goes?"
+
+"How should I know?" was Cyril's answer. "It's not my business."
+
+"_Don't_ you know?" demanded mademoiselle.
+
+"No, that I don't," heartily spoke Cyril. "Do you suppose I watch him,
+mademoiselle? He'd pretty soon pitch into me, if he caught me at that
+game. I dare say he goes to billiards."
+
+The suggestion excited the ire of the governess. "He has been telling
+you to say so!" she said, menace in every tone of her voice, every
+gesture of her lifted hand.
+
+Cyril opened his eyes to their utmost width. He could not understand why
+the governess should be asking him this, or why Herbert's movements
+should concern her. "I know nothing at all about it," he answered; and,
+so far, he spoke the truth. "I don't know that Herbert goes anywhere in
+particular of an evening. If he does, he would not tell me."
+
+She laid her hand heavily on his shoulder; she brought her
+face--terrible in its livid earnestness--almost into contact with his.
+"Ecoutez, mon ami," she whispered to the amazed Cyril. "If you are going
+to play this game with me, I will play one with you. Who wore the cloak
+to that boucherie, and got the money?--who ripped out the ecossais side
+afterwards, leaving it all mangled and open? Think you, I don't know?
+Ah, ha! Monsieur Cyril, you cannot play the farce with me!"
+
+Cyril's face turned ghastly, drops of sweat broke out over his forehead.
+"Hush!" he cried, looking round in the instinct of terror, lest
+listeners should be at hand.
+
+"Yes; you say, 'Hush!'" she resumed. "I will hush if you don't make me
+speak. I have hushed ever since. You tell me what I want to know, and
+I'll hush always."
+
+"Mademoiselle Varsini!" he cried, his manner too painfully earnest for
+her to doubt now that he spoke the truth: "I declare that I know nothing
+of Herbert's movements. I don't know where he goes or what he does. When
+I told you I supposed he went to billiards, I said what I thought might
+be the case. He may go to fifty places of an evening, for all I can
+tell. Tell me what it is you want found out, and I will try and do it."
+
+Cyril was not one to play the spy on his brother; in fact, as he had
+just classically observed to the young lady, Herbert would have "pitched
+into" him, had he found him attempting it. And serve him right! But
+Cyril saw that he was in her power; and that made all the difference. He
+would now have tracked Herbert to the ends of the earth at her bidding.
+
+But she did not bid him. Quite the contrary. She took her hand from
+Cyril's shoulder, opened the door, and said she did not want him any
+longer. "It is no matter," cried she; "I wanted to learn something about
+Monsieur Herbert, for a reason; but if you do not know it, let it pass.
+It is no matter."
+
+Cyril departed; first of all lifting his cowardly face. It looked a
+coward's then. "You'll keep counsel, mademoiselle?"
+
+"Yes. When people don't offend me, I don't offend them."
+
+She stood at the door after he had gone down, half in, half out of the
+room, apparently in deep thought. Presently footsteps were heard coming
+up, and she retreated and closed the door.
+
+They were those of Herbert. He went on to his room, remained there a few
+minutes, and then came out again. Mademoiselle had the door ajar as he
+descended. Her quick eye detected that he had been giving a few
+finishing touches to his toilette--brushing his hair, pulling down his
+wristbands, and various other little odds and ends of dandyism.
+
+"And you do that to play billiards!" nodded she, inwardly, as she looked
+after him. "I'll see, monsieur."
+
+Upstairs with a soft step, went she, to her own chamber. She reached
+from her box a long and loose dark-green cloak, similar to those worn by
+the women of France and Flanders, and a black silk quilted bonnet. It
+was her travelling attire, and she put it on now. Then she locked her
+chamber door behind her, and slipped down into the dining-room, with as
+soft a step as she had gone up.
+
+Passing out at the open window, she kept tolerably under cover of the
+trees, and gained the road. It was quite dusk then, but she recognized
+Herbert before her, walking with a quick step. She put on a quick step
+also, keeping a safe distance between herself and him. He went through
+the town, to the London road, and turned into Atterly's field. The
+governess turned into it after him.
+
+There she stopped under the hedge, to reconnoitre. A few minutes, and
+she could distinguish that he was joined by some young girl, whom he met
+with every token of respect and confidence. A strange cry went forth on
+the evening air.
+
+Herbert Dare was startled. "What noise was that?" he exclaimed.
+
+Anna had heard nothing. "It must have been one of the lambs in the
+field, Herbert."
+
+"It was more like a human voice in pain," observed Herbert. But they
+heard no more.
+
+They began their usual walk--a few paces backward and forward, beneath
+the most sheltered part of the hedge, Anna taking his arm. Mademoiselle
+could see, as well as the darkness allowed her; but she could not hear.
+Her face, peeping out of the shadowy bonnet, was not unlike the face of
+a tiger.
+
+She crawled away. She had noticed as she turned into the field an iron
+gate that led into the garden, which the hedge skirted. She crept round
+to it, found it locked, and mounted it. It had spikes on the top, but
+the signora would not have cared just then had she found herself
+impaled. She got safe over it, and then considered how to reach the spot
+where they stood without their hearing her.
+
+Would she be baffled? _She_ be baffled! No. She stooped down, unlaced
+her boots, and stole softly on in her stockings. And there she was!
+almost as close to them as they were to each other.
+
+Where had the signora heard those gentle, timid tones before? A lovely
+girl, looking little more than a child, in her modest Quaker dress, rose
+to her mind's eye. She had seen her with Miss Ashley. She--the
+signora--knelt down upon the earth, the better to catch what was said.
+
+"Listeners never hear any good of themselves." It is a proverb too often
+exemplified, as the signora could have told that night. Herbert Dare was
+accounting for his late appearance, which he laid to the charge of the
+governess. He gave a description of the interview she had volunteered
+him in the garden at home--more ludicrous, perhaps, than true, but
+certainly not complimentary to the signora. Anna laughed; and the lady
+on the other side gathered that this was not the first time she had
+formed a topic of merriment between them. You should have seen her face.
+_Pour plaisir_, as she herself might have said.
+
+She stayed out the interview. When it was over, and Herbert Dare had
+departed, she put on her boots and mounted the gate again; but she was
+not so agile this time, and a spike entered her wrist. Binding her
+handkerchief round it, to arrest the blood, she returned to Pomeranian
+Knoll.
+
+Five hundred questions were showered upon her when she entered the
+drawing-room, looking calm and impassible as ever. Not a tress of her
+elaborate braids of hair was out of place; not a fold awry in her dress.
+Much wonder had been excited by her failing to appear at tea; Minny had
+drummed a waltz on her chamber door, but mademoiselle would not open it,
+and would not speak.
+
+"I cannot speak when I am lying down with those _vilaine_ headaches,"
+remarked mademoiselle.
+
+"Have you a headache, mademoiselle?" asked Mrs. Dare. "Will you have a
+cup of tea brought up?"
+
+Mademoiselle declined the tea. She was not thirsty.
+
+"What have you done to your wrist, mademoiselle?" called out Herbert,
+who was stretched on a sofa, at the far end of the room.
+
+"My wrist? Oh, I scratched it."
+
+"How did you manage that?"
+
+"Ah, bah! it's nothing," responded mademoiselle.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII.
+
+THE QUARREL.
+
+
+It is grievous, when ill-feeling arises between brothers, that that
+ill-feeling should be cherished instead of being subdued. But such was
+the case with Anthony and Herbert Dare. By the time the sunny month of
+May came in, matters had grown to such a height between them, that Mr.
+Dare found himself compelled to interfere. It was beginning to make
+things in the house uncomfortable. They would meet at meals, and not
+only abstain from speaking to each other, but take every possible
+opportunity of showing mutual and marked discourtesy. No positive
+outbreak between them had as yet taken place in the presence of the
+family: but it was only smouldering, and might be daily looked for.
+
+Mr. Dare, so far as the original cause went, blamed his eldest son.
+Undoubtedly Anthony had been solely in fault. It was a dishonourable,
+ungenerous, unmanly act, to draw his brother into trouble, and to do it
+plausibly and deceitfully. At the _present_ stage of the affair, Mr.
+Dare saw occasion to blame Herbert more than Anthony. "It is you who
+keep up the ball, Herbert," he said to him. "If you would suffer the
+matter to die away, Anthony would do so." "Of course he would," Herbert
+replied. "He has served his turn, and would be glad that it should end
+there."
+
+It was in vain that Mr. Dare talked to them. A dozen times did he
+recommend them to "shake hands and make it up." Neither appeared
+inclined to take the advice. Anthony was sullen. He would have been
+content to let the affair drop quietly into oblivion: perhaps, as
+Herbert said, had been glad that it should so drop; but, make the
+slightest move towards it, he would not. Herbert openly said that _he'd_
+not shake hands. If Anthony wanted ever to shake hands with him again,
+let him pay up.
+
+_There_ lay the grievance; "paying up." The bills, not paid, were a
+terrible thorn in the side of Herbert Dare. He was responsible, and he
+knew not one hour from another but he might be arrested on them. To
+soothe matters between his sons, Mr. Dare would willingly have taken the
+charge of payment upon himself, but he had positively not the money to
+do it with. In point of fact, Mr. Dare was growing seriously embarrassed
+on his own score. He had had a great deal of trouble with his sons, with
+Anthony in particular, and he had grown sick and tired of helping them
+out of pecuniary difficulties. Still, he would have relieved Herbert of
+this one nightmare, had it been in his power. Herbert had been deluded
+into it, without any advantage to himself; therefore Mr. Dare had the
+will, could he have managed it, to help him out. He told Herbert that he
+would see what he could do after a while. The promise did not relieve
+Herbert of present fears; neither did it restore peace between the
+malcontents. Had Herbert been relieved of that particular embarrassment,
+others would have remained to him; but that fact did not in the least
+lessen his soreness, as to the point in question.
+
+It was an intensely hot day; far hotter than is usual at the season; and
+the afternoon sun streamed full on the windows of Pomeranian Knoll,
+suggesting thoughts of July, instead of May. A gay party--at any rate, a
+party dressed in gay attire--were crossing the hall to enter a carriage
+that waited at the door. Mr. Dare, Mrs. Dare, and Adelaide. Mrs. Dare
+had always been given to gay attire, and her daughters had inherited her
+taste. They were going to dine at a friend's house, a few miles'
+distance from Helstonleigh. The invitation was for seven o'clock. It was
+now striking six, the dinner-hour at Mr. Dare's.
+
+Minny, looking half melted, had perched herself upon the end of the
+balustrades to watch the departure.
+
+"You'll fall, child," said Mr. Dare.
+
+Minny laughed, and said there was no danger of her falling. She wondered
+what her father would think if he saw her sometimes at her gymnastics on
+the balustrades, taking a sweeping slide from the top to the bottom. She
+generally contrived that he should not see her; or mademoiselle either.
+Mademoiselle had caught sight of the performance once, and had given her
+a whole French fable to learn by way of punishment.
+
+"Are we to have strawberries for dinner, mamma?" asked Minny.
+
+"You will have what I have thought proper to order," replied Mrs. Dare
+rather sharply. She was feeling hot and cross. Something had put her out
+while dressing.
+
+"I think you might wait for strawberries until they are ripe in our own
+garden; not buy them regardless of cost," interposed Mr. Dare, speaking
+for the general benefit, but not to any one in particular.
+
+Minny dropped the subject. "Your dress is turned up, Adelaide," said
+she.
+
+Adelaide looked languidly behind her, and a maid, who had followed them
+down, advanced and put right the refractory dress: a handsome dress of
+pink silk, glistening with its own richness. At that moment Anthony
+entered the hall. He had just come home to dinner, and looked in a very
+bad humour.
+
+"How late you'll be!" he cried.
+
+"Not at all. We shall drive there in an hour."
+
+They swept out at the door, Mrs. Dare and Adelaide. Mr. Dare was about
+to follow them when a sudden thought appeared to strike him, and he
+turned back and addressed Anthony.
+
+"You young men take care that you don't get quarrelling with each other.
+Do you hear, Anthony?"
+
+"I hear," ungraciously replied Anthony, not turning to speak, but
+continuing his way up to his dressing-room. He probably regarded the
+injunction with contempt, for it was too much in Anthony Dare's nature
+so to regard all advice, of whatever kind. Nevertheless it had been well
+that he had given heed to it. It had been well that that last word to
+his father had been one of affection!
+
+Dinner was served. Anthony, in the absence of Mr. and Mrs. Dare, took
+the head. Rosa, with a show of great parade and ceremony, assumed the
+seat opposite to him and said she should be mistress. Minny responded
+that Rosa was not going to be mistress over her, and the governess
+desired Miss Rosa not to talk so loudly. Rather derogatory checks,
+these, to the dignity of a "mistress."
+
+Herbert was not at table. Irregular as the young Dares were in many of
+their habits, they were generally home to dinner. Minny wondered aloud
+where Herbert was. Anthony replied that he was "skulking."
+
+"Skulking!" echoed Minny.
+
+"Yes, skulking," angrily repeated Anthony. "He left the office at three
+o'clock, and has never been near it since. And the governor left at
+four!" he added, in a tone that seemed to say he considered that also a
+grievance.
+
+"Where did Herbert go to?" asked Rosa.
+
+"I don't know," responded Anthony. "I only know that I had a double
+share of work to do."
+
+Anthony Dare was no friend to work. And having had to do a little more
+than he would have done had Herbert remained at his post, had
+considerably aggravated his temper.
+
+"Why should Monsieur Herbert go away and leave you his work to do?"
+inquired the governess, lifting her eyes from her plate to Anthony.
+
+"I shall take care to ask him why," returned Anthony.
+
+"It is not fair that he should," continued mademoiselle. "I would not
+have done it for him, Monsieur Anthony."
+
+"Neither should I, had I not been obliged," said Anthony, not in the
+least relaxing from his ill-humour, either in looks or tone. "It was
+work that had to be done before post-time, and one of our clerks is away
+on business to-day."
+
+Dinner proceeded to its close. Joseph hesitated, unwilling to remove the
+cloth. "Is it to be left for Mr. Herbert?" he asked.
+
+"No!" imperiously answered Anthony. "If he cannot come in for dinner,
+dinner shall not be kept for him."
+
+"Cook is keeping the things by the fire, sir."
+
+
+"Then tell her to save herself the trouble."
+
+So the cloth was removed, and dessert put on. To Minny's inexpressible
+disappointment it turned out that there were no strawberries. This put
+_her_ into an ill-humour, and she left the table and the room, declaring
+she would not touch anything else. Mademoiselle Varsini called her back,
+and ordered her to her seat; she would not permit so great a breach of
+discipline. Cyril and George, who were not under mademoiselle's control,
+gulped down a glass of wine, and hastened out to keep an engagement. It
+was a very innocent one; a cricket match had been organized for the
+evening, by some of the old college boys; and Cyril and George were
+amongst the players. It has never been mentioned that Mr. Ashley, in his
+strict sense of justice, had allowed Cyril the privilege of spending his
+evenings at home five nights in the week, as he did to William
+Halliburton.
+
+The rest remained at table. Minny, per force; Rosa, to take an unlimited
+quantity of oranges; Mademoiselle Varsini, because it was the custom to
+remain. But mademoiselle soon rose and withdrew with her pupils; Anthony
+was not showing himself a particularly sociable companion. He had not
+touched any dessert; but seemed to be drinking a good deal of wine.
+
+As they were going out of the room, Herbert bustled in. "Now then, take
+care!" cried he, for Minny, paying little attention to her movements,
+had gone full tilt at him.
+
+"Oh! Herbert, can't you see?" cried she, dolefully rubbing her head.
+"What made you so late? Dinner's gone away."
+
+"It can be brought in again," replied Herbert carelessly. "Comme il est
+chaud! n'est-ce pas, mademoiselle?"
+
+This last was addressed to the governess. Rosa screamed with laughter at
+his bad French, and mademoiselle smiled. "You get on in French as you do
+in Italian, Monsieur Herbert," cried she. "And that is what you
+call--backward."
+
+Herbert laughed good-humouredly. He did not know what particular mistake
+he had made; truth to say, he did not care. They withdrew, and he rang
+the bell for his dinner.
+
+"Mind, Herbert," cried Minny, putting in her head again at the door,
+"papa said you were not to quarrel."
+
+Better, perhaps, that she had not said it! Who can tell?
+
+The brothers remained alone. Anthony sullen, and, as yet, silent. He
+appeared to have emptied the port wine decanter, and to be beginning
+upon the sherry! Herbert strolled past him; supreme indifference in his
+manner--some might have said contempt--and stood just outside the
+window, whistling.
+
+You have not forgotten that this dining-room window opened to the
+ground. The apartment was long and somewhat narrow, the window large and
+high, and opening in the centre, after the manner of a French one. The
+door was at one end of the room; the window at the other.
+
+Anthony was in too quarrelsome a mood to remain silent long. He began
+the skirmish by demanding what Herbert meant by absenting himself from
+the office for the afternoon, and where he had been to. His resentful
+tones, his authoritative words, were not calculated to win a very civil
+answer.
+
+They did not win one from Herbert. _His_ tones were resentful, too; his
+words were coolly aggravating. Anthony was not his master; when he was,
+he might, perhaps, answer him. Such was their purport.
+
+A hot interchange of words ensued. Nothing more. Anthony remained at the
+table; Herbert, half in, half out of the window, leaned against its
+frame. When Joseph returned to put things in readiness for Herbert's
+dinner, they had subsided into quietness. It was only a lull in the
+storm.
+
+Joseph placed the dessert nearer Anthony's end of the table, and laid
+the cloth across the other end. Herbert came into the room. "What a time
+you are with dinner, Joseph!" cried he. "One would think it was being
+cooked over again."
+
+"Cook's warming it, sir."
+
+"Warming it!" echoed Herbert. "Why couldn't she keep it warm? She might
+be sure I should be home to dinner."
+
+"She was keeping it warm, sir; but Mr. Anthony ordered it to be put
+away."
+
+Now, the man had really no intention of making mischief when he said
+this: that it might cause ill-feeling between the brothers never crossed
+his mind. He was only anxious that he and the cook should stand free
+from blame; for the young Dares, when displeased with the servants, were
+not in the habit of sparing them. Herbert turned to Anthony.
+
+"What business have you to interfere with my dinner? Or with anything
+else that concerns me?"
+
+"I choose to make it my business," insolently retorted Anthony.
+
+At this juncture Joseph left the room. He had laid the cloth, and had
+nothing more to stay for. Better perhaps that he had remained! Surely
+they would not have proceeded to extremities, the brothers, before their
+servant! In a short time, sounds, as if both were in a terrible state of
+fury, resounded through the house from the dining-room. The sounds did
+not reach the kitchen, which was partially detached from the house; but
+the young ladies heard them, and came running out of the drawing-room.
+
+The governess was in the school-room. The noise penetrated even there.
+She also came forth, and saw her two pupils extended over the
+balustrades, listening. At any other time mademoiselle would have
+reproved them: now she crept down and leaned over in company.
+
+"What can be the matter?" whispered she.
+
+"Papa told them not to quarrel!" was all the answer, uttered by Minny.
+
+It was a terrible quarrel--there was little doubt of that; no child's
+play. Passionate bursts of fury rose incessantly, now from one, now from
+the other, now from both. Hot recrimination; words that were not suited
+to unaccustomed ears--or to any ears, for the matter of that--rose high
+and loud. The governess turned pale, and Minny burst into tears.
+
+"Some one ought to go into the room," said Rosa. "Minny, you go! Tell
+them to be quiet."
+
+"I am afraid," replied Minny.
+
+"So am I."
+
+A fearful sound: an explosion louder than all the rest. A noise as if
+some heavy weight had been thrown down. Had it come to blows? Minny
+shrieked, and at the same moment Joseph was seen coming along with a
+tray, Herbert's dinner upon it.
+
+His presence seemed to bring with it a sense of courage, and Rosa and
+Minny flew down followed by the governess. Herbert had been knocked down
+by Anthony. He was gathering himself up when Joseph opened the door.
+Gathering himself up in a tempest of passion, his white face a livid
+fury, as he caught hold of a knife from the table and rushed upon
+Anthony.
+
+But Joseph was too quick for him. The man dashed his tray on the table,
+seized Herbert, and turned the uplifted knife downwards. "For Heaven's
+sake, sir, recollect yourself!" said he.
+
+Recollect himself then? No. Persons, who put themselves into that mad
+state of passion, cannot "recollect" themselves. Joseph kept his hold,
+and the dining-room resounded with shrieks and sobs. They proceeded from
+Rosa and Minny. They pulled their brothers by the coats, they implored,
+they entreated. The women servants came flying from the kitchen, and the
+Italian governess asked the two gentlemen in French whether they were
+not ashamed of themselves.
+
+Perhaps they were. At any rate the quarrel was, for the time, ended.
+Herbert flung the knife upon the table and turned his white face upon
+his brother.
+
+"Take care of yourself, though!" cried he, in marked tones: "I swear you
+shall have it yet."
+
+They pulled Anthony out of the room, Rosa and Minny; or it is difficult
+to say what rejoinder he might have made, or how violently the quarrel
+might have been renewed. It was certain that he had taken more wine than
+was good for him; and that, generally speaking, did not improve the
+temper of Anthony Dare. Mademoiselle Varsini walked by his side, talking
+volubly in French. Whether she was sympathizing or scolding, Anthony did
+not know. Not particularly bright at understanding French at the best of
+times, even when spoken slowly, he could not, in his present excitement,
+catch the meaning of a single word. Entering the drawing-room, he threw
+himself upon the sofa, intending to smooth down his ruffled plumage by
+taking a nap.
+
+Herbert meanwhile had remained in the dining-room, smoothing down _his_
+ruffled plumage. Joseph and the cook were bending over the _debris_ on
+the carpet. When Joseph dashed down his tray on the table, a dish of
+potatoes had bounded off; both dish and potatoes thereby coming to
+grief. Herbert sat down and made an excellent dinner. He was not of a
+sullen temper; and, unlike Anthony, the affair once over he was soon
+himself again. Should they come into contact again directly, there was
+no saying how it would end or what might ensue. His dinner over, he went
+by-and-by to the drawing-room. Joseph had just entered, and was arousing
+Anthony from the sleep he had dropped into. "One of the waiters from the
+Star-and-Garter has come, sir. He says Lord Hawkesley has sent him to
+say that the gentlemen are waiting for you."
+
+"I can't go, tell him," responded Anthony, speaking as he looked,
+thoroughly out of sorts. "I am not going out to-night. Here! Joseph!"
+for the man was turning away with the message.
+
+"Sir?"
+
+"Take these, and bring me my slippers."
+
+"These" were his boots, which he, not very politely, kicked off in the
+ladies' presence, and sent flying after Joseph. The man stooped to pick
+them up and was carrying them away.
+
+"Here!--what a hurry you are in!" began Anthony again. "Take lights up
+to my chamber, and the brandy, and some cold water. I shall make myself
+comfortable there for the night. This room's unbearable, with its
+present company."
+
+The last was a shaft levelled at Herbert. He did not retort, for a
+wonder. In fact, Anthony afforded little time for it. Before the words
+had well left his lips, he had left the room. Herbert began to whistle;
+its very tone insolent.
+
+It appeared almost certain that the unpleasantness was not yet over; and
+Rosa audibly wished her papa was at home. Joseph carried to Anthony's
+room what he required, and then brought the tea to the drawing-room.
+Herbert said he should take tea with them. It was rather unusual for him
+to do so; it was very unusual for Anthony not to go out. Their sisters
+felt sure that they were only staying in to renew hostilities; and again
+Rosa almost passionately wished for the presence of her father.
+
+It was dusk by the time tea was over. Herbert rose to leave the room.
+"Where are you going?" cried mademoiselle sharply after him.
+
+"That's my business," he replied, not in too conciliatory a tone.
+Perhaps he thought the question proceeded from one of his sisters, for
+he was outside the door when it reached him.
+
+"He is going into Anthony's room!" cried Rosa, turning pale, as they
+heard him run upstairs. "Oh, mademoiselle! what can be done? I think
+I'll call Joseph."
+
+"Hush!" cried mademoiselle. "Wait you here. I will go and see."
+
+She stole out of the room and up the stairs, intending to reconnoitre.
+But she had no time to do so. Herbert was coming down again, and she
+could only slip inside the school-room door, and peep out. He had
+evidently been upstairs for his cloak, for he was putting it on as he
+descended.
+
+"The cloak on a hot night like this!" said mademoiselle mentally. "He
+must want to disguise himself!"
+
+She stopped to listen. Joseph had come up the stairs, bringing something
+to Anthony, and Herbert arrested him, speaking in low tones.
+
+"Don't make any mistake to-night about the dining-room window, Joseph. I
+can't think how you could have been so stupid last night!"
+
+"Sir, I assure you I left it undone, as usual," replied Joseph. "It must
+have been master who fastened it."
+
+"Well, take care that it does not occur again," said Herbert. "I expect
+to be in between ten and eleven; but I may be later, and I don't want to
+ring you up again."
+
+Herbert went swiftly downstairs and out, choosing to depart by the way,
+as it appeared, that he intended to enter--the dining-room window.
+Joseph proceeded to Anthony's chamber: and the governess returned to her
+frightened pupils in the drawing-room.
+
+"A la bonne heure!" she said to them. "Monsieur Herbert has gone out,
+and I heard him say to Joseph that he had gone for the evening."
+
+"Then it's all safe!" cried Minny. And she began dancing round the room.
+"Mademoiselle, how pale you look!"
+
+Mademoiselle had sat down in her place before the tea-tray, and was
+leaning her cheek upon her hand. She was certainly looking unusually
+pale. "Enough to make me!" she said, in answer to Minny. "If there were
+to be this disturbance often in the house, I would not stop in it for
+double my _appointements_. It has given me one of those _vilaine_
+headaches, and I think I shall go to bed. You will not be afraid to stay
+up alone, mesdemoiselles?"
+
+"There is nothing to be afraid of now," promptly answered Rosa, who had
+far rather be without her governess's company than with it. "Don't sit
+up for us, mademoiselle."
+
+"Then I will go at once," said mademoiselle. And she wished them good
+night, and retired to her chamber.
+
+
+
+
+PART THE THIRD.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+ANNA LYNN'S DILEMMA.
+
+
+It was a lovely evening. One of those warm, still evenings that May
+sometimes brings us, when gnats hum in the air, and the trees are at
+rest. The day had been intensely hot: the evening was little less so,
+and Anna Lynn leaned over the gate of their garden, striving to catch
+what of freshness there might be in the coming night. The garish day was
+fading into moonlight; the distant Malvern hills grew fainter and
+fainter on the view; the little lambs in the field--growing into great
+lambs now, some of them--had long lain down to rest; and the Thursday
+evening bells came chiming pleasantly on the ear from Helstonleigh.
+
+"How late he is to-night!" murmured Anna. "If he does not come soon, I
+shall not be able to stay out."
+
+Even as the words passed her lips, a faint movement might be
+distinguished in the obscurity of the night, telling of the advent of
+Herbert Dare. Anna looked round to see that the windows were clear from
+prying eyes, and went forth to meet him.
+
+He had halted at the usual place, under cover of the hedge. The hedge of
+sweetbriar, skirting that side garden into which Signora Varsini had
+made good her _entree_, in the gratification of her curiosity. A shaded
+walk and a quiet one: very little fear there, of overlookers.
+
+"Herbert, thee art late!" cried Anna.
+
+"A good thing I was able to come at all," responded Herbert, taking
+Anna's arm within his own. "I thought at one time I must have remained
+at home, to chastise my brother Anthony."
+
+"Chastise thy brother Anthony!" repeated Anna in astonishment.
+
+Herbert, for the first time, told her of the unpleasantness that existed
+between his brother and himself. He did not mention the precise cause;
+but simply said Anthony had behaved ill to him, and drawn down upon him
+trouble and vexation. Anna was all sympathy. Had Herbert told her the
+offence had lain on his side, not on Anthony's, her entire sympathy had
+still been his. She deemed Herbert everything that was good and great
+and worthy. Anthony--what little she knew of him--she did not like.
+
+"Herbert, maybe he will be striking thee in secret, when thee art
+unprepared."
+
+"Let him!" carelessly replied Herbert. "I can strike again. I am
+stronger than he is. I know one thing: either he or I must leave my
+father's house and take lodgings; we can't remain in it together."
+
+"It would be he to leave, would it not, Herbert? Thy father would not be
+so unjust as to turn thee out for thy brother's fault."
+
+"I don't know about that," said Herbert. "I expect it is I who would
+have to go. Anthony is the eldest, and my mother's favourite."
+
+Anna lifted her hand, in her innocent surprise. Anthony the favourite by
+the side of Herbert? She could not understand how so great an anomaly
+could exist.
+
+Interested in the topic, the time slipped on. During a moment of
+silence, when they had halted in their walk, they heard what was called
+the ten o'clock bell strike out from Helstonleigh: a bell that boomed
+out over the city every night for ten minutes before ten o'clock. The
+sound startled Anna. She had indeed overstayed her time.
+
+"One moment, Anna!" cried Herbert, as she was preparing to fly off.
+"There can't be any such hurry. Hester will not be going to bed yet, on
+a hot night like this. I wanted you to return me that book, if you have
+done with it. It is not mine, and I have been asked for it."
+
+Truth to say, Anna would be glad to return it. The book was Moore's
+"Lalla Rookh," and Anna had been upon thorns all the time she had been
+reading it, lest by some unlucky mishap it might reach the eyes of
+Patience. _She_ thought it everything that was beautiful; she had read
+pages of it over and over again; they wore for her a strange
+enchantment; but she had a shrewd suspicion that neither book nor
+reading would be approved by Patience.
+
+"I'll bring it out to thee at once, Herbert, if I can," she hastily
+said. "If not, I will give it thee to-morrow evening."
+
+"Not so fast, young lady," said Herbert, laughing, and detaining her.
+"You may not come back again. I'll wish you good night now."
+
+"Nay, please thee let me go! What will Hester say to me?"
+
+Scarcely giving a moment to the adieu, Anna sped with swift feet to the
+garden gate. But the moment she was within the barrier, and had turned
+the key, she began--little dissembler that she was!--to step on slowly,
+in a careless, _nonchalant_ manner, looking up at the sky, turning her
+head to the trees, in no more hurry apparently than if bedtime were
+three hours off. She had seen Hester Dell standing at the house door.
+
+"Child," said Hester gravely, "thee shouldst not stay out so late as
+this."
+
+"It is so warm a night, Hester!"
+
+"But thee shouldst not be beyond the premises. Patience would not like
+it. It is past thy bedtime, too. Patience's sleeping-draught has not
+come," she added, turning to another subject.
+
+"Her sleeping-draught not come!" repeated Anna in surprise.
+
+"It has not. I have been expecting the boy to knock every minute, or I
+should have come to see after thee. Friend Parry may have forgotten it."
+
+"Why, of course he must have forgotten it," said Anna, inwardly
+promising the boy a sixpence for his forgetfulness. "The medicine always
+comes in the morning. Will Patience sleep without it?"
+
+"I fear me not. What dost thee think? Suppose I were to run for it?"
+
+"Yes, do, Hester."
+
+They went in, Hester closing the back door and locking it. She put on
+her shawl and bonnet, and was going out at the front door when the clock
+struck ten.
+
+"It is ten o'clock, child," she said to Anna. "Thee go to bed. Thee
+needst not sit up. I'll take the latch-key with me and let myself in."
+
+"Oh, Hester! I don't want to go to bed yet," returned Anna fretfully.
+"It is like a summer's evening."
+
+"But thee hadst better, child," urged Hester. "Patience has been angry
+with me once or twice, saying I suffer thee to sit up late. A pretty
+budget she will be telling thy father on his return! Thee go to bed. Thy
+candle is ready here on the slab. Good night."
+
+Hester departed, shutting fast the door, and carrying with her the
+latch-key. Anna, fully convinced that friend Parry's forgetfulness, or
+the boy's, must have been designed as a special favour to herself, went
+softly into the best parlour to take the book out of her pretty
+work-table.
+
+But the room was dark, and Anna could not find her keys. She believed
+she had left her keys on the top of this very work-table; but feel as
+she would she could not place her hands upon them. With a word of
+impatience, lest, with all her hurry, Herbert Dare should be gone before
+she could return to him with the book, she went to the kitchen, lighted
+the chamber candle spoken of by Hester as placed ready for her use, and
+carried it into the parlour.
+
+Her keys were found on the mantel-piece. She unlocked the drawer, took
+from it the book, blew out the candle, and ran through the garden to the
+field.
+
+Another minute, and Herbert would have left. He was turning away. In
+truth, he had not in the least expected to see Anna back again. "Then
+you have been able to come!" he exclaimed, in his surprise.
+
+"Hester is gone out," explained Anna. "Friend Parry has forgotten to
+send Patience's medicine, and Hester has gone for it. Herbert, thee only
+think! But for Hester's expecting Parry's boy to knock at the door, she
+would have come out here searching for me! She said she would. I must
+never forget the time again. There's the book, and thank thee. I am
+sorry and yet glad to give it thee back."
+
+"Is that not a paradox?" asked Herbert, with a smile. "I do not know why
+you should be either sorry or glad: to be both seems inexplicable."
+
+"I am sorry to lose it: it is the most charming book I have read, and
+but for Patience I should like to have kept it for ever," returned Anna
+with enthusiasm. "But I always felt afraid of Hester's finding it and
+carrying it up to Patience. Patience would be angry; and she might tell
+my father. That is why I am glad to give it back to thee."
+
+"Why did you not lock it up?" asked Herbert.
+
+"I did lock it up. I locked it in my work-table drawer. But I forget to
+put my keys in my pocket; I leave them about anywhere. I should have
+been out with it sooner, but that I could not find the keys."
+
+Anna was in no momentary hurry to run in now. Hester was safe for full
+twenty minutes to come, therefore her haste need not be so great. She
+knew that it was past her bedtime, and that Patience would be wondering
+(unless by great good-fortune Patience should have dropped asleep) why
+she did not go in to wish her good night. But these reflections Anna
+conveniently ignored, in the charm of remaining longer to talk about the
+book. She told Herbert that she had been copying the engravings, but she
+must put the drawings in some safe place before Patience was about
+again. "Tell me the time, please," she suddenly said, bringing her
+chatter to a standstill.
+
+Herbert took out his watch, and held its face towards the moon. "It is
+twelve minutes past ten."
+
+"Then I must be going in," said Anna. "She could be back in twenty
+minutes, and she must not find me out again."
+
+Herbert turned with her, and walked to the gate; pacing slowly, both of
+them, and talking still. He turned in at the gate with her, and Anna
+made no demur. No fear of his being seen. Patience was as safe in bed as
+if she had been chained there, and Hester could not be back quite yet.
+Arrived at the door, closed as Anna had left it, Herbert put out his
+hand. "I suppose I must bid you a final good night now, Anna," he said
+in low tones.
+
+
+"That thee must. I have to come down the garden again to lock the gate
+after thee. And Hester may not be more than three or four minutes
+longer. Good night to thee, Herbert."
+
+"Let me see that it is all safe for you, against you do go in," said
+Herbert, laying his hand on the handle of the door to open it.
+
+To open it? Nay: he could not open it. The handle resisted his efforts.
+"Did you lock it, Anna?"
+
+Anna smiled at what she thought his awkwardness. "Thee art turning it
+the wrong way, Herbert. See!"
+
+He withdrew his hand to give place to hers, and she turned the handle
+softly and gently the contrary way; that is, she essayed to turn it. But
+it would not turn for her, any more than it had turned for Herbert Dare.
+A sick feeling of terror rushed over Anna, as a conviction of the truth
+grew upon her. Hester Dell had returned, and she was locked out!
+
+In good truth, it was no less a calamity. Hester Dell had not gone far
+from the door on her errand, when she met the doctor's boy with his
+basket, hastening up with the medicine. "I was just coming after it,"
+said Hester to him. "Whatever brings thee so late?"
+
+"Mr. Parry was called out this morning before he had time to make it up,
+and he has only just come home," was the boy's reply.
+
+"Better late than never," he somewhat saucily added.
+
+"Well, so it is," acquiesced Hester, who rarely gave anything but a meek
+retort. And she turned back home, letting herself in with the latch-key.
+The house appeared precisely as she had left it, except that Anna's
+candle had disappeared from the mahogany slab in the passage. "That's
+right! the child's gone to bed," soliloquised she.
+
+She proceeded to go to bed herself. The Quaker's was an early household.
+All Hester had to do now, was to give Patience her sleeping-draught.
+"Let me see," continued Hester, still in soliloquy, "I think I did lock
+the back door."
+
+To make sure, she tried the key and found it was not locked. Rather
+wondering, for she certainly thought she _had_ locked it, but dismissing
+the subject the next minute from her thoughts, she locked it now and
+took the key out. Then she continued her way up to Patience. Patience,
+lying there lonely and dull with her night-light, turned her eyes on
+Hester.
+
+"Did thee think we had forgotten thee, Patience? Parry has been out all
+day, the boy says, and the physic is but this minute come."
+
+"Where's Anna?" inquired Patience.
+
+"She is gone to bed."
+
+"Why did she not come to me as usual?"
+
+"Did she not come?" asked Hester.
+
+"I have seen nothing of her all the evening."
+
+"Maybe she thought thee'd be dozing," observed Hester, bringing forward
+the sleeping-draught which she had been pouring into a wine-glass. She
+said no more. Her private opinion was that Anna had purposely abstained
+from the visit lest she should receive a scolding for going to bed late,
+her usual hour being half-past nine. Neither did Patience say any more.
+She was feeling that Anna might be a little less ungrateful. She took
+the draught, and Hester went to bed.
+
+And poor Anna? To describe her dismay, her consternation, would be a
+useless attempt. The doors were fast--the windows were fast also.
+Herbert Dare essayed to soothe her, but she would not be soothed. She
+sat down on the step of the back door and cried bitterly: all her
+apprehension being for the terrible scolding she should have from
+Patience, were it found out; the worse than scolding if Patience told
+her father.
+
+To give Herbert Dare his due, he felt truly vexed at the dilemma for
+Anna's sake. Could he have let her in by getting down a chimney himself,
+or in any other impromptu way, and so opened the door for her, he would
+have done it. "Don't cry, Anna," he entreated, "don't cry! I'll take
+care of you. Nothing shall harm you. I'll not go away."
+
+The more he talked, the more she cried. Very like a little child. Had
+Herbert Dare known how to break the glass without noise he would have
+taken out a pane in the kitchen window, and so reached the fastening and
+opened it. Anna, in worse terror than ever, begged him not to attempt
+it. It would be sure to arouse Hester.
+
+"But you'll be so cold, child, staying here all night!" he urged. "You
+are shivering now."
+
+Anna was shivering: shivering with vexation and fear. Herbert thought it
+would be better that he should boldly knock up Hester; and he suggested
+it: nay, he pressed it. But the proposal sounded more alarming to Anna
+than any that had gone before it. It seemed that there was nothing to be
+done.
+
+How long she sat there, crying and shivering and refusing to be
+comforted or to hear reason, she could not tell. Half the night, it
+seemed. But Anna, you must remember, was counting time by her own state
+of mind, not by the clock. Suddenly a bright thought, as a ray of light,
+flashed into her brain.
+
+"There's the pantry window," she cried, arresting her tears. "How could
+I ever have forgotten it? There is no glass, and thee art strong enough
+to push in the wire."
+
+This pantry window Herbert Dare had known nothing about. It was at the
+side of the house, thickly surrounded by shrubs; a square window frame,
+protected by wire. He fought his way to it amidst the shrubs; but to get
+in proved a work of time and difficulty. The window was at some height
+from the ground, the wire was strong. Anna sat on the door-step, never
+stirring, leaving him to get in if he could, her tears falling, and
+terrific visions of Patience's anger chasing each other through her
+mind. And the night went on.
+
+"Anna!"
+
+She could have shouted forth a cry of delight as she leaped up. He had
+entered, had found his way to the kitchen window, had gently raised it,
+and was softly calling to her. Some little difficulty still, but with
+Herbert's assistance she was safely landed, a great tear in her dress
+the only damage. He had managed to obtain a light by means of some
+fusees in his pocket, and had lighted a candle. Anna sat down on a
+chair, her face radiant through her tears. "How shall I ever thank
+thee?"
+
+He was looking at his fingers with a half-serious, half-mocking
+expression of dismay. The wire had torn them in many places, and they
+were bleeding. "I could have got in quicker had I forced the wire out in
+the middle," he observed, "but that would have told tales. I pushed it
+away from the side, and have pushed it back again into its place as well
+as I could. Perhaps it may escape notice."
+
+"How shall I ever thank thee?" was all Anna could repeat in her
+gratitude.
+
+"Now you know what you must do, Anna," said he. "I am going to jump out
+through the window, and be off home. You must shut it and fasten it
+after me: I'd shut it myself, after I'm out, but that these stains on my
+fingers would be transferred to the frame. And when you leave the
+kitchen, remember to turn the key of the door outside. I found it
+turned. Do you understand? And now farewell, my little locked-out
+princess. Don't say I have not worked wonders for you, as the good
+spirits do in the fairy tales."
+
+She caught his hand in her glad delight. She looked at him with a face
+full of gratitude. Herbert Dare bent down and took a kiss from the
+up-turned face. Perhaps he thought he had fairly earned the reward. Then
+he proceeded to swing himself through the window, feeling delighted that
+he had been able to free Anna from her dilemma.
+
+Before Helstonleigh arose next morning, a startling report was
+circulating through the city, the very air teeming with it. A report
+that Anthony Dare had been killed in the night by his brother Herbert.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+COMMOTION.
+
+
+The streets of Helstonleigh, lying so still and quiet in the moonlight,
+were broken in upon by the noisy sound of a carriage, bowling through
+them. A carriage that was abroad late. It wanted very little of the time
+when the church clocks would boom out the two hours after midnight.
+Time, surely, for all sober people to be in bed!
+
+The carriage contained Mr. Dare, his wife and daughter. They went, as
+you may remember, to a dinner party in the country. The dinner was
+succeeded by an evening gathering, and it was nearly one o'clock when
+they left the house to return. It wanted only five minutes to two when
+the carriage stopped at their own home, and sleepy Joseph opened the
+door to them.
+
+"All in bed?" asked Mr. Dare, as he bustled into the hall.
+
+"I believe so, sir," answered Joseph, as carelessly as he could speak.
+Mr. Dare, he was aware, alluded to his sons; and not being by any means
+sure upon the point, Joseph was willing to escape further questioning.
+
+Two of the maids came forward--the lady's maid, as she was called in the
+family, and Betsy. Betsy was no other than our old friend Betsy Carter:
+once the little maid-of-all-work at Mrs. Halliburton's; risen now to be
+a very fine housemaid at Mrs. Dare's. They had sat up to attend upon
+Mrs. Dare and Adelaide.
+
+Mr. Dare had been for a long while in the habit of smoking a pipe before
+he went to bed. He would have told you that he could not do without it.
+If business or pleasure took him out, he must have his pipe when he
+returned, however late it might be.
+
+"How hot it is!" he exclaimed, throwing back his coat. "Leave the hall
+door open, Joseph: I'll sit outside. Bring me my pipe."
+
+Joseph looked for the pipe in its appointed resting-place, and could not
+see it. It was a small, handsome pipe, silver-mounted, with an amber
+mouth-piece. The tobacco-jar was there, but Joseph could see nothing of
+the pipe.
+
+"Law! I remember!" exclaimed Betsy. "Master left it in the dining-room
+last night, and I put it under the sideboard when I was doing the room
+this morning, intending to bring it away. I'll go and get it."
+
+Taking the candle from Joseph's hand, she turned hastily into the
+dining-room. Not, however, as hastily as she came out of it. She rushed
+out, uttering a succession of piercing shrieks, and seized upon Joseph.
+The shrieks echoed through the house, upstairs and down, and Mr. Dare
+came in.
+
+"Why, what on earth's the matter, girl?" cried he. "Have you seen a
+ghost?"
+
+"Oh, sir! Oh, Joseph, don't let go of me; Mr. Anthony's lying in there,
+dead!"
+
+"Don't be a simpleton," responded Mr. Dare, staring at Betsy.
+
+Joseph gave a rather less complimentary reprimand, and shook the girl
+off. But suddenly, even as the words left his lips, there rose up before
+his mind's eye the vision of the past evening: the quarrel, the threats,
+the violence between Anthony and Herbert. A strange apprehension seated
+itself in the man's mind.
+
+"Be still, you donkey!" he whispered to Betsy, his voice scarcely
+audible, his manner subdued. "I'll go in and see."
+
+Taking the candle, he went into the dining-room. Mr. Dare followed. The
+worst thought that occurred to Mr. Dare was, that Anthony might have
+taken more wine than was good for him, and had fallen down, helpless, in
+the dining-room. Unhappily, Anthony had been known so to transgress.
+Only a week or two before----but let that pass: it has nothing to do
+with us now.
+
+Mr. Dare followed Joseph in. At the upper end of the room, near the
+window, lay some one on the ground. It was surely Anthony. He was lying
+on his side, his head thrown back, his face up-turned. A ghastly face,
+which sent poor Joseph's pulses bounding on with a terrible fear as he
+looked down at it. The same face which had scared Betsy when _she_
+looked down.
+
+"He is stark dead!" whispered Joseph, with a shiver, to Mr. Dare.
+
+Mr. Dare, his own life-blood seeming to have stopped, bent over his son
+by the light of the candle. Anthony appeared to be not only dead, but
+cold. In his terrible shock, his agitation, he still remembered that it
+was well, if possible, to spare the sight to his wife and daughter. Mrs.
+Dare and Adelaide, alarmed by Betsy's screams, had run downstairs, and
+were now hastening into the room.
+
+"Go back! go back!" cried Mr. Dare, fencing them away with his hands.
+"Adelaide, you must not come in! Julia," he added to his wife, in tones
+of imploring entreaty, "go upstairs, and keep back Adelaide."
+
+He half led, half pushed them across the hall. Mrs. Dare had never in
+all her life seen his face as she saw it now--a face of terror. She
+caught the fear; vaguely enough, it must be confessed, for she had not
+heard Anthony's name, as yet, mentioned in connection with it.
+
+"What is it?" she asked, holding on by the balustrades. "What is there
+in the dining-room?"
+
+"I don't know what it is," replied Mr. Dare, from between his white
+lips. "Go upstairs! Adelaide, go up with your mother."
+
+Mr. Dare was stopped by more screams. Whilst he was preventing immediate
+terror to his wife and daughter, the lady's maid, her curiosity excited
+beyond repression, had slipped into the dining-room, and peeped over
+Joseph's shoulder. What she had expected to see she perhaps could not
+have stated; what she did see was so far worse than her wildest fears,
+that she lost sense of everything, except the moment's fear; and shriek
+after shriek echoed from her.
+
+A scene of confusion ensued. Mrs. Dare tried to force her way to the
+room; Adelaide followed her; Betsy began bewailing Mr. Anthony, by name,
+in wild words. And the sleepers, above, came flocking out of their
+chambers, with trembling limbs and white faces.
+
+Mr. Dare put his back against the dining-room door. "Girls, go back!
+Julia, go back, for the love of Heaven! Mademoiselle, is that you? Be so
+good as to stay where you are, and keep Rosa and Minny with you."
+
+"Mais, qu'est-ce que c'est, donc?" exclaimed mademoiselle, speaking, in
+her wonder, in her most familiar tongue, and, truth to say, paying
+little heed to Mr. Dare's injunction. "Y a-t-il du malheur arrive?"
+
+Betsy went up to her. Betsy recognised her as one not of the family, to
+whom she could ease her overflowing mind. The same thought had occurred
+to Betsy as to Joseph. "Poor Mr. Anthony's lying in there dead, mamzel,"
+she whispered. "Mr. Herbert must have killed him."
+
+Unheeding the request of Mr. Dare, unmindful of the deficiences or want
+of elegance in her costume, which consisted of what she called a
+_peignoir_, and a borderless calico nightcap, mademoiselle flew down to
+the hall and slipped into the dining-room. Some of the others slipped in
+also, and a sad scene ensued. What with wife, governess, servants, and
+children, Mr. Dare was powerless to end it. Mademoiselle went straight
+up, gave one look, and staggered back against the wall.
+
+"C'est vrai!" she muttered. "C'est Monsieur Anthony."
+
+"It is Anthony," shivered Mr. Dare, "I fear--I fear violence has been
+done him."
+
+The governess was breathing heavily. She looked quite as ghastly as did
+that up-turned face. "But why should it be?" she asked, in English. "Who
+has done it?"
+
+Ah, who had done it! Joseph's frightened face seemed to say that he
+could tell if he dared, Cyril bounded into the room, and clasped one of
+the arms. But he let it fall again. "It is rigid!" he gasped. "Is he
+dead? Father! he can't be dead!"
+
+Mr. Dare hurried Joseph from the room--hurried him across the hall to
+the door. He, Mr. Dare, seemed so agitated as scarcely to know what he
+was about. "Make all haste," he said; "the nearest surgeon."
+
+"Sir," whispered Joseph, turning when he was outside the door, his
+agitation as great as his master's: "I'm afraid it's Mr. Herbert who has
+done this."
+
+"Why?" sharply asked Mr. Dare.
+
+"They had a dreadful quarrel this evening, sir, after you left. Mr.
+Herbert drew a knife upon his brother. I got in just in time to stop
+bloodshed, or it might have happened then."
+
+Mr. Dare suppressed a groan. "Go off, Joseph, and bring a doctor here.
+He may not be past reviving, Milbank is the nearest. If he is at home,
+bring him; if not, get anybody."
+
+Joseph, without his hat, sped across the lawn, and gained the entrance
+gate at the very moment that a gig was passing. By the light of a lamp,
+Joseph saw that it contained Mr. Glenn, the surgeon, driven by his
+servant. He had been on a late professional visit into the country.
+Joseph shouted running before the horse in his excitement, and the man
+pulled up.
+
+"What's the matter, Joseph?" asked Mr. Glenn. "Any one ill?"
+
+Somewhat curious to say, Mr. Glenn was the usual medical attendant of
+the Dares. Joseph explained as well as he could. Mr. Anthony had been
+found lying on the dining-room carpet, to all appearance dead. Mr. Glenn
+descended.
+
+"Anything up at your place?" asked a policeman, who had just come by, on
+his beat.
+
+"I should think there is," returned Joseph. "One of the gentlemen's
+been found dead."
+
+"Dead!" echoed the policeman. "Which of them is it?" he asked, after a
+pause.
+
+"Mr. Anthony."
+
+"Why, I saw him turn in here about half-past eleven!" observed the
+officer, "He is in a fit, perhaps."
+
+"Why do you say that?" asked Joseph.
+
+"Because he had been taking a drop too much. He could hardly walk.
+Somebody brought him as far as the gate."
+
+Mr. Glenn had hastened on. The policeman followed with Joseph. Followed,
+possibly, to gratify his curiosity; possibly, because he thought his
+services might be in some way required. When the two entered the
+dining-room, Mr. Glenn was kneeling down to examine Anthony, and sounds
+of distress came on their ears from a distance. They were caused by the
+hysterics of Mrs. Dare.
+
+"Is he dead, sir?" asked the policeman, in a low tone.
+
+"He has been dead these two or three hours," was Mr. Glenn's reply.
+
+But it was not a fit. It was not anything so innocent. Mr. Glenn found
+that the cause of death was a stab in the side. Death, he believed, must
+have been instantaneous: and the hemorrhage was chiefly internal. There
+were very few stains on the clothes.
+
+"What's this!" cried Mr. Glenn.
+
+He was pulling at some large substance on which Anthony had fallen. It
+proved to be a cloak. Cyril--and some others present--recognised it as
+Herbert's cloak. Where was Herbert? In bed? Was it possible that he
+could sleep through the noise and confusion that the house was in?
+
+"Can nothing be done?" asked Mr. Dare of the surgeon.
+
+Mr. Glenn shook his head. "He is stone dead, you see; dead, and nearly
+cold. He must have been dead more than two hours. I should say nearer
+three."
+
+From two to three hours! Then that would bring the time of his death to
+about half-past eleven o'clock; close upon the time that the policeman
+saw him returning home. Some one turned to ask the policeman a question,
+but he had disappeared. Mr. Glenn went to see what he could do for Mrs.
+Dare, whose cries had been painful to hear, and Mr. Dare drew Joseph
+aside. Somehow he felt that he _dared_ not question him in the presence
+of witnesses, lest any condemnatory fact should transpire to bring the
+guilt home to his second son. In spite of the sight of Anthony lying
+dead before him, in spite of what he had heard of the quarrel, he could
+not bring his mind to believe that Herbert had been guilty of this most
+dastardly deed.
+
+"What time did you let him in?" asked Mr. Dare, pointing to his
+ill-fated son.
+
+Joseph answered evasively. "The policeman said it was about half after
+eleven, sir."
+
+"And what time did Mr. Herbert come home?"
+
+In point of fact, but for seeing the cloak where he did see it, Joseph
+would not have known whether Mr. Herbert was at home yet. He felt there
+was nothing for it but to tell the simple truth to Mr. Dare--that the
+gentlemen had been in the habit of letting themselves in at any hour
+they pleased, the dining-room window being left unfastened for them.
+Joseph made the admission, and Mr. Dare received it with anger.
+
+"I did it by their orders, sir," the man said, with deprecation. "If you
+think it was wrong, perhaps you'll put things on a better footing for
+the future. But, to wait up every night till its pretty near time to
+rise again, is what I can't do, or anybody else. Flesh and blood is but
+mortal, sir, and couldn't stand it."
+
+"But you were not kept up like that?" cried Mr. Dare.
+
+"Yes, sir, I was. If one of the gentlemen wasn't out, the other would
+be. I told them it was impossible I could be up nearly all night and
+every night, and rise in the morning just the same, and do my work in
+the day. So they took to have the dining-room window left open, and came
+in that way, and I went to rest at my proper hour. Mr. Cyril and Mr.
+George, too, they are taking to stay out."
+
+"The house might have been robbed over and over again!" exclaimed Mr.
+Dare.
+
+"I told them so, sir. But they laughed at me. They said who'd be likely
+to come through the grounds and up to the windows and try them? At any
+rate, sir," added Joseph, as a last excuse, "they _ordered_ it done. And
+that's how it is, sir, that I don't know what time either Mr. Anthony or
+Mr. Herbert came in last night."
+
+Mr. Dare said no more. The fruits of the way in which his sons had been
+reared were coming heavily home to him. He turned to go upstairs to
+Herbert's chamber. On the bottom stairs, swaying herself to and fro in
+her _peignoir_, a staring print, all the colours of the rainbow, sat the
+governess. She lifted her white face as Mr. Dare approached.
+
+"Is he dead?"
+
+Mr. Dare shook his head. "The surgeon says he has been dead ever since
+the beginning of the night."
+
+"And Monsieur Herbert? Is _he_ dead?"
+
+"_He_ dead!" repeated Mr. Dare in an accent of alarm, fearing possibly
+she might have a motive for the question. "What should bring him also
+dead? Mademoiselle, why do you ask it?"
+
+"Eh, me, I don't know," she answered. "I am bewildered with it all. Why
+should he be dead, and not the other? Why should either be dead?"
+
+Mr. Dare saw that she did look bewildered; scarcely in her senses. She
+had a white handkerchief in her hand, and was wiping the moisture from
+her scarcely less white face. "Did you witness the quarrel between
+them?" he inquired, supposing that she had done so by her words.
+
+"If I did, I not tell," she vehemently answered, her English less clear
+than usual. "If Joseph say--I hear him say it to you just now--that
+Monsieur Herbert took a knife to his brother, I not give testimony to
+it. What affair is it of mine, that I should tell against one or the
+other? Who did it?--who killed him?"--she rapidly continued. "It was not
+Monsieur Herbert. No, I will say always that it was not Monsieur
+Herbert. He would not kill his brother."
+
+"I do not think he would," earnestly spoke Mr. Dare.
+
+"No, no, no!" said mademoiselle, her voice rising with her emphasis. "He
+never kill his brother; he not enough _mechant_ for that."
+
+"Perhaps he has not come in?" cried Mr. Dare, catching at the thought.
+
+Betsy Garter answered the words. She had stolen up in the general
+restlessness, and halted there. "He must be come in, sir," she said;
+"else how could his cloak be in the dining-room? They are saying that
+it's Mr. Herbert's cloak which was under Mr. Anthony."
+
+"What has Mr. Herbert's cloak to do with his coming in or not coming
+in?" sharply asked Mr. Dare. "He would not be wearing his cloak this
+weather."
+
+
+"But he does wear it, sir," returned Betsy. "He went out in it
+to-night."
+
+"Did you see him?" sternly asked Mr. Dare.
+
+"If I hadn't seen him, I couldn't have told that he went out in it,"
+independently replied Betsy, who, like her mother, was fond of
+maintaining her own opinion. "I was looking out of the window in Miss
+Adelaide's room, and I saw Mr. Herbert go out by way of the dining-room
+window towards the entrance-gate."
+
+"Wearing his cloak?"
+
+"Wearing his cloak," assented Betsy, "I hoped he was hot enough in it."
+
+The words seemed to carry terrible conviction to Mr. Dare's mind.
+Unwilling to believe the girl, he sought Joseph and asked him.
+
+"Yes, for certain," Joseph answered. "Mr. Herbert, as he was coming
+downstairs to go out, stopped to speak to me, sir, and he was fastening
+his cloak on then."
+
+Minny ran up, bursting with grief and terror as she seized upon Mr.
+Dare. "Papa! papa! is it true?" she sobbed.
+
+"Is what true, child?"
+
+"That it was Herbert? They are saying so."
+
+"Hush!" said Mr. Dare. Carrying a candle, he went up to Herbert's room,
+his heart aching. That Herbert could sleep through the noise was
+surprising; and yet, not much so. His room was more remote from the
+house than were the other rooms, and looked towards the back. But, had
+he slept through it? When Mr. Dare went in, he was sitting up in bed,
+awaking, or pretending to awake, from sleep. The window, thrown wide
+open, may have contributed to deaden any sound in the house. "Can you
+sleep through this, Herbert?" cried Mr. Dare.
+
+Herbert stared, and rubbed his eyes, and stared again, as one
+bewildered. "Is that you, father?" he presently cried. "What is it?"
+
+"Herbert," said his father, in low tones of pain, of dread; "what have
+you been doing to your brother?"
+
+Herbert, as if not understanding the drift of the question, stared more
+than ever. "I have done nothing to him," he presently said. "Do you mean
+Anthony?"
+
+"Anthony is lying on the dining-room floor killed--murdered. Herbert,
+_who did it_?"
+
+Herbert Dare sat motionless in bed, looking utterly lost. That he could
+not understand, or was affecting not to understand, was evident.
+"Anthony is--what do you say, sir?"
+
+"He is dead; he is _murdered_," replied Mr. Dare. "Oh, my son, my son,
+say you did not do it! for the love of heaven, say you did not do it!"
+And the unhappy father burst into tears and sank down on the bed,
+utterly unmanned.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+ACCUSED.
+
+
+The grey dawn of the early May morning was breaking over the world--over
+the group gathered in Mr. Dare's dining-room. That gentleman, his
+surviving sons, a stranger, a constable or two; and Sergeant Delves, who
+had been summoned to the scene. Sundry of the household were going in
+and out, of their own restless, curious accord, or by summons. The
+sergeant was making inquiries into the facts and details of the evening.
+
+Anthony Dare--as may be remembered--had sullenly retired to his room,
+refusing to go out when the message came to him from Lord Hawkesley. It
+appeared, by what was afterwards learnt, that he, Anthony Dare, had made
+an appointment to meet Hawkesley and some other men at the
+Star-and-Garter hotel, where Lord Hawkesley was staying; the proposed
+amusement of the evening being cards. Anthony Dare remained in his
+chamber, solacing his chafed temper with brandy-and-water, until the
+waiter from the Star-and-Garter appeared a second time, bearing a note.
+This note Sergeant Delves had found in one of the pockets, and had it
+now open before him. It ran as follows:--
+
+     "DEAR DARE,--We are all here waiting, and can't make up the
+     tables without you. What do you mean by shirking us? Come
+     along, and don't be a month over it.--Yours,
+
+     "HAWKESLEY."
+
+This note had prevailed. Anthony, possibly repenting of the solitary
+evening to which he had condemned himself, put on his boots again and
+went forth: not--it is not pleasant to have to record it, but it cannot
+be concealed--not sober. He had taken ale with his dinner, wine after
+it, and brandy-and-water in his room. The three combined had told upon
+him.
+
+On his arrival at the Star-and-Garter, he found six or seven gentlemen
+assembled. But, instead of sitting down there in Lord Hawkesley's room,
+it was suddenly decided to adjourn to the lodgings of a Mr. Brittle,
+hard by; a young Oxonian, who had been plucked in his Little Go, and was
+supposed to be reading hard to avoid a second similar catastrophe. They
+went to Mr. Brittle's and sat down to cards, over which brandy-and-water
+and other drinks were introduced. Anthony Dare, by way of quenching his
+thirst, did not spare them, and was not particular as to the sorts. The
+consequence was that he soon became most disagreeable company, snarling
+with all around; in short, unfit for play. This _contretemps_ put the
+rest of the party out of sorts, and they broke up. But for that, they
+might probably have sat on, until morning, and that poor unhappy life
+have been spared. There was no knowing what might have been. Anthony
+Dare was in no fit state to walk alone, and one of them, Mr. Brittle,
+undertook to see him home. Mr. Brittle left him at the gate, and Anthony
+Dare stumbled over the lawn and gained the house. After that, nothing
+further was known. So much as this would not have been known, but that,
+in hastening for Delves, the policeman had come across Mr. Brittle. It
+was only natural that the latter, shocked and startled, should bend his
+steps to the scene; and from him they gathered the account of Anthony's
+movements abroad.
+
+But now came the difficulty. Who had let Anthony in? No one. There was
+little doubt that he had made his way through the dining-room window.
+Joseph had turned the key of the front door at eleven o'clock, and he
+had not been called upon to open it until the return of Mr. and Mrs.
+Dare. The policeman who happened to be passing when Anthony came
+home--or it may be more correct to say, was brought home--testified to
+the probable fact that he had entered by means of the dining-room
+window. The man had watched him: had seen that, instead of making for
+the front door, which faced the road and was in view, he had stumbled
+across the grass, and disappeared down by the side of the house. On this
+side the dining-room window was situated; therefore it was only
+reasonable to suppose that Anthony had so entered.
+
+"Had you any motive in watching him?" asked Sergeant Delves of this man.
+
+"None, except to see that he did not fall," was the reply. "When the
+gentleman who brought him home loosed his arm, he told him, in a joking
+way, not to get kissing the ground as he went in; and I thought I'd
+watch him that I might go to his assistance if he did fall. He could
+hardly walk: he pitched about with every step."
+
+"Did he fall?"
+
+"No; he managed to keep up. But I should think he was a good five
+minutes getting over the grass plat."
+
+"Did the gentleman remain to watch him?"
+
+"No, not for above a minute. He just waited to see that he got safe over
+the gravel path on to the grass, and then he went back."
+
+"Did you see anyone else come in? About that time?--or before it?--or
+after it?"
+
+The man shook his head. "I didn't see anyone else at all. I shut the
+gate after Mr. Anthony, and I didn't see it opened again. Not but what
+plenty might have opened and shut it, and gone in, too, when I was
+higher up my beat."
+
+Sergeant Delves called Joseph. "It appears uncommonly odd that you
+should have heard no noise whatever," he observed. "A man's movements
+are not generally very quiet when in the state described as being that
+of young Mr. Dare's. The probability is that he would enter the
+dining-room noisily. He'd be nearly sure to fall against the furniture,
+being in the dark."
+
+"It's certain that I never did hear him," replied Joseph. "We was shut
+up in the kitchen, and I was mostly nodding from the time I locked up at
+eleven till master came home at two. The two girls was chattering loud
+enough; they was at the table, making-up caps, or something of that. The
+cook went to bed at ten; she was tired."
+
+"Then, with the exception of you three, all the household were in bed?"
+
+"All of 'em--as was at home," answered Joseph. "The governess had gone
+early, the two young ladies went about ten, Mr. Cyril and Mr. George
+went soon after ten. They came home from cricket 'dead beat' they said,
+had supper, and went to bed soon after it."
+
+"It's not usual for them--the young men, I mean--to go to bed so early,
+is it?" asked Sergeant Delves.
+
+"No, except on cricket nights," answered Joseph. "After cricket they
+generally come home and have supper, and don't go out again. Other
+nights they are mostly sure to be out late."
+
+"And you did not hear Mr. Herbert come in?"
+
+"Sergeant Delves, I say that I never heard nothing nor nobody from the
+time I locked the front door till master and missis came home,"
+reiterated Joseph, growing angry. "Let me repeat it ten times over, I
+couldn't say it plainer. If I had heard either of the gentlemen come in,
+I should have gone to 'em to see if anything was wanted. Specially to
+Mr. Anthony, knowing that he was not sober when he went out."
+
+Two points appeared more particularly to strike Sergeant Delves. The one
+was, that no noise should have been heard; that a deed like this could
+have been committed in, as it appeared, absolute silence. The other was,
+that the dining-room window should have been found fastened inside. The
+latter fact confirmed the strong suspicion that the offender was an
+inmate of the house. A person, not an inmate of the house, would
+naturally have escaped by the open dining-room window; but to do this,
+_and_ to fasten it inside after him was an impossibility. Every other
+window in the house, every door, had been securely fastened; some in the
+earlier part of the evening, some at eleven o'clock by Joseph. Herbert
+Dare voluntarily acknowledged that it was he who had fastened the
+dining-room window. His own account was--and the sergeant looked at him
+narrowly while he gave it--that he had returned home late, getting on
+for two o'clock; that he had come in through the dining-room, and had
+put down the window fastening. He declared that he had not seen Anthony.
+If Anthony had been lying there, as he was afterwards found, he,
+Herbert, had not observed him. But, he said, so far as he remembered, he
+never glanced to that part of the room at all, but had gone straight
+through on the other side, between the table and the fireplace. And if
+he had glanced to it he could have seen nothing, for the room was dark.
+He had no light, and had to feel his way.
+
+"Was it usual for the young gentlemen to fasten the window?" Sergeant
+Delves asked of Joseph. And Joseph replied that they sometimes did,
+sometimes did not. If by any chance Mr. Anthony and Mr. Herbert came in
+together, then they would fasten it; or if, when the one came in, he
+knew that the other was not out, he would equally fasten it. Mr. Cyril
+and Mr. George did not often come in that way; in fact, they were not
+out so late, generally speaking, as were their brothers.
+
+
+"Precisely so," Herbert assented, with reference to the fastening. He
+had fastened it, believing his brother Anthony to be at home and in bed.
+When he went out the previous evening, Anthony had already gone to his
+room, expressing his intention not to leave it again that night.
+
+Sergeant Delves inquired--no doubt for reasons of his own--whether this
+expressed intention on the part of Anthony could be testified to by any
+one besides Herbert. Yes. By Joseph, by the governess, by Rosa and Minny
+Dare; all four had heard him say it. The sergeant would not trouble the
+young ladies, but requested to speak to the governess.
+
+The governess was indignant at the request being made. She was in and
+out amongst them with her white face, in her many-coloured _peignior_.
+She had been upstairs and partially dressed herself; had discarded the
+calico nightcap and done her hair, put on the _peignior_ again, and come
+down to see and to listen. But she did not like being questioned.
+
+"I know nothing about it," she said to the sergeant, speaking
+vehemently. "What should I know about it? I will tell you nothing. I
+went to bed before it was well nine o'clock; I had a headache; and I
+never heard anything more till the commotion began. Why you ask me?"
+
+"But you can surely tell, ma'am, whether or not you heard Mr. Anthony
+say he was going to his chamber for the night?" remonstrated the
+sergeant.
+
+"Yes, he did say it," she answered vehemently. "He said it in the salon.
+He kicked off his boots, and told Joseph to bring his slippers, and to
+take brandy-and-water to his room, for he should not leave it again that
+night. I never thought or knew that he had left it until I saw him lying
+in the dining-room, and they said he was dead."
+
+"Was Mr. Herbert present when he said he should go to his room for the
+night?"
+
+"He was present, I think: I think he had come in then to the salon. That
+is all I know. I made the tea, and then my head got bad, and I went to
+bed. I can tell you nothing further."
+
+"Did you hear any noise in the house, ma'am?"
+
+"No. If there was any noise I did not notice it. I soon went to sleep.
+Where is the use of your asking me these things? You should ask those
+who sat up. I shall be sick if you make me talk about it. Nothing of
+this ever arrived in any family where I have been before."
+
+The sergeant allowed her to retire. She went to the stairs and sat down
+on the lower step, and leaned her cheek upon her hand, all as she had
+done previously. Mr. Dare asked her why she did not go upstairs, away
+from the confusion and bustle of the sad scene; but she shook her head.
+She did not care to be in her chamber alone, she answered, and her
+pupils were shut in with Madame Dare and Mademoiselle Adelaide.
+
+It is possible that one thing puzzled the sergeant: though what puzzled
+him and what did not puzzle him had to be left to conjecture, for he
+said nothing about it. No weapon had been found. The policemen had been
+searching the room thoroughly, had partly searched the house; but had
+come upon no instrument likely to have inflicted the wound. A
+carving-knife or common table-knife had been suggested, remembering the
+previous occurrences of the evening; but Mr. Glenn's decided opinion
+was, that it must have been a very different instrument; some slender,
+sharp-pointed, two-edged blade, he thought, about six inches in length.
+
+The most suspicious evidence, referring to Herbert, was the cloak. The
+sergeant had examined it curiously, with compressed lips. Herbert
+disposed of this, so far as he was concerned--that is, if he was to be
+believed. He said that he had put his cloak on, had gone out in it as
+far as the entrance gate; but finding it warmer than was agreeable, he
+had turned back, and flung it on to the dining-room table, going in, as
+he had come out, through the window. He added, as a little bit of
+confirmatory evidence, that he remembered seeing the cloak begin to
+slide off the table again, that he saw it must fall to the ground; but,
+being in a hurry, he would not stop to prevent its doing so, or to pick
+it up.
+
+The sergeant never seemed to take his sidelong glance from Herbert Dare.
+He had gone to work in his own way; hearing the different accounts and
+conjectures, sifting this bit of evidence, turning about that, holding a
+whispered colloquy with the man who had been sent to examine Herbert's
+room: holding a longer whispered colloquy with Herbert himself. On the
+departure of the surgeon and Mr. Brittle, who had gone away together, he
+had marched to the front and side doors of the house, locked them, and
+put the keys into his pocket. "Nobody goes out of this without my
+permission," quoth he.
+
+Then he took Mr. Dare aside. "There's no mistake about this, I fear,"
+said he gravely.
+
+Mr. Dare knew what he meant. He himself was growing grievously
+faint-hearted. But he would not say so; he would not allow it to be seen
+that he cast, or could cast, a suspicion on Herbert. "It appears to me
+that--that--if poor Anthony was in the state they describe, that he may
+have sat down or laid down after entering the dining-room, and dropped
+asleep," observed Mr. Dare. "Easy, then--the window being left open--for
+some midnight housebreaker from the street to have come in and attacked
+him."
+
+"Pooh!" said Sergeant Delves. "It is no housebreaker that has done this.
+We have a difficult line of duty to perform at times, us police; and all
+we can do to soften matters, is to go to work as genteelly as is
+consistent with the law. I'm sorry to have to say it, Mr. Dare, but I
+have felt obliged to order my men to keep a look-out on Mr. Herbert."
+
+A chill ran through Mr. Dare. "It could not have been Herbert!" he
+rejoined, his tone one of pain, almost of entreaty. "Mr. Glenn says it
+could not have been done later than half-past eleven, or so. Herbert
+never came home until nearly two."
+
+"Who is to prove that he was not at home till near two?"
+
+"He says he was not. I have no doubt it can be proved. And poor Anthony
+was dead more than two hours before."
+
+"Now, look you here," cried Sergeant Delves, falling back on a favourite
+phrase of his. "Mr. Glenn is correct enough as to the time of the
+occurrence: I have had some experience in death myself, and I'm sure he
+is not far out. But let that pass. Here are witnesses who saw him alive
+at half-past eleven o'clock, and you come home at two and find him dead.
+Now, let your son Herbert thus state where he was from half-past eleven
+till two. He says he was out: not near home at all. Very good. Only let
+him mention the place, so that we can verify it, and find, beyond
+dispute, that he _was_ out, and the suspicion against him will be at an
+end. But he won't do this."
+
+"Not do it?" echoed Mr. Dare.
+
+"He tells me point-blank that he can't and he won't. I asked him."
+
+Mr. Dare turned impetuously to the room where he had left his second
+son--his eldest son now. "Here, Herbert"--he was beginning. But the
+officer cut short the words by drawing him back.
+
+"Don't go and make matters worse," whispered he: "perhaps they'll be bad
+enough without it. Now, Lawyer Dare, you'll do well not to turn
+obstinate, for I am giving you a bit of friendly advice. You and I have
+had many a transaction together, and I don't mind going a bit out of my
+way for you, as I wouldn't do for other people. The worst thing your son
+could do, would be to say before those chattering servants that he can't
+or won't tell where he has been all night, or half the night. It would
+be self-condemnation at once. Ask him in private, if you must ask him."
+
+Mr. Dare called his son to him, and Herbert answered to it. A policeman
+was sauntering after him, but the sergeant gave him a nod, and the man
+went back.
+
+"Herbert, you say you did not come in until near two this morning."
+
+"Neither did I. It wanted about twenty minutes to it. The churches
+struck half-past one as I came through the town."
+
+"Where did you stay?"
+
+"Well--I can't say," replied Herbert.
+
+Mr. Dare grew agitated. "You must say, Herbert," he hoarsely whispered,
+"or take the consequences."
+
+"I can't help the consequences," was Herbert's answer. "Where I was last
+night is no matter to any one, and I shall not say."
+
+"Your not saying--if you can say--is just folly," interposed the
+sergeant. "It's the first question the magistrates will ask when you are
+placed before them."
+
+Herbert looked up angrily. "Place me before the magistrates!" he echoed.
+"What do you mean? You will not dare to take me into custody!"
+
+"You have been in custody this half-hour," coolly returned the sergeant.
+
+Herbert looked terribly fierce.
+
+"I will not submit to this indignity," he exclaimed. "_I will not._
+Sergeant Delves, you are overstepping----"
+
+"Look here," interrupted the sergeant, drawing something from some
+unseen receptacle; and Mr. Herbert, to his dismay, caught sight of a
+pair of handcuffs. "Don't you force me to use them," said the officer.
+"You are in custody, and must go before the magistrates; but now, you be
+a gentleman, and I'll use you as one."
+
+"I protest upon my honour that I have had neither act nor part in this
+crime!" cried Herbert, in agitation. "Do you think I would stain my hand
+with the sin of Cain?"
+
+"What is that on your hand?" asked the sergeant, bending forward to look
+more closely at Herbert's fingers.
+
+Herbert held them out openly enough. "I was doing something last night
+which tore my fingers," he said. "I was trying to undo the fastenings of
+some wire. Sergeant Delves, I declare to you solemnly, that from the
+moment when my brother went to his chamber, as witnesses have stated to
+you, I never saw him until my father brought me down from my bed to see
+him lying dead."
+
+"You drew a knife on him not many hours before, you know, Mr. Herbert!"
+
+"It was done in the heat of passion. He provoked me very much; but I
+should not have used it. No, poor fellow! I should never have injured
+him."
+
+"Well, you only make your tale good to the magistrates," was all the
+sergeant's answer. "It will be their affair as soon as you are before
+them--not mine."
+
+Herbert Dare was handed back to the constable; and, as soon as the
+justice-room opened, was conveyed before the magistrates--all, as the
+sergeant termed it, in a genteel, gentlemanly sort of way. He was
+charged with the murder of his brother Anthony.
+
+To describe the commotion that spread over Helstonleigh would be beyond
+any pen. The college boys were in a strange state of excitement: both
+Anthony and Herbert Dare had been college boys themselves not so very
+long ago. Gar Halliburton--who was no longer a college boy, but a
+supernumerary--went home full of it. Having imparted it there, he
+thought he could not do better than go in and regale Patience with the
+news, by way of _divertissement_ to her sick bed. "May I come up,
+Patience?" he called out from the foot of the stairs. "I have something
+to tell you."
+
+Receiving permission, up he flew. Patience, partially raised, was sewing
+with her hands, which she could just contrive to do. Anna sat by the
+window, putting the buttons on some new shirts.
+
+
+"I have finished two," cried she, turning round to Gar in great glee.
+"And my father's coming home next week, he writes us word. Perhaps thy
+mother has had a letter from William. Look at the shirts!" she
+continued, exhibiting them.
+
+"Never mind bothering about shirts, now, Anna," returned Gar, losing
+sight of his gallantry in his excitement. "Patience, the most dreadful
+thing has happened. Anthony Dare's murdered!"
+
+Patience, calm Patience, only looked at Gar. Perhaps she did not believe
+it. Anna's hands, holding out the shirts, were arrested midway: her
+mouth and blue eyes alike opening.
+
+"He was murdered in their dining-room in the night," went on Gar, intent
+only on his tale. "The town is all up in arms; you never saw such an
+uproar. When we came out of school just now, we thought the French must
+have come to invade us, by the crowds there were in the street. You
+couldn't get near the Guildhall, where the examination was going on. Not
+more than half a dozen of us were able to fight our way in. Herbert Dare
+looked so pale; he was standing there, guarded by three policemen----"
+
+"Thee hast a fast tongue, Gar," interrupted Patience. "Dost thee mean to
+say Herbert Dare was in custody?"
+
+"Of course, he was," replied Gar, faster than before. "It is he who has
+done it. At least, he is accused of it. He and Anthony had a quarrel
+yesterday, and it came to knives. They were parted then; but he is
+supposed to have laid wait for Anthony in the night and killed him."
+
+"Is Anthony dead? Is he----Anna! what hast thee----?"
+
+Anna had dropped the shirts and the buttons. Her blue eyes had closed,
+her lips and cheeks had grown white, her hands fell powerless. "She is
+fainting!" shouted Gar, as he ran to support her.
+
+"Gar, dear," said Patience, "thee shouldst not tell ill news quite so
+abruptly. Thee hast made me feel queer. Canst thee stretch thy hands out
+to the bell? It will bring up Hester."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+COMMITTED FOR TRIAL.
+
+
+Helstonleigh could not recover its equanimity. Never had it been so
+rudely shaken. Incidents there had been as startling; crimes of as deep
+a dye; but, taking it with all its attendant circumstances, no
+occurrence, in the memory of the oldest inhabitant, had excited the
+interest that was attaching to the death and assumed murder of Anthony
+Dare.
+
+The social standing of the parties, above that in which such unhappy
+incidents are more generally found; the conspicuous position they
+occupied in the town, and the very uncertainty--the mystery, it may be
+said--in which the affair was wrapped, wrought local curiosity to the
+highest point.
+
+Scarcely a shadow of doubt rested on the public mind that the deed had
+been done by Herbert Dare. The Police force, actively engaged in
+searching out all the details, held the same opinion. In one sense, this
+was, perhaps, unfortunate; for, when strong suspicion, whether of the
+police or of the public, is especially directed to one isolated point,
+it inevitably tends to keep down doubts that might arise in regard to
+other quarters.
+
+It seemed scarcely possible to hope that Herbert was not guilty. All the
+facts tended to the assumption that he was so. There was the ill-feeling
+known to have existed between himself and his brother: the quarrel and
+violence in the dining-room not many hours before, in which quarrel
+Herbert _had_ raised a knife upon him. "But for the entrance of the
+servant Joseph," said the people, one to another, "the murder might have
+been done then." Joseph had stopped evil consequences at the time, but
+he had not stopped Herbert's mouth--the threat he had uttered in his
+passion--still to be revenged. Terribly those words told now against
+Herbert Dare.
+
+Another thing that told against him, and in a most forcible manner, was
+the cloak. That he had put it on to go out; nay, had been seen to go out
+in it by the housemaid, was indisputable; and his brother was found
+lying on this very cloak. In vain Herbert protested, when before the
+magistrates and at the coroner's inquest, that he returned before
+leaving the gates, and had flung this cloak into the dining-room,
+finding it too hot that evening to wear. He obtained no credit. He had
+not been seen to do this; and the word of an accused man goes for
+little. All ominous, these things--all telling against him, but nothing,
+taking them collectively, as compared with his refusal to state where he
+was that night. He left the house between eight and nine, close upon
+nine, he thought; he was not sure of the exact time to a quarter of an
+hour; and he never returned to it until nearly two. Such was his
+account. But, where he had been in the interim, he positively refused to
+state.
+
+It was only his assertion, you see, against the broad basis of
+suspicion. Anthony Dare's death must have taken place, as testified by
+Mr. Glenn, somewhere about half-past eleven; who was to prove that
+Herbert at that time was not at home? "I was not," Herbert reiterated,
+when before the coroner. "I did not return home till between half-past
+one and two. The churches struck the half-hour as I was coming through
+the town, and it would take me afterwards some ten minutes to reach
+home. It must have been about twenty minutes to two when I entered."
+
+"But where were you? Where had you been? Where did you come from?" he
+was asked.
+
+"That I cannot state," he replied. "I was out upon a little business of
+my own; business that concerns no one but myself; and I decline to make
+it public."
+
+On that score nothing more could be obtained from him. The coroner drew
+his own conclusions; the jury drew _theirs_; the police had already
+drawn theirs, and very positive ones.
+
+These were the two facts that excited the ire of Sergeant Delves and his
+official colleagues: with all their searching, they could find no weapon
+likely to have been the one used; and they could not discover where
+Herbert Dare had gone to that evening. It happened that no one
+remembered to have seen him passing in the town, early or late; or, if
+they had seen him, it had made no impression on their memory. The
+appearance of Mr. Dare's sons was so common an occurrence that no
+especial note was likely to have been taken of it. Herbert declared that
+in passing through West Street, Turtle, the auctioneer, was leaning out
+at his open bedroom window, and that he, Herbert, had called out to him,
+and asked whether he was star-gazing. Mr. Turtle, when applied to, could
+not corroborate this. He believed that he _had_ been looking out at his
+window that night; he believed that it might have been about the hour
+named, getting on for two, for he was late going to bed, having been to
+a supper party; but he had no recollection whatever of seeing Mr.
+Herbert pass, or of having been spoken to by him, or by any one else.
+When pressed upon the point, Mr. Turtle acknowledged that his intellects
+might not have been in the clearest state of perception, the supper
+party having been a jovial one.
+
+One of the jury remarked that it was very singular the prisoner could go
+through the dining-room, and not observe his brother lying in it. The
+prisoner replied that it was not singular at all. The room was in
+darkness, and he had felt his way through it on the opposite side of the
+table to that where his brother was afterwards found. He had gone
+straight through, and up to his chamber, as quietly as possible, not to
+disturb the house; and he dropped asleep as soon as he was in bed.
+
+The verdict returned was "Wilful murder against Herbert Dare," and he
+was committed to the county gaol to take his trial at the assizes. Mr.
+Dare's house was beyond the precincts of the city. Sergeant Delves and
+his men renewed their inquiries; but they could discover no trace,
+either of the weapon, or of where Herbert Dare had passed the suspicious
+hours. The sergeant was vexed; but he would not allow that he was
+beaten. "Only give us time," said he, with a characteristic nod. "The
+Pyramids of Egypt were only built up stone by stone."
+
+Tuesday morning--the morning fixed for the funeral of Anthony Dare. The
+curious portion of Helstonleigh wended its way up to the churchyard; as
+it is the delight of the curious portion of a town to do. What a sad
+sight it was! That dark object, covered by its pall, carried by its
+attendants, followed by the mourners; Mr. Dare, and his sons Cyril and
+George. He, the father, bent his face in his handkerchief, as he walked
+behind the coffin to the grave. Many a man in Helstonleigh enjoyed a
+higher share of esteem and respect than did Lawyer Dare; but not one
+present in that crowded churchyard that did not feel for him in his
+bitter grief. Not one, let us hope, that did not feel to his heart's
+core the fate of the unhappy Anthony, now, for weal or for woe, to
+answer before his Maker for his life on earth.
+
+That same day, Tuesday, witnessed the return of Samuel Lynn and William
+Halliburton. They arrived in the evening, and of course the first news
+they were greeted with was the prevailing topic. Few things caused the
+ever-composed Quaker to betray surprise; but William was half-stunned
+with the news. Anthony Dare dead--murdered--buried that very day; and
+Herbert in prison, awaiting his trial for the offence! To William the
+whole affair seemed more incredible than real.
+
+"Sir," he said to his master, when, the following morning, they were
+alone together in the counting-house at the manufactory, "do you believe
+Herbert Dare can be guilty?"
+
+Mr. Ashley had been gazing at William, lost in thought. The change we
+often see, or fancy we see, in a near friend, after a few weeks'
+absence, was apparent in William. He had improved in looks; and yet
+those looks, with their true nobility, both of form and intellect, had
+been scarcely capable of improvement. Nevertheless, it was there, and
+Mr. Ashley had been struck with it.
+
+"I cannot say," he replied, aroused by the question. "Facts appear
+conclusively against him; but it seems incredible that he should so have
+lost himself. To be suspected and committed on such a charge is grief
+enough, without the reality of guilt."
+
+
+"So it is," acquiesced William.
+
+"We feel the disgrace very keenly--as all must who are connected with
+the Dares in ever so remote a degree. _I_ feel it, William; feel it as a
+blow; Mrs. Ashley is the cousin of Anthony Dare."
+
+"They are relatives of ours also," said William in a low tone. "My
+father was first cousin to Mrs. Dare."
+
+Mr. Ashley looked at him with surprise. "Your father first cousin to
+Mrs. Dare!" he repeated. "What are you saying?"
+
+"Her first cousin, sir. You have heard of old Mr. Cooper, of
+Birmingham?"
+
+"From whom the Dares inherited their money. Well?"
+
+"Mr. Cooper had a brother and a sister. Mrs. Dare was the daughter of
+the brother; the sister married the Reverend William Halliburton, and my
+father was their son. Mrs. Dare, as Julia Cooper, and my father, Edgar
+Halliburton, both lived together for some time under their uncle's roof
+at Birmingham."
+
+A moment's pause, and then Mr. Ashley laid his hand on William's
+shoulder. "Then that brings a sort of relationship between us, William.
+I shall have a right to feel pride in you now."
+
+William laughed. But his cheek flushed with the pleasure of a more
+earnest feeling. His greatest earthly wish was to be appreciated by Mr.
+Ashley.
+
+"How is it I never heard of this relationship before?" cried Mr. Ashley.
+"Was it purposely concealed?"
+
+"It is only within a year or two that I have known of it," replied
+William. "Frank and Gar are not aware of it yet. When we first came to
+Helstonleigh, the Dares were much annoyed at it; and they made it known
+to my mother in so unmistakable a manner, that she resolved to drop all
+mention of the relationship; she would have dropped the relationship
+itself if she could have done so. It was natural, perhaps, that they
+should feel annoyed," continued William, seeking to apologize for them.
+"They were rich and great in the eyes of the town; we were poor and
+obscure."
+
+Mr. Ashley was casting his recollections backwards. A certain event,
+which had always somewhat puzzled him, was becoming clear now. "William,
+when Anthony Dare--acting, as he said, for me--put that seizure into
+your house for rent, it must have been done with the view of driving you
+from the town?"
+
+"My mother says she has always thought so, sir."
+
+"I see; I see. Why, William, half the inheritance, enjoyed by the Dares,
+ought justly to have been your father's!"
+
+"We shall do as well without it, in the long-run, sir," replied William,
+a bright smile illumining his face. "Hard though the struggle was at the
+beginning!"
+
+"Ay, that you will!" warmly returned Mr. Ashley. "The ways of Providence
+are wonderful! Yes, William--and I know you have been taught to think
+so--what men call the chances of the world, are all God's dealings.
+Reflect on the circumstances favouring the Dares; reflect on your own
+drawbacks and disadvantages! They had wealth, position, a lucrative
+profession; everything, in fact, to help them on, that can be desired by
+a family in middle-class life; whilst you had poverty, obscurity, and
+toil to contend with. But now, look at what they are! Mr. Dare's money
+is dissipated; he is overwhelmed with embarrassment--I know it to be a
+fact, William; but this is for your ear alone. Folly, recklessness,
+irreligion, reign in his house; his daughters lost in pretentious
+vanity; his sons in something worse. In a few years they will have gone
+down--down. Yes," added Mr. Ashley, pointing with his finger to the
+floor of his counting-house, "down to the dogs. I can see it coming, as
+surely as that the sun is in the heavens. You and they will have
+exchanged positions, William; nay, you and yours, unless I am greatly
+mistaken, will be in a far higher position than they have ever occupied;
+for you will have secured the favour of God, and the approbation of all
+good men."
+
+"That Frank and Gar will attain to a position in time, I should be worse
+than a heathen to doubt, looking back on the wonderful manner in which
+we have been helped on," thoughtfully observed William. "For myself I am
+not sanguine."
+
+"Do you never cherish dreams on your own account?" inquired Mr. Ashley.
+
+"If I do, sir, they are vague dreams. My position affords no scope for
+ambition."
+
+"I don't know that," said Mr. Ashley. "Would you not be satisfied to
+become one of the great manufacturers of this great city?" he continued,
+laughing.
+
+"Not unless I could be one of the greatest. Such as----" William
+stopped.
+
+"Myself, for instance?" quietly put in Mr. Ashley.
+
+"Yes, indeed," answered William, lifting his earnest eyes to his master.
+"Were it possible that I could ever attain to be as you are, sir, in all
+things--in character, in position, in the estimation of my
+fellow-citizens--it would be sufficient ambition for me, and I should
+sit down content."
+
+"Not you," cried Mr. Ashley. "You would then be casting your thoughts to
+serving your said fellow-citizens in Parliament, or some such exalted
+vision. Man's nature is to soar, you know; it cannot rest. As soon as
+one object of ambition is attained, others are sought after."
+
+"So far as I go, we need not discuss it," was William's answer. "There's
+no chance of my ever becoming even a second-rate manufacturer; let alone
+what you are, sir."
+
+"The next best thing to being myself, would perhaps be that of being my
+partner, William."
+
+The voice in which his master spoke was so significant, that William's
+face flushed to crimson. Mr. Ashley noticed it.
+
+"Did that ambition ever occur to you?"
+
+"No, sir, never. That honour is looked upon as being destined for Cyril
+Dare."
+
+"Indeed!" calmly repeated Mr. Ashley. "If you could transform your
+nature into Cyril, I do not say but that it might be so in time."
+
+"He expects it himself, sir."
+
+"Would he be a worthy associate for me, think you?" inquired Mr.
+
+Ashley, bending his gaze full on William.
+
+William made no reply. Perhaps none was expected, for his master
+resumed:
+
+"I do not recommend you to indulge that particular dream of ambition; I
+cannot see sufficiently into the future. It is my intention to push you
+somewhat on in the world. I have no son to advance," he added, an
+expression of sadness crossing his face. "All I can do for my boy is to
+leave him at ease after me. Therefore I may, if I live, advance you in
+his stead. Provided, William, you continue to deserve it."
+
+A smile parted William's lips. That, he would ever strive for, heaven
+helping him.
+
+Mr. Ashley again laid his hand on William, and gazed into his face. "I
+have had a wonderful account of you from Samuel Lynn. And it is not
+often the Friend launches into decided praise."
+
+"Oh, have you, sir?" returned William with animation. "I am glad he was
+pleased with me."
+
+"He was more than pleased. But I must not forget that I was charged with
+a message from Henry. He is outrageous at your not having gone to him
+last night. I shall be sending him to France one of these days, under
+your escort, William. It may do him good, in more ways than one."
+
+"I will come to Henry this evening, sir. I must leave him, though, for
+half an hour, to go round to East's."
+
+"Your conscience is engaged, I see. You know what Henry accused you of,
+the last time you left him to go to East's?"
+
+"Of being enamoured of Charlotte," said William, laughing in answer to
+Mr. Ashley's smile. "I will come, at any rate, sir, and battle the other
+matter out with Henry."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+A BRUISED HEART.
+
+
+If it were a hopeless task to attempt to describe the consternation of
+Helstonleigh at the death of Anthony Dare, far more difficult would it
+be to picture that of Anna Lynn. Believe Herbert guilty, Anna did not;
+she could scarcely have believed that, had an angel come down from
+heaven to affirm it. Her state of mind was not to be envied; suspense,
+sorrow, anxiety filled it, causing her to be in a grievous state of
+restlessness. She had to conceal this from the eyes of Patience; from
+the eyes of the world. For one thing, she could not get at the correct
+particulars; newspapers did not come in her way, and she shrank, in her
+self-consciousness, from asking. Her whole being--if we may dare to say
+it here--was wrapt in Herbert Dare; father, friends, home, country; she
+could have sacrificed them all to save him. She would have laid down her
+life for his. Her good sense was distorted, her judgment warped; she saw
+passing events, not with the eye of dispassionate fact, or with any fact
+at all, but through the unhealthy tinge of fond, blind prejudice. The
+blow had almost crushed her; the dread suspense was wearing out her
+heart. She seemed no longer the same careless child as before; in a few
+hours she had overstepped the barrier of girlish timidity, and had
+gained the experience which is bought with sorrow.
+
+On the evening mentioned in the last chapter, just before William went
+out to keep his appointment with Henry Ashley, he saw from the window
+Anna in his mother's garden, bending over the flowers, and glancing up
+at him. Glancing, as it struck William, with a strangely wistful
+expression. He went out to her.
+
+"Tending the flowers, Anna?"
+
+She turned to him, her fair young face utterly colourless. "I have been
+so wanting to see thee, William! I came here, hoping thee wouldst come
+out. At dinner time I was here, and thee only nodded to me from the
+window. I did not like to beckon to thee."
+
+"I am sorry to have been so stupid, Anna. What is it?"
+
+"Thee hast heard what has happened--that dreadful thing! Hast thee heard
+it all?"
+
+"I believe so. All that is known."
+
+"I want thee to tell it me. Patience won't talk of it; Hester only
+shakes her head; and I am afraid to ask Gar. _Thee_ tell it to me."
+
+"It would not do you good to know, Anna," he gravely said. "Better try
+and not think----"
+
+"William, hush thee!" she feverishly exclaimed. "Thee knew there was
+a--a friendship between me and _him_. If I cannot learn all there is to
+be learnt, I shall die."
+
+William looked down at the changing cheek, the eyes full of pain, the
+trembling hands, clasped in their eagerness. It might be better to tell
+her than to leave her in this state of suspense.
+
+"William, there is no one in the wide world that knows he cared for me,
+but thee," she imploringly resumed. "Thee must tell me; thee _must_ tell
+me!"
+
+"You mean that you want to hear the particulars of--of what took place
+on Thursday night?"
+
+"Yes. All. Then, and since. I have but heard snatches of the wicked
+tale."
+
+He obeyed her: telling her all the broad facts, but suppressing a few of
+the details. She leaned against the garden-gate, listening in silence;
+her face turned from him, looking through the bars into the field.
+
+"Why do they not believe him?" was her first comment, spoken sharply and
+abruptly. "He says he was not near the house at the time the act must
+have been done: why do they not believe him?"
+
+"It is easy to assert a thing, Anna. But the law requires proof."
+
+"Proof? That he must declare to them where he has been?"
+
+"Undoubtedly. And corroborative proof must also be given."
+
+"But what sort of proof? I do not understand their laws."
+
+"Suppose Herbert Dare asserted that he had spent those hours with me,
+for instance; then I must go forward at the trial and confirm his
+assertion. Also any other witnesses who may have seen him with me, if
+there were any. It would be establishing what is called an _alibi_."
+
+"And would they acquit him then? Suppose there were only one witness to
+speak for him? Would one be sufficient?"
+
+"Certainly. Provided the witness were trustworthy."
+
+"If a witness went forward and declared it now, would they release him?"
+
+"Impossible. He is committed to take his trial at the assizes, and he
+cannot be released beforehand. It is exceedingly unwise of him not to
+declare where he was that evening--if he can do so."
+
+"Where do the public think he was? What do they say?"
+
+"I am afraid the public, Anna, think that he was not out anywhere. At
+any rate, after eleven or half-past."
+
+"Then they are very cruel!" she passionately exclaimed. "Do they _all_
+think that?"
+
+"There may be a few who judge that it was as he says; that he was really
+away, and is, consequently, innocent."
+
+"And where do _they_ think he was?" eagerly responded Anna again. "Do
+they suspect any place where he might have been?"
+
+William made no reply. It was not at all expedient to impart to her all
+the gossip or surmises of the town. But his silence seemed to agitate
+her more than any reply could have done. She turned to him, trembling
+with emotion, the tears streaming down her face.
+
+"Oh, William! tell me what is thought! Tell me, I implore thee! Thee
+cannot leave me in this trouble. Where is it thought he was?"
+
+He took her hands; he bent over her as tenderly as any brother could
+have done; he read all too surely how opposite to the truth had been her
+former assertion to him--that she did not care for Herbert Dare.
+
+"Anna, child, you must not agitate yourself in this way: there is no
+just cause for doing so. I assure you I do not know where it is thought
+Herbert Dare may have been that night; neither, so far as can be learnt,
+does any one else know. It is the chief point--where he was--that is
+puzzling the town."
+
+She laid her head down on the gate again, closing her eyes, as in very
+weariness. William's heart ached for her.
+
+"He may not be guilty, Anna," was all the consolation he could find to
+offer.
+
+"_May_ not be guilty!" she echoed in a tone of pain. "He _is_ not
+guilty. William, I tell thee he is not. Dost thee think I would defend
+him if he could do so wicked a thing?"
+
+He did not dispute the point with her; he did not tell her that her
+assumption of his innocence was inconsistent with the facts of the case.
+Presently Anna resumed.
+
+"Why must he remain in gaol till the trial? There was that man who stole
+the skins from Thomas Ashley--they let him out, when he was taken, until
+the sessions came on, and then he went up for trial."
+
+"That man was out on bail. But they do not take bail in cases so grave
+as this."
+
+"I may not stay longer. There's Hester coming to call me in. I rely upon
+thee to tell me anything fresh that may arise," she said, lifting her
+beseeching eyes to his.
+
+"One word, Anna, before you go. And yet, I see how worse than useless it
+is to say it to you now. You must forget Herbert Dare."
+
+"I shall forget him, William, when I cease to have memory," she
+whispered. "Never before. Thee wilt keep my counsel?"
+
+"Truly and faithfully."
+
+"Fare thee well, William; I have no friend but thee."
+
+She ran swiftly into their own premises. William turned to pursue his
+way to Mr. Ashley's, the thought of Henry Ashley's misplaced attachment
+lying on his mind as an incubus.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+ONE DYING IN HONEY FAIR.
+
+
+Mrs. Buffle stood in what she called her "back'us," practically
+superintending a periodical wash. The day was hot, and the steam was
+hot, and, as Mrs. Buffle rubbed away, she began to think she should
+never be cool again.
+
+"Missis," shrieked out a young voice from the precincts of the shop,
+"Ben Tyrrett's wife says will you let her have a gill o' vinegar? Be I
+to serve it?"
+
+The words came from the small damsel who was had in to help on cleaning
+and washing days. Mrs. Buffle kept her hands still in the soapsuds, and
+projected her hot face over the tub to answer.
+
+"Matty, tell Mary Ann Tyrrett as she promised faithful to bring me
+something off her score this week, but I've not seen the colour of it
+yet."
+
+"She says as it's to put to his head," called back Matty, alluding to
+the present demand. "He's bad a-bed, and have fainted right off."
+
+"Serve him right," responded Mrs. Buffle. "You may give her the vinegar,
+Matty. Tell her as it's a penny farthing. I heered he had been drinking
+again," she added to herself and the washing tub, "and laid hisself down
+in the wet road the night afore last, and was found there in the
+morning."
+
+Later in the day, it happened that William Halliburton was passing
+through Honey Fair, and met Charlotte East. She stopped him. "Have you
+heard, sir, that Tyrrett is dying?" she asked.
+
+"Tyrrett dying!" repeated William in amazement. "Who says he is?"
+
+"The doctor says it, I believe, sir. I must say he looks like it. Mary
+Ann sent for me, and I have been down to see him."
+
+"Why, what can be the matter with him?" asked William. "He was at work
+the day before yesterday!"
+
+"He was at work, sir, but he could not speak, they tell me, for that
+illness that has been hanging about him so long, and had settled on his
+chest. That night, after leaving work, instead of going home and getting
+a basin of gruel, or something of that sort, he went to the Horned Ram,
+and drank there till he couldn't keep upright."
+
+"With his chest in that state!"
+
+"And that was not the worst," resumed Charlotte. "It had been a wet day,
+if you remember, sir, and he somehow strayed into Oxlip Lane, and fell
+down, and lay there till morning. What with drink, and what with
+exposure to the wet, his chest grew dangerously inflamed, and now the
+doctor says he has not many hours to live."
+
+"I am sorry to hear it," cried William. "Is he sensible?"
+
+"Too sensible, sir, in one sense," replied Charlotte. "His remorse is
+dreadful. He is saying that if he had not misspent his life, he might
+have died a good man, instead of a bad one."
+
+William passed on, much concerned at the news. His way led him past Ben
+Tyrrett's lodgings, and he turned in. Mary Ann was sobbing and wailing,
+in the midst of as many curious and condoling neighbours as the kitchen
+would contain. All were in full gossip--as might be expected. Mrs. Cross
+had taken home the three little children, by way of keeping the place
+quiet; and the sick man was lying in the room above, surrounded by
+several of his fellow-workmen, who had heard of his critical state.
+
+Some of the women sidled off when William entered, rather ashamed of
+being caught chattering vehemently. It was remarkable the deference that
+was paid him, and from no assumption of his own--indeed, the absence of
+assumption may have partially accounted for it. But, though ever
+courteous and pleasant with them all, he was a thorough gentleman: and
+the working classes are keen to distinguish this.
+
+"Why, Mrs. Tyrrett, this is sad news!" he said. "Is your husband so
+ill?"
+
+"Oh, he must die, he must die, sir!" she answered in a frantic tone.
+Uncomfortably as they had lived together, the man was still her
+husband, and there is no doubt she was feeling the present crisis; was
+shrinking with dread from the future. A widow with three young children,
+and the workhouse for an asylum! It was the only prospect before her.
+"He must die, anyways; but he might have lasted a few hours longer, if I
+could have got what the doctor ordered."
+
+William did not understand.
+
+"It was a blister and some physic, sir," explained one of the women.
+"The doctor wrote it on a paper, and said it was to be took to the
+nearest druggist's. But when they got it there, Darwin said he couldn't
+trust the Tyrretts, and they must send the money if they wanted the
+things."
+
+"It was not Mr. Parry, then, who was called in?"
+
+"It were a strange doctor, sir, as was fetched. There was Tyrrett's last
+bout of illness owing for to Parry, and so they didn't like to send for
+him. As to them druggists, they be some of 'em a cross-grained set,
+unless you goes with the money in your hand."
+
+William asked to see the prescription. It was produced, and he read its
+contents--he was as capable of doing so and of understanding it as the
+best doctor in Helstonleigh. He tore a leaf from his pocket-book, wrote
+a few words in pencil, folded it with the prescription, and desired one
+of the women to take it to the chemist's again. He then went up to the
+sick room.
+
+Tyrrett was lying on a flock mattress, on an ugly brown bedstead, the
+four posts upright and undraped. A blanket and a checked blue cotton
+quilt covered him. His breathing was terribly laboured, his face
+painfully anxious. William approached him, bending his head, to avoid
+contact with the ceiling.
+
+"I'm a-going, sir," cried the man, in tones as anxious as his face. "I'm
+a-going at last."
+
+"I hope not," said William. "I hope you will get better. You are to have
+a blister on your chest, and----"
+
+"No he ain't, sir," interrupted one of the men. "Darwin won't send it."
+
+"Oh yes, he will, if he is properly asked. They have gone again to him.
+Are you in much pain, Tyrrett?"
+
+"I'm in an agony of pain here, sir," pointing to his chest. "But that
+ain't nothing to my pain of mind. Oh, Mr. Halliburton, you're good, sir;
+you haven't nothing to reproach yourself with; can't you do nothing for
+me? I'm going into the sight of my Maker, and He's angry with me!"
+
+In truth, William knew not what to answer. Tyrrett's voice was as a wail
+of anguish; his hands were stretched out beseechingly.
+
+"Charlotte East were here just now, and she told me to go to
+Christ--that He was merciful and forgiving. But how am I to go to Him?
+If I try, sir, I can't, for there's my past life rising up before me. I
+have been a bad man: I have never once in all my life tried to please
+God."
+
+The words echoed through the stillness of the room; echoed with a sound
+that was terribly awful. _Never once to have tried to please God!_
+Throughout a whole life, and throughout all its blessings!
+
+"I have never thought of God," he continued to reiterate. "I have never
+cared for Him, or tried to please Him, or done the least thing for Him.
+And now I'm going to face His wrath, and I can't help myself!"
+
+"You may be spared yet," said William; "you may indeed. And your future
+life must atone for the past."
+
+"I shan't be spared, sir; I feel that the world's all up with me," was
+the rejoinder. "I'm going fast, and there's nobody to give me a word of
+comfort! Can't _you_, sir? I'm going away, and God's angry with me!"
+
+William leaned over him. "I can only say as Charlotte East did," he
+whispered. "Try and find your Saviour. There is mercy with Him at the
+eleventh hour."
+
+"I have not the time to find Him," breathed forth Tyrrett, in agony. "I
+might find Him if I had time given me; but I have not got it."
+
+William, shrinking in his youth and inexperience from arguing upon
+topics so momentous, was not equal to the emergency. Who was? He did
+what he could; and that was to despatch a message for a clergyman, who
+answered the summons with speed.
+
+The blister also came, and the medicine that had been prescribed.
+William went home, hoping all might prove as a healing balm to the sick
+man.
+
+A fallacious hope. Tyrrett died the following morning. When William went
+round early on his mission of inquiry, he found him dead. Some of the
+men, whom he had seen with Tyrrett the previous night, were assembled in
+the kitchen.
+
+"He is but just gone, sir," they said, "The women be up with him now.
+They have took his wife round screeching to her mother's. He died with
+that there blister on his chest."
+
+"Did he die peacefully?" was William's question.
+
+"Awful hard, sir, toward the last; moaning, and calling, and clenching
+his hands in mortal pain. His sister, she come round--she's a hard one,
+is that Liza Tyrrett--and she set on at the wife, saying it was her
+fault that he'd took to go out drinking. That there parson couldn't do
+nothing with him," concluded the speaker, lowering his voice.
+
+William's breath stood still. "No!"
+
+The man shook his head. "Tyrrett weren't in a frame o' mind for it, sir.
+He kep' crying out as he had led a bad life, and never thought of
+God--and them was his last words. It ain't happy, sir, to die like
+that. It have quite cowed down us as was with him: one gets thinking,
+sir, what sort of a place it may be, t'other side, where he's gone to."
+
+William lifted his head, a sort of eager hope on his countenance,
+speaking cheerily. "Could you not let poor Tyrrett's death act as a
+warning to you?"
+
+There was a dead silence. Five men were present; every one of them
+leading careless lives. Somehow they did not much like to hear of
+"warning," although the present moment was one of unusual seriousness.
+
+"Religion is so dreadful dull and gloomy, sir."
+
+"Religion dull and gloomy!" echoed William. "Well, perhaps some people
+do make a gloomy affair of it; but then I don't think theirs can be the
+right religion. I do not believe people were sent into the world to be
+gloomy: time enough for that when troubles come."
+
+"What _is_ religion?" asked one of the men.
+
+"It is a sort of thing that's a great deal better to be felt than talked
+about," answered William. "I am no parson, and cannot pretend to
+enlighten you. We might never come to an understanding over it, were we
+to discuss it all day long. I would rather talk to you of life, and its
+practical duties."
+
+"Tyrrett said as he had never paid heed to any of his duties. It were
+his cry over and over again, sir, in the night. He said he had drunk,
+and swore, and beat his wife, and done just what he oughtn't to ha'
+done."
+
+"Ay, I fear it was so," replied William. "Poor Tyrrett's existence was
+divided into three phrases--working, drinking, quarrelling:
+dissatisfaction attending all. I fear a great many more in Honey Fair
+could say the same."
+
+The men's consciences were pricking them; some of them began to stand
+uncomfortably on one leg. _They_ tippled; _they_ quarrelled; they _had_
+been known to administer personal correction to their wives on
+provocation.
+
+"Times upon times I asked Tyrrett to come round of an evening to Robert
+East's," continued William. "He never did come. But I can tell you this,
+my men; had he taken to pass his evenings there twelve months ago, when
+the society--as they call it--was first formed, he might have been a
+hale man now, instead of lying there, dead."
+
+"Do you mean that he'd have growed religious, sir?"
+
+"I tell you we will put religion out of the discussion: as you don't
+seem to like the word. Had Tyrrett taken to like rational evenings,
+instead of public-houses, it would have made a wonderful difference in
+his mode of thought, and difference in conduct would have followed. Look
+at his father-in-law, Cross. He was living without hope or aim, at
+loggerheads with his wife and with the world, and rather given to
+wishing himself dead. All that's over. Do you think I should like to go
+about with a dirty face and holes in my coat?"
+
+The men laughed. They thought not.
+
+"Cross used to do so. But you see nothing of that now. Many others used
+to do so. Many do so still."
+
+Rather conscience-stricken again, the men tried to hide their elbows.
+"It's true enough," said one. "Cross, and some more of 'em, are getting
+smart."
+
+"Smart inside as well as out," said William. "They are acquiring
+self-respect; one of the best qualities a man can find. They wouldn't be
+seen in the street now in rags, or the worse for drink, or in any other
+degrading position; no, not if you bribed them with gold. Coming round
+to East's has done that for them. They are beginning to see that it's
+just as well to lead pleasant lives here, as unpleasant ones. In a short
+time, Cross will be getting furniture about him again, towards setting
+up the home he lost. He--and many more--will also, as I truly believe,
+be beginning to set up furniture of another sort."
+
+"What sort's that, sir?"
+
+"The furniture that will stand him in need for the next life; the life
+that Tyrrett has now entered upon," replied William in deeper tones. "It
+is a life that _must_ come, you know; our little span of time here, in
+comparison with eternity, is but as a drop of water to the great river
+that runs through the town; and it is as well to be prepared for it.
+Now, the next five I am going to get round to East's are you."
+
+
+"Us, sir?"
+
+"Every one of you; although I believe you have been in the habit of
+complimenting your friends who go there with the title of 'milksops.' I
+want to take you there this evening. If you don't like it, you know you
+need not repeat the visit. You will come, to oblige me, won't you?"
+
+They said they would. And William went out satisfied, though he hardly
+knew how Robert East would manage to stow away the new comers. Not many
+steps from the door he encountered Mrs. Buffle. She stopped him to talk
+of Tyrrett.
+
+"Better that he had spent his loose time at East's than at the publics,"
+remarked that lady.
+
+"It is the very thing we have been saying," answered William. "I wish we
+could get all Honey Fair there; though, indeed there's no room for more
+than we have now. I cast a longing eye sometimes to that building at the
+back, which they say was built for a Mormon stronghold, and has never
+been fitted up, owing to a dispute among themselves about the number of
+wives each elder might appropriate to his own share."
+
+"Disgraceful pollagists!" struck in Mrs. Buffle, apostrophizing the
+Mormon elders. "One husband is enough to have at one's fireside,
+goodness knows, without being worried with an unlimited number."
+
+"That is not the question," said William, laughing. "It is, how many
+wives are enough? However, I wish we could get the building. East will
+have to hold the gathering in his garden soon."
+
+"There's no denying that it have worked good in Honey Fair,"
+acknowledged Mrs. Buffle. "It isn't alone the men that have grown more
+respectable, them as have took to go, but their wives too. You see, sir,
+in sitting at the public-houses, it wasn't only that they drank
+themselves quarrelsome, but they spent their money. Now their tempers
+are saved, and their money's saved. The wives see the benefit of it, and
+of course try to be better-behaved theirselves. Not but what there's
+plenty of room for improvement still," added Mrs. Buffle, in a tone of
+patronage.
+
+"It will come in time," said William.
+
+"What we must do now, is to look out for a larger room."
+
+"One with a chimbley in it, as'll draw?" suggested Mrs. Buffle.
+
+"Oh yes. What would they do without fire on a winter's night? The great
+point is, to have things thoroughly comfortable."
+
+"If it hadn't been for the chimbley, I might have offered our big
+garret, sir. But it's the crankiest thing ever built, is that chimbley;
+the minute a handful of fire's lighted, the smoke puffs it out again.
+And then again--there'd be the passing through the shop, obstructing the
+custom."
+
+"Of course there would," assented William. "We must try for that failure
+in the rear, after all."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+COMING HOME TO THE DARES.
+
+
+The Pyramids of Egypt grew, in the course of time, into pyramids, as was
+oracularly remarked by Sergeant Delves; but that official's exertions,
+labour as hard as he would, grew to nothing--when applied to the cause
+with which he had compared the pyramids. All inquiry, all searching
+brought to bear upon it by him and his co-adherents, did not bring
+anything to light of Herbert Dare's movements on that fatal night. Where
+he had passed the hours remained an impenetrable mystery; and the
+sergeant had to confess himself foiled. He came, not unnaturally, to the
+conclusion that Herbert Dare was not anywhere, so far as the outer world
+was concerned: that he had been at home, committing the mischief. A
+conclusion the sergeant had drawn from the very first, and it had never
+been shaken. Nevertheless, it was his duty to put all the skill and
+craft of the local police force into action; and very close inquiries
+were made. Every house of entertainment in the city, of whatever
+nature--whether a billiard-room or an oyster-shop; whether a chief hotel
+or an obscure public-house--was visited and keenly questioned; but no
+one would acknowledge to having seen Herbert Dare on the particular
+evening. In short, no trace of him could be unearthed.
+
+"Just as much out as I was," said the sergeant to himself. And
+
+Helstonleigh held the same conviction.
+
+Pomeranian Knoll was desolate: with a desolation it had never expected
+to fall upon it. A shattering blow had been struck to Mr. and Mrs. Dare.
+To lose their eldest son in so terrible a manner, seemed, of itself,
+sufficient agony for a whole lifetime. Whatever may have been his
+faults--and Helstonleigh knew that he was somewhat rich in faults--he
+was dear to them; dearer than her other children to Mrs. Dare. Herbert
+had remarked, in conversing with Anna Lynn, that Anthony was his
+mother's favourite. It was so. She had loved him deeply, had been blind
+to his failings. Neither Mr. Dare nor his wife was amongst the religious
+of the world. Religious thoughts and reflections, they, in common with
+many others in Helstonleigh, were content to leave to a remote
+death-bed. But they had been less than human, worse than heathen, could
+they be insensible to the fate of Anthony--hurled away with his sins
+upon his head. He was cut off suddenly from this world, and--what of the
+next? It was a question, an uncertainty, that they dared not follow; and
+they sat, one on each side their desolate hearth, and wailed forth their
+vain anguish.
+
+This would, in truth, have been tribulation enough to have overshadowed
+a life; but there was more beyond it. Hemmed in by pride, as the Dares
+had been, playing at being great and grand in Helstonleigh, the
+situation of Herbert, setting aside their fears or their sympathy for
+himself, was about the most complete checkmate that could have fallen
+upon them. It was the cup of humiliation drained to its dregs. Whether
+he should be proved guilty or not, he was thrown into prison as a common
+felon, awaiting his trial for murder; and that disgrace could not be
+wiped out. Did they believe him guilty? They did not know themselves. To
+suspect him of such a crime was painful in the last degree to their
+feelings; but why did he persist in refusing to state where he was on
+the eventful night? There was the point that staggered them.
+
+A deep gloom overhung the house, extending to all its inmates. Even the
+servants went about with sad faces and quiet steps. The young ladies
+knew that a calamity had been dealt to them from which they should never
+wholly recover. Their star of brilliancy, in its little sphere of light
+at Helstonleigh, had faded into dimness, if not wholly gone down below
+the horizon. Should Herbert be found guilty, it could never rise again.
+Adelaide rarely spoke; she appeared to possess some inward source of
+vexation or grief, apart from the general tribulation. At least, so
+judged Signora Varsini; and she was a shrewd observer. She, Miss Dare,
+spent most of her time shut up in her own room. Rosa and Minny were
+chiefly with their governess. They were getting of an age to feel it in
+an equal degree with the rest. Rosa was eighteen, and had begun to go
+out with Mrs. Dare and Adelaide: Minny was anticipating the same
+privilege. It was all stopped now--visiting, gaiety, pleasure; and it
+was felt as a part of the misfortune.
+
+The first shock of the occurrence subsided, the funeral over, and the
+family settled down in its mourning, the governess exacted their studies
+from her two pupils as before. They were loth to recommence them, and
+appealed to their mother. "It was cruel of mademoiselle to wish it of
+them," they said. Mademoiselle rejoined that her motive was anything but
+cruel: she felt sure that occupation for the mind was the best
+counteraction to grief. If they would not study, where was the use of
+her remaining, she demanded. Madame Dare had better allow her to leave.
+She would go without notice, if madame pleased. She should be glad to
+get back to the Continent. They did not have murders there in society;
+at least, she, mademoiselle, had never encountered personal experience
+of it.
+
+Mrs. Dare did not appear willing to accede to the proposition. The
+governess was a most efficient instructress; and six or twelve months
+more of her services would be essential to her pupils, if they were to
+be turned out as pupils ought to be. Besides, Sergeant Delves had
+intimated that the signora's testimony would be necessary at the trial,
+and therefore she could not be allowed to depart. Mr. Dare thought if
+they did allow her to depart, they might be accused of wishing to
+suppress evidence, and it might tell against Herbert. So mademoiselle
+had to resign herself to remaining. "Tres bien," she equably said; "she
+was willing; only the young ladies must resume their lessons." A mandate
+in which Mrs. Dare acquiesced.
+
+Sometimes Minny, who was given to be incorrigibly idle, would burst into
+tears over the trouble of her work, and then lay it upon her distress
+touching the uncertain fate of Herbert. One day, upon doing this, the
+governess broke out sharply.
+
+"He deserves to lie in prison, does Monsieur Herbert!"
+
+"Why do you say that, mademoiselle?" asked Minny resentfully.
+
+"Because he is a fool," politely returned mademoiselle. "He say, does he
+not, that he was not home at the time. It is well; but why does he not
+say where he was? I think he is a fool, me."
+
+"You may as well say outright, mademoiselle, that you think him guilty!"
+retorted Minny.
+
+"But I not think him guilty," dissented mademoiselle. "I have said from
+the first that he was not guilty. I think he is not one capable of doing
+such an injury, to his brother or to any one else. I used to be great
+friends with Monsieur Herbert once, when I gave him those Italian
+lessons, and I never saw to make me believe his disposition was a
+cruel."
+
+In point of fact, the governess, more explicitly than any one else in
+the house, had unceasingly declared her belief in Herbert's innocence.
+Truly and sincerely she did not believe him capable of so grievous a
+crime. He was not of a cruel or revengeful disposition: certainly not
+one to lie in wait, and attack another savagely and secretly. She had
+never believed that he was, and would not believe it now. Neither had
+his family. Sergeant Delves' opinion was, that whoever had attacked
+Anthony _had_ lain in wait for him in the dining room, and had sprung
+upon him as he entered. It is possible, however, that the same point
+staggered mademoiselle that staggered the rest--Herbert Dare's refusal
+to state where he was at the time. Believing, as she did, that he could
+account for it if he chose, she deemed herself perfectly justified in
+applying to him the complimentary epithet you have just heard. She
+expressed true sympathy and regret at the untimely fate of Anthony,
+lamenting him much and genuinely.
+
+Upon Cyril and George the punishment also fell. With one brother not
+cold in his grave, and the other thrown into gaol to await his trial for
+murder, they could not, for shame, pursue their amusements as formerly;
+and amusements to Cyril and George Dare had become a necessity of daily
+life. Their friends and companions were growing shy of them--or they
+fancied it. Conscience is all too suggestive. They fancied people
+shunned them when they walked along the street: Cyril, even, as he stood
+in Samuel Lynn's room at the manufactory, thought the men, as they
+passed in and out, looked askance at him. Very likely it was only
+imagination. George Dare had set his heart upon a commission; one of the
+members for the city had made a half-promise to Mr. Dare that he would
+"see what could be done at the Horse Guards." Failing available interest
+in that quarter, George was in hope that his father would screw out
+money to purchase one. But, until Herbert was proved innocent (if that
+time should ever arrive), the question of his entering the army must
+remain in abeyance. This state of things altogether did not give
+pleasure to Cyril and George Dare. But there was no remedy for it, and
+they had to content themselves with sundry private explosions of temper,
+by way of relief to their minds.
+
+Yes, the evil fell upon all; upon the parents and upon the children. Of
+course, the latter suffered nothing in comparison with Mr. and Mrs.
+Dare. Unhappy days, restless nights, were their portion now: the world
+seemed to be growing too miserable to live in.
+
+"There must be a fatality upon the boys!" Mr. Dare exclaimed one day, in
+the bitterness of his spirit, as he paced the room with restless steps,
+his wife sitting moodily, her elbow on the centre-table, her cheek
+pressed upon her hand. "Unless there had been a fatality upon them, they
+never could have turned out as they have."
+
+Mrs. Dare resented the speech. In her unhappy frame of mind, which told
+terribly upon her temper, it seemed a sort of relief to resent
+everything. If Mr. Dare spoke against their sons, she stood up for them.
+"Turned out!" she repeated angrily.
+
+"Let us say, as things have turned out, then, if you will. They appear
+to be turning out pretty badly, as it seems to me. The boys have had
+every indulgence in life: they have enjoyed a luxurious home; they have
+ruined me to supply their extravagances----"
+
+"Ruined you!" again resented Mrs. Dare.
+
+"Ay; ruined. It has all but come to it. And yet, what good has the
+indulgence or have the advantages brought them? Far better--I begin to
+see it now--that they had been reared to self-denial; made to work for
+their daily bread."
+
+"How can you give utterance to such things!" rejoined Mrs. Dare, in a
+chafed tone.
+
+Mr. Dare stopped in his restless pacing, and confronted his wife. "Are
+we happy in our sons? Speak the truth."
+
+"How could any one be happy, overwhelmed with a misfortune such as
+this?"
+
+"Put that aside: what are they without it? Rebellious to us; badly
+conducted in the sight of the world."
+
+"Who says they are badly conducted?" asked Mrs. Dare, an undercurrent of
+consciousness whispering that she need not have made the objection.
+"They may be a little wild; but it is a common failing with those of
+their age and condition. Their faults are only faults of youth and of
+uncurbed spirits."
+
+"I wish, then, their spirits had been curbed," was Mr. Dare's reply. "It
+is useless now to reproach each other," he continued, resuming his walk;
+"but there must have been something radically wrong in their
+bringing-up. Anthony, gone: Herbert, perhaps, to follow him by almost a
+worse death, certainly a more disgraceful one: Cyril----" Mr. Dare
+stopped abruptly in his catalogue, and went on more generally. "There is
+no comfort in them for us: there never will be any."
+
+"What can you bring against Cyril?" sharply asked Mrs. Dare. It may be,
+that these complaints of her husband fretted her temper; chafed,
+perhaps, her conscience. Certain it was, they rendered her irritable;
+and Mr. Dare had latterly indulged in them frequently. "If Cyril is a
+little wild, it is a gentlemanly failing. There's nothing else to urge
+against him."
+
+"Is theft gentlemanly?"
+
+"Theft!" repeated Mrs. Dare.
+
+"Theft. I have concealed many things from you, Julia, wishing to spare
+your feelings. But it may be as well now that you should know a little
+more of what your sons really are. Cyril might have stood where Herbert
+will stand--at the criminal bar; though for a crime of lesser degree.
+For all I can tell, he may stand at it still."
+
+Mrs. Dare looked scared. "What has he done?" she asked, her tone growing
+timid.
+
+"I say that I have kept these things from you. I wish I could have kept
+them from you always; but it seems to me that exposure is arising in
+many ways, and it is better that you should be prepared for it, if it
+must come. I awake now in the morning to apprehension; I am alarmed
+throughout the day at my own shadow, dreading what unknown fate may not
+be falling upon them. Herbert in peril of the hangman: Cyril in peril of
+a forced voyage to the penal settlements."
+
+A sensation of utter fear stole over Mrs. Dare. For the moment, she
+could not speak. But she rallied her powers to defend Cyril.
+
+"I think Cyril is hardly used, what with one thing and another. He was
+to have gone on that French journey, and at the last moment was pushed
+out of it for Halliburton. I felt more vexed at it, almost, than Cyril
+himself, and I spoke a word of my mind to Mrs. Ashley."
+
+"You did?"
+
+"Yes. I did not speak of it in the light of disappointment to Cyril; the
+actual fact of not taking the journey; so much as of the vexation he
+experienced at being supplanted by one whom he--whom we all--consider
+inferior to himself, William Halliburton. I let Mrs. Ashley know that we
+regarded it as a most unmerited and uncalled-for slight; and I took care
+to drop a hint that we believed Halliburton to have been guilty in that
+cheque affair."
+
+Mr. Dare paused. "What did Mrs. Ashley say?" he presently asked.
+
+"She said very little. I never saw her so frigid. She intimated that Mr.
+Ashley was a competent judge of his own business----"
+
+"I mean as to the cheque?" interrupted Mr. Dare.
+
+"She was more frigid over that than over the other. She preferred not to
+discuss it, she answered; who might have stolen it; or who not."
+
+"I can set you right on both points," said Mr. Dare. "Cyril came to me,
+complaining of being superseded in this French journey, and I complied
+with his request, that I should go and remonstrate with Mr.
+Ashley--being a simpleton for my pains. Mr. Ashley informed me that he
+never had entertained the slightest intention of despatching Cyril, and
+why Cyril should have taken up the notion, he could not tell. Mr. Ashley
+went on to say that he did not consider Cyril sufficiently steady to be
+intrusted abroad alone----"
+
+"Steady!" echoed Mrs. Dare. "What has steadiness to do with executing
+business? And, as to being alone, Quaker Lynn went over also."
+
+"But at the outset, which was the time I spoke to him, Mr. Ashley's
+intention was to dispatch only one--Halliburton. He said that Cyril's
+want of steadiness would always have been a bar to his thinking of him.
+Shall I go on and enlighten you on the other point--the cheque?" Mr.
+Dare added, after a pause.
+
+"Y--es," she answered, a nervous dread causing her to speak with
+hesitation. Had she a foreshadowing of what was coming?
+
+"It was Cyril who took it," said Mr. Dare, dropping his voice to a
+whisper.
+
+"Cyril!" she gasped.
+
+"Our son, Cyril. No other."
+
+Mrs. Dare took her hand from her cheek, and leaned back in the chair.
+She was very pale.
+
+"He was traced to White's shop, where he changed the cheque for gold. He
+had put on Herbert's cloak, the plaid lining outside. When he began to
+fear detection, he ripped the lining out, and left the cloak in the
+state it is; now in the possession of the police. Some of the jags and
+cuts have been sewn up, I suppose by one of the servants: I made no
+close inquiries. That cloak," he added, with a passing shiver, "might
+tell queer tales of our sons, if it were able to speak."
+
+"How did you know it was Cyril?" breathed Mrs. Dare.
+
+"From Delves."
+
+"Delves! Does _he_ know it?"
+
+"He does. And the man is keeping the secret out of consideration for us.
+Delves is good-hearted at bottom. Not but that I spoke a friendly word
+for him when he was made sergeant. It all tells."
+
+"And Mr. Ashley?" she asked.
+
+"There is no doubt that Ashley has some suspicion: the very fact of his
+not making a stir in it proves that he has. It would not please him that
+a relative--as Cyril is--should stand his trial for felony."
+
+"How harshly you put it!" exclaimed Mrs. Dare, bursting into tears.
+"Felony."
+
+"Nay; what else can I call it?"
+
+A pause ensued. Mr. Dare resumed his restless pacing. Mrs. Dare sat with
+her handkerchief to her face. Presently she looked up.
+
+"They said it was Halliburton's cloak that the person wore who went to
+change the cheque."
+
+"It was not Halliburton's. It was Herbert's turned inside out. Herbert
+knew nothing about it, for I questioned him. He had gone out that night,
+leaving his cloak hanging in his closet. I asked him how it happened
+that his cloak, on the inside, should resemble Halliburton's, and he
+said it was a coincidence. I don't believe him. I entertain little doubt
+that it was so contrived with a view to enacting some mischief. In fact,
+what with one revelation and another, I live, as I say, in constant
+dread of new troubles turning up."
+
+Bitter, most bitter were these revelations to Mrs. Dare; bitter had they
+been to her husband. Too swiftly were the fruits of their children's
+rearing coming home to them, bringing their recompense. "There must be a
+fatality upon the boys!" he reiterated. Possibly. But had neither
+parents nor children done aught to invoke it?
+
+"Since these evils have come upon our house--the fate of Anthony, the
+uncertainty overhanging Herbert, the certain guilt of Cyril," resumed
+Mr. Dare: "I have asked myself whether the money we inherited from old
+Mr. Cooper may not have wrought ill for us, instead of good."
+
+"Have wrought ill?"
+
+"Ay! Brought with it a curse, instead of a blessing."
+
+She made no remark.
+
+"He warned us that if we took Edgar Halliburton's share it would not
+bring us good. Do you remember how eagerly he spoke it? We did take it,"
+Mr. Dare added, dropping his voice to the lowest whisper. "And I believe
+it has just acted as a curse upon us."
+
+"You are fanciful!" she cried, her hands shivering, as she raised her
+handkerchief to her pale face.
+
+"No; there's no fancy in it. We should have done well to attend to the
+warning of the dying. Heaven is my witness that at the time, such a
+thought as that of appropriating it ourselves never crossed my mind. We
+launched out into expense, and the other share became a necessity to us.
+It is that expense which has ruined our children."
+
+"How can you say it?" she rejoined, lifting her hands in a passionate
+sort of manner.
+
+"It has been nothing else. Had they been reared more plainly, they would
+not have acquired those extravagant notions which have proved their
+bane. Without that inheritance and the style of living we allowed it to
+entail upon us, the boys must have understood that they would have to
+earn money before they spent it, and they would have put their shoulders
+to the wheel. Julia," he continued, halting by her, and stretching forth
+his troubled face until it nearly touched hers, "it might have been
+well now, well with them and with us, had our children been obliged to
+battle with the poverty to which we condemned the Halliburtons."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+AN UGLY VISION.
+
+
+Mr. Dare had not taken upon himself the legal conduct of his son
+Herbert's case. It had been intrusted to the care of a solicitor in
+Helstonleigh, Mr. Winthorne. This gentleman, more forcibly than any one
+else, urged upon Herbert Dare the necessity of declaring--if he could
+declare--where he had been on the night of the murder. He clearly
+foresaw that, if his client persisted in his present silence, there was
+no chance of any result but the worst.
+
+He could obtain no response. Deaf to him, as he had been to others,
+Herbert Dare would disclose nothing. In vain Mr. Winthorne pointed to
+consequences; first, by delicate hints; next, by hints not delicate;
+then, by speaking out broadly and fully. It is not pleasant to tell your
+client, in so many words, that he will be hanged and nothing can save
+him, unless he compels you to it. Herbert Dare so compelled Mr.
+Winthorne. All in vain. Mr. Winthorne found he might just as well talk
+to the walls of the cell. Herbert Dare declared, in the most positive
+manner, that he had been out the whole of the time stated; from
+half-past eight o'clock, until nearly two; and from this declaration he
+never swerved.
+
+Mr. Winthorne was perplexed. The prisoner's assertions were so uniformly
+earnest, bearing so apparently the stamp of truth, that he could not
+disbelieve him; or rather, sometimes he believed and sometimes he
+doubted. It is true that Herbert's declarations did wear an air of
+entire truth; but Mr. Winthorne had been engaged for criminal offenders
+before, and knew what the assertions of a great many of them were worth.
+Down deep in his heart he reasoned very much after the manner of
+Sergeant Delves: "If he had been absent, he'd confess it to save his
+neck." He said so to Herbert.
+
+Herbert took the matter, on the whole, coolly; he had done so from the
+beginning. He did not believe that his neck was really in jeopardy.
+"They'll never find me guilty," was his belief. He could not avoid
+standing his trial: that was a calamity from which there was no escape:
+but he steadily refused to look at its results in a sombre light.
+
+"_Can_ you tell me where you were?" Mr. Winthorne one morning
+impulsively asked him, when June was drawing to its close.
+
+"I could if I liked," replied Herbert Dare. "I suppose you mean by that,
+to throw discredit on what I say, Winthorne; but you are wrong. I could
+point out to you and to all Helstonleigh where I was that night; but I
+will not do so. I have my reasons, and I will not."
+
+"Then you will fall," said the lawyer. "The very fact of there being no
+other quarter than yourself on which to cast a shadow of suspicion, will
+tell against you. You have been bred to the law, and must see these
+things as plainly as I can put them to you."
+
+"There's the point that puzzles me--who it can have been that did the
+injury. I'd give half my remaining life to know."
+
+Mr. Winthorne thought that the whole of it, to judge by present
+appearances, might not be an inconveniently prolonged period; but he did
+not say so. "What is your objection to speak?" he asked.
+
+"You have put the same question about fifty times, Winthorne, and you'll
+never get any different answer from the one you have had already--that I
+don't choose to state it."
+
+"I suppose you were not committing murder in another quarter of the
+town, were you?"
+
+"I suppose I was not," equably returned Herbert.
+
+"Then, failing that crime, there's no other in the decalogue that I'd
+not confess to, to save my life. Whether I was robbing a bank, or
+setting a church on fire, I'd tell it out rather than be hanged by the
+neck until I was dead."
+
+"Ah, but I was not doing either," said Herbert.
+
+"Then there's the less reason for your persisting in the observance of
+so much mystery."
+
+"My doing so is my own business," returned Herbert.
+
+"No, it is not your own business," objected Mr. Winthorne. "You assert
+that you are innocent of the crime with which you are charged----"
+
+"I assert nothing but the truth," interrupted Herbert.
+
+"Good. Then, if you are innocent, and if you can prove your innocence,
+it is your duty to your family to do it. A man's duties in this life are
+not owing to himself alone: above all, a son's. He owes allegiance to
+his father and mother; his consideration for them should be above his
+consideration for himself. If you can prove your innocence it will be an
+unpardonable sin not to do it; a sin inflicted on your family."
+
+"I can't help it," replied Herbert in his obstinacy. "I have my reasons
+for not speaking, and I shall not speak."
+
+"You will surely suffer the penalty," said Mr. Winthorne.
+
+"Then I must suffer it," returned the prisoner.
+
+But it is one thing to talk, and another to act. Many a brave spirit,
+ready and willing to undergo hanging in theory, would find his heart
+fail and his bravery altogether die out, were he really required to
+reduce it to practice.
+
+Herbert Dare was only human. After July had come in and the time for the
+opening of the assizes might be counted by hours, then his courage began
+to flinch. He spent a night in tossing from side to side on his pallet
+(a wide difference between that and his comfortable bed at home), during
+which a certain ugly apparatus, to be erected for his especial use
+within the walls of the prison some fine Saturday morning, on which he
+might figure by no means gracefully, had mentally disturbed his rest.
+
+
+He arose unrefreshed. The vision of that possible future was not a
+pleasant one. Herbert remembered once, when he had been a college boy,
+that the Saturday morning's occasional drama had been enacted for the
+warning and edification of the town, and of the country people flocking
+into it for market. The college boys had determined for once in their
+lives to see the sight--if they could accomplish it. The ceremony was
+invariably performed at eight o'clock; the exhibition closed at nine;
+and the boys' difficulty was, how to arrive at the scene in time,
+considering that it was only at the striking of the latter hour that
+they were let loose down the steps of the school. They had tried the
+_time_ between the cloisters and the county prison; and found that by
+dint of taking the shorter way through the back streets, tearing along
+at the fleetest pace, and knocking over every obstruction--human,
+animal, or material--that might unfortunately be in their path, they
+could do the distance in four minutes. Arriving rather out of wind, it's
+true: but that was nothing.
+
+Four minutes! they did not see their way. If the curtain descended at
+nine, sharp, as good be forty minutes after the hour, as four, in point
+of practical effect. But the Helstonleigh college boys--as you may
+sometimes have heard remarked before--were not wont to allow
+difficulties to overmaster them. If there was a possible way of
+overcoming obstacles, they were sure to find it. Consultations had been
+anxious. To request the head-master to allow them as a favour to depart
+five or ten minutes before the usual time, would be worse than useless.
+It was a question whether he ever would have accorded it; but there was
+no chance of it on _that_ morning. Neither could the whole school be
+taken summarily with spasms, or croup, or any other excruciating malady
+necessitating compassion and an early dismissal.
+
+They came to the resolve of applying to the official who had the
+cathedral clock under his charge: or, as they phrased it, "coming over
+the clock-man." By dint of coaxing, or bribery, or some other element of
+persuasion, they got this functionary to promise to put the clock on
+eight minutes on that particular morning. And it was done. And at eight
+minutes before nine by the sun, the cathedral clock rang out its nine
+strokes. But, instead of the master lifting his finger--the signal for
+the boys to tear forth--the master sat quiet at his desk, and never gave
+it. He sat until the eight minutes had gone by, when the other churches
+in the town gave out their hour; he sat _four minutes after that_: and
+then he nodded them their dismissal.
+
+The twelve minutes had seemed to the boys like twelve hours. Where the
+hitch was, they never knew; they never have known to this day; as they
+would tell you themselves. Whether the master had received an inkling of
+what was in the wind; or whether, by one of those extraordinary
+coincidences that sometimes occur in life, he, for that one morning,
+allowed the hour to slip by unheeded--had not heard it strike--they
+could not tell. He gave out no explanation, then or afterwards. The
+clock-man protested that he had been true; had not breathed a hint to
+any one living of the purposed advancement; and the boys had no reason
+to disbelieve him.
+
+
+However it might have been, they could not alter it. It was four minutes
+past nine when they clattered _pele-mele_ down the school-room steps.
+Away they tore, full of fallacious hope, out at the cloisters, through
+the cathedral precincts, along the nearest streets, and arrived within
+the given four minutes, rather than over it.
+
+Alas, for human expectations! The prison was there, it is true,
+formidable as usual; but all trace of the morning's jubilee had passed
+away. Not only had the chief actor been removed, but also that ugly
+apparatus which Herbert Dare had dreamt of. _That_ might have afforded
+them some gratification to contemplate, failing the greater sight. The
+college boys, dumb in the first moment of their disappointment, gave
+vent to it at length with three dismal groans, the echoes of which might
+have been heard as far off as the cathedral. Groans not intended for the
+unhappy mortal, then beyond hearing of that or any other earthly sound;
+not for the officials of the county prison, all too quick-handed that
+morning; but given as a compliment to the respected gentleman at that
+time holding the situation of head-master.
+
+Herbert Dare remembered this: it was rising up in his mind with strange
+distinctness. He himself had been one of the deputation chosen to "come
+over" the clock-man; had been the chief persuader of that functionary.
+Would the college boys hasten down if _he_ were to----In spite of his
+bravery, he broke off the speculation with a shudder; and, calling the
+turnkey to him, he despatched a message for Mr. Winthorne. Was it the
+remembrance of his old school-fellows, of what _they_ would think of
+him, that brought about what no other consideration had been able to
+effect?
+
+As much indulgence as it was possible to allow a prisoner was accorded
+to Herbert Dare. Indeed, it may be questioned whether any previous
+prisoner, incarcerated within the walls of the county prison, had ever
+enjoyed so much. The governor of the prison and Mr. Dare had lived on
+intimate terms. Mr. Dare and his two elder sons had been familiar, in
+their legal capacity, with both its civil and criminal prisoners; and
+the turnkeys had often bowed Herbert in and out of cells, as they now
+bowed out Mr. Winthorne. Altogether, what with the governor's friendly
+feeling, and the turnkey's reverential one, Herbert Dare obtained more
+privileges than the ordinary run of prisoners. The message was at once
+taken to Mr. Winthorne, and it brought that gentleman back again.
+
+"I have made up my mind to tell," was Herbert's brief salutation when he
+entered.
+
+"A very sensible resolution," replied the lawyer. Doubts, however,
+crossed his mind as he spoke, whether the prisoner was not about to set
+up some plea which had never had place in fact. In like manner to
+Sergeant Delves, Mr. Winthorne had arrived at the firm belief that there
+was nothing to tell. "Well?" said he.
+
+"That is, conditionally," resumed Herbert Dare. "It would be of little
+use my saying I was at such and such a place, unless I could bring
+forward confirmatory evidence."
+
+"Of course it would not."
+
+"Well; there are witnesses who could give this satisfactory evidence:
+but the question is, will they be willing to do it?"
+
+"What motive or excuse could they have for refusing?" returned Mr.
+Winthorne. "When a fellow-creature's life is at stake, surely there is
+no man so lost to humanity as not to come forward and save it, if it be
+in his power."
+
+"Circumstances alter cases," was the curt reply of Herbert Dare.
+
+"Was it your doubt, as to whether they would come forward, that caused
+your hesitation to call on them to do so?" asked Mr. Winthorne,
+something not pleasant in his tones.
+
+"Not altogether. I foresaw a difficulty in it; I foresee it still.
+Winthorne, you look at me with a face full of doubt. There is no need
+for it--as you will find."
+
+"Well, go on," said the lawyer; for Herbert had stopped.
+
+"The thing must be gone about in a very cautious manner; and I don't
+quite see how it can be done," resumed Herbert slowly. "Winthorne, I
+think I had better make a confidant of you, and tell you the whole story
+from beginning to end."
+
+"If I am to do you any good, I must hear it, I expect. A man can't work
+in the dark."
+
+"Sit down then, and I'll begin. Though, mind--I tell it you in
+confidence. It's not for Helstonleigh. But you will see the expediency
+of being silent when you have heard it."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+SERGEANT DELVES "LOOKS UP."
+
+
+The following Saturday was the day fixed for the opening of the
+commission at Helstonleigh. It soon came round, and the streets in the
+afternoon wore their usual holiday appearance. The high sheriff's
+procession went out to meet the judges, and groups stood about, waiting
+and watching for its return. Amongst other people blocking up the way,
+might be observed the portly person of Sergeant Delves. He strolled
+along, seeming to look at nothing, but his keen eye was everywhere. It
+suddenly fell upon Mr. Winthorne, who was picking his way through the
+crowd as fast as he could do so, apparently in a hurry. Hurry or not,
+Sergeant Delves stopped him, and drew him to a safe spot beyond the
+reach of curious ears.
+
+"I was looking for you, Mr. Winthorne," said Delves in a confidential
+tone. "I say--this tale, that Dare will succeed in establishing an
+_alibi_, is it reliable?"
+
+"Why--who the mischief can have been setting that afloat?" returned the
+lawyer, in tones of the utmost astonishment, not unmixed with vexation.
+
+"Dare himself was my informant," replied the sergeant. "I was in the
+prison just now, and saw him in the yard with the turnkey. He called me
+aside, and told me he was as good as acquitted."
+
+"Then he is an idiot for his pains. He had no right to talk of it, even
+to you."
+
+"_I_ am dark," carelessly returned Delves. "I don't wish ill to the
+Dares, and wouldn't work it to them; as perhaps some of them could tell
+you," he added significantly. "What about this acquittal that he talks
+of?"
+
+"There's no doubt he will be acquitted. He will prove an _alibi_."
+
+"Is it a got-up _alibi_?" asked the plain-speaking sergeant.
+
+"No. And as far as I go, I would not lend myself to getting up anything
+false," observed the solicitor. "He has said from the first, you know,
+that he was not near the house at the time, and so it will turn out."
+
+"Has he confessed where he was, after all his standing out?"
+
+"Yes; to me: it will be disclosed at the trial."
+
+"He was after no good, I know," nodded the sergeant oracularly.
+
+Mr. Winthorne raised his eyebrows, and slightly jerked his shoulders.
+The movement may have meant anything or nothing. He did not reply in
+words.
+
+Sergeant Delves fell into a reverie. He roused himself from it to take a
+searching gaze at the lawyer. "Sir," said he, and he could hardly have
+spoken more earnestly had his life depended on it, "tell me the truth
+out-and-out. Do you, yourself, from the depths of your own judgment,
+believe Herbert Dare to have been innocent?"
+
+"Delves, as truly as that you and I now stand here, I honestly believe
+that he had no more to do with his brother's death than we had."
+
+"Then I'm blest if I don't take up the other scent!" exclaimed Mr.
+Delves, slapping his thigh. "I did think of it once, but I dropped it
+again, so sure was I that it was Master Herbert."
+
+"What scent is that?"
+
+"Look here," said the sergeant--"but now it's my turn to warn you to be
+dark. There was a young woman met Anthony Dare the night of the murder,
+when he was going down to the Star and Garter. It's a young woman he did
+not behave genteel to some time back, as the ghost says in the song. She
+met him that night, and she gave him a bit of her tongue; not much, for
+he wouldn't stop to listen. But now, Mr. Winthorne, it has crossed my
+mind many times whether she might not have watched for his going home
+again, and followed him; followed him right into the dining-room, and
+done the mischief. I'll lay a guinea it was her!" added the sergeant,
+arriving at a hasty conclusion. "I shall look up again now."
+
+"Do you mean that young woman in Honey Fair?" asked Mr. Winthorne.
+
+"Just so. Her, and nobody else. The doubt has crossed me; but, as I say,
+I was so certain it was the brother, that I did not follow it up."
+
+"Could a woman's feeble hand inflict such injuries?" debated the
+solicitor.
+
+"'Feeble' be hanged!" politely rejoined the sergeant. "Some women have
+the fists of men; and the strength of 'em, too. You don't know 'em as we
+do. A desperate woman will do anything. And Anthony Dare, remember, had
+not his strength in him that night."
+
+Mr. Winthorne shook his head. "That girl has no look of ferocity about
+her. I should question it being her. Let's see--what is her name?"
+
+"Listen!" returned the sergeant. "When you have had half as much to do
+with people as I have, you'll have learnt not to go by looks. Her name
+is Caroline Mason."
+
+At that moment the cathedral bells rang out, announcing the return of
+the procession, the advent of the judges. As if the sound reminded the
+lawyer of the speed of time, he hastily went on his way; leaving the
+sergeant to use his eyes and ears at the expense of the crowd.
+
+"I wonder how the prisoners in the gaol feels?" remarked a woman whom
+the sergeant recognised as being no other than Mrs. Cross. She had just
+come out of a warehouse with her supply of work for the ensuing week.
+
+"Ah, poor creatures!" responded another of the group, and _that_ was
+Mrs. Brumm. "I wonder how young Dare likes it!"
+
+"Or how old Dare likes it--if he can hear 'em all the way up at his
+office. They'll know their fate soon, them two."
+
+In close vicinity to this colloquy was a young woman, drawn against the
+wall, under shelter of a projecting doorway. Her once good-looking face
+was haggard, and her clothes were scanty. It was for this reason,
+perhaps, that she appeared to shun observation. Sergeant Delves,
+apparently without any other design than that of working his way
+leisurely through the throng, edged himself up to her.
+
+"Looking out for the show, Miss Mason?"
+
+Caroline turned her spiritless eyes upon him. "I'm waiting till there's
+a way cleared for me to get through, without pushing against folks and
+contaminating 'em. What's the show to me, or me to it?"
+
+"At the last assizes, in March, when the judges came in, young Anthony
+Dare made one in the streets, looking on," resumed the sergeant,
+chatting affably. "I saw him and spoke to him. And now he is gone where
+there's no shows to see."
+
+She made no reply.
+
+"The women there," pointing his thumb at the group of talkers hard by,
+"are saying that Herbert Dare won't like the sound of the college
+bells.--Hey, me! Look at those young toads of college boys, just let out
+of school!" broke off the sergeant, as a tribe of some twenty of the
+king's scholars came fighting and elbowing their way through the throng
+to the front. "They are just like so many wild colts! Maybe the
+prisoner, Herbert Dare, is now casting his thoughts back to the time
+when he made one of the band, and was as free from care as they are.
+It's not so long ago."
+
+Caroline Mason asked a question somewhat abruptly. "Will he be found
+guilty, sir, do you think?"
+
+The sergeant turned the tail of his keen eye upon her, and answered the
+question by asking another. "Do you?"
+
+She shook her head. "I don't think he was guilty."
+
+"You don't?"
+
+"No, I don't. Why should one brother kill another?"
+
+"Very true," coughed the sergeant. "But somebody must have done it. If
+Herbert Dare did not, who did?"
+
+"Ah! who did? I'd like to know," she passionately added. "He had folks
+in this town that owed him grudges, had Mr. Anthony Dare."
+
+"If my vision didn't deceive me, I saw you talking to him that very
+same night," carelessly observed the sergeant.
+
+"Did you see me?" she rejoined, apparently as much at ease as the
+sergeant himself. "I had to do an errand at that end of the town, and I
+met him, and told him what he was. I hadn't spoke to him for months and
+months; for years, I think. I had slipped into doors, down entries,
+anywhere to avoid him, if I saw him coming; but a feeling came over me
+to speak to him then. I'm glad I did. I hope the truths I said to him
+went along with him to enliven him on his journey!"
+
+"Did you see him after that, later in the evening?" resumed the
+inspector, putting the question sociably, and stretching his neck up to
+obtain a view of something at a distance.
+
+"No, I didn't," she replied. "But I would, if I had thought it was going
+to be his last. I'd have bade him remember all his good works where he
+was going to. I'd almost have went with him, I would, to have heard how
+he answered for them, up there."
+
+Caroline Mason glanced upwards to indicate the sky, when a loud flourish
+of trumpets from the advancing heralds sounded close upon them. As they
+rode up at a foot pace, they dropped their trumpets, and the mounted
+javelin-men quickly followed, their javelins in rest. A carriage or two;
+a few more officials; and then advanced the equipage of the high
+sheriff. Only one of the judges was in it, fully robed: a fine man, with
+a benign countenance. A grave smile was on it as he spoke to the
+sheriff, who sat opposite to him, his chaplain by his side.
+
+Sergeant Delves's attention was distracted for an instant, and when he
+looked round again, Caroline Mason had disappeared. He just caught sight
+of her in the distance, winding her way through the crowd, her head
+down.
+
+"Did she do it, or did she not?" cried the sergeant, in soliloquy. "Go
+on, go on, my lady, for the present; you are about to be a bit looked
+after."
+
+How _did_ the prisoners feel, and Herbert Dare amongst them, as the
+joyous sounds, outside, fell upon their ears; the blast of the trumpets,
+the sweetness of the bells, the stir of life: penetrating within the
+walls of the city and county prisons? Did they feel that the pomp and
+show, run after as a holiday sight, was only a cruel advent to
+them?--that the formidable and fiery vision in the scarlet robe and
+flowing wig, who sat in the carriage, bending his serene face upon the
+mob, collected to stare and shout, might prove the pronouncer of their
+doom?--a doom that should close the portals of this world upon them, and
+open those of eternity!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+THE TRIAL.
+
+
+Tuesday morning was the day fixed for the trial of Herbert Dare. You
+might have walked upon the people's heads in the vicinity of the
+Guildhall, for all the town wished to get in to hear it. Of course only
+a very small portion of the town, relatively speaking, could have its
+wish, or succeed in fighting a way to a place. Of the rest, some went
+back to their homes, disappointed and exploding; and the rest collected
+outside and blocked up the street. The police had their work cut out
+that day; whilst the javelin-men, heralding in the judges, experienced
+great difficulty in keeping clear the passages. The heat in court would
+be desperate as the day advanced.
+
+Sir William Leader, as senior judge, took his seat in the criminal
+court. It was he whom you saw in the sheriff's carriage on Saturday. The
+same benignant face was bent upon the crowded court that had been bent
+upon the street mob; the same penetrating eye; the same grave, calm
+bearing. The prisoner was immediately placed at the bar, and all eyes,
+strange or familiar, were strained to look at him. They saw a tall,
+handsome young man, looking too gentlemanly to stand in the felon's
+dock. He was habited in deep mourning. His countenance, usually somewhat
+conspicuous for its bright complexion, was pale, probably from the
+moment's emotion, and his white handkerchief was lifted to his mouth as
+he moved forward; otherwise he was calm. Old Anthony Dale was in court,
+looking far more agitated than his son. Preliminaries were gone through,
+and the trial began.
+
+"Prisoner at the bar, how say you? Are you guilty, or not guilty?"
+
+Herbert Dare raised his eyes fearlessly, and pleaded in a firm tone:
+
+"Not Guilty!"
+
+The leading counsel for the prosecution, Serjeant Seeitall, stated the
+case. His address occupied some time, and he then proceeded to call
+witnesses. One of the first examined was Betsy Carter. She deposed to
+the facts of having sat up with the lady's-maid and Joseph, until the
+return of Mr. and Mrs. Dare and their daughter; to having then gone into
+the dining-room with a light to look for Mr. Dare's pipe, which she had
+left there in the morning, when cleaning the room. "In moving forward
+with the candle, I saw something dark on the ground," continued Betsy,
+who, when her first timidity had gone off, seemed inclined to be
+communicative. "At the first glance, I thought it was one of the
+gentlemen gone to sleep there; but when I stooped down with the light, I
+saw it was the face of the dead. Awful, it looked!"
+
+"What did you next do?" demanded the examining counsel.
+
+"Screeched out, gentlemen," responded Betsy.
+
+"What else?"
+
+"I went out of the room, screeching to Joseph in the hall, and master
+came in from outside the front door, where he was waiting, all peaceful
+and ignorant, for his pipe, little thinking what there was so close to
+him. I screeched out all the more, gentlemen, when I remembered the
+quarrel that had took place at dinner that afternoon, and I knew it was
+nobody but Mr. Herbert that had done the murder."
+
+The witness was sharply told to confine herself to evidence.
+
+"It couldn't be nobody else," retorted Betsy, who, once set going, was a
+match for any cross-examiner. "There was the cloak to prove it. Mr.
+Herbert had gone out in the cloak that very night, and the poor dead
+gentleman was lying on it. Which proves it must have come off in the
+scuffle between 'em."
+
+The fact of the quarrel, the facts connected with the cloak, as well as
+all other facts, had been mentioned by the learned Serjeant Seeitall in
+his opening address. The witness was questioned as to what she knew of
+the quarrel: but it appeared that she had not been present; consequently
+could not testify to it. The cloak she could say more about, and spoke
+of it confidently as Mr. Herbert's.
+
+"How did you know the cloak, found under the dead man, was Mr.
+Herbert's?" interposed the prisoner's counsel, Mr. Chattaway.
+
+"Because I did," returned the witness.
+
+"I ask you how you knew it?"
+
+"By lots of tokens," she answered. "By the shining black clasp, for one
+thing, and by the tears and jags in it, for another. Nobody has ever
+pretended it was not the cloak. I have seen it fifty times hanging up in
+Mr. Herbert's closet."
+
+"You saw the prisoner going out in it that evening?"
+
+"Yes, I did," she answered. "I was looking out at Miss Adelaide's
+chamber window, and I saw him come out of the dining-room window, and go
+off towards the front gates. The gentlemen often went out through the
+dining-room window, instead of at the hall door."
+
+"The prisoner says he came back immediately, and left his cloak in the
+dining-room, going out finally without it. Did you see him come back?"
+
+"No, I didn't," replied Betsy.
+
+"How long did you remain at the window?"
+
+"Not long."
+
+"Did you remain long enough for him to cross the lawn to the front
+entrance gates, and come back again?"
+
+"No, I don't think I did, sir."
+
+"The court will please take note of that answer," said Mr. Chattaway,
+who was aware that a great deal had been made of the fact of the
+housemaid's having seen him go out in the cloak. "You left the window
+then, immediately?"
+
+"Pretty near immediately. I don't think I stayed long enough at it for
+him to come back from the front gates--if he did come. I have never said
+I did," she resentfully continued.
+
+"What time was it that you saw him go out?"
+
+"I hadn't took particular notice of the time. It was dusk. I was turning
+down my beds; and I generally do that a little before nine. The next
+room I went into was Mr. Anthony's."
+
+"The deceased was in it, was he not?"
+
+"He was in it, stretched full length upon the sofa. He had his head down
+on the cushion, and his feet up over the arm at the foot, all
+comfortable and easy, with a cigar in his mouth, and some glasses and
+things on the table near him. 'What are you come bothering in here for?'
+he asked. So I begged his pardon; for you see, gentlemen, I didn't know
+he was there, and I went out again, and met Joseph carrying up a note to
+him. A little while after that, he went out."
+
+The witness's propensity to degenerate into gossip appeared
+irrepressible. Several times she was stopped; once by the judge.
+
+"Of how many servants did the household of Mr. Dare consist?" she was
+asked.
+
+"There were four of us, gentlemen."
+
+"Did you all sit up that night?"
+
+"All but the cook. She went to bed."
+
+"And the family, those who were at home, went to bed?"
+
+"All of them, sir. The governess went early; she was not well; and Miss
+Rosa and Miss Minny went, and the two young gentlemen went when they
+came home from playing cricket."
+
+"In point of fact, then, no one was up except you three servants in the
+kitchen?"
+
+"Nobody, sir."
+
+"And you heard no noise in the house until the return of Mr. and Mrs.
+Dare?"
+
+"We never heard nothing," responded Betsy. "We were sitting quietly in
+the kitchen; me and the lady's-maid at work, and Joseph asleep. We never
+heard any noise at all."
+
+This was the substance of what was asked her. Joseph was next called,
+and gave his testimony. He deposed to having fastened up the house at
+eleven o'clock, with the exception of the dining-room window: that was
+left open in obedience to orders. All other facts within his knowledge
+he also testified to. The governess, Signorina Varsini, was called, and
+questioned upon two points: what she had seen and heard of the quarrel,
+and of the subsequent conduct of Anthony and Herbert to each other in
+the drawing-room. But her testimony amounted to nothing, and she might
+as well not have been troubled. She was also asked whether she had heard
+any noise in the house between eleven o'clock and the return of Mr. and
+Mrs. Dare. She replied that she did not hear any, for she had been
+asleep. She went to sleep long before eleven, and did not wake up until
+aroused by the commotion caused by the finding of the body. The witness
+was proceeding to favour the court with her own conviction that the
+prisoner was innocent, but was brought up with a summary notice that
+that was not evidence, and that, if she knew nothing more, she might
+withdraw. Upon which, she honoured the bench with an elaborate curtsey,
+and retired. Not a witness throughout the day gave evidence with more
+absolute equanimity.
+
+Lord Hawkesley was examined; also Mr. Brittle--the latter coming to
+Helstonleigh on his subpoena. But to give the testimony of all the
+witnesses in length, would only be to repeat what has already been
+related. It will be sufficient to extract a few questions here and
+there.
+
+"What were the games played in your rooms that evening?" was asked of
+Mr. Brittle.
+
+"Some played whist; some ecarte."
+
+"At which did the deceased play?"
+
+"At whist."
+
+"Was he a loser, or a gainer?"
+
+"A loser; but to a very trifling amount. We were playing half-crown
+points. He and myself played against Lord Hawkesley and Captain Bellew.
+We broke up because he, the deceased, was not sufficiently sober to
+play."
+
+"Was he sober when he joined you?"
+
+"By no means. He appeared to have been drinking rather freely; and he
+took more in my rooms, which made him worse."
+
+"Why did you accompany him home?"
+
+"He was scarcely in a state to proceed alone: and I felt no objection to
+a walk. It was a fine night."
+
+"Did he speak, during the evening, of the dispute which had taken place
+between him and his brother?" interposed the judge.
+
+"He did not, my lord. A slight incident occurred, as we were going to
+his home, which it may be perhaps as well to mention----"
+
+"You must mention everything which bears upon this unhappy case, sir,"
+interrupted the judge. "You are sworn to tell the whole truth."
+
+"I do not suppose it does bear upon it directly, my lord. Had I attached
+importance to it, I should have spoken of it before. In passing the
+turning which leads to the race-course, a man met us, and began to abuse
+the deceased. The deceased was inclined to stop and return it, but I
+drew him on."
+
+"Of what nature was the abuse?" asked the counsel.
+
+"I do not recollect the precise terms. It was to the effect that he, the
+deceased, tippled away his money instead of paying his debts. The man
+backed against the wall as he spoke: he appeared to have had rather too
+much himself. I drew the deceased on, and we were soon out of hearing."
+
+"What became of the man?"
+
+"I do not know. We left him standing against the wall. He called loudly
+after the deceased to know when his bill was to be paid. I judged him to
+be some petty tradesman."
+
+"Did he follow you?"
+
+"No. At least, we heard no more of him afterwards. I saw the deceased
+safely within his own gate, and left him."
+
+"What state, as to sobriety, was the deceased in then?"
+
+"He was what may be called half-seasover," replied the witness. "He
+could talk, but his words were not very distinct."
+
+"Could he walk alone?"
+
+"After a fashion. He stumbled as he walked."
+
+"What time was this?"
+
+"About half-past eleven. I think the half-hour struck directly after I
+left him, but I am not quite sure."
+
+"As you returned, did you see anything of the man who had accosted the
+deceased?"
+
+"Not anything."
+
+Strange to say the very man thus spoken of was in court, listening to
+the trial. Upon hearing the evidence given by Mr. Brittle, he
+voluntarily came forward as a witness. He said he had been "having a
+drop," and it had made him abusive, but that Anthony Dare had owed him
+money long for work done, mending and making. He was a jobbing tailor,
+and the bill was a matter of fourteen pounds. Anthony Dare had only put
+him off and off; he was a poor man, with a wife and family to keep, and
+he wanted the money badly; but now, he supposed, he should never be
+paid. He lived close to the spot where he met the deceased and the
+gentleman who had just given evidence, and he could prove that he went
+home as soon as they were out of sight, and was in bed at half-past
+eleven. What with debts and various other things, he concluded the town
+had had enough to rue in young Anthony Dare. Still, the poor fellow
+didn't deserve such a shocking fate as murder, and he would have been
+the first to protect him from it.
+
+That the evidence was given in good faith, was undoubted. He was known
+to the town as a harmless, inoffensive man, addicted, though upon rare
+occasions, to taking more than was good for him, when he was apt to
+dilate upon his grievances.
+
+The constable who had been on duty that night near Mr. Dare's residence
+was the next witness called. "Did you see the deceased that night?" was
+asked of him.
+
+"Yes, sir, I did," was the reply. "I saw him walking home with the
+gentleman who has given evidence--Mr. Brittle. I noticed that young Mr.
+Dare talked thick, as if he had been drinking."
+
+"Did they appear to be on good terms?"
+
+"Very good terms, sir. Mr. Brittle was laughing when he opened the gate
+for the deceased, and told him to mind he did not kiss the grass; or
+something to that effect."
+
+"Were you close to them?"
+
+"Quite close, sir. I said 'Good night' to the deceased, but he seemed
+not to notice it. I stood and watched him over the grass. He reeled as
+he walked."
+
+"What time was this?"
+
+"Nigh upon half-past eleven, sir."
+
+"Did you detect any signs of people moving within the house?"
+
+"Not any, sir. The house seemed quite still, and the blinds were down
+before the windows."
+
+"Did you see any one enter the gate that night besides the deceased?"
+
+"Not any one."
+
+"Not the prisoner?"
+
+"Not any one," repeated the policeman.
+
+"Did you see anything of the prisoner later, between half-past one and
+two, the time he alleges as that of his going home?"
+
+"I never saw the prisoner at all that night, sir."
+
+"He could have gone in, as he states, without your seeing him?"
+interposed the prisoner's counsel.
+
+"Yes, certainly, a dozen times over. My beat extended to half-a-mile
+beyond Mr. Dare's."
+
+One witness, who was placed in the box, created a profound sensation:
+for it was the unhappy father, Anthony Dare. Since the deed was
+committed, two months ago, Mr. Dare had been growing old. His brow was
+furrowed, his cheeks were wrinkled, his hair was turning white, and he
+looked, as he obeyed the call to the witness-box, as a man sinking under
+a heavy weight of care. Many of the countenances present expressed deep
+commiseration for him.
+
+He was sworn, and various questions were asked him. Amongst others,
+whether he knew anything of the quarrel which had taken place between
+his two sons.
+
+"Personally, nothing," was the reply. "I was not at home."
+
+"It has been testified that when they were parted, your son Herbert
+threatened his brother. Is he of a revengeful disposition?"
+
+"No," replied Mr. Dare, with emotion; "that, I can truly say, he is not.
+My poor son, Anthony, was somewhat given to sullenness; but Herbert
+never was."
+
+"There had been a great deal of ill-feeling between them of late, I
+believe."
+
+"I fear there had been."
+
+
+"It is stated that you yourself, upon leaving home that evening, left
+them a warning not to quarrel. Was it so?"
+
+"I believe I did. Anthony entered the house as we were leaving it, and I
+did say something to him to that effect."
+
+"The prisoner was not present?"
+
+"No. He had not returned."
+
+"It is proved that he came home later, dined, and went out again at
+dusk. It does not appear that he was seen afterwards by any member of
+your household, until you yourself went up to his room and found him
+there, after the discovery of the body. His own account is, that he had
+only recently returned. Do you know where he was, during his absence?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Or where he went to?"
+
+"No," repeated the witness in sadly faltering tones, for he knew that
+this was the one weak point in the defence.
+
+"He will not tell you?"
+
+"He declines to do so. But," the witness added, with emotion, "he has
+denied his guilt to me from the first, in the most decisive manner: and
+I solemnly believe him to be innocent. Why he will not state where he
+was, I cannot conceive; but not a shade of doubt rests upon my mind that
+he could state it if he chose, and that it would be the means of
+establishing the fact of his absence. I would not assert this if I did
+not believe it," said the witness, raising his trembling hand. "They
+were both my boys: the one destroyed was my eldest, perhaps my dearest;
+and I declare that I would not, knowingly, screen his assassin, although
+that assassin were his brother."
+
+The case for the prosecution concluded, and the defence was entered
+upon. The prisoner's counsel--two of them eminent men, Mr. Chattaway
+himself being no secondary light in the forensic world--laboured under
+one disadvantage, as it appeared to the crowded court. They exerted all
+their eloquence in seeking to divert the guilt from the prisoner: but
+they could not--distort facts as they might, call upon imagination as
+they would--they could not conjure up the ghost of any other channel to
+which to direct suspicion. There lay the weak point, as it had lain
+throughout. If Herbert Dare was not guilty, who was? The family, quietly
+sleeping in their beds, were beyond the pale of suspicion; the household
+equally so; and no trace of any midnight intruder to the house could be
+found. It was a grave stumbling-block for the prisoner's counsel; but
+such stumbling-blocks are as nothing to an expert pleader. Bit by bit
+Mr. Chattaway disposed, or seemed to dispose, of every argument that
+could tell against the prisoner. The presence of the cloak in the
+dining-room, from which so much appearance of guilt had been deduced, he
+converted into a negative proof of innocence. "Had he been the one
+engaged in the struggle," argued the learned Q.C., "would he have been
+mad enough to leave his own cloak there, underneath his victim, a
+damning proof of guilt? No! that, at any rate, he would have taken away.
+The very fact of the cloak being under the murdered man was a most
+indisputable proof, as he regarded it, that the prisoner remained
+totally ignorant of what had happened--ignorant of his unfortunate
+brother's being at all in the dining-room. Why! had he only surmised
+that his brother was lying, wounded or dead, in the room, would he not
+have hastened to remove his cloak out of it, before it should be seen
+there, knowing, as he must know, that, from the very terms on which he
+and his brother had been, it would be looked upon as a proof of his
+guilt?" The argument told well with the jury--probably with the judge.
+
+Bit by bit, so did he thus dispose of the suspicious circumstances: of
+all, except one. And that was the great one, the one that nobody could
+get over: the refusal of the prisoner to state where he was that night.
+"All in good time, gentlemen of the jury," said Mr. Chattaway, some
+murmured words reaching his ear that the omission was deemed ominous. "I
+am coming to that later; and I shall prove as complete and distinct an
+_alibi_ as it was ever my lot to submit to an enlightened court."
+
+The court listened, the jury listened, the spectators listened, and
+"hoped he might." He had spoken, for the most part, to incredulous ears.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+THE WITNESSES FOR THE ALIBI.
+
+
+When the speech of the counsel ended, and the time came for the
+production of the witness or witnesses who were to prove the _alibi_,
+there appeared to be some delay. The intense heat of the court had been
+growing greater with every hour. The rays of the afternoon sun, now
+sinking lower and lower in the heavens, had only brought with them a
+more deadly feeling of suffocation. But, to go out for a breath of air,
+even had the thronged state of the passages permitted the movement,
+appeared to enter into no one's thoughts. Their suspense was too keen,
+their interest too absorbing. Who were those mysterious witnesses, that
+would testify to the innocence of Herbert Dare?
+
+A stir at the extreme end of the court, where it joined the other
+passage. Every eye was strained to see, every ear to listen, as an usher
+came clearing the way. "By your leave there--by your leave; room for a
+witness!"
+
+The spectators looked, and stretched their necks, and looked again. A
+few among them experienced a strange thrill of disappointment, and felt
+that they should have much pleasure in being allowed the privilege of
+boxing the usher's ears, for he preceded no one more important than
+Richard Winthorne, the lawyer. Ah, but wait a bit! What short and slight
+figure is it that Mr. Winthorne is guiding along? The angry crowd have
+not caught sight of her yet.
+
+But, when they do--when the drooping, shrinking form is at length in the
+witness-box; her eyes never raised, her lovely face bent in timid
+dread--then a murmur arises, and shakes the court to its foundation. The
+judge feels for his glasses--rarely used--and puts them across his nose,
+and gazes at her. A fair girl, attired in the simple, modest garb
+peculiar to the sect called Quakers, not more modest than the lovely and
+gentle face. She does not take the oath, only the affirmation peculiar
+to her people.
+
+"What is your name?" commenced the prisoner's counsel.
+
+That she spoke words in reply, was evident, by the moving of her lips:
+but they could not be heard.
+
+"You must speak up," interposed the judge, in tones of kindness.
+
+A deep struggle for breath, an effort of which even those around could
+see the pain, and the answer came. "They call me Anna. I am the daughter
+of Samuel Lynn."
+
+"Where do your live?"
+
+"I live with my father and Patience, in the London Road."
+
+"What do you know of the prisoner at the bar?"
+
+A pause. She probably did not understand the sort of answer required.
+One came that was unexpected.
+
+"I know him to be innocent of the crime of which he is accused."
+
+"How do you know this?"
+
+"Because he could not have been near the spot at the time."
+
+"Where was he then?"
+
+"With me."
+
+But the reply came forth in so faint a whisper that again she had to be
+enjoined to speak louder, and she repeated it, using different words.
+
+"He was at our house."
+
+"At what hour did he go to your house?"
+
+"It was past nine when he came up first."
+
+"And what time did he leave?"
+
+"It was about one in the morning."
+
+The answer appeared to create some stir. A late hour for a sober little
+Quakeress to confess to.
+
+"Was he spending the evening with your friends?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Did they not know he was there?"
+
+"No."
+
+"It was a clandestine visit to yourself, then? Where were they?"
+
+A pause, and a very trembling answer. "They were in bed."
+
+"Oh! You were entertaining him by yourself, then?"
+
+She burst into tears. The judge let fall his glasses as though under the
+pressure of some annoyance, every feature of his fine face expressive of
+compassion: it may be, his thoughts had flown to daughters of his own.
+The crowd stood with open mouths, gaping with undisguised astonishment,
+and the burly Queen's counsel proceeded.
+
+"And so he prolonged his visit until one o'clock in the morning?"
+
+"I was locked out," she sobbed. "That is how he came to stay so late."
+
+Bit by bit, with question and cross-questioning, it all came out: that
+Herbert Dare had been in the habit of paying stolen visits to the field,
+and that Anna had been in the habit of meeting him there. That she had
+gone in on this night just before ten, which was later than she had ever
+stayed out before: but, finding Hester had to go out for medicine for
+Patience, she had run to the field again to take a book to the prisoner;
+and that upon attempting to enter soon afterwards, she found the door
+locked, Hester having met the doctor's boy, and come back at once. She
+told it all, as simply and guilelessly as a child.
+
+"What were you doing all that time? From ten o'clock until one in the
+morning?"
+
+"I was sitting on the door-step, crying."
+
+"Was the prisoner with you?"
+
+"Yes. He stood by me part of the time, telling me not to be afraid; and
+the rest of the time--more than an hour, I think--he was working at the
+wires of the pantry window, to try to get in."
+
+"Was he all that time at the wires?"
+
+"It was a long time before I remembered the pantry window. He wanted to
+knock up Hester, but I was afraid to let him. I feared she might tell
+Patience, and they would have been so angry with me. He got in, at last,
+at the pantry window, and he opened the kitchen window for me, and I
+went in by it."
+
+"And you mean to say he was all that time, till one o'clock in the
+morning, forcing the wires of a pantry window?" cried Sergeant Seeitall.
+
+"It was nearly one. I am telling thee the truth."
+
+"And you did not lose sight of the prisoner from the time he first came
+to the field, at nine o'clock, until he left you at one?"
+
+"Only for the few minutes--it may have been four or five--when I ran in
+and came out again with the book. He waited in the field."
+
+"What time was that?"
+
+"The ten o'clock bell was going in Helstonleigh. We could hear it."
+
+"He was with you all the rest of the time."
+
+"Yes, all. When he was working at the pantry window I could not see him,
+because he was round the angle of the house, but I could hear him at the
+wires. Not a minute of the time but I heard him. He was more than an
+hour at the wires, as I have told thee."
+
+"And until he began at the wires?"
+
+"He was standing up by me, telling me not to be afraid."
+
+"All the time? You affirm this?"
+
+"I am affirming all that I say to thee. I am speaking as before my
+Maker."
+
+"Don't you think it is a pretty confession for a young lady to make?"
+
+She burst into fresh tears. The judge turned his grave face upon
+Sergeant Seeitall. But the sergeant had impudence enough for ten.
+
+"Pray, how many times had that pretty little midnight drama been
+enacted?" he continued, whilst Anna sobbed in distress.
+
+"Never before," burst forth a deep voice. "Don't you see it was a pure
+accident, as she tells you? How dare you treat her as you might a
+shameless witness?"
+
+The interruption--one of powerful emotion--had come from the prisoner.
+At the sound of his voice, Anna started, and looked round hurriedly to
+the quarter whence it came. It was the first time she had raised her
+eyes to the court since entering the witness-box. She had glanced up to
+answer whoever questioned her, and that was all.
+
+"Well?" said Sergeant Seeitall, as if demanding what else she might have
+to communicate.
+
+"I have no more to tell. I have told thee all I know. It was nearly one
+o'clock when he went away, and I never saw him after."
+
+"Did the prisoner wear a cloak when he came to the field that night?"
+
+"No. He wore one sometimes, but he did not have it on that night. It was
+very warm----"
+
+But, at that moment, Anna Lynn became conscious that a familiar face was
+strained upon her from the midst of the crowd: familiar, and yet not
+familiar; for the face was distorted from its natural look, and was
+blanched, as of one in the last agony--the face of Samuel Lynn. With a
+sharp cry of pain--of dread--Anna fell on the floor in a fainting fit.
+What the shame of being before that public court, of answering the
+searching questions of the counsel, had failed to take away--her
+senses--the sight of her father, cognizant of her disgrace, had
+effected. Surely it was a disgrace for a young and guileless maiden to
+have to confess to such an escapade--an escapade that sounded worse to
+censuring ears than it had been in reality. Anna fainted. Mr. Winthorne
+stepped forward, and she was borne out.
+
+Another Quakeress was now put into the witness-box, and the court looked
+upon a little middle-aged woman, whose face was sallow, and who showed
+her defective teeth as she spoke. It was Hester Dell. She wore a brown
+silk bonnet, lined with white, and a fawn-coloured shawl. She was told
+that she must state what she knew, relative to the visit of Herbert Dare
+that night.
+
+"I went to rest at my usual hour, or, maybe, a trifle later, for I had
+waited for the arrival of some physic, never supposing but that the
+child, Anna, had gone to her room before me, and was safe in bed. I had
+been asleep some considerable time, as it seemed, when I was awakened by
+what sounded like the raising of the kitchen window underneath. I sat up
+in bed and listened, and was convinced that the window was being raised
+slowly and cautiously, as if the raiser did not want it to be heard. I
+was considerably startled, the more so as I knew I had left the window
+fastened: and my thoughts turned to house-breakers. While I deliberated
+what to do, seeing I was but a lone woman in the house, save for the
+child Anna, and Patience who was disabled in her bed, I heard what
+appeared to be the voice of the child, and it sounded in the yard. I
+went to my window, but I could not see anything, it being right over the
+kitchen, and I not daring to open it. But I still heard Anna's voice:
+she was speaking in a low tone, and I believed I caught other tones
+also--those of a man. I thought I must be asleep and dreaming: next I
+thought it must be young Gar from the next door, Jane Halliburton's son.
+Her other sons I knew to be not at home; the one being abroad, the other
+at the University of Oxford. I deliberated, could anything be the matter
+at their house, and the boy have come for help. Then I reflected that
+that was most unlikely, for why should he be stealthily opening the
+kitchen window, and why should Anna be whispering with him? In short, to
+tell thee the truth"--raising her eyes to the judge, whom she appeared
+to address, to the ignoring of everyone else--"I did not know what to
+think, and I grew more disturbed. I quietly put on a few things, and
+went softly down the stairs, deeming it well, for my own sake, to feel
+my way, as it were, and not to run headlong into danger. I stood a
+moment at the kitchen door, listening; and there I distinctly heard Anna
+laugh--a little, gentle laugh. It reassured me, though I was still
+puzzled; and I opened the door at once."
+
+Here the witness made a dead pause.
+
+"What did you see when you opened the door?" asked the judge.
+
+"I would not tell thee, but that I am bound to tell thee," she frankly
+answered. "I saw the prisoner, Herbert Dare. He appeared to have been
+laughing with Anna, who stood near him, and he was preparing to get out
+at the window as I entered."
+
+"Well? what next?" inquired the counsel in an impatient tone; for Hester
+had stopped again.
+
+"I can hardly tell what next," replied the witness. "Looking back, it
+appears nothing but confusion in my mind. It seemed nothing but
+confusion at the time. Anna cried out, and hid her face in fear; and the
+prisoner attempted some explanation, which I would not listen to. To see
+a son of Anthony Dare's in the house with the child at that midnight
+hour, filled me with anger and bewilderment. I ordered him away; I
+believe I pushed him through the window; I threatened to call in a
+policeman. Finally he went away."
+
+"Saying nothing?"
+
+"I tell you all, I would not listen to it. I remembered scraps of what
+he said afterwards. That Anna was not to blame--that I had no cause to
+scold her or to acquaint Patience with what happened--that the fault, if
+there was any fault, was mine, for locking the back door so quickly. I
+refused to hear farther, and he departed, saying he would explain when I
+was less angry. That is all I saw of him."
+
+"Did you mention this affair to anyone?" asked the counsel for the
+prosecution.
+
+"No."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"The child clung about me in tears after he was gone, giving me the
+explanation that I would not hear from him, and beseeching me not to
+acquaint Patience. She told me how it had happened. That upon my going
+out to see after the sleeping-draught for Patience, she had taken the
+opportunity to run to the field with a book, where Herbert Dare waited:
+and that upon attempting to come in again she found the door locked."
+
+"You returned sooner than she expected?"
+
+"Yes. I met the doctor's boy near our house, bringing the physic, and I
+took it from him and went home again directly. Not seeing Anna about, I
+never thought but that she had retired to bed. I went up also, trying
+the back door as I passed it, which to my surprise I found unfastened."
+
+"Why to your surprise?"
+
+"Because I had, as I believed, previously turned the key of it. Finding
+it unlocked, I concluded I must have been mistaken. Afterwards, when the
+explanation came, I learnt that Anna had undone it. She clung about me,
+as I tell thee, sobbing and crying, saying, as he had said, that there
+was no cause to be angry with her: that she could not help what had
+happened; and that she had sat crying on the door-step the whole of the
+time, until he had effected an entrance for her. I went to the pantry
+window, and saw where the wires had been torn away, not roughly, but
+neatly; and I knew it must have taken a long time to accomplish. I fell
+in with the child's prayer, and did not speak of what had occurred; not
+even to Patience. This is the first time it has escaped my lips."
+
+"So you deemed it desirable to conceal such an adventure, and give the
+prisoner opportunity to renew his midnight visits?" retorted the counsel
+for the prosecution.
+
+"What was done could not be undone," said the witness. "I was willing to
+spare the scandal to the child, and not be the means of spreading it
+abroad. While I was deliberating whether to tell Patience, seeing she
+was in so suffering a state, news came that Herbert Dare was a prisoner.
+He had been arrested the following morning, on the accusation of
+murdering his brother, and I knew that he was safe for several weeks to
+come. Hence I held my tongue."
+
+The witness had given her evidence in a clear, straightforward,
+uncompromising manner, widely at variance with the distressed timidity
+of Anna. Not a shade of doubt rested on the mind of any person in court
+that both had spoken the exact truth. But the counsel seemed inclined to
+question still.
+
+"Since when did you know you were coming here to give this evidence?"
+
+"Only when I did come. Richard Winthorne, the man of law, came to our
+house in a fly this afternoon, and brought us away with him. By some
+remarks he exchanged with Anna when we were in it, I found that she had
+known of it this day or two. They feared to avert me, I suppose, lest,
+maybe, I might refuse to attend."
+
+"One question more, witness. Did the prisoner wear a cloak that night?"
+
+"No; I did not see any."
+
+This closed the evidence, and the witness was allowed to withdraw.
+Richard Winthorne went in search of Samuel Lynn, and found him seated on
+a bench in the outer hall surrounded by gentlemen of his persuasion,
+many of them of high standing in Helstonleigh. Tales of marvel, you
+know, never lose anything in spreading; neither are people given to
+placing a light construction on public gossip, when they can, by any
+stretch of imagination, give it a dark one. In this affair, however, no
+very great stretch was required. The town jumped to the charitable
+conclusion that Anna Lynn must be one of the naughtiest girls under the
+sun; imprudent, ungrateful, disobedient; I don't know what else. Had she
+been guilty of scattering poison in Atterly's field, and so killed all
+the lambs, they could not have said, or thought, worse than they did.
+All joined in it, charitable and uncharitable; all sorts of evil notions
+were spread, and were taken up. Herbert Dare, you may be very sure, came
+in for _his_ share.
+
+The news had been taken to Mr. Ashley's manufactory, sent by the
+astounded Patience, that Richard Winthorne had come and taken away Anna
+and Hester Dell to give testimony at the trial of Herbert Dare. The
+Quaker, perplexed and wondering, believed Patience must be demented;
+that the message could have no foundation in truth. Nevertheless, he
+bent his steps to the Guildhall, accompanied by William Halliburton, and
+was witness to the evidence. He, strict and sober-minded, was not likely
+to take up a more favourable construction of the general facts than the
+town was taking up. It may be guessed what it was for him.
+
+He sat now on a bench in the outer hall, surrounded by friends, who, on
+hearing the crying scandal whispered, touching a young member of their
+body, had come flocking down to the Guildhall. When they spoke to him,
+he did not appear to hear; he sat with his hands on his knees, and his
+head sunk on his breast, never raising it. Richard Winthorne approached
+him.
+
+"Miss Lynn and her servant will not be wanted again," said the lawyer.
+"I have sent for a fly."
+
+The fly came. Anna was placed in it by Mr. Winthorne; Hester Dell
+followed; and Samuel Lynn came forward and stumbled into it. It is the
+proper word. He appeared to have no power left in his limbs.
+
+"Thou wilt not be harsh with her, Samuel," whispered an influential
+Friend, who had a benevolent countenance. "Some of us will confer with
+thee to-morrow; but, meanwhile, do not be harsh with her. Thou wilt call
+to mind that she is thy child, and motherless."
+
+Samuel Lynn made no reply. He did not appear to hear. He sat opposite
+his daughter, his eyes never lifted, and his face assuming a leaden hue.
+Hester suddenly leaned from the door, and beckoned to William
+Halliburton.
+
+"Will thee please be so obliging as go up with us in the fly?" she said
+in his ear. "I do not like his look."
+
+William stepped in, and the fly drove away with closed blinds, to the
+intense chagrin of the curious mob. Before it was out of the town,
+William and Hester, with a simultaneous movement, supported the Quaker.
+Anna screamed. "What is it?" she uttered, terrified at the sight of his
+drawn, distorted face.
+
+"It is thy work," said Hester, less placidly than she would have spoken
+in a calmer moment. "If thee hast saved the life of thy friend, Herbert
+Dare, thee hast probably destroyed that of thy father."
+
+They were close to the residence of Mr. Parry, and William ordered the
+fly to stop. The surgeon was at home, and took William's place in it.
+Samuel Lynn had been struck down with paralysis.
+
+William was at the house before they were, preparing Patience. Patience
+was so far restored to health herself as to be able to walk about a
+little; she was very lame still.
+
+They carried Mr. Lynn to his room. Anna in her deep humiliation and
+shame--having to give evidence, and such evidence, in the face of that
+open court, had been nothing less to her--flew to her own chamber, and
+flung herself, dressed as she was, on the carpet, in desperate
+abandonment. William saw her there as he passed it from her father's
+room. There was no one to attend to her, for they were occupied with Mr.
+Lynn. It was no moment for ceremony, and William entered and attempted
+to raise her.
+
+"Let me be, William; let me be! I only want to die."
+
+"Anna, child, this will not mend the past. Do not give way like this."
+
+But she resolutely turned from him, sobbing more wildly. "Only to die!
+only to die!"
+
+William went for his mother, and gave her the outline of the tale,
+asking her to go to the house of distress and see what could be done.
+Jane, in utter astonishment, sought further explanation. She could not
+understand him in the least.
+
+"I assure you, I understand it nearly as little," replied William. "Anna
+was locked out through some mistake of Hester's, it appears, and Herbert
+Dare stayed with her. That it will be the means of acquitting him, there
+is no doubt; but Helstonleigh is making its comments very freely."
+
+Jane went in, her senses bewildered. She found Patience in a state not
+to be described; she found Anna where William had left her, reiterating
+the same cry, "Oh, that I were dead! that I were dead!"
+
+Meanwhile, the trial at the Guildhall was drawing to its close, and the
+judge proceeded to sum up. Not with the frantic bursts of oratory
+indulged in by those eloquent gentlemen, the counsel, but in a tone of
+dispassionate reasoning. He placed the facts concisely before the jury,
+not speaking in favour of the prisoner, but candidly avowing that he did
+not see how they could get over the evidence of the prisoner's two
+witnesses, the young Quaker lady and her maid. If that was to be
+believed--and for himself he fully believed it--then the prisoner could
+not have been guilty of the murder, and was clearly entitled to an
+acquittal. It was six o'clock when the jury retired to deliberate.
+
+The judge, the bar, the spectators, sat on, or stood, with what patience
+they might, in the crowded and heated court. On the fiat of those twelve
+men hung the life of the prisoner: whether he was to be discharged an
+innocent man, or hanged as a guilty one. Reposing in the pocket of Sir
+William Leader was a certain little cap, black in colour, innocuous in
+itself, but of awful significance when brought forth by the hand of the
+presiding judge. Was it destined to be brought forth that night?
+
+The jury were coming in at last. Only an hour had they remained in
+deliberation, for seven o'clock was booming out over the town. It had
+seemed to the impatient spectators more than two hours. What must it
+have seemed to the prisoner? They ranged themselves in their box, and
+the crier proclaimed silence.
+
+"Have you agreed upon your verdict, gentlemen of the jury?"
+
+"We have."
+
+"How say you, gentlemen, guilty or not guilty?"
+
+The foreman advanced an imperceptible step and looked at the judge,
+speaking deliberately:
+
+"My lord, we find the prisoner NOT GUILTY."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+A COUCH OF PAIN.
+
+
+"William, I have had my death-blow! I have had my death-blow!"
+
+The speaker was Henry Ashley. Four days had elapsed since the trial of
+Herbert Dare, and William Halliburton saw him now for the first time
+after that event. What with mind and body, Henry was in a grievous state
+of pain: all William's compassion was called forth, as he leaned over
+his couch.
+
+It has been hinted that Helstonleigh, in its charity, took up the very
+worst view of the case that could be taken up, with regard to Anna Lynn.
+Had she gone about with a blazing torch and set all the houses on fire,
+their inhabitants could not have mounted themselves on higher stilts.
+Somehow, _everybody_ took it up. It was like those apparently
+well-authenticated political reports that arrive now and then by
+telegram, driving the Stock Exchange, or the Paris Bourse, into a state
+of mad credulity. No one _thought_ to doubt it; people caught up the
+notion from one another as they catch a fever. If even Samuel Lynn had
+looked upon it in the worst light, bringing to him paralysis, little
+chance was there that others might gaze through a brighter glass. It had
+half killed Henry Ashley: and the words were not, in point of fact, so
+wild as they sounded. "I have had my death-blow! I have had my
+death-blow!"
+
+"No, you have not," was William's answer. "It is a blow--I know it--but
+not one that you cannot outlive."
+
+"Why did you not come to me? Four whole days, and you have never been
+near the house!"
+
+"Because I feared that you would be throwing yourself into the state of
+agitation that you are now doing," replied William, candidly. "Mr.
+Ashley said to me on the Wednesday, 'Henry has one of his bad attacks
+again.' I knew it to be more of mind than body this time, and I thought
+it well that you should be left in quiet. There's no one you can talk
+about it to, except me."
+
+"Your staying away has not served your purpose, then. My father came to
+me with the details, thinking to divert me for a moment from my physical
+pain; never supposing that each word was a dagger plunged into my very
+being. My mother came, with this scrap of news, or the other scrap. Mary
+came, wondering and eager, asking information at second-hand: mamma was
+mysterious over it, and would not tell her. Mary cannot credit ill of
+Anna: she has as great a trust in her still as I had. As I had! Oh,
+William! she was my object in life. She was all my future--my world--my
+heaven!"
+
+"Now you know you will suffer for this excitement," cried William,
+almost as he would have said it to a wayward child.
+
+He might as well have talked to the wind. Henry neither heard nor heeded
+him. He continued, his manner as full of agitation as his mind.
+
+"I am not as other men. You can go forth, all of you, into the world, to
+your pleasures, your amusements. I am confined here. But what mattered
+it? Did I envy you? No. While I had her to think of, I was happier than
+you."
+
+"Had this not happened, you might have been crossed in some other way,
+and so it would have come to the same thing."
+
+"And now it is over," reiterated Henry, paying no attention to the
+remark. "It is over, and gone; and I--I wish, William, I had gone with
+it."
+
+"I wish you would be reasonable."
+
+"Don't preach. You active men, with your innumerable objects and
+interests in life, cannot know what it is for one like me, shut out from
+the world, to _love_. I tell you, William, it was literally my life; the
+core of my life; my all. I am not sure but that I have been mad ever
+since."
+
+"I am not sure but that you are mad now," returned William, believing
+that to humour him might be the worst plan he could adopt.
+
+"I dare say I am," was the unsatisfactory answer. "Four days, and I have
+had to bury it all within me! I could not wail it out to my own pillow
+at night; for they concluded it was one of my bad attacks, and old nurse
+was posted in the bed in the next room with the door open. There's no
+one I can rave to but you, and you must let me do it, unless you would
+have me go quite mad, I hope I shan't be here long to be a trouble to
+any of you."
+
+William did not know what to say. He believed there was nothing for it
+at present but to let him "rave himself out." "But I wish," he said,
+aloud, continuing the bent of his own thoughts, "that you would be a
+little rational over it."
+
+"Stop a bit. Did you ever experience a blow such as this?"
+
+"No indeed."
+
+"Then don't hold forth to me, I say. You do not understand. It was all
+the joy I had on earth."
+
+"You must learn to find other joys, other----"
+
+"The despicable villain!" broke forth Henry, the heat-drops welling to
+his brow, as they had welled to Anna's when before the judge. "The
+shame-faced, cowardly villain! Was she not Samuel Lynn's child, and my
+sister's friend? What possessed the jury to acquit him? Did they think a
+rope's-end too good for his neck?"
+
+"He was proved innocent of the murder. If he has any conscience----"
+
+"What?" fiercely interrupted Henry Ashley. "_He_ a conscience! I don't
+know what you are dreaming of. Is he going to stop in Helstonleigh?"
+
+"I conclude so. He resumed his place quietly in his father's office the
+day after the trial. He is in London now, but only temporarily."
+
+"Resumed his place quietly! What was the mob about, then?"
+
+The question was put so quaintly, in such confiding simplicity, that a
+smile rose to William's face. "In awe of the police, I expect," he
+answered. "The Dares, while his fate was uncertain, have been
+rusticating. Cyril told me to-day, that now that the accusation was
+proved to have been false, they were 'coming out' again."
+
+"Coming out in what? Villainy?"
+
+"He left the 'what' to be inferred. In grandeur, I expect. The
+established innocence of Herbert----"
+
+"If you apply that word to the man, William Halliburton, you are as
+black as he is."
+
+William remembered Henry's tribulation both of mind and body, and went
+on without the shadow of a retort.
+
+"I apply it to him in relation to the crime of which he was charged. His
+acquittal and release have caused the Dares to hold up their heads
+again. But they have lost caste in Helstonleigh."
+
+"Caste!" was the scornful ejaculation of Henry Ashley. "They never had
+any caste to lose. Does the master intend to retain Cyril in the
+manufactory?"
+
+"I have heard nothing to the contrary. If he retained him whilst the
+accusation was hanging over Herbert Dare's head, he will not be likely
+to discard him now it is removed."
+
+"Removed!" shrieked Henry. "If one accusation has been removed, has not
+a worse taken its place?"
+
+"Would it be just to visit on one brother the sins of another?"
+
+"A nice pair of brothers they are!" cried Henry in the sharp, petulant
+manner habitual to him, when racked with pain. "How will Samuel Lynn
+like the company of Cyril Dare by his side in the manufactory, when he
+gets well again?"
+
+William shook his head. These considerations were not for him. They were
+Mr. Ashley's.
+
+"You heard her give her evidence?" resumed Henry, breaking a pause.
+
+"Most of it."
+
+"Tell it me."
+
+"No, Henry; it would not do you good to hear it."
+
+"Tell it me, I say," persisted Henry wilfully. "I know it in substance.
+I want to have it repeated over to me, word for word."
+
+"But----"
+
+Henry suddenly raised his hand and laid it on William's lips, with a
+warning movement. He turned and saw Mary Ashley.
+
+"Take her back to the drawing-room, William," he whispered. "I can bear
+no one but you about me now. Not yet, Mary," he added aloud, motioning
+his sister away with his hand. "Not now."
+
+Mary halted in indecision. William advanced, placed her hand within his
+arm, and led her, somewhat summarily, from the room.
+
+"I am only obeying orders, Miss Ashley," said he. "They are to see you
+back to the drawing-room."
+
+"If Henry can bear you with him, he might bear me."
+
+"You know what his whims and fancies are, when he is suffering."
+
+"Is there not a particularly good understanding between you and Henry?"
+she pointedly asked.
+
+"Yes; we understand each other perfectly."
+
+"Well, then, tell me--what is it that is the matter with him this time?
+I do not like to say so to mamma, because she might call me fanciful,
+but it appears to me that Henry's illness is more on the mind than on
+the body."
+
+William made no reply.
+
+"And yet, I cannot imagine it possible for Henry to have picked up any
+annoyance or grief," resumed Mary. "How can he have done so? He is not
+like one who goes out into the world--who has to meet with cares and
+cheeks. You do not speak," she added, looking at William. "Is it that
+you will not tell me? or do you know nothing?"
+
+William lowered his voice. "I can only say that, should there be
+anything of the sort you mention, the kinder course for Henry--indeed
+the only course--will be, not to allow him to perceive that you suspect
+it. Conceal the suspicion both from him and from others. Remember his
+excessive sensitiveness. When he sees cause to hide his feelings, it
+would be almost death to him to have them scrutinized."
+
+"I think you must be in his full confidence," observed Mary, looking at
+William.
+
+"Pretty well so," he answered, with a passing smile.
+
+"Then, if he has any secret grief, will you try and soothe it to him?"
+
+"With all my best endeavours," earnestly spoke William. But there was
+not the least apparent necessity for his taking Mary Ashley's hand
+between his own, and pressing it there while he said it, any more than
+there was necessity for that vivid blush of hers, as she turned into the
+drawing-room.
+
+But you must be anxious to hear of Anna Lynn. Poor Anna! who had fallen
+so terribly into the black books of the town, without really very much
+deserving it. It was a most unlucky _contretemps_, having been locked
+out; it was a still more unfortunate sequel, having to confess to it at
+the trial. She was not a pattern of goodness, it must be confessed: had
+not yet attained to that perfect model, which expects, as of a right, a
+niche in the saintly calendar. She was reprehensibly vain; she delighted
+in plaguing Patience; and she took to running out into the field, when
+it had been far better that she had remained at home. That running out
+entailed deceit and some stories: but it entailed nothing worse, and
+Helstonleigh need not have been so very severe in its judgment.
+
+Never had there been a more forcible illustration of the old saying,
+"Give a dog a bad name, and hang him," than in this instance. When
+William Halliburton had told Anna that Herbert Dare was not a good man,
+and did not bear a good name, he had told her the strict truth. For that
+very reason a secret intimacy with him was undesirable, however innocent
+it might be, however innocent it _was_, in itself: and for that very
+reason did Helstonleigh look at it through clouded spectacles. Had she
+been locked out all night, instead of half a one, with some one in
+better odour, Helstonleigh had not set up its scornful crest. It is
+quite impossible to tell you what Herbert Dare had done, to have such a
+burden on his back as people seemed inclined to lay there. Perhaps they
+did not know themselves. Some accused him of one thing, some of another;
+ill reports never lose by carrying: the two cats on the tiles, you know,
+were magnified into a hundred. No one is as black as he is
+painted--there's a saying to that effect--neither, I dare say, was
+Herbert Dare. At any rate--and that is what we have to do with--he was
+not so in this particular instance. He was as vexed at the locking out
+as any one else could have been; and he did the best (save one thing)
+that he could for Anna, under the circumstances, and got her in again.
+The only proper thing to have done, was to knock up Hester. He had
+wished to do it, but had yielded to Anna's entreaties, that were born of
+fear.
+
+Not a soul seemed to cast so much as a good word or a charitable thought
+to him in the matter. Did he deserve none? However thoughtless or
+reprehensible his conduct was, in drawing Anna into those field
+excursions, when the explosion came, he met it as a gentleman. Many a
+one, more renowned for the cardinal graces than was Herbert Dare, might
+have spoken out at once, and cleared himself at the expense of making
+known Anna's unlucky escapade. Not so he. A doubt may have been upon him
+that were it betrayed Helstonleigh might cast a taint on her fair name:
+and he strove to save it. He suffered the brand of a murderer to be
+attached to him--he languished for many weeks in prison as a
+criminal--all to save it. He all but went to the scaffold to save it. He
+might have called Anna and Hester Dell forward at the inquest, at the
+preliminary examination before the magistrates, and thus have cleared
+himself; but he would not do so. Whilst there was a chance of his
+innocence being brought to light in any other manner, he would not call
+on Anna. He allowed the odium to settle upon his own head. He went to
+prison, hoping that he should be cleared in some other way. There was a
+generous, chivalric feeling in this, which Helstonleigh could not
+understand when emanating from Herbert Dare, and they declined to give
+him credit for it. They preferred to look at the affair altogether in a
+different light, and to lavish hard names upon it. Every soul was alike:
+there was no exception: Samuel Lynn, and all else in Helstonleigh. They
+caught the epidemic, I say, one from another.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+A RAY OF LIGHT.
+
+
+The first sharpness of the edge worn off, Anna grew cross. She did not
+see why every one should be blaming her. What had so sadly prostrated
+herself was the shame of having to appear before the court; to stand in
+it and give her evidence. The excitement, the shame, combined with the
+terrifying illness of her father, brought on, as Hester told her,
+through her, had sent her into a wild state of contrition and alarm.
+Little wonder that she wished herself dead! The mood passed away as the
+days went on, and Anna became tolerably herself again. When Friends
+called at the house to inquire after or to see her father, she ran and
+hid herself in her room, fearful lest a lecture on those field
+recreations might be delivered to her gratuitously. She shunned
+Patience, too, as much as she could. Patience had grown cold and silent;
+and Anna rather liked the change.
+
+She sat for the most part in her father's room, never moving from his
+bedside, unless disturbed from it; never speaking; eating only when food
+was placed before her. Anna was in grievous fear lest a public reprimand
+should be in store for her, delivered at meeting on First Day: but she
+saw no reason why every one should continue to be cross with her at
+home.
+
+She happened to be alone with her father when he first recovered
+consciousness. Some fifteen days had elapsed since the trial. But for
+the fact of her being with him, a difficulty might have been experienced
+to get her there. She dreaded his anger, his reproach, more than
+anything. So long as he lay without his senses, knowing her not, so long
+was she content to sit, watching. She was seated by the bedside in her
+usual listless attitude, head and eyes cast down, when her father's
+hand, not the one affected, was suddenly lifted and laid upon hers,
+which rested on the counterpane. Startled, Anna turned her gaze upon
+him, and she saw that his intellects were restored. With a suppressed
+cry of dismay she would have flown away, but he clasped his fingers
+round hers.
+
+"Anna!"
+
+She sank down on her knees, shaking as if with ague, and buried her face
+in the clothes. Samuel Lynn stretched forth his hand and put it on her
+head.
+
+"Thou art my own child, Anna; thy mother left thee to me for good and
+for ill; and I will stand by thee in thy sorrow."
+
+She burst into a storm of hysterical tears. He let it have its course;
+he drew her wet face to his and kissed it; he talked to her soothingly,
+never speaking a single word of reproach; and Anna overcame her fear and
+her sobs. She knelt down by the bed still, and let her cheek rest on the
+counterpane.
+
+"It has nearly killed me," he murmured, after a while. "But I pray for
+life: I will struggle hard to live, that thee mayst have one protector.
+Friends and foes may cast reproach to thee, but I will not."
+
+"Why should _they_ cast reproach to me, father?" returned Anna, with a
+little spice of resentment. "I have not harmed them."
+
+"No, child; thee hast not; only thyself. I will help thee to bear the
+reproach. Thou art my own child."
+
+"But there's nothing for _them_ to reproach me with," she reiterated,
+her face buried deeper in the counterpane. "It was not pleasant to stand
+there; but it is over. And they need not reflect upon me for it."
+
+"What is over? To stand where?" he asked.
+
+
+"At the Guildhall, on the trial."
+
+"It is not _that_ that people will reproach thee with, Anna. It was not
+a nice thing for thee; but that, in itself, brings no reproach."
+
+Anna lifted her head wonderingly. "What does, then?" she uttered.
+
+He did not answer. He only closed his eyes, a deep groan bursting from
+the very depths of his heart. It came into Anna's mind that he must be
+thinking of her previous acquaintance with Herbert Dare; of her stolen
+meetings in the field by twilight.
+
+"Oh, father, don't thee be angry with me!" she implored, the tears
+streaming from her eyes. "It was no harm; it was not indeed. Thee
+mightst have been present always, for all the harm there was, and I wish
+thee hadst been. Why should thee think anger of it? There was no more
+harm in my talking with him now and then in the field, than there was in
+my talking with him in Margaret Ashley's drawing-room."
+
+Something in the simple words, in the tone, in the manner altogether,
+caused the Quaker's heart to leap within him. Had he been making a
+molehill into a mountain? Surely, yes! But what else he would have said
+or done, what questions asked, cannot be known, for they were
+interrupted by a visit from William Halliburton. Anna stole away.
+
+William was full of hearty congratulation on the visible
+improvement--the, so far, restoration to health. The Quaker murmured
+some half-inarticulate words, indicating something to the effect that he
+might not have been ill, but for taking up a worse view of the case
+than, as he believed now, it really merited.
+
+William leaned over him; a glad look in his eye; a glad sound in his low
+voice.
+
+"My mother has been telling Patience so to-day. She, my mother, is
+convinced now that very exaggerated blame was cast upon Anna. It was
+foolish of her, of course, to fall into the habit of running to the
+field; but the locking out might have happened to anyone. My mother told
+me this not half an hour ago. She has seen and talked to Anna frequently
+this last day or two, and has drawn her own positive deductions. My
+mother is vexed with herself for having fallen into the popular
+condemnation."
+
+"Ay!" uttered Samuel Lynn. "There _is_ condemnation abroad, then? I
+thought there was."
+
+"People will come to their senses in good time," was William's answer.
+"Never doubt it."
+
+The Quaker raised his feeble hand, and laid it upon William's. "The
+Ashleys--have _they_ blamed her?"
+
+"I fear they have," was the only reply he could make, in his strict
+truth.
+
+"Then, William, thee go to them. Go to them now, and set them right."
+
+He was already going, for he was engaged to the Ashleys that evening.
+Between Henry Ashley, the men at East's, and his own studies, which he
+would not wholly neglect, William's evenings had a tolerably busy time
+of it. He had assumed Samuel Lynn's place in the manufactory by Mr.
+Ashley's orders, head of all things, under the master. Cyril ground his
+teeth at this; he looked upon it as a slight to himself; but Cyril had
+no power to alter it.
+
+William found Mr. and Mrs. Ashley alone. Mary was out. He sat with them
+for a few minutes, talking of Anna, and then rose to go to Henry. "How
+is he this evening?" he inquired.
+
+"Ill and very fractious," was Mr. Ashley's reply. "William, you have
+great influence over him. I wish you could persuade him to _give way_
+less. He is not ill enough, so far as we can see, to keep his room; but
+we cannot get him out of it."
+
+Henry was in one of his depressed moods, excessively dispirited and
+irritable. "Oh! so you have come!" he burst forth as William entered. "I
+should be ashamed to neglect a sick fellow as you neglect me. If I were
+well and strong, and you ill, you would find it different."
+
+"I know I am late," acknowledged William. "Samuel Lynn took up a little
+of my time; and I have been sitting some minutes in the drawing-room."
+
+"Of course!" was the fractious answer. "Any one before me."
+
+"Samuel Lynn is a great deal better," continued William. "His mind is
+restored."
+
+Henry received the news ungraciously, making no rejoinder; but his side
+was twitching with pain. "How is _she_?" he asked. "Is the shame
+fretting out her life?"
+
+"Not at all. She is very well. As to shame--as you call it--I believe
+she has not taken much to herself."
+
+"It will kill her: you'll see. The sooner the better for her I should
+say."
+
+William sat down on the edge of the sofa, on which the invalid was
+lying. "Henry, I would set you right upon a point, if I thought it would
+be expedient to do so. You do go into fits of excitement so great, that
+it is dangerous to speak."
+
+"Tell out anything you have to tell. Tell me, if you choose, that the
+house is on fire, and I must be pitched out of window to escape it. It
+would make no impression upon me. My fits of excitement have passed away
+with Anna Lynn."
+
+"My news relates to Anna."
+
+"What if it does? She has passed away _for me_."
+
+"Helstonleigh, in its usual hasty fashion of jumping to conclusions, has
+jumped to a false one," continued William. "There have been no grounds
+for the great blame cast to Anna; except in the minds of a charitable
+public."
+
+"A fact?" asked Henry, after a pause.
+
+"There's not a shade of doubt about it."
+
+He received the answer with equanimity; it may be said, with apathy. And
+turning on his couch, he drew the cover over him, repeating the words
+previously spoken: "She has passed away for me."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+MR. DELVES ON HIS BEAM ENDS.
+
+
+Samuel Lynn grew better, and Mr. Ashley, in his considerate kindness,
+proposed that he should reside abroad for a few months in the
+neighbourhood of Annonay, to watch the skin market, and pick up skins
+that would be suitable for their use. Anna and Patience were to
+accompany him. Anna had somewhat regained her footing in the good graces
+of the gossipers. That she did so, was partly owing to the indignant
+defence of her, entered upon by Herbert Dare. Herbert did behave well in
+this case, and he must have his due. Upon his return from London,
+whither he had gone soon after the termination of the trial, remaining
+away a week or two, he found what a very charitable ovation Helstonleigh
+was bestowing upon Anna Lynn. He met it with a storm of indignation; he
+bade them think as badly of him as they chose; believe him a second
+Burke if they liked; but to keep their mistaken tongues off Anna. What
+with one thing and another, some of the scandal-mongers did begin to
+think they had been too hasty, and withdrew their censure. Some (as a
+matter of course) preferred to doubt still; and opinions remained
+divided.
+
+Helstonleigh took up the gossip on another score--that of Mr. Ashley's
+sending Samuel Lynn abroad, as his skin-buyer, for an indefinite period.
+"A famous trade Ashley must be doing, to go to that expense!" grumbled
+some of the envious manufacturers. True; he _had_ a famous trade. And if
+he had not had one, he might have sent him all the same. Helstonleigh
+never knew the benevolence of Thomas Ashley's heart. The journey was
+fully decided upon; and Samuel Lynn had an application from a member of
+his own persuasion, to rent his house, furnished, for the term of his
+absence. He was glad to accept the accommodation.
+
+But, before Mr. Lynn and his family started, Helstonleigh was fated to
+sustain another loss, in the person of Herbert Dare. Herbert contrived
+to get some sort of mission entrusted to _him_ abroad, and made rather a
+summary exit from Helstonleigh to enter upon it. A friend of Herbert's,
+who had gone over to live in Holland, and with whom he was in frequent
+correspondence, wrote and offered him a situation in a merchant's house
+in Rotterdam, as "English clerk." The offer came in answer to a hint, or
+perhaps more than a hint, from Herbert, that a year or two's sojourn
+abroad would be acceptable to him. He would receive a good salary, if he
+proved himself equal to the duties, the information stated, and might
+rise in it, if he chose to remain. Herbert wrote off-hand to secure it,
+and then told his father what he had done.
+
+"Enter a house at Rotterdam, as English clerk!" repeated Mr. Dare,
+unable to credit his own ears. "_You_ a clerk!"
+
+"What am I to do?" asked Herbert. "Since I came out of there," pointing
+in the direction of the county prison, "claims have thickened upon me. I
+do owe a good deal, and that's a fact--what with my own scores, and that
+for which I am liable for--for poor Anthony. People won't wait much
+longer; and I have no fancy to try the debtor's side of the prison."
+
+They were standing in the front room of the office. Mr. Dare's business
+appeared to be considerably falling off, and the office had often
+leisure on its hands now. Of the two clerks kept, one had holiday, the
+other was out. Somehow, what with one untoward thing and another, people
+were growing shy of the Dares. Mr. Dare leaned against the corner of the
+window-frame, watching the passers-by, his hands in his pockets, and a
+blank look on his face.
+
+"You say you can't help me, sir?" Herbert continued.
+
+"You know I can't; sufficiently to do any good," returned Mr. Dare. "I
+am too much pressed for money myself. Look at the expenses attending the
+trial: and I was embarrassed enough before. I _cannot_ help you."
+
+"It seems to me, too, that you want me gone from here."
+
+"I have not said so," curtly responded Mr. Dare.
+
+"You told me the other day that it was my presence in the office which
+scared clients from it."
+
+Mr. Dare could not deny the fact. He _had_ said it. What's more, he had
+thought it; and did so still. "I cannot tell what else it is that is
+keeping clients away," he rejoined. "We have not had a dozen in since
+the trial."
+
+"It is a slack season of the year."
+
+"Maybe," shortly answered Mr. Dare. "Slack as it is, there's some
+business astir, but people are going elsewhere to get it done; those,
+too, who have never for years been near anyone but us. The truth is,
+Herbert, you fell into bad odour with the town on the day of the trial;
+and that you must know. Though acquitted of the murder, all sorts of
+other things were laid to your charge. Quaker Lynn's stroke amongst the
+rest."
+
+"Carping sinners!" ejaculated Herbert.
+
+"And I suppose it turned people against the office," continued Mr.
+Dare. "My belief is, they won't come back again as long as you are in
+it."
+
+"That's precisely what I meant you had hinted to me" said Herbert.
+"Therefore, I thought I had better leave it. Pattison says he can get me
+this berth, and I should like to try it."
+
+"_You_'ll not like to turn merchant's clerk," repeated Mr. Dare with
+emphasis.
+
+"I shall like it better than being nailed for debt here," somewhat
+coarsely answered Herbert. "It is not so agreeable at home now,
+especially in this office, that I should cry to stay in it. You have
+changed, sir, amongst the rest: many a day through, you don't give me a
+civil word."
+
+Again Mr. Dare felt that he _had_ changed to Herbert. When he found that
+he--Herbert--might have cleared himself at first from the terrible
+accusation of fratricide, had he so chosen, instead of allowing the
+obloquy to rest upon himself and his family for so long a period, he had
+become bitterly angry. Mrs. Dare and the whole family joined in the
+feeling, and Herbert suffered.
+
+"As to civility, Herbert, I must first get over the soreness left by
+your conduct. You acted very badly in allowing the case to go on to
+trial. If you had no objection to sit down quietly under the crime
+yourself, you had no right to throw the disgrace and expense upon your
+family."
+
+"If it were to come over again, I would not do so," acknowledged
+Herbert. "I thought then I was acting for the best."
+
+"Pshaw!" was the peevish ejaculation of Mr. Dare.
+
+"Altogether," resumed Herbert, "I think I had better go away. After a
+time, something or other may turn up to make things smoother here, and
+then I can come home again; unless I find a better opening abroad. I may
+do so; and I believe I shall like living there."
+
+"Very well," said Mr. Dare, after some minutes' silence. "It may be for
+the best. At all events, it will give time for things here to blow over.
+If you don't find it what you like, you can only return."
+
+"I shall be sure not to return, unless I can square up some of my
+liabilities here," returned Herbert. "You must help me to get there,
+sir."
+
+"What do you want?" asked Mr. Dare.
+
+"Fifty pounds."
+
+"I can't do it, Herbert," was the prompt answer.
+
+"I must have it if I am to go," was Herbert's firm reply. "There are two
+or three trifles here which I will not leave unsettled, and I cannot go
+over there with pockets absolutely empty. Fifty pounds is not so great a
+sum, sir, to pay to get rid of me."
+
+Old Anthony Dare knit his brow in perplexity. He supposed he must
+furnish the money, though he did not in the least see how it was to be
+done.
+
+The matter settled, Herbert took his hat and went out. The first object
+his eyes alighted on outside was Sergeant Delves. That worthy, pacing
+through the town, had brought himself to an anchor opposite the office
+of Mr. Dare, and was regarding it, lost in a brown study. The sergeant
+was in a state of discomfiture, touching the affair of the late Anthony
+Dare. He had lost no time in "looking after" Miss Caroline Mason, as he
+had promised himself; and the sequence had been--defeat. Without any
+open stir on the part of the police--without allowing Caroline herself
+to know that she was doubted--the sergeant contrived to put himself in
+full possession of her movements on that night. The result proved that
+she must be exempt from the suspicion; or, as the sergeant expressed it,
+"was out of the hole;" and that gentleman remained at fault again.
+
+Herbert crossed over to him. "What are you looking at, Delves?"
+
+"I wasn't looking at anything in particular," was the answer. "Coming in
+sight of your office naturally brought my thoughts back to that
+unsatisfactory business. I never was so baffled before."
+
+"It is very strange who it could have been," observed Herbert. "I often
+think of it."
+
+"Never so baffled before," continued the sergeant, as if there had been
+no interruption to his own words. "I could almost have been upon oath at
+the time, that the murderer was in the house; hadn't left it. And
+yet----"
+
+"You could have been upon oath that it was I," interrupted Herbert.
+
+"That's true. I could. But you had yourself chiefly to thank for it, Mr.
+Herbert Dare, through making a mystery of your movements that night.
+After you were cleared, my mind turned to that girl; and that, I found,
+was no go."
+
+"What girl?" interrupted Herbert.
+
+"The one in Honey Fair: your brother Anthony's old sweetheart. It wasn't
+her, though; I have proofs. Charlotte East had her at her house that
+evening, and kept her till twelve o'clock, when she went home to bed in
+her garret. Charlotte's going to try to make something of her again. And
+now I am baffled, and I don't deny it."
+
+"To suspect any girl is ridiculous," observed Herbert Dare. "No girl, it
+is to be hoped, would possess the courage or the strength to accomplish
+such a deed as that."
+
+"You don't know 'em as we police do," nodded the sergeant. "I was asking
+your father only a day or two ago, whether he could make sure of his
+servants, that they had not been in it----"
+
+"Of our servants?" interrupted Herbert, in surprise. "What an idea!"
+
+"Well, I have gone round to my old opinion--that it _was_ some one in
+the house," returned the sergeant. "But it seems the servants are all on
+the square. I can't make it out."
+
+"Why on earth should you suppose it to be any one in the house?"
+questioned Herbert, in considerable wonderment.
+
+"Because I do," was the answer. "We police see and note down what others
+pass over. There was odds and ends of things at the time that made us
+infer it; and I can't get it out of my mind."
+
+"It is an impossibility that it could have been a resident of the
+house," dissented Herbert. "Every one in it is above suspicion."
+
+"Who do _you_ fancy it might have been?" asked the sergeant, abruptly,
+almost as if he wished to surprise Herbert out of an incautious answer.
+
+But Herbert had nothing to tell him; no suspicion was on his mind to be
+surprised out of. "If I could fancy it was, or might be, any particular
+individual, I should come to you and say so, without asking," he
+replied. "I am as much at fault as you can be. Anthony may have made
+slight enemies in the town, what with his debts and his temper, and one
+thing or another; but no enemies of that terrible nature--capable of
+killing him. I wish I could see cause for a reasonable suspicion," he
+added with emotion. "I would give my right arm"--stretching it out--"to
+solve the mystery. As well for my sake as for my dead brother's."
+
+"Well, all I can say is, that I am down on my beam ends," concluded the
+sergeant.
+
+Meanwhile Henry Ashley was getting little better. He had fallen into a
+state of utter prostration. Mental anguish had told upon him physically,
+and his bodily weakness was no doubt great: but he made no effort to
+rouse himself. He would lie for hours, his eyes half-closed, noticing no
+one. The medical men said they had seen nothing like it, and Mr. and
+Mrs. Ashley grew alarmed. The only one to remonstrate with him--he alone
+held the key to its cause--was William Halliburton.
+
+William's influence over him was very great: he yielded to no one, not
+even to his father, as he would yield to William. Henry gave the reins
+to his tongue, and said all sorts of irritating things to William, as he
+did to every one else. It only masked the deep affection, the lasting
+friendship, which had taken possession of his heart for William.
+
+"Let me be; let me be," he said to William one day, in answer to a
+remonstrance that he should rouse himself. "I told you that my life had
+passed out with _her_."
+
+"But your life has not passed out with her," argued William; "your life
+is in you, just as much as it ever was. And it is your duty to make some
+use of your life; not to let it run to waste--as you are doing."
+
+"It does not affect you," was the tart reply.
+
+"It does very much affect me. I am grieved to see you hug your pain,
+instead of shaking it off; vexed to think that a man should so bury his
+days. It is an unfortunate thing that no one is cognizant of this matter
+but myself."
+
+"Is it though!" retorted Henry. "You are a fine Job's comforter!"
+
+"Yes, it is. Were it known to those about you, you would not for shame
+lie here, and indulge regrets after an imprudent and silly girl."
+
+Henry flashed an angry glance at him from his soft dark eyes. "Take
+care, my good fellow! I can stand some things; but I don't stand all."
+
+"An imprudent, silly girl, who does not care a rush for you,"
+emphatically repeated William: "whose wild and ill-judged affection is
+given to another. Was ever infatuation like unto yours!"
+
+"Have a care, I tell you!" burst forth Henry. "By what right do you say
+these things to me?"
+
+"I say them for your good--and I intend that you should feel them. When
+a surgeon's knife probes a wound, the patient groans and winces; but it
+is done to cure him."
+
+"You are a man of eloquence!" sarcastically rejoined Henry. "Pity but
+you could flourish at the Bar, and take the anticipated shine out of
+Frank!"
+
+"Answer me one plain question, Henry. Do you still indulge a hope
+towards Anna Lynn?--to her becoming your wife?"
+
+With a shriek of anger, Henry caught up his slipper, and sent it flying
+through the air at William's head.
+
+"What's that for?" equably demanded William, dodging his head out of the
+way.
+
+"How dare you hint at such a thing? I told you there were some things I
+wouldn't stand. Is it fitting that one who has figured in such an
+escapade should be made the wife of an Ashley? If we were left by our
+two selves upon the earth, all else gone dead and out of it, I wouldn't
+marry her."
+
+"Precisely so. I have judged you rightly. Then, under this state of
+things, what in the name of fortune is the use of your lying here and
+thinking about her?"
+
+"I don't think about her," fractiously returned Henry. "You are always
+fancying things."
+
+"You do think about her. I can see that you do. I should be above it,"
+quaintly continued William.
+
+"Go and pick up my slipper."
+
+"Will you come down to tea this evening?"
+
+"No, I won't. You come here and preach up this morality, or divinity, or
+whatever you may please to term it, to me; but, wait and see how you'd
+act, if you should ever get struck on the keen edge as I have been."
+
+"Come! let me help you up."
+
+"Don't bother. I am not going to get up. I----"
+
+At that moment, Mr. Ashley opened the door. His errand likewise was to
+induce Henry to leave his sofa and his room, and join them below. Henry
+could not be brought to comply.
+
+"No. I have just told William. I cannot think why he did not go back and
+say so. He only stops here to worry me. There! get along, William; and
+come back when you have swallowed enough tea."
+
+Mr. Ashley laid his hand on William's arm, as they walked together along
+the corridor, and brought him to a halt. "What _is_ this illness of
+Henry's? There is some secret connected with it, I am sure, and you are
+cognizant of it. I must know what it is."
+
+Mr. Ashley's tone was a decided one; his manner firm. William made no
+reply.
+
+"Tell me what it is, William."
+
+"I cannot," said William. "Certainly not without Henry's permission; and
+I do not think he will give it. If it were my secret, sir, instead of
+his, I would tell it at your bidding."
+
+"Is it of the mind or the body?"
+
+"The mind. I think the worst is over. Do not speak to him about it, I
+pray you, sir."
+
+"William, is it anything that can be remedied? By money?--by any means
+at command?"
+
+"It can never be remedied," replied William earnestly, "Were the whole
+world brought to bear upon it, it could do nothing. Time and his own
+good sense must effect the cure."
+
+"Then I may as well not ask about it if I cannot aid. You are fully in
+his confidence."
+
+"Yes. And all that another can do, I am doing. We have a daily battle. I
+want to rouse him out of his apathy."
+
+"Oh, that you could!" aspirated Mr. Ashley.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+A LOSS FOR POMERANIAN KNOLL.
+
+
+Pomeranian Knoll had scarcely recovered its equanimity after the shock
+of the departure of Herbert Dare for foreign parts, when it found itself
+about to be shorn of another inmate. The word "shock" is used to express
+the suddenness of the affair, rather than in its enlarged and more
+ordinary sense. Herbert, what with one thing and another, had brought a
+good deal of vexation upon the paternal home; Helstonleigh also had not
+been holding him in extensive favour since the trial; and that home was
+not sorry that he should absent himself from it for a time. But it
+certainly did not bargain for his announcing his departure one night,
+and being off the next morning. Yet such was the course he pursued: and
+in that light his departure may be said to have been a shock to the
+town. Mr. Dare had known of it longer; but he had not proclaimed it any
+more than Herbert had: it may be that Herbert feared being stopped, if
+the intended journey got wind.
+
+A week or two after this, Signora Varsini received a letter with a
+foreign post-mark on it. The fact was nothing extraordinary in itself:
+the signora did occasionally receive letters bearing foreign post-marks;
+but this one threw her into a state of commotion, the like of which had
+never been witnessed. Thrusting the letter into the deepest pocket of
+her dress when it was delivered to her, she finished giving the music
+lesson to Minny, which she was occupied upon, and then retired to her
+room to peruse it. From this she emerged a short time after, with a long
+face of consternation, uttering frantic ejaculations. Mrs. Dare was
+quite alarmed. What was the matter with mademoiselle?
+
+"Ah, what misere! what desolation! what tristes nouvelles!" The letter
+was from her aunt in Paris, who was thrown upon her death-bed; and she,
+mademoiselle, must hasten thither without delay. If she could not start
+by a train that day, she must go by the first one the next. She was
+desolee to leave madame at a coup; her heart would break in bidding
+adieu to the young ladies; but necessity was stern. She must make her
+baggage forthwith, and would be obliged to madame for her salary.
+
+Mrs. Dare was taken--as the saying runs--all of a heap. She had not
+cared to part with mademoiselle so soon, although the retaining her
+entailed an additional expense, which they could ill afford in their
+gradually increasing embarrassments and straitening means: but the chief
+point that puzzled her was the paying up of the salary. Between thirty
+and forty pounds were due. There appeared, however, to be no help for
+it, and she applied to Mr. Dare.
+
+"You may as well ask me for my head as for that sum to-day," was that
+gentleman's reply, thinking he was destined never to find peace on
+earth. "Tell her you will send it after her, if she must go."
+
+Mrs. Dare shook her head. It would not be of the least use, she was
+sure. Mademoiselle was not one to be put off in that way, or to depart
+without her money.
+
+How Mr. Dare managed it he perhaps hardly knew himself; but he brought
+home the money at night, and the governess was paid in full. On the
+following morning there was a ceremonious leave-taking, loud and
+suggestive on the part of mademoiselle. She saluted them all on both
+cheeks, and promised to write every week, at least. A fly came to the
+door for her and her luggage, and George Dare mounted the box to escort
+her to the station. Mademoiselle politely invited him inside; but he had
+just lighted a cigar, and preferred to stop where he was.
+
+"I say, mademoiselle," cried he, after she was seated in the railway
+carriage, "if you should happen to come across Herbert, I wish you'd
+tell him----"
+
+Mademoiselle interrupted with a burst of indignation. _She_ come across
+Monsieur Herbert! What should bring her coming across _him_? Monsieur
+George must be _fou_ to think it. Monsieur Herbert was not in Paris, was
+he? She had understood he was in Holland.
+
+"Oh, well, it's all on the other side of the Channel," answered George,
+whose geographical notions of the Continent were not very definite.
+"Perhaps you won't see him, though, mademoiselle; so never mind."
+
+Mademoiselle replied by telling him to take care of himself; for the
+whistle was sounding. George drew back, and watched the train off;
+mademoiselle nodding her farewell to him from the window.
+
+And that was the last that Helstonleigh saw of Mrs. Dare's Italian
+governess, the Signora Varsini. Helstonleigh might not have been any the
+worse had it never seen the first of her. Mrs. Dare, after her
+departure, suddenly remembered that mademoiselle had once told her she
+had not a single relative in the world. Who could this aunt be, to whom
+she was hastening?
+
+And Henry Ashley? As the weeks and the months went on, Henry began to
+rouse himself from his prostration; his apathy. William Halliburton made
+no secret of it to Henry that it was suspected he was suffering from
+some inward grief which he was concealing, and that he had been
+questioned on the point by Mr. Ashley. "You know," said William, "I
+shall have no resource but to _tell_, unless you show yourself a
+sensible man, and come out of this nonsense."
+
+It alarmed Henry; rather than have his secret feelings betrayed for the
+family benefit, he could have died. In a grumbling and discontented sort
+of mood, he went about again, and resumed his idle occupations (such as
+they were) as usual. One evening William enticed him out for a walk,
+took possession of his arm, and pounced into Robert East's, before Henry
+well knew where he was. He sat down, apathetic and indifferent, after
+nodding carelessly to the respectful salutation of the men. "I must give
+just ten minutes to them, as I am here," observed William. "You can go
+to sleep the while."
+
+The ten minutes lengthened into twenty, and Henry's attention was so far
+roused that he came to the table in his impulsive way, and began talking
+on his own account. When William was ready to go, he was not; and he
+actually told the men that he would come round again. It was a great
+point gained.
+
+Small beginnings, it has been remarked, lead to great endings. The
+humble, confined way in which the class had begun at Robert East's; the
+vague ideas of William upon the subject; the doubtings of East and
+Crouch, were looked back upon with a smile. For the little venture had
+swollen itself into a great undertaking--an undertaking that was
+destined to effect a revolution throughout the whole of Honey Fair, and
+might probably even extend to Helstonleigh itself. The drawback now was
+want of room; numbers were being kept away by it. Henry Ashley did go
+again; and finding that books of the right kind ran short, he, the day
+after his second visit, wrote off an order for a whole cargo.
+
+Mr. Ashley was in a state of inward delight. Anything to rouse him! "You
+think it will succeed, that movement, do you, Henry?" he carelessly
+observed.
+
+"It's safe to succeed," was the answer. "William, with his palavering,
+has gained the ear of the fellows. I don't believe there's William
+Halliburton's equal in the whole world!" he added, with enthusiasm.
+"Fancy his sacrificing his time to such a thing, and for no benefit to
+himself! It will bear a rich crop of fruit too. If I have the gift--I'll
+give you a long word for once--of ratiocination, this reform of
+William's will be more extensive than we now foresee."
+
+The chief thing in these evenings was to keep alive the interest of the
+men. Not to lead them to abstruse things, which they had a difficulty in
+understanding, and remained strange to at best; but rather to plunge
+them into familiar home topics--the philosophy, if you will, of everyday
+life. There is a right and a wrong way of doing most things, and it
+often happens that people, from ignorance, pursue the wrong. Of the
+plain sanitary laws, relating to physical health, Honey Fair was
+intensely ignorant: of the ventilation of rooms, of cleanliness, of the
+most simple rules by which the body can be kept in order, they knew no
+more than they did of the moon. When a man was, to use Honey Fair
+phraseology, "took bad," he generally neglected the symptoms altogether,
+thereby laying the foundation of worse illness: or else he went to a
+doctor, and ran himself into expense. A little familiarity with ordinary
+complaints and ordinary antidotes would have remedied this. An
+acquaintance with sanitary laws would have prevented it. When children
+were down with measles or scarlatina, the careless of the land allowed
+the maladies to take their own course, and the sufferers to air
+themselves in the gutters, as usual. The cautious ones smothered the
+patients in a hot room, keeping up a fire as large as the stock of coals
+would allow, and borrowing all the blankets from the houses on either
+side, to heap upon them. No wonder the supply of little coffins was
+great to Honey Fair.
+
+All these things would be talked of and discussed, and a little
+enlightenment imparted to the men, as a guidance for the future. No one
+who did not witness it can imagine the delighted satisfaction with which
+these and similar practical topics were welcomed; for they bore for them
+a personal interest--they concerned themselves, their families, and
+their homes.
+
+One evening the way in which Honey Fair rather liked to spend its
+Sundays was under discussion; namely, the men in smoking; the women
+slatternly and dirty; the children fighting and quarrelling in the dirt
+outside.
+
+William Halliburton was asking them in a half-earnest, half-joking
+manner, what particular benefit they found in it, that it should not be
+remedied? Could they impart its pleasures to him? If so----
+
+His voice suddenly faltered and stopped. Standing just inside the door
+of the room, a quiet spectator and listener of the proceedings, was
+Thomas Ashley. The men followed William's gaze, saw who was amongst
+them, and rose in respectful silence.
+
+Mr. Ashley came forward, signing to William to continue. But William's
+eloquence had died out, leaving only a heightened colour in its place.
+In the presence of Mr. Ashley, whom he so loved and respected, he had
+grown timid as a child.
+
+"Do you know," said Mr. Ashley, addressing the men, "it gives me greater
+pleasure to see you here than it would do were I to hear that you had
+come into a fortune."
+
+They smiled and shook their heads. "Fortunes didn't come to the like o'
+them."
+
+"Never mind," replied Mr. Ashley: "fortunes are not the best gifts in
+life."
+
+He stayed talking with them some little time, quiet words of
+encouragement, and then withdrew, wishing them good luck. William left
+with him: and as they passed through Honey Fair, the women ran to their
+doors to gaze after them. Mr. Ashley, slightly bent with his advancing
+years, leaned upon William's arm, but his face was fresh as ever, and
+his dark hair showed no signs of age. William erect, noble; his height
+greater than Mr. Ashley's, his forehead broader, his deep grey eyes
+strangely earnest and sincere; and a flitting smile playing on his lips.
+He was listening to Mr. Ashley's satisfaction at what he had witnessed.
+
+"How long do you intend to sacrifice your evenings to them?"
+
+"It is no sacrifice, Mr. Ashley. I am glad to do it. I consider it one
+of the best uses to which my evenings could be given. I intend to enlist
+Henry for good in the cause, if I can do so."
+
+"You will be an ingenious persuader if you do," returned Mr. Ashley. "I
+would give half I am worth," he abruptly added, "to see the boy take an
+interest in life."
+
+"It will be sure to come, sir. One of these days I shall surprise him
+into reading a good play to the men. Something to laugh at. It will be a
+beginning."
+
+"He is very much better," observed Mr. Ashley. "All that listless apathy
+is going."
+
+"Oh yes. He is all but cured."
+
+"What was it, William?"
+
+William was taken by surprise. He did not answer, and Mr. Ashley
+repeated the question.
+
+"It is his secret, sir, not mine."
+
+"You must confide it to me," said Mr. Ashley, in his tone of quiet
+firmness. "You know me, William. When I promise that neither it nor the
+fact of its having been disclosed to me, shall ever escape me, directly
+or indirectly, to any living person, you know that you may depend upon
+me."
+
+He paused. William did not speak: he was debating with himself what he
+_ought_ to do.
+
+"William, it is a relief that I must have. Since my suspicions, that
+there was a secret, were confirmed, I cannot tell you what improbable
+fancies and fears have not run riot in my brain. For prostration so
+excessive to have overtaken him, one would almost think he had been
+guilty of murder, or some other unaccountable crime. _You must relieve
+my mind_: which, in spite of my uncontrollable fancies, I do not doubt
+the truth will do. It will make no difference to any one; it will only
+be an additional bond between myself and you; and you, my almost son."
+
+William's duty rose before him, clear and distinct. But when he spoke,
+it was in a whisper.
+
+"He loved Anna Lynn."
+
+Mr. Ashley walked on without comment. William resumed.
+
+"Had that unhappy affair not taken place, Henry's intention was to make
+her his wife, provided you could have been brought to consent to it. His
+whole days used to be spent, I believe, in planning how he could best
+invent a chance of obtaining it."
+
+"And now?" very sharply asked Mr. Ashley.
+
+"Now the thing is at an end for ever. Henry's good sense has come to his
+aid; I suppose I may say his pride; his self-esteem. Innocent of actual
+ill as Anna was in the affair, there was sufficient reflection cast upon
+her to prove to Henry that his hopeful visions could never be carried
+out. That was Henry's secret, sir: and I almost feared the blow would
+have killed him. But he is getting over it."
+
+Mr. Ashley drew a deep breath. "William, I thank you. You have relieved
+me from a nightmare: and you may forget having given me the confidence
+if you like, for it will never be abused. What are you going to do about
+space?" he continued, in a different tone.
+
+"About space, sir?"
+
+"For those proteges of yours, at East's. They seem to me to be tolerably
+confined for it, there?"
+
+"Yes, and that is not the worst," said William. "Men are asking to join
+every day, and they cannot be taken in."
+
+"_I_ can't think how you manage to get so many--and to keep them."
+
+"I suppose the chief secret is, that their interest enters into it. We
+contrive to keep that up. Most of them would not go back to the Horned
+Ram for the world."
+
+"Well, where shall you stow them?"
+
+"It is more than I can say, sir. We must manage it somehow."
+
+"Henry told me you were ambitious enough to aspire to the Mormon
+failure."
+
+"I was foolish enough to do so," replied William, with a laugh. "Seeing
+it was very much in the condition of the famed picture taken of the good
+Dr. Primrose and his family--useless--I went and offered a rent for
+it--only a trifling sum, it is true; but if our fires only kept it from
+damp, one would think the builder might have been glad to let it, thrown
+as it is upon his hands. I told him so."
+
+"What did he say?"
+
+"He stood out for thirty pounds. But that's more than I--than we can
+afford."
+
+"And who was going to find the money? You?"
+
+William hesitated; but did not see any way out of the dilemma.
+
+"Well, sir, you know it is a sad pity for the good work to be stopped,
+through so insignificant a trifle as want of room."
+
+"I think it is," replied Mr. Ashley. "You can hire it to-morrow, and
+move your forms and tables and books into it as soon as you like. I will
+find the rent."
+
+The words took William by surprise. "Oh, Mr. Ashley, do you really mean
+it?"
+
+"Really mean it? It is little enough, compared with what you are doing.
+A few years, William, and your name may be great in Helstonleigh. You
+are working on for it."
+
+William walked with Mr. Ashley as far as his house, and then turned back
+to his own. He found sorrow there. Not having been home since
+dinner-time, for he had taken tea at Mr. Ashley's, he was unconscious of
+some tidings which had been brought by the afternoon's post. Jane sat
+and grieved while she told him. Her brother Robert was dead. Very rarely
+indeed did she hear from the New World; Margaret appeared to be too full
+of cares and domestic bustle to write often. She might not have written
+now, but to tell of the death of Robert.
+
+"I have lost myself sometimes in a vision of seeing Robert home again,"
+said Jane, with a sigh. "And now he is gone!"
+
+"He was not married, was he?" asked William.
+
+"No. I fear he never got on very well. Never to be at his ease."
+
+Gar came in noisily, and interrupted them. The death of an uncle whom he
+had never seen, and who had lived thousands of miles away, did not
+appear to Gar to be a matter calling for any especial amount of grief.
+Gar was in high spirits on his own account; for Gar was going to
+Cambridge. Not in all the pomp and pride of an unlimited purse, however,
+but as a humble sizar.
+
+Gar, not seeing his way very clearly, had been wise enough to pluck up
+courage and apply for counsel to the head master of the college school.
+He had told him that he meant to go to college, and how he meant to go,
+and he asked Mr. Keating if he could help him to a situation, where he
+might be useful between terms. "A school where I might become a junior
+assistant," suggested Gar. "Or any family who would take me to read with
+their sons? If I only earned my food, it would be so much the less
+weight upon my mother," added he, in the candid spirit peculiar to the
+family.
+
+"Have you forgotten that you ought to work, yourself, out of terms,
+nearly as hard as in them?" asked Mr. Keating.
+
+"Oh, no, sir, I have not forgotten it. I will take care to accomplish my
+own work as well. That should not suffer."
+
+Mr. Keating looked at the cheerful, hopeful face, a sure index of the
+brave hopeful spirit. He had taken unusual interest in the two
+Halliburtons, so clever and persevering. It had been impossible for him
+not to do so; for, if Mr. Keating had a weakness, it was for a good
+classical scholar.
+
+"I'll see about it, Gar," said he. "But you are rather young to read
+with students. And I do not suppose any school would be willing to
+engage you on account of the interruption that keeping your terms would
+cause. If nothing better turns up, you can remain in the college
+school-room here, and undertake one of the junior desks. I should give
+you nothing for it," added the master, "except your meals. Those you
+would be welcome to take at my house with my private pupils, sleeping at
+your own home. And I think that, for you, it would be a better
+arrangement than any other, for it would leave you plenty of time for
+your own studies, and I could still superintend them."
+
+Gar thought the arrangement would be first-rate. It would be the very
+thing. "Not that I ever thought of it," he ingenuously said. "I did not
+know the college school admitted assistants."
+
+"Neither does it," replied the master. "You would be ostensibly my
+private pupil. And if I choose to set a private pupil to keep the desks
+to their work, that is my affair."
+
+Gar could only reiterate his thanks.
+
+"I am pleased to give you this little encouragement," remarked Mr.
+Keating. "When I see boys hopefully plodding on in the teeth of
+difficulties, of brave heart, of sterling conduct, they deserve all the
+encouragement that can be given to them. If you and your brothers only
+go on as you have hitherto gone on, you will stand in after-years as
+bright examples of what industry and perseverance can achieve."
+
+So that, altogether, Gar was in spirits, and did not by any means put on
+superfluous mourning for a gentleman who had died in the backwoods of
+Canada, although he was his mother's brother.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+AN OFFER OF MARRIAGE.
+
+
+"Mary," said Mr. Ashley, "I have received an offer of marriage for you."
+
+A somewhat abrupt announcement to make to a young lady, and Mr. Ashley
+spoke in the gravest tone. They were seated round the breakfast table,
+Mary by her mother's side, who was pouring out the coffee. Mary looked
+surprised, rather amused; but that was the only emotion discernible in
+her countenance.
+
+"It is fine to be you, Miss Mary!" struck in Henry, before anyone could
+speak. "Pray, sir, who is the venturer?"
+
+"He assures me that his happiness is bound up in his offer being
+accepted," resumed Mr. Ashley. "I fancy he felt inclined to assure me
+that Mary's was also. Of course, all I can do, is, to lay the proposal
+before her."
+
+"What _is_ it that you are talking about, Thomas?" interposed Mrs.
+Ashley, unable until then to say a word, and speaking with some
+irritability. "I do not consider Mary old enough to be married. How can
+you think of saying such things to her?"
+
+"Neither do I, mamma," said Mary, with a laugh. "I like my home too well
+to leave it."
+
+"And while you are talking sentiment, my curiosity is on the rack,"
+cried Henry. "I have inquired the name of the bridegroom, and I should
+like to be answered."
+
+"The would-be bridegroom," put in Mary.
+
+"Mary, I am ashamed of you!" went on Henry. "I blush for your manners.
+Nice credit she does to your bringing up, mamma! When young ladies of
+condition receive a celestial offer, they behave with due propriety,
+hang their heads with a blush, and subdue their voice to a whisper. And
+here's Mary--look at her!--talking quite loudly and making merry over
+it. Once more, sir, who is the adventurous gentleman? Is it good old
+General Wells, our gouty neighbour opposite, who is lifted in and out of
+his chariot for his daily airing? I have told Mary repeatedly that she
+was setting her cap at him."
+
+"It is not so advantageous a proposal in a financial point of view,"
+observed Mr. Ashley, maintaining his impassibility. "It proceeds from
+one of my dependents at the manufactory."
+
+Mary had the sugar-basin in her hand at the moment, and a sudden tremor
+seemed to seize her. She set it down; but so clumsily, that half the
+lumps fell out. Her face had turned to a glowing crimson. Mr. Ashley
+noticed it.
+
+Mrs. Ashley only noticed the sugar. "Mary, how came you to do that? Very
+careless, my dear."
+
+Mary began meekly to pick up the sugar, the flush giving way to pallor.
+She lifted her handkerchief to her face and held it there, as if she had
+a cold.
+
+"The honour comes from Cyril Dare," said Mr. Ashley.
+
+"Cyril Dare!"
+
+"Cyril Dare!"
+
+In different tones of scorn, but each expressing it most fully, the
+repetition broke from Mrs. Ashley and Henry. Mary, on the contrary,
+recovered her equanimity and her countenance. She laughed out, as if she
+were glad.
+
+"What did you say to him, papa?"
+
+"I gave him my opinion only. That I thought he had mistaken my daughter,
+if he entertained hopes that she would listen to his suit. The question
+rests with you, Mary."
+
+"Oh papa, what nonsense! rests with me! Why you know I would never have
+Cyril Dare."
+
+A smile crossed Mr. Ashley's face. He probably _had_ known it.
+
+"Cyril Dare!" repeated Mary, as if unable to overcome her astonishment.
+"He must have turned silly. I would not have Cyril Dare if he were worth
+his weight in gold."
+
+"And he must be worth a great deal more than his weight in gold, Mary,
+before I would consent to your having him," quietly rejoined Mr. Ashley.
+
+"Have _him_!" echoed Henry. "If I feared there was a danger of the
+daughter of all the Ashleys so degrading herself, I should bribe cook to
+make an arsenic cake, cut the young lady a portion myself, and stand by
+while she ate it."
+
+"Don't talk foolishly, Henry," rebuked Mrs. Ashley.
+
+"Mamma, I must say I do not think it would be half so foolish as Cyril
+Dare was," cried Mary, with spirit.
+
+Mrs. Ashley, relieved from any temporary fear of losing Mary, was
+comfortably going on with her breakfast. "Did Cyril say how he meant to
+provide for Mary, if he obtained her?" asked she, with an amused look.
+
+"He did not touch upon ways and means. I conclude that he intended I
+should have the honour of keeping them both."
+
+Henry Ashley leaned back in his chair, and laughed. "If this is not the
+richest joke I have heard for a long while! Cyril Dare! the kinsman of
+Herbert the beautiful! Confound his im-pu-dence!"
+
+"Then you decline the honour of the alliance, Mary?" said Mr. Ashley.
+"What am I to tell him?"
+
+"What you please, papa. Tell him, if you like, that I would rather marry
+a chimney-sweep. I _would_, if it came to a choice between the two. How
+very senseless of Cyril to think of such a thing!"
+
+"How very shrewd, I think, Mary--if he could only have got you," was the
+reply of Mr. Ashley.
+
+"If!" saucily put in Mary.
+
+Henry bent over the table to his sister. "I tell you what, Mary. You go
+this morning and offer yourself to our gouty friend, the general. He
+will jump at it, and we'll have the banns put up. We cannot, you know,
+be subjected to such shocks as these, on your account; it is
+unreasonable to expect it. I assure you it will be the most effectual
+plan to set Cyril Dare, and those of his tribe, at rest. No, thank you,
+ma'am," turning to Mrs. Ashley--"no more coffee. This has been enough
+breakfast for me."
+
+"Who is this?" asked Mr. Ashley, as footsteps were heard on the
+gravel-walk.
+
+Mrs. Ashley lifted her eyes. "It is William Halliburton."
+
+"William Halliburton!" echoed Henry. "Ah! if you could have put his
+heart and intellect into Cyril's form, now, it might have done."
+
+He spoke with that freedom of speech which characterized him, and in
+which, from his infirmity, he had not been checked. No one made any
+remark in answer, and William entered. He had come to ask some business
+question of Mr. Ashley.
+
+"I will walk down with you," said Mr. Ashley, "and see to it. Take a
+seat, William."
+
+"It is getting late, sir."
+
+"Well, I suppose you can afford to be late for once," replied Mr.
+Ashley. And William smiled as he sat down.
+
+"We have had a letter from Cambridge, this morning. From Gar."
+
+"And how does Mr. Gar get on?" asked Henry.
+
+"First rate. He takes a leaf out of Frank's book; determined to see no
+difficulties in his way. Frank's letters are always cheering. I really
+believe he cares no more for being a servitor than he would for wearing
+a hat at Christchurch. All his wish is to get on: he looks to the
+future."
+
+"But he does his duty in the present," quietly remarked Mr. Ashley.
+
+William smiled. "It is the only way to insure the future, sir. Frank and
+Gar have been learning that all their lives."
+
+Mr. Ashley, telling William not to get the fidgets, for he was not ready
+yet, withdrew to the next room with his wife. They had some weighty
+domestic matter to settle, touching a dinner party. Henry linked his arm
+within William's and drew him to the window, throwing it open to the
+early spring sunshine. Mary remained at the breakfast table.
+
+"What do you think Cyril Dare, the presuming, has had the conscience to
+ask?" began he.
+
+"I know," replied William. "I heard him say he should ask it yesterday."
+
+"The deuce you did?" uttered Henry. "And you did not knock him down?"
+
+"Knock him down! Was it any business of mine?"
+
+"You might have done it as my friend, I think. A slight correction of
+his impudence."
+
+"I do not see that it is your business either," returned William. "It is
+Mr. Ashley's."
+
+"Oh, indeed! Perhaps you would like it carried out?"
+
+"I have no right to say it shall not be."
+
+"Thank you!" chafed Henry. "Mary," he called out to his sister, "here's
+Halliburton recommending that that business we know of shall be carried
+out."
+
+William only laughed. He was accustomed to Henry's exaggerations. "It is
+what Cyril has been expecting for years," said he.
+
+Henry gazed at him. "What is? What are you talking of?"
+
+"Being taken into partnership by Mr. Ashley."
+
+"Is it _that_ you are blundering over? Does he expect it?" continued
+Henry, after a pause.
+
+"Cyril said, yesterday, the firm would soon be Ashley and Dare."
+
+"Did he indeed! He had better not count upon it so as to disturb his
+digestion. That's presumption enough, goodness knows; but it is a mere
+flea-bite compared with the other. He has asked for Mary. It is true as
+that we are standing here."
+
+William turned his questioning gaze on Henry. He did not understand.
+"Asked for her for what? What to do?"
+
+"To be his wife."
+
+"Oh!" The strange sound was not a burst of indignation, or a groan of
+pain: it was a mixture of both. William thrust his head out of the
+window.
+
+"He actually asked the master for her yesterday!" went on Henry. "He
+said his heart, or liver, or some such part of him was bound up in her:
+as she was bound up in him. Fancy the honour of her becoming Mrs.
+Cyril!"
+
+William did not turn his head: not a glimpse of his face could be
+caught. "Will she have him?" he asked, at length.
+
+The question exasperated Henry. "Yes, she will. There! Go and
+congratulate her. You are a fool, William."
+
+The sound of his angry voice, not his words, reached Mary's ears. She
+came forward. "What is the matter, Henry?"
+
+"So he is a fool," was Henry's answer. "He wants to know if you are
+going to marry Cyril Dare. I tell him yes. No one but an idiot would
+have asked it."
+
+William turned, his face full of an emotion that Henry had never seen
+there: a streak of scarlet on his cheeks, his earnest eyes strangely
+troubled. And Mary?--her face seemed to have borrowed the same flush, as
+she stood there, her head and eyelashes bent.
+
+Henry Ashley gazed, first at one, next at the other, and then turned and
+leaned from the window himself. In contrition for having spoken so
+openly of his sister's affairs? Not at all. Whistling the bars of a
+renowned comic song of the day called "The Steam Arm."
+
+Mr. Ashley put in his head. "I am ready, William."
+
+William touched Mary's hand in silence by way of adieu, and halted as he
+passed Henry. "Shall you come round to the men to-night?"
+
+"No, I shan't," retorted Henry. "I am upset for the day."
+
+He was halfway down the path when he heard himself called by Henry,
+still leaning from the window. He went back to him.
+
+"She said she'd rather have a chimney-sweep than Cyril Dare. Don't go
+and make a muff of yourself again."
+
+William turned away without any answer. Mr. Ashley, who had waited, put
+his arm within his, and they proceeded to the manufactory.
+
+"Have you heard this rumour, respecting Herbert Dare, that has been
+wafted over from Germany within the last day or two?" inquired Mr.
+Ashley, as they walked along.
+
+"Yes, sir," replied William.
+
+"I wonder if it is true?"
+
+William did not answer. William's private opinion was, that it was true.
+It had been tolerably well authenticated. A rumour that need not be very
+specifically enlarged upon here. Helstonleigh never came to the bottom
+of it: never knew for certain how much of it was true, and how much
+false, and we cannot expect to be better favoured than Helstonleigh, in
+the point of enlightenment. It was not a pleasant rumour, and the late
+governess's name was unaccountably mixed up in it. For one thing, it
+said that Herbert Dare, finding commercial pursuits not congenial to his
+taste, had given them up, and was roaming about Germany. Mademoiselle
+also. It was a report that did not do credit to Herbert, or tend to
+reflect respectability on his family; yet Mr. Ashley fully believed that
+to that report he owed the application of Cyril with regard to Mary,
+strange as it may appear at a first glance, to say it. The application
+had astonished Mr. Ashley beyond expression. He could only come to the
+conclusion that Cyril must have entertained the hope for some time, but
+had been induced to disclose it prematurely. So prematurely--even
+allowing that other circumstances favoured it--that Mr. Ashley was
+tempted to laugh. A man without means, without a home, without any
+definite prospects, merely a workman, as might be said, in his
+manufactory, upon a very small salary; it was ridiculous in the extreme
+for _him_ to offer marriage to Miss Ashley. Mr. Ashley, of upright
+conduct in the sight of day, was not one to wink at folly; any escapade
+such as that, now flying about Helstonleigh as attributed to Herbert,
+would not be an additional recommendation in Cyril's favour. Had he
+hastened to speak _before_ it should reach Mr. Ashley's ears? Mr. Ashley
+thought so. An hour after Cyril had spoken, he heard the scandal; and it
+flashed over his mind that to that he was indebted for the premature
+honour. Cyril would have liked to secure his consent before anything
+unpleasant transpired.
+
+As Mr. Ashley came in view of the manufactory, Cyril Dare observed him.
+Cyril was lounging in an indolent manner at the entrance doors,
+exchanging greetings with the various passers-by. He ought to have been
+inside at his business; but oughts went for little with Cyril. Since
+Samuel Lynn's departure, Cyril had been living in clover; enjoying as
+much idleness as he liked. William assumed no authority over him, though
+full authority had been given to William over the manufactory in
+general; and Cyril, except when he just happened to be under Mr.
+Ashley's eye, passed his time agreeably. Cyril stared as he caught sight
+of the master, and then went in, his spirits going down a little. To see
+the master thus walking confidentially with William, seemed to argue
+unfavourably for his suit; though why it should seem so, Cyril did not
+know. Cyril's staring was occasioned by that fact. He had never been
+promoted to the honour of thus walking familiarly with Mr. Ashley. In
+fact, for the master, a reserved and proud man with all his good
+qualities, to link his arm within a dependant's, astonished Cyril
+considerably.
+
+When they entered, Cyril was at work in his apron, standing at the
+counter in the master's room, steady and assiduous, as though he had
+been there for the last half-hour. The master came in, but William
+remained in Mr. Lynn's room.
+
+"Good morning, sir," said Cyril.
+
+"Good morning," replied the master.
+
+He sat down to his desk, and opened a letter that was lying on it.
+Presently he looked up.
+
+"Cyril!"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Step here."
+
+Cyril approached the desk, feeling what a lady might call nervous. The
+decisive moment had come: should he be provided for, for life; enjoy a
+good position and the means of living as a gentleman? Or would his
+unlucky star prevail, and consign him to--he did not quite foresee to
+what?
+
+"I have spoken to Miss Ashley. She was excessively surprised at your
+application, and begs to decline it in the most unequivocal manner.
+Allow me to add a recommendation from myself, that you bury in oblivion
+the fact of your having made it."
+
+Cyril hesitated for a moment, and looked foolish. "Why?" he asked.
+
+"_Why?_" repeated Mr. Ashley. "I think you could answer that query for
+yourself, and save me the trouble. I do not wish to go too closely into
+facts and causes, past and present, unless you desire it. One thing you
+must be aware of, Cyril, that such a proposition from you to my daughter
+was utterly out of place. I should have rejected it point-blank
+yesterday; in fact, in the surprise of the moment, I almost spoke out
+more plainly than you would have liked, but that I thought it as well
+for you to have Miss Ashley's opinion as well as my own."
+
+"Why am I rejected, sir?" continued Cyril.
+
+Mr. Ashley waved his hand with dignity. "Return to your employment,
+Cyril. It is quite sufficient for you to know that you are rejected,
+without my going into motives and reasons. They might not, I say, be
+palatable to you."
+
+Cyril did not venture to press it further. He returned to the counter,
+and stood there, ostensibly going on with his work, and boiling over
+with rage. The master sat some little time longer and then left the
+room. Soon after, William came in. His eye caught Cyril's employment.
+
+"Cyril," cried he, hastily advancing to him, "you must not make up those
+gloves. I told you yesterday not to touch them."
+
+A dangerous speech. Cyril was not unlike touchwood at that moment,
+liable to go off at the slightest contact. "You told me!" he burst
+forth. "Do you think I am going to do what you choose to tell me? Try it
+on for the future, that's all. _You_ tell _me_!"
+
+"They are the very best gloves, and must be sorted with nicety,"
+returned William. "Don't you know that the sorting of the last parcel
+was found fault with in London? It vexed the master; and he desired me
+to do all the sorting myself, until Mr. Lynn should be at home."
+
+"I choose to sort," returned Cyril.
+
+"But you must not sort in the face of the master's orders; or, if you
+do, I must go over them again."
+
+"That's right; praise up yourself!" foamed Cyril. "Of course you are an
+efficient sorter, and I am a bad one."
+
+"You might be as good a sorter as any one, if you chose to give it
+proper time and attention. What a temper you are in this morning! What's
+the matter?"
+
+"The matter is, that I have submitted to your rule long enough, but I'll
+do it no longer," was the reply of Cyril, whose anger was gathering
+strength, and whose ill feeling towards William, deep down in his heart
+from long ago, had had envy added to it of late.
+
+William made no reply. He carefully swept the dozens that Cyril had made
+up, farther down the counter, that they might be in a stronger light.
+
+"What's that for?" cried Cyril. "How dare you meddle with my work? They
+are done as well as you can do them, any day."
+
+"Now, where's the use of flying into this passion, Cyril? What's it for?
+Do you suppose I go over your work again for pleasure, or to find fault
+with it? I do it because the master has ordered me to make up every
+dozen that goes out; and if you do it first of all, it is sheer waste of
+time. See here," added William, holding two or three pairs towards him,
+"_these_ will not do for firsts."
+
+Angry Cyril! He was quite beside himself with anger. It was not this
+trifling matter in the daily business that would have excited him; but
+Mr. Ashley's rejection, his words altogether, had turned Cyril's blood
+into gall; and this was made the outlet. He dashed the gloves out of
+William's hand to the farthest corner of the room, and struck him a
+powerful blow on the chest. It caused William to stagger: he was
+unprepared for it; but whether he would have returned it must remain
+uncertain. Before there was time or opportunity, Cyril found himself
+whirled backwards by a hand as powerful as his own; and a voice of stern
+authority was demanding the meaning of the scene.
+
+The hand, the voice, were those of the master.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+THE EXPLOSION.
+
+
+"What is the meaning of this, Cyril Dare?"
+
+Had Cyril supposed that the master was so close at hand, he had subdued
+his passion to something short of striking a blow. He stood against the
+counter, his brow lowering, his eye furious; William looked angry too.
+Mr. Ashley, calm and dignified, waited for an answer.
+
+None came. Cyril was too excited to speak.
+
+"Will you explain it?" said the master, turning to William. "Fighting in
+my counting-house!"
+
+"I cannot, sir," replied William, recovering his equanimity. "I do not
+understand it. I did nothing to provoke him, that I am aware of. It is
+true I said I must go over the gloves again that he had made up."
+
+"What are those gloves flung there?"
+
+"I was showing them to him--that they were not fit for firsts."
+
+"They are fit for firsts!" retorted Cyril, breaking his silence. "I know
+I did put a pair in that was not up to the mark."
+
+The master went and picked up the gloves himself. Taking them to the
+light, he turned them about in his hands.
+
+"I should put two of these pairs as seconds, and one as thirds,"
+remarked he. "You must have been asleep when you put this one among the
+firsts," he continued, indicating the latter pair, and speaking to Cyril
+Dare. "It has a flaw in it."
+
+"Of course you will uphold Halliburton, sir, whatever he may say. That
+has been the case for a long time past."
+
+He spoke in an insolent tone; such as none within the walls of that
+manufactory had ever dared to use to the master. The master turned upon
+him, speaking quietly and significantly.
+
+
+"You forget yourself, Cyril Dare."
+
+"All he does is right, and all I do is wrong," persisted Cyril. "You
+treat him, sir, just as though you considered him the gentleman, instead
+of me."
+
+A half-smile, which had too much mockery in it to please Cyril, crossed
+the lips of Mr. Ashley. "What's that you say about being a gentleman,
+Cyril? Repeat it, will you? I should like to hear it again."
+
+Mockery and double mockery! Cyril's suggestive ears detected it in the
+tone, if no other ears could do so. It did not improve his temper. "The
+thing is this, sir: I won't submit to this state of affairs any longer.
+I was not placed here to be ruled over by him; and if things can't be
+put upon a better footing, one of us must leave."
+
+"Then, as it has come to this explosion, I say the same," struck in
+William. "It is high time that things were put upon a better footing.
+Cyril, you have forced me to speak, and you must take the consequences.
+Sir," turning to the master, "my authority over the men is ridiculed in
+their hearing. It ought not to be so."
+
+"By whom?" demanded the master.
+
+"You can ask that question of Cyril, sir."
+
+The master did ask it of Cyril. "Have you done this?"
+
+"Possibly I have," innocently returned Cyril.
+
+"You know you have," rejoined William.
+
+"Only yesterday, when I was giving directions to the stainers, he
+derided all I said, and one of them inquired whether I had received
+orders for what I was telling them. If the authority vested in me is to
+be undermined, the men will soon set it at naught."
+
+Mr. Ashley looked provoked; more so than William ever remembered to have
+seen him. He paused a moment, his lips quivering angrily, and then flung
+open the counting-house door.
+
+"Dick!"
+
+Dick, a young tinker of ten, black in clothes and in skin, came flying
+at the summons and its unusually stern tone. "Please, sir?"
+
+"Ring the large bell."
+
+Dick stared with all his eyes at hearing the words. To ring the large
+bell between ten and eleven o'clock in the morning was a marvel that had
+never happened in Dick's experience. But the master's orders were to be
+obeyed, not questioned; and Dick, rang out a prolonged peal. The master
+looked into the serving-room.
+
+"James Meeking, I have ordered the bell rung for the men. Pass the word
+for them to come into my room; and do you and East come with them."
+
+The men appeared, flocking from all parts of the premises, their
+astonishment certainly not inferior to Dick's. What could be the meaning
+of the wholesale summoning to the presence of the master? They stood
+there crowding, a sea of curious faces. Dick, consigned to the
+background, climbed up the door-post, and held on by it in a mysterious
+manner.
+
+Mr. Ashley drew William to his side, and laid his hand upon him.
+
+"It has been told to me that the authority vested in Mr. Halliburton has
+not been implicitly obeyed by every one in the manufactory. I have
+called you before me to give you my instructions personally upon the
+point, that there may be no misunderstanding in the future. Whatever
+directions he may see well to give, you will receive them from him, as
+you would from myself. I invest him with full and complete power. And in
+all my absences from the manufactory, whether they may be of an hour's,
+a day's, or any longer duration, Mr. Halliburton is its master."
+
+They touched their hair, turned and went out as far as the serving-room,
+collecting there to talk. In a short time, one of them was seen coming
+back again; a grey-haired man, a sorter of leather. He addressed himself
+to Mr. Ashley.
+
+"We have not disputed his orders, please, sir, that we can call to mind;
+and if we have done it unintentional, we'd ask pardon for it, for it's
+what we never thought to do. Next to yourself, sir, we couldn't wish for
+a better master than young Mr. Halliburton. We think as much of him,
+sir, as we should if he was your own son."
+
+"All right, my men," cheerfully responded Thomas Ashley.
+
+But was not Cyril put in the background by this? As badly as Dick had
+been; and Cyril had no door-post to climb, and so obtain vantage ground.
+He had stood with his back to the crowd and his face to the counter.
+When the men were out of hearing, he turned and walked up to the
+master.
+
+"It is the place I thought to fill," said he. "It is the place that was
+promised me."
+
+"Not promised," replied Mr. Ashley. "Not thought to be promised. A very
+long time ago, you may have been spoken of conditionally, as likely to
+fill it. Conditionally, I say."
+
+"Conditionally on what, sir?"
+
+"On your fitness for it. By conduct and by capability."
+
+"What is the matter with my conduct, sir?" returned Cyril, his tone a
+sharp one.
+
+"It is bad," curtly replied Mr. Ashley. "Deceitful in public; bad in
+private. I have told you once before this morning, that I do not care to
+go into details; you must know that there is no necessity for my doing
+so."
+
+Cyril paused. "I have been led to expect, sir, that you would take me
+into partnership."
+
+"Not by me," said the master.
+
+"My father and mother had given me the hope ever since I came here."
+
+"I cannot help that. They had no authority for it from me."
+
+"They have always said I should be made your partner and son-in-law,"
+persisted Cyril.
+
+"They have! It is very obliging of them, I am sure, to settle my affairs
+for me, even to the disposal of my daughter! Pray what nice little
+destiny may they have carved out for Mrs. Ashley or for my son?"
+
+Cyril chafed at the words. He would have liked, just then, to strike Mr.
+Ashley, as he had struck William. "Would I ever have demeaned myself to
+enter a glove manufactory, disgracing my family, had I known I was to be
+only a workman in it?" he cried. "No, sir, that I never would. I am
+rightly served, for putting myself out of my position as a gentleman."
+
+Mr. Ashley, but for the pity he felt, could have laughed outright. He
+really did feel pity for Cyril. He believed that the unhappy way in
+which the young Dares were turning out might be laid to the fault of
+their rearing, and this had rendered him considerate to Cyril. _How_
+considerate he had for a long while been, he himself alone knew: Cyril
+perhaps suspected.
+
+"It is a shame!" cried Cyril. "To be dealt with in this way is nothing
+less than a fraud upon me. I was led to expect that I should be made
+your partner."
+
+"Wait a bit, Cyril. I am willing to put you right upon the point. The
+proposal, that you should be placed here, emanated in the first instance
+from your father. He came to me one day, here, in this very room,
+saying that he concluded I should not put Henry to business, and thought
+it would be a fine opening for his son Cyril. He hinted that I should
+want some one to succeed me; and that you might come to it with that
+view. But I most distinctly disclaimed endorsing that hint in the
+remotest degree. I would not subscribe to it so much as by a vague
+'Perhaps it may be so.' All that I conceded upon the point was this. I
+told Mr. Dare that when the time came for me to be looking out for some
+one to succeed me--if it ever did come--and I found his son--you--had
+served me faithfully, was upright in conduct and in heart--one, in
+short, whom I could thoroughly confide in--why, then he should have the
+preference over any other. So much I did say, Cyril, but no more."
+
+
+"And why won't you give me the preference, sir?"
+
+Mr. Ashley looked at him, apparently in surprise that he could ask the
+question. He bent his head forward, and spoke in a low tone, but one
+full of meaning.
+
+"Upright in conduct and in heart, I said, Cyril. It was an absolute
+condition."
+
+Cyril's gaze fell before Mr. Ashley's. His conscience may have pricked
+him, and he had the grace to look ashamed of himself. There ensued a
+pause.
+
+Presently Cyril looked up. "Then I am to understand, sir, that all hope
+of being your partner and successor is over?"
+
+"It is. It has been over this many a year, Cyril. I should do wrong to
+deal otherwise than perfectly plainly with you. Were you to reform
+anything there may have been amiss in your conduct, to become a model of
+excellence in the sight of Helstonleigh, I could never admit your name
+to be associated with mine. The very notion is offensive to me."
+
+Cyril--it was a great wonder--restrained his passion. "Perhaps I had
+better leave, then?" he said.
+
+"You are welcome to stay until you can find a situation more agreeable
+to you," replied Mr. Ashley. "Provided you undertake to behave
+yourself."
+
+"Stay! and for nothing in the end!" echoed Cyril. "No, that I never
+will! If I must remain a dependant, I'll try it on at something else. I
+am sick of this."
+
+He untied his apron, dashed it on to the floor, and went out without
+another word. So furiously did he stamp through the serving-room, that
+James Meeking turned round to look at him, and Dick, taking a recreative
+balance at that moment on the edge of an upright coal-scuttle, thought
+he must be running for the fire-engines. Dick's speculations were
+disturbed by the sound of the master's voice, calling to him.
+
+He hastened to the counting-house, and was ordered to "take that apron
+away." Dick picked it up and withdrew with it, folding it carefully
+against Mr. Cyril should come in. Dick little thought the manufactory
+had seen the last of him.
+
+Mr. Ashley was indulging in a quiet laugh. "Demeaning himself by
+entering my manufactory! Disgracing his family--the high blood of the
+Dares! Poor Cyril! William, do you look at it in the same light?"
+
+William had remained in the room, taking no part whatever in the final
+contest. He had stood with his back to them, following his occupation.
+He turned round now.
+
+"Sir, you know I do not."
+
+"You once told me it presented no field for getting on. What was the
+word you used?--was it ambition? Truly, there's not much ambition
+attached to it. Nevertheless, I am satisfied with my career, William,
+although I am only the glove manufacturer, Thomas Ashley."
+
+_He_ satisfied! How many a one would be proud to be in the position of
+Thomas Ashley! William did not say so. He began to speak of Cyril Dare.
+
+"Do you think he will come back again, sir?"
+
+"I do not think he will. Should he do so, the doors are closed to him.
+He has left of his own accord, and I shall not allow him to return."
+
+"I am very sorry," remarked William. "It has been partly my fault."
+
+"Do not make yourself uneasy. I have _tolerated_ Cyril Dare here; have
+allowed him to remain on sufferance: and that is the best that can be
+said of it."
+
+"He may feel it as a blow."
+
+"As a jubilee, you mean. It will be nothing less to him. He has hated
+the manufactory with all his heart from the moment he first entered it,
+and is now, if we could see him, kicking up his heels with delight at
+the emancipation. Cyril Dare my partner!"
+
+William continued his work, saying nothing. Mr. Ashley resumed:
+
+"I must be casting my thoughts around for a fitting substitute to
+succeed to the post of ambition Cyril coveted. Can you direct me to any
+quarter, William?"
+
+Mr. Ashley was now standing at William's side, looking at him as he went
+over the gloves left by Cyril. He saw the red flush mount to his face.
+Mr. Ashley laid his hand on William's shoulder, and spoke in low tones,
+full of emotion.
+
+"It may come, my boy; my almost son! And when Thomas Ashley's head shall
+be low in the grave, the leading manufacturer of this city may be
+William Halliburton."
+
+A loud rapping at the door with a thick stick interrupted the master's
+words. He turned to behold Mr. Dare. It appeared that Cyril had by
+chance met his father in the street almost immediately after going out;
+he had volunteered to him a most exaggerated account, and Mr. Dare had
+come, as he said, to learn the rights of it.
+
+William left the room. He could not avoid remarking the bowed, broken
+appearance of the man. Mr. Ashley related the particulars, and the
+listener was obliged to acknowledge that Cyril had been to blame--had
+been too hasty.
+
+"I confess it appears so," he said. "He must have been led away by
+temper. But, Mr. Ashley, you ought to stretch a point, and make a
+concession. We are kinsmen."
+
+"What concession?"
+
+"Discharge William Halliburton. Things can never go on smoothly between
+him and Cyril. Stretch a point to oblige us, and send him away."
+
+"Discharge William Halliburton!" echoed Mr. Ashley in surprise. "I could
+as soon discharge myself. William is the right hand of the business. It
+could go on without me, but I am not sure that it could do so without
+him."
+
+"Cyril can take his place."
+
+"Cyril is not qualified for it. And----"
+
+"Cyril declares he will never enter the place again, so long as
+Halliburton is in it."
+
+"Cyril never will enter it again," quietly rejoined Mr. Ashley. "Cyril
+and I have parted. I will give you his wages for this week, now that you
+are here; legally, though, he could not claim them."
+
+Mr. Dare looked sad--gloomy. It was only what he had expected for some
+time past. "You promised to do well by him, Mr. Ashley; to take him into
+partnership."
+
+"You must surely remember that I promised nothing of the sort," said Mr.
+Ashley. "I have been telling the same thing to Cyril. All I said--and a
+shrewd, business man, as you are, could not fail thoroughly to
+understand me," he pointedly added--"was, that I would choose Cyril in
+preference to others, provided he proved himself worthy of the
+preference. Circumstances appear to have worked entirely against
+carrying out that idea, Mr. Dare."
+
+"What circumstances?"
+
+Mr. Ashley did not immediately reply, and the question was repeated in a
+hasty, almost an imperative tone. Then Mr. Ashley answered it.
+
+"I do not wish to say a word that should unnecessarily hurt your
+feelings; but in a matter of business I believe there is no resource but
+to speak plainly. The unfortunate notoriety acquired, in one way or
+other, by your sons, has rendered the name of Dare so conspicuous, that,
+were there no other reason, it could never be associated with mine."
+
+"Conspicuous? How?" interposed Mr. Dare.
+
+Mr. Ashley would not have believed the words were uttered as a question,
+but that the answer was evidently waited for. "You ask _how_," he said.
+"Surely I need not remind you. The scandal which, in more ways than one,
+attached to Anthony--though I am sorry to allude to him, poor fellow,
+in any such way; the circumstances attending the trial of Herbert;
+the----"
+
+"Herbert was innocent," interrupted Mr. Dare.
+
+"Innocent of the murder, no doubt; as innocent as you or I. But people
+made free with his name in other ways; had often made free with it. And
+look at this last report, wafted over to us from Germany, that is just
+now astonishing the city!"
+
+"Hang him for a simpleton!" burst forth Mr. Dare.
+
+"It is all so much discredit to the name--to the family altogether,"
+concluded Mr. Ashley, as if his sentence had not been interrupted.
+
+"The faults of his brothers ought to be no good reason for your
+rejecting Cyril."
+
+"They are not my reason for rejecting him," quietly returned Mr. Ashley.
+
+"No? You have just said they were."
+
+"I said the notoriety given by your sons to the name of Dare would bar
+its association with mine. In saying 'your sons,' I included Cyril
+himself. _He_ interposes the greatest barrier of all. Were the rest of
+them of good report in the sight of day, Cyril is not so."
+
+"What's the matter with him?" asked Mr. Dare.
+
+"I do not care to tell you. A great deal of it you must know."
+
+"Go on," cried Anthony Dare, who was leaning forward in his chair, his
+chin resting on his stick, as one who sets himself calmly to hear the
+whole.
+
+"Cyril's private conduct is bad. He----"
+
+"Follies of youth only," cried old Anthony. "He will outlive them."
+
+"Youth's follies sometimes end in manhood's crimes," was the reply. "I
+am thankful that my son is free from them."
+
+"Your son!" returned Anthony Dare, coughing down his slighting tone.
+"Your son is one apart. He has not the health to be knocking about. If
+young men are worth anything, they are sure to be a bit wild."
+
+A frown passed over the master's brow. "You are mistaken, Mr. Dare.
+Young men who are worth anything keep themselves from such folly.
+Opinions have taken a turn. Society is becoming more sensible of the
+world's increased enlightenment; and ill conduct, although its pursuer
+may be a fashionable young man, is beginning to be called by its right
+name. Would you believe that Cyril has, more than once, come here--I
+hesitate to say the word, it is so ugly a one--drunk? Drunk, Mr. Dare!"
+
+"No!"
+
+"He has."
+
+"Then he must have been a fool for his pains," was the angry retort of
+old Anthony.
+
+"He is untruthful; he is idle; he is deceitful--but I do not, I say,
+care to go into this. Were you cognizant of the application Cyril made
+to me yesterday, respecting my daughter?"
+
+"I don't know of any application."
+
+"He did me the honour to make her an offer of marriage."
+
+Old Anthony lifted his head sharply, not speaking. The master continued:
+
+"He said yesterday that he was acting by your advice. He repeated
+to-day, that you and Mrs. Dare had led him to look to Mary."
+
+"Well?" returned Mr. Dare. "But I did not know he had spoken."
+
+"How could you--excuse me, I again say, if I am to speak plainly--how
+could you ever have entertained so wild an idea?"
+
+"Perhaps you would like to call it a presumptuous one?" chafed Mr. Dare.
+
+"I do call it so," returned Mr. Ashley. "It can be regarded as nothing
+less; any impartial person would tell you so. I put out of the
+discussion altogether the want of means on the part of Cyril; I speak of
+its suitability. That Cyril should have aspired to an alliance with Mary
+Ashley was presumption in the highest degree. It has displeased me very
+much, and Henry looks upon it in the light of an insult."
+
+"Who's Henry?" scornfully returned Mr. Dare. "A dreamy hypochondriac!
+Pray is Cyril not as well born as Mary Ashley?"
+
+"Has he been as well reared? Is he proving that he has been? A man's
+conduct is of far more importance than his birth."
+
+"It would seem that you care little about birth, or rearing either, or
+you would not exalt Halliburton to a level with yourself."
+
+The master fixed his expressive eyes on Anthony Dare. "Halliburton's
+birth is, at any rate, as good as your family's and mine. His father's
+mother and your wife's father were brother and sister."
+
+Old Anthony looked taken by surprise. "I don't know anything about it,"
+said he, somewhat roughly. "I know a little of how he has been bred, he
+and his brothers."
+
+"So do I," said Mr. Ashley. "I wish a few more in the world had been
+bred in the same way."
+
+"Why! they have been bred to work!" exclaimed old Anthony, in
+astonishment. "They have not been bred as gentlemen. They have not had
+enough to eat."
+
+The concluding sentence elicited an involuntary laugh from the master.
+"At any rate, the want does not appear to have stinted their growth, or
+injured them in a physical point of view," he rejoined, a touch of
+sarcasm in his tone. "They are fine-grown men; and, Mr. Dare, they are
+_gentlemen_, whether they have been bred as such or not. Gentlemen in
+looks, in manners, and in mind and heart."
+
+"I don't care what they are," again repeated old Anthony. "I did not
+come here to talk about them, but about Cyril. Your exalting Halliburton
+into the general favour that ought legitimately to have been Cyril's is
+a piece of injustice. Cyril says you have this morning announced
+publicly that Halliburton is master, under you. It is flagrant
+injustice."
+
+"No man living has ever had cause to tax me with injustice,"
+impressively answered Thomas Ashley. "I have been far more just to Cyril
+than he deserves. Stay: 'just' is a wrong word. I have been far more
+_lenient_ to him. Shall I tell you that I have kept him on here out of
+compassion, in the hope that the considerate way in which I treated him
+might be an inducement to him to turn over a new leaf, and discard his
+faults? I would not turn him away to be a town's talk. Deep down within
+the archives of my memory, my own sole knowledge, I buried the great
+fault of which he was guilty here. He was young; and I would not take
+from him his fair fame on the very threshold of his commercial life."
+
+"Great fault?" hesitated Mr. Dare, looking half frightened.
+
+Thomas Ashley inclined his head, and lowered his voice to a deeper
+whisper.
+
+"When he robbed my desk of the cheque, I fancy your own suspicions of
+him were to the full as much awakened as mine."
+
+There was no reply, unless a groan from Anthony Dare could be called
+one. His hands, supporting his chin, rested on his stick still. Mr.
+Ashley resumed:
+
+"I became convinced, though not in the first blush of the affair that
+the transgressor was no other than Cyril; and I deliberated what my
+course should be. Natural impulse would have led me to turn him away, if
+not to prosecute. The latter would scarcely have been palatable towards
+one of my wife's kindred. What was I to do with him? Turn him adrift
+without a character? and a character that would get him any other
+situation of confidence, I could not give him. I resolved to keep him
+on. For his own sake I would give him a chance of redeeming what he may
+have done in a moment's thoughtless temptation. I spoke to him
+privately. I did not tell him in so many words that I knew him to be
+guilty; but he could not well misunderstand that my suspicions were
+awakened. I told him his conduct had not been good--not such that I
+could approve; but that I was willing, for his own sake, to bury the
+past in silence, and retain him, as a last chance. I very distinctly
+warned him what would be the consequences of the smallest repetition of
+his fault: that no consideration for myself or for him would induce me
+to look over it a second time. Thus he stayed on: I, continually giving
+an eye to his conduct, and taking due precautions for the protection of
+my property, and keeping fast my keys. James Meeking received my orders
+that Mr. Cyril should never be called upon to help pay the men, or to
+count the packets of halfpence; and when the man looked wonderingly at
+me in return, I casually added that there was no necessity to put Mr.
+Cyril to an employment he particularly disliked, while he could call
+upon East to help him, or in case of need, upon Mr. Halliburton. Never
+think again, Mr. Dare, that I have been unjust to your son. If I have
+erred at all, it has been on the side of kindness."
+
+There was a long pause. Anthony Dare probably was feeling the kindness,
+in spite of himself.
+
+"What have you had to complain of in him since?" he asked.
+
+"Not of any more robbery: but of his general conduct a great deal. He is
+deceitful: he has appeared here in the state I have hinted to you; he is
+incorrigibly idle. He probably fancies, because I do not take a very
+active part in the management of my business and my workpeople, that I
+sit here with my eyes shut, seeing little and knowing less of what goes
+on around me. He is essentially mistaken: I am cognizant of all; as much
+so, or nearly as much so, as Samuel Lynn would be, were he at his post
+again. Look at his sorting of gloves, for instance--the very thing about
+which the disturbance occurred just now. Cyril _can_ sort if he pleases;
+he is as capable of sorting them properly as I should be; perhaps more
+so: but he does not do it; and every dozen he attempts to make up has to
+be done over again. In point of fact, he has been of no real use here;
+for nothing that he attempts to do will he do well. A fitting hand to
+fill the post of manager! Taking all these facts into consideration,"
+added the master, "you will not be surprised that an offer of marriage
+from Cyril Dare to my daughter bears an appearance little removed from
+insult."
+
+So it was all known to Mr. Ashley, and there was an end of Cyril and his
+hopes! It may be said of his prospects.
+
+"What is he to do now?" broke from the lips of Anthony Dare.
+
+"Indeed I do not know. Unless he changes his habits, he will do no good
+at anything."
+
+"Won't you take him back again?"
+
+"No," unequivocally pronounced Mr. Ashley. "He has left of his own
+accord, and he must abide by it. Stay--hear me out. Were I to allow him
+to return, he would not remain here a week; I am certain of it. That
+Cyril has been acting a part, to beguile me of my favour with regard to
+those foolish hopes of his, there is no doubt. The hopes gone, he would
+not keep up even the semblance of good conduct; neither would he submit
+to the rule of William Halliburton. It is best as it is; he is gone, and
+he cannot return. My opinion is, that were the offer of return made to
+him, he would reject it."
+
+Mr. Dare's opinion was not far different, although he had pleaded for
+the concession.
+
+"Then you will not make him your partner?" he resumed.
+
+"Mr. Dare!"
+
+"I suppose you will take in Halliburton?"
+
+"It is very probable. Whoever I take must be a man of probity and
+honour: and a gentleman," he added, with a stress upon the word.
+"William Halliburton is all that."
+
+Anthony Dare rose with a groan. He could contend no longer.
+
+"My sons have been my bane," he uttered from between his bloodless lips.
+"I wonder, sometimes, whether they were born bad."
+
+"No," said Thomas Ashley. "The badness has come with their training."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+"CALLED."
+
+
+And now there occurs another gap in the story--a gap of years, and we
+have entered on the third and last part.
+
+The patient well-doing of the Halliburtons was approaching fruition,
+their struggles were well-nigh over, and they were ready to play their
+part, for success or for failure, in the great drama of life. Jane's
+troubles were at an end.
+
+Did you ever remark how some things, when they draw towards a close,
+seem to advance with rapid strides, unlike the slow, crawling pace that
+characterized their beginning? Life: in its childhood, its youth, nay,
+in its middle age, how slowly it seems to pass! how protracted its
+distinctive periods appear to be! But when old age approaches then time
+moves with giant strides. Undertake a work, whether of the hands or the
+head, very, very slow does the progress appear to be, until it is far
+advanced; and then the conclusion is attained fast and imperceptibly.
+Thus does it seem to be in the history of the young Halliburtons. To
+them the race may have been tedious, the labour as hard at the close of
+their preparatory career as at its commencement; but not so to those who
+were watching them.
+
+There has not been space to trace the life of Frank and Gar at the
+Universities, to record word by word how they bore onward with
+unflinching perseverance, looking towards the goal in view. Great praise
+was due to them; and they won it from those who knew what hard work
+meant. Patiently and steadily had they laboured on, making of themselves
+sound and brilliant scholars, resisting temptations that lead so many
+astray, and _bearing_ the slights and mortifications incidental to their
+subordinate position. "I'll take it all out, when I am Lord Chancellor
+of England," Frank would say, in his cheery way. Of course Frank had
+always intended to go up for honours; and of course Frank gained them.
+He went to Oxford as a humble servitor, and he left it a man of note.
+Francis Halliburton had obtained a double-first, and gained his
+fellowship.
+
+He had entered himself a student of the Middle Temple long before his
+college career was over. The expenses of qualifying for the Bar are
+considerable, and Frank's fellowship did not suffice for all. He
+procured literary employment: writing a leading article for one of the
+daily papers, and contributing to sundry reviews.
+
+Gar, too, had quitted Cambridge with unusual credit, though he was _not_
+senior wrangler. No one but Gar, perhaps, knew that he had aspired to
+that proud distinction, so it did not signify. A more solid scholar, or
+one with a higher character in the best sense of the term, never left
+the University to be ordained by the Bishop of Helstonleigh--or by any
+other prelate on the bench. He had a choice of a title to orders. His
+uncle, the Reverend Francis Tait--who, like his father before him, had,
+after many years' service, obtained a living--had offered Gar his title.
+But a clergyman in the county of Helstonleigh had also offered him one,
+and Gar, thanking his uncle, chose Helstonleigh.
+
+William's dream of ambition was fulfilled; the dream which he had _not_
+indulged; for it had seemed all too high and vague for possibility. He
+was Mr. Ashley's partner. The great firm in Helstonleigh was Ashley and
+Halliburton.
+
+Ashley and Halliburton! And the event had been so gradually, so
+naturally led up to, that Helstonleigh was not surprised when it was
+announced. Of course William received as yet only a small share of the
+profits: how small or how large was not known. Helstonleigh racked its
+curiosity to learn particulars, and racked it in vain. One fact was
+assumed beyond doubt: that a portion of the profits was secured to Henry
+in the event of Mr. Ashley's death.
+
+William was now virtually sole master of the business. Mr. Ashley had
+partially retired from the manufactory: at least, his visits to it were
+of occurrence so rare as almost to amount to retirement. Samuel Lynn was
+manager, as of old; William had assumed Mr. Ashley's place and desk in
+the counting-house--as master. Mr. Ashley had purchased an estate,
+Deoffam Hall, some two to three miles distant from the city, close to
+the little village of Deoffam: and there he and his family had gone to
+reside. He retained his old house in the London Road, and they would
+visit it occasionally, and pass a week there. The change of abode did
+not appear to give unqualified gratification to Henry Ashley. He had
+become so attached to William that he could not bear to be far away from
+him. In the old home William's visits had been daily; or rather,
+nightly: in this he did see him so often. William contrived to go over
+twice or thrice a week; but that did not appear to be often enough for
+Henry. Mary Ashley was not married; to the surprise of Helstonleigh: but
+Mary somewhat obstinately refused to leave the paternal home. William
+and his mother lived on together in the old house. But they were alone
+now: for he could afford to keep up its expenses, and he had insisted
+upon doing so; insisted that she who had worked so hard for them, should
+have rest, now they could work for her.
+
+Yes, they had all worked; worked on for the end, and gained it. Looking
+back, Jane wondered how she had struggled on. It seemed now next to an
+impossibility that she could have done it. Verily and truly she believed
+that God alone had borne her up. Had it been a foreshadowing of what was
+to come, when her father, years back, had warned her, on the very day of
+her marriage with Mr. Halliburton had been decided, that it might bring
+many troubles upon her? Perhaps so. One thing was certain: that it had
+brought them, and in no common degree. But the troubles were surmounted
+now: and Jane's boys were turned out just as well as though she had had
+thousands a year to bring them up upon. Perhaps better.
+
+Perhaps better! How full of force is the suggestion! I wonder if no one
+will let this history of the young Halliburtons read a lesson to them?
+Many a student, used worse by fortune and the world than he thinks he
+deserves, might take it to himself with profit. Do not let it be flung
+away as a fancy picture; endeavour to make it your reality. A career,
+worked out as theirs was, insures success as a necessity. "Ah!" you may
+think, "I am poor; I can't hope to achieve such things." Poor! What were
+they? What's that you say? "There are so many difficulties in the way!"
+Quite true; there are difficulties in the way of attaining most things
+worth having; but they are only placed there to be overcome. Like the
+hillocks and stumbling-blocks in that dream that came to Mr. Halliburton
+when he was dying, they are placed there to be subdued, not to be
+shunned in fear, or turned from in idleness. Whatever may be your object
+in life, work on for it. Be you heir to a dukedom, or be your heritage
+that of daily toil, an object you must have: a man who has none is the
+most miserable being on the face of the earth. Bear manfully onward and
+attain the prize. Toil may be hard, but it will grow lighter as you
+advance; impediments may be disheartening, but they are not
+insurmountable; privations may be painful, but you are working on to
+plenty; temptations to indolence, to flagging, to that many-headed
+monster, sin, may be pulling at you; but they will not stir you from
+your path an inch, unless you choose to let them do so. Only be
+resolute; only regard trustingly the end, and labour for it; and it will
+surely come. It may look in the distance so far off that the very hope
+of attaining it seems but a chimera. Never mind; bear hopefully on, and
+the distance will lessen palpably with every step. No real good was ever
+attained to in this world without working for it. No real good, as I
+honestly believe, was ever gained, unless God's blessing went with the
+endeavours to attain it. _Make a friend of God._ Do that, and fight your
+way on, doing your duty, and you will find the goal: as the sons of Mrs.
+Halliburton did.
+
+Jane was sitting alone one afternoon in her parlour. She was little
+changed. None, looking at her, could believe her old enough to be the
+mother of those three great men, her sons. Not that Gar was
+particularly great; he was only of middle height. Jane wore a shaded
+silk dress; and her hair looked as smooth and abundant as in the old
+days of her girlhood. It was remarkable how little her past troubles had
+told upon her good looks; how little she was aging.
+
+She saw the postman come to the door, and Dobbs brought in a letter.
+"It's Mr. Frank's writing," growled Dobbs.
+
+Jane opened it, and found that Frank had been "called." Half his care
+was over.
+
+     "MY DARLING MOTHER,--I am made a barrister at last. I really
+     am; and I beg you will all receive the announcement with
+     appropriate awe and deference. I was called to-day: and I
+     intend to have a photograph taken of myself in my wig and gown,
+     and send it down to you as a confirmation of the fact. When you
+     see the guy the wig makes of me, you will say you never saw an
+     ugly man before. Tell Dobbs so; it will gladden her heart:
+     don't you remember how she used to assure us, when boys, that
+     we ought to be put under a glass case, as three ultra specimens
+     of ugliness?
+
+     "I shall get on now, dearest mother. It may be a little up-hill
+     work at first: but there's no fear. A first-rate law firm has
+     promised me some briefs: and one of these speedy days I shall
+     inevitably take the ears of some court by storm--the jury
+     struck into themselves with the learned counsel's astounding
+     eloquence, and the bar dumb--and then my fortune's made. I need
+     not tell you what circuit I shall patronize, or in how short a
+     time afterwards I intend to be leading it: but I will tell you
+     that my first object in life, when I am up in the world, shall
+     be the ease and comfort of my dear mother. William is not going
+     to do everything, and have you all to himself.
+
+     "Talking about William, ask him if he cannot get up some chance
+     litigation, that I may have the honour of appearing for him
+     next assizes. I'll do it all free, _gratis_, for nothing. Ever
+     your own son,
+
+     "FRANK."
+
+Jane started up from her chair at the news, almost as a glad child. Who
+could she find to share it with her? She ran into the next house to
+Patience. Patience limped a little in her walk still; she would limp
+always. Anna, in her sober Quaker's cap, the border resting on her fair
+forehead, looked up from her drawing, and Jane told them the news, and
+read the letter.
+
+"That is nice," said Patience. "It must be a weight off thy mind."
+
+"I don't know that it is that," replied Jane. "I have never doubted his
+success. I don't doubt it still. But I am very glad."
+
+"I wish I had a cause to try," cried Anna, who had recovered all her old
+spirits and her love of chatter. "I would let Frank plead it for me."
+
+"Will you come back with me, Anna, and take tea?" said Jane. "I shall be
+alone this evening. William is going over to Deoffam Hall."
+
+"I'll come," replied Anna, beginning to put up her pencils with
+alacrity. Truth to say, she was just as fond of going out and of taking
+off her cap, that her curls might fall, as she used to be. She had quite
+recovered caste in the opinion of Helstonleigh. In fact, when the
+reaction set in, Helstonleigh had been rather demonstrative in its
+expression of repentance for having taken so harsh a view of the case.
+Nevertheless, it had been a real lesson to Anna, and had rendered her
+more sober and cautious in conduct.
+
+Dobbs was standing at the kitchen door as they went in. "Dobbs," said
+Jane, in the gladness of her heart, "Mr. Frank is called."
+
+"Called?" responded Dobbs, staring with all her might.
+
+"Yes. He was called yesterday."
+
+"Him called!" repeated Dobbs, evidently doubting the fact. "Then, ma'am
+you'll excuse me, but I'm not a-going to believe it. It's a deal more
+likely he's gone off t'other way, than that he's called to grace."
+
+Anna nearly choked with laughter. Jane laughed so that she could not at
+once speak. "Oh, Dobbs, I don't mean that sort of calling. He is called
+to the Bar. He has become a barrister."
+
+"Oh--that," said Dobbs ungraciously. "Much good may it do him, ma'am!"
+
+"He wears a wig and gown now, Dobbs," put in Anna. "He says his mother
+is to tell thee that it makes a guy of him, and so gladden thy heart."
+
+"Ugh!" grunted Dobbs.
+
+"We will make him put them on when he comes down, won't we! Dobbs, if
+thee'd like his picture in them, he'll send it thee."
+
+"He'd better keep it," retorted Dobbs. "I never yet saw no good in young
+chaps having their picturs took, Miss Anna. They're vain enough without
+that. Called! That would have been a new flight for _him_."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+A GLIMPSE OF A BLISSFUL DREAM.
+
+
+A prettier place than Deoffam Hall could not well be conceived. "For its
+size," carping people would add. Well, it was not so large as Windsor
+Castle; but it was no smaller than the bishop's palace at
+Helstonleigh--if it has been your good fortune to see that renowned
+edifice. Deoffam Hall was a white, moderate-sized, modern villa, rising
+in the midst of charming grounds; grassy lawns smooth as velvet, winding
+rivulets, groves of trees affording shelter on a summer's day. On the
+terrace before the windows a stately peacock was fond of spreading its
+plumes, and in the small park--it was only a small one--the deer rubbed
+their antlers on the fine old trees. The deer and the peacock were the
+especial pets of Henry Ashley. Deoffam itself was an insignificant
+village; a few gentlemen's houses and a good many cottages comprised it.
+It was pleasantly and conveniently situated; within a walk of
+Helstonleigh for those who liked walking, or within a short drive. But,
+desirable as it was as a residence, Henry Ashley was rather addicted to
+grumbling at it. He would often wish himself back in his old home.
+
+One lovely morning in early summer, when they were assembled together
+discussing plans for the day, he suddenly broke into one of his
+grumbling humours. "You bought Deoffam for me, sir," he was beginning,
+"but----"
+
+"I bought it for myself and your mother," interposed Mr. Ashley.
+
+"Of course. But to descend to me afterwards--you know what I mean. I
+have made up my mind, when that time shall come, to send gratitude to
+the winds, and sell it. Stuck out here, alone with the peacock, you and
+the mother gone, I should----I don't like to outrage your feelings by
+saying what I might do."
+
+"There's Mary," said Mrs. Ashley.
+
+"Mary! I expect she'll have gone into fresh quarters by that time. She
+has only stopped here so long out of politeness to me."
+
+Mary lifted her eyes, a smile and a glow on her bright face. A lovely
+picture, she, in her delicate summer muslin dress.
+
+"I tell every one she is devoted to me," went on Henry, in his quaint
+fashion. "'Very strange that handsome girl, Mary Ashley, does not get
+married!' cries Helstonleigh. Mary, my dear, I know your vanity is
+already as great as it can be, so I don't fear to increase it. 'My
+sister get married!' I say to them. 'Not she; she has resolved to make a
+noble sacrifice of herself for my sake, and live at home with me, a
+vestal virgin, and see to the puddings.'"
+
+The smile left Mary's face--the glow remained. "I do wish you would not
+talk nonsense, Henry! As if Helstonleigh troubled itself to make
+remarks upon me. It is not so rude as you are."
+
+"Just hark at her!" returned Henry. "Helstonleigh not trouble itself to
+make remarks! When you know the town was up in arms when you refused Sir
+Harry Marr, and sent him packing. Such an honour had never fallen to its
+luck before--that one of its fair citizens, born and bred, should have
+the chance of becoming a real live My Lady."
+
+
+Mary was cutting a pencil at the moment, and broke the point off.
+"Papa," cried she, turning her hot face to his, "can't you make Henry
+talk sense?--if he must talk at all."
+
+Mrs. Ashley interposed. It was quite true that Mary had had, as Henry
+phrased it, a chance of becoming a "real live My Lady"; and there lurked
+in Mrs. Ashley's heart a shadow of grievance, of disappointment, that
+she should have refused the honour. She spoke rather sharply, taking
+Henry's part, not Mary's.
+
+"Henry is talking nothing but sense. My opinion is that you behaved
+quite rudely to Sir Harry. It is an offer you will not have again, Mary.
+Still," added Mrs. Ashley, subduing her tone a little, "it is no
+business of Helstonleigh's; neither do I see whence the town could have
+derived its knowledge."
+
+"As if any news could be stirring, good or bad, that Helstonleigh does
+not ferret its way to!" returned Henry.
+
+"My belief is that Henry went and told," retorted Mary.
+
+"I! what next?" cried Henry. "As if I should tell of the graceless
+doings of my sister; it is bad enough to lie under the weighty knowledge
+one's self."
+
+"And as if I should ever consent to marry Sir Harry Marr!" returned
+Mary, with a touch of her brother's spirit.
+
+"Mary," said Mr. Ashley, quietly, "you seemed to slip out of that
+business, and of all questioning over it, as smoothly as an eel. I never
+came to the bottom of it. What was your objection to Sir Harry?"
+
+"Objection, papa?" she faltered, with a crimsoned face. "I--I did not
+care for him."
+
+"Oh, that was it, was it?" returned Mr. Ashley.
+
+"Is it always to go on so, my dear?" asked her mother.
+
+Poor Mary was in sad confusion, scarcely knowing whether to burst into
+anger or into tears. "What do you mean, mamma? How 'go on'?"
+
+"This rejection of every one. You have had three good offers----"
+
+"Not counting the venture of Cyril Dare," put in Henry.
+
+"And you say 'No' to all," concluded Mrs. Ashley. "I fear you must be
+very fastidious."
+
+"And she's growing into an old maid, and----"
+
+"Be quiet, Henry. Can't you leave me in peace?"
+
+"My dear, it is true," cried Henry, who was in one of his teasing moods.
+"Of course I have not kept count of your age since you were eighteen--it
+wouldn't be polite to do so; but my private conviction is that you are
+four-and-twenty this blessed summer."
+
+"If I were four-and-thirty," answered Mary, "I wouldn't marry Sir Harry
+Marr. I am not _obliged_ to marry, I suppose, am I?"
+
+"My dear, no one said you were," said Henry, flinging a rose at her,
+which he took from his button-hole. "But don't you see that this brings
+round my argument, that you have resolved to make yourself a noble
+sisterly sacrifice, and stop at home with me? Don't you take to cats
+yet, though!"
+
+Mary thought she was getting the worst of it, and left the room. Soon
+afterwards Mrs. Ashley was called out by a servant.
+
+"Did you receive a note from William this morning, sir?" asked Henry.
+
+"Yes," replied Mr. Ashley, taking it from his pocket. "He mentions in it
+that there is a report in the town that Herbert Dare is dead."
+
+"Herbert Dare! I wonder if it's true?"
+
+"It is to be hoped not. I fear he was not very fit to die. I am going
+into Helstonleigh, and shall probably hear more."
+
+"Oh! are you going in to-day, sir? Despatch William back, will you?"
+
+"I don't know, Henry. They may be busy at the manufactory. If so, I am
+sure he will not leave it."
+
+"What a blessing if that manufactory were up in the clouds!" was Henry's
+rejoinder. "When I want William particularly, it is sure to be--that
+manufactory!"
+
+"It is well William does not think as you do," remarked Mr. Ashley.
+
+"Well, sir, he must certainly think Samuel Lynn a nonentity, or he would
+not stick himself so closely to business. You never applied yourself in
+such a way."
+
+"Yes, I did. But you must please to remember, Master Henry, that the
+cases are not on a parallel. I was head and chief of all, accountable to
+none. Had I chosen to take a twelvemonth's holiday, and let the business
+go, it would have been my own affair exclusively. Whether the business
+went right, or whether it went wrong, I was accountable to none. William
+is not in that position."
+
+"I know he is often in the position of not being to be had when he is
+wanted," was Henry's reply, as he listlessly turned over some books
+that lay on the table.
+
+"Will you go into town with me?"
+
+"I could not stand it to-day. My hip is giving me twinges."
+
+"Is it? I had better bring back Parry."
+
+"No. I won't have him, unless I find there's actual need. The mother
+knows what to do with me. I don't suppose it will come to anything; and
+I have been so much better of late."
+
+"Yes, you have. Although you quarrel with Deoffam, it is the change to
+it--the air of the place--that has renewed your health, you ungrateful
+boy!"
+
+Mr. Ashley's eyes were bent lovingly on Henry's as he said it. Henry
+seized his father's hands, his half-mocking tone exchanged for one of
+earnestness.
+
+"Not ungrateful, sir--far from it. I know the value of my dear father:
+that a kinder or a better one son could not possess. I shall grumble on
+to my life's end. It is my amusement. But the grumbling is from my lips
+only: not from my fractious spirit, as it was in days gone by."
+
+"I have remarked that: remarked it with deep thankfulness. You have
+acquired a victory over that fractious spirit."
+
+"For which the chief thanks are due to William Halliburton. Sir, it is
+so. But for him, most probably I should have gone, a discontented
+wretch, to the--let me be poetical for once--silent tomb: never seeking
+out either the light or the love that may be found in this world."
+
+Mr. Ashley glanced at his son. He saw that he was contending with
+emotion, although he had reassumed his bantering tone.
+
+"Henry, what light--what love?"
+
+"The light and the love that a man may take into his own spirit.
+He--William--told me, years ago, that I might make even my life a
+pleasant and a useful one; and measureless was the ridicule I gave him
+for it. But I have found that he was right. When William came to the
+house one night, a humble errand-boy, sent by Samuel Lynn with a
+note--do you remember it, sir?--and offered to help me, dunce that I
+was, with my Latin exercise--a help I graciously condescended to
+accept--we little thought what a blessing had entered the dwelling."
+
+"We little thought what a brave, honest, indomitable spirit was
+enshrined in the humble errand-boy," continued Mr. Ashley.
+
+"He has got on as he deserved. He will be a worthy successor to you,
+sir: a second Thomas Ashley; a far better one than I should ever have
+been, had I possessed the rudest health. There's only one thing more for
+William to gain, and then I expect he will be at rest."
+
+"What's that?"
+
+"Oh, it's no concern of mine, sir. If folks can't manage for themselves,
+they need not come to me to help them."
+
+Mr. Ashley looked keenly at his son. Henry passed to another topic.
+
+"Do send him here, sir, when you get in; or else drive him back with
+you."
+
+"I shall see," said Mr. Ashley. "Do you know where your mother went to?"
+
+"After some domestic catastrophe, I expect. Martha came to the door,
+with a face as green as the peacock's tail, and beckoned her out. The
+best dinner-service come to grief, perhaps."
+
+Mr. Ashley rang, and ordered the pony-carriage to be got ready: one
+bought chiefly for Henry, that he might drive into town. Before he
+started, he came across Mary, who stood at one of the corridor windows
+upstairs, and had evidently been crying.
+
+"What is your grief, Mary?"
+
+She turned to the sheltering arm open to her, and tried to choke the
+tears down, which were again rising. "I wish you and mamma would not
+keep so angry at my refusing Sir Harry Marr."
+
+"Who told you I was angry, Mary?"
+
+"Oh, papa, I fancied so this morning. Mamma is angry about it, and it
+pains me. It is as though you wanted me gone."
+
+"My dear child! Gone! For our comfort I should wish you might never go,
+Mary. But for your own, it may be different."
+
+"I do not wish to go," she sobbed. "I want to stay at home always. It
+was not my fault, papa, if I could not like Sir Harry."
+
+"You should never, with my consent, marry any one you did not like,
+Mary; not if it were the greatest match in the three kingdoms. Why this
+distress, my dear? Mamma's vexation will blow over. She hoped--as Henry
+tells us--to see you converted into a 'real live My Lady.' 'My daughter,
+Lady Marr!' It will blow over, child."
+
+Mary cried in silence. "And you will not let me be driven away, papa?
+You will keep me at home always?"
+
+Mr. Ashley shook his head. "Always is a long day, Mary. Some one may be
+coming, less distasteful than Sir Harry Marr, who will induce you to
+leave it."
+
+"No, never!" cried she, somewhat more vehemently than the case seemed to
+warrant. "Should any one be asking you for me, you can tell them 'No,'
+at once; do not trouble to bring the news to me."
+
+"_Any one_, Mary?"
+
+"Yes, papa, no matter who. Do not drive me away from you."
+
+He stooped and kissed her. She stood at the window still, in a dreamy
+attitude, and watched the carriage drive off with Mr. Ashley. Presently
+Henry passed.
+
+"Has the master gone, do you know, Mary?"
+
+"Five minutes ago."
+
+"I hope and trust he'll send back William."
+
+It was striking half-past two when Mr. Ashley entered the manufactory.
+Samuel Lynn was in his own room, sorting gloves; William was in the
+counting house, seated at his desk. His, now; formerly Mr. Ashley's; the
+very desk from which the cheque had disappeared; but William took a more
+active part in the general management than Mr. Ashley had ever done. He
+rose, shook hands with the master, and placed a chair for him. The
+"master" still he was called; indeed, he actually was so; William, "Mr.
+Halliburton."
+
+A short time given to business details, and then Mr. Ashley referred to
+the report of Herbert Dare's death. Poor Herbert Dare had never returned
+from abroad, and it was to be feared he had been getting lower and lower
+in the scale of society. Under happier auspices, and with different
+training, Herbert might have made a happier and a better man.
+Helstonleigh did not know how he lived abroad, or why he stayed there.
+Possibly the free and easy continental life had become necessary to him.
+Homburg, Baden-Baden, Wiesbaden, wherever there were gaming-tables,
+there might be found Herbert Dare. That he must find a living at them in
+some way seemed pretty evident. It was a great pity.
+
+"How did you hear that he was dead?" inquired Mr. Ashley.
+
+"From Richard Winthorne," replied William. "I met him yesterday evening
+in Guild Street, and he told me a report had come over that Herbert Dare
+had died of fever."
+
+As William spoke, a gentleman entered the room, and interrupted them; a
+Captain Chambers. "Have you heard that Herbert Dare's dead?" was his
+first greeting.
+
+"Is it certain?" asked Mr. Ashley.
+
+"I don't know. Report says it is certain; but report is not always to be
+believed. How that family has gone down!" continued Captain Chambers.
+"Anthony first; now Herbert; and Cyril will be next. He will go out of
+the world in some discreditable way. A wretched scamp! Shocking habits!
+Old Dare, too, unless I am mistaken, is on his last legs."
+
+"Is he ill?" inquired Mr. Ashley.
+
+"No; no worse than usual; but I never saw a man so broken. I alluded to
+the legs of prosperity. Talk about reports, though," and Captain
+Chambers suddenly wheeled round on William, "there's one going the round
+of the town to-day about you."
+
+"What's that?" asked William. "Not that I am dead, I suppose, or on my
+last legs?"
+
+"Something better. That you are going to marry Sophy Glenn."
+
+William looked all amazement, an amused smile stealing over his lips.
+"Well, I never!" uttered he, using a phrase just then in vogue in
+Helstonleigh. "What has put that into the town's head?"
+
+"You should best know that," said Captain Chambers. "Did you not, for
+one thing, beau Miss Sophy to a concert last night? Come, Master
+William! guilty or not guilty?"
+
+"Guilty of the beauing," answered William. "I called on the Glenns
+yesterday evening, and found them starting for the concert; so I
+accompanied them. I did give my arm to Sophy."
+
+"And whispered the sweet words, 'Will you be my charming wife?'"
+
+"No, that I did not," said William, laughing. "And I dare say I shall
+never whisper them to any woman yet born: if it will give Helstonleigh
+satisfaction to know so much."
+
+"You might go farther and fare worse, than in taking Sophy Glenn, I can
+tell you that, Master William," returned Captain Chambers. "Remember,
+she is the lucky one of three sisters, and had the benignant godmother.
+Sophy Glenn counts five thousand pounds to her fortune."
+
+When Captain Chambers took his departure, Mr. Ashley looked at William.
+"I have heard Henry joke you about the Glenn girls--nice little girls
+they are too! Is there anything in it, William?"
+
+"Sir! How can you ask such a thing?"
+
+"I think, with Chambers, that a man might do worse than marry Sophy
+Glenn."
+
+"So do I, sir. But I shall not be the man."
+
+"Well, I think it is time you contemplated something of the sort. You
+will soon be thirty years of age."
+
+"Yes, sir, but I do not intend to marry."
+
+"Why not?" asked Mr. Ashley.
+
+"Because--I fear my wishes would lead me to soar too high. That is,
+I--I--mean----" He stopped; and seemed to be falling into inextricable
+confusion. A notable thing for the self-possessed William Halliburton.
+
+"Do you mean that you have an attachment in some quarter?" resumed Mr.
+Ashley.
+
+William's face turned fiery red. "I cannot deny it, sir," he answered,
+after considerable hesitation.
+
+"And that she is above your reach?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"In what manner? In position?--or by any insurmountable obstacle? I
+suppose she is not some one else's wife?"
+
+William smiled. "Oh, no. In position."
+
+"Shall I give you my opinion, William, without knowing the case in
+detail?"
+
+William was standing at one corner of the mantel-piece, his arm leaning
+on its narrow shelf. He did not lift his eyes. "Yes, sir, if you
+please."
+
+"Then I think there is scarcely any marriageable girl in the county, to
+whom you might not aspire, and in time win."
+
+"Oh, Mr. Ashley!"
+
+"Is it the daughter of the lord-lieutenant?"
+
+William laughed.
+
+"Is it the bishop's daughter?"
+
+William shook his head. "She seems to be quite as far removed from me."
+
+"Come, I must know. Who is it?"
+
+"It is impossible that I can tell you, sir."
+
+"I must know. I don't think I have ever asked you in vain, since the
+time when, a boy, you confessed your thoughts about the found shilling.
+Secrets from me! I will know, William!"
+
+William did not answer. The upper part of his face was concealed by his
+hand; but Mr. Ashley marked the sweet smile that played around his
+mouth.
+
+"Come, I will help you. Is it the charming Dobbs?"
+
+Amused, he took his hand from his face. "Well, sir--no."
+
+"It cannot be Charlotte East; because she is married."
+
+William seemed as impervious as ever. The master suddenly laid his hand
+upon his shoulder, and confronted him face to face.
+
+"Is it Mary Ashley?"
+
+The burning flush of scarlet that dyed his face, even to the very roots
+of his hair, told Mr. Ashley the truth, far more effectually than words
+could have done. There ensued a pause. Mr. Ashley was the first to break
+it.
+
+"How long have you loved her?"
+
+"For years. _That_ has been the wild dream of my aspirations: one that I
+knew would never be realized," he answered, suffering his eyes to meet
+for a moment Mr. Ashley's.
+
+"Have you spoken to her of it?"
+
+"Never."
+
+"Or led her to believe you loved her?"
+
+"No, sir. Unless my looks and tones may have betrayed me. I fear they
+have; but it was not intentionally done."
+
+"Honest in this, as in all else," thought Mr. Ashley. "What am I to say
+to you?" he asked aloud.
+
+"I do not know," sighed William. "I expect, of course, sir, that you
+will forbid me Deoffam Hall: but I can still meet Henry at the house in
+town. I hope you will forgive me!" he added in an impassioned tone. "I
+could not help loving her. Before I knew what my new feelings meant,
+love had come. Such love! Had I been in a position to marry her, I would
+have made her life one dream of happiness! When I awoke to it all----"
+
+"What awoke you?" was the interruption.
+
+
+"I think it was Cyril Dare's asking for her. I debated with myself
+then, whether I ought to give up going to your house; but I came to the
+conclusion that, so long as I was able to hide my feelings from her, I
+need not banish myself. My judgment was wrong, I know; but the
+temptation to see her occasionally was great, and I did not resist it."
+
+"And so you continued to go, feeding the flame?"
+
+"Yes. Feeding it passionately and hopelessly; never forgetting that the
+pain of separation must come!"
+
+"Did you hear of Sir Harry Marr's offer?"
+
+"Yes, I heard of it."
+
+William swept his hand across his face as he spoke. It wore a _wrung_
+expression. Mr. Ashley changed his tone.
+
+"William, I cannot decide this matter, one way or the other. You must
+ask Mary to do that!"
+
+"_Sir!_"
+
+"If Mary chooses to favour you more than she does other suitors, I will
+not forbid her doing it. Only this very day she begged me, with tears,
+to keep all such troublesome customers away from her; to refuse them of
+my own accord. But it strikes me that you may as well have an answer
+from herself!"
+
+William, his whole soul in his eyes, was gazing at Mr. Ashley. He could
+not tell whether he might believe what he heard; whether he was awake or
+dreaming.
+
+"Did I deliver you a message from Henry?"
+
+"No, sir," was the abstracted response.
+
+"He wants you to go over to him. I said I would send you if you were not
+busy. He is not very well to-day."
+
+"But--Mr. Ashley--did you mean what you said?"
+
+"Should I have said it had I not meant it?" was the quiet answer. "Have
+you a difficulty in believing it?"
+
+The ingenuous light rose to William's eyes, as he raised them to his
+master's. "I have no money," he whispered. "I cannot settle a farthing
+upon her."
+
+"You have something better than money, William--worth. And I can make
+settlements. Go and hear what Mary says. You will catch the half-past
+three o'clock coach, if you make haste."
+
+William went out, believing still that he must be in a trance. His
+deeply buried dream of the long past years: was it about, indeed, to
+become reality?
+
+But in the midst of it he could not help casting a thought to a less
+pleasing subject--the Dares. Herbert was young to die; he was, no doubt,
+unprepared to die; and William sincerely hoped that the report would
+prove untrue. The Dares were going down sadly in the social scale; Cyril
+especially. He was just what Captain Chambers had called him--a scamp.
+After leaving Mr. Ashley's, he had entered his father's office; as a
+temporary thing, it was said; but he had never left it for anything
+else. A great deal of his time was passed in public-houses. George,
+whose commission never came, had gone out, some two or three years ago,
+to Sydney. His sister Julia and her husband had settled there, and they
+had found an opening for George. William walked on, thinking of the
+Dares' position and of his own.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+WAYS AND MEANS.
+
+
+When William reached Deoffam Hall, he found Henry Ashley alone, lying in
+the drawing-room, the sofa near the open window.
+
+"That's good!" cried he. "Good of the master for sending you, and of you
+for coming."
+
+"You don't look well to-day," observed William. "Your brow has the old
+lines of pain in it."
+
+"Thanks to my hip, which is giving me threatening twinges. What's this
+report about Dare? Is it confirmed?"
+
+"Not absolutely. It was Winthorne told me. Captain Chambers came into
+the manufactory, and spoke of it this afternoon."
+
+"I dare say it's true," said Henry. "I wonder if Anna Lynn will put on
+weeds for him?" he sarcastically added.
+
+"Quakers don't wear weeds."
+
+"Teach your grandmother," returned Henry, lapsing into one of those
+free, popular phrases he indulged in, and _was_ indulged in. "How you
+stare at me! Do you think I am not _cured_? Ay; years ago."
+
+"You'd have no objection to see Anna marry, I suppose?"
+
+"She's welcome to marry, for me. You may go and propose to her yourself,
+if you like. I'll be groomsman at the wedding."
+
+"Would the alliance give you pleasure?"
+
+Henry laughed. "You'd deserve hanging in chains, if you did enter upon
+it; that's all."
+
+"I have had one wife assigned to me to-day," remarked William.
+
+"Whom may she be?"
+
+"Sophy Glenn."
+
+"Sophy Glenn?"
+
+"Sophy Glenn. Chambers gravely assured me that Helstonleigh had settled
+the match. He, Chambers, considers that I may go farther and fare worse.
+Mr. Ashley said the same."
+
+"But what do _you_ say?" cried Henry, rising up on his sofa, and
+speaking quite sharply.
+
+"I? Oh, I shall consider of it."
+
+At that moment Mary Ashley appeared on the terrace outside; a small
+basket and a pair of scissors in her hand. Henry called to her. "Are you
+going to cut more flowers?"
+
+"Yes. Mamma has sent the others away. She said they were fading." Seeing
+William there, she nodded to him, her colour rising.
+
+"I say, Mary--he has come here to bring some news," went on Henry. "What
+do you suppose it is?"
+
+"Mamma has told me. About Herbert Dare."
+
+"Not that. He is going to make himself into a respectable man, and marry
+Sophy Glenn. He came here to announce it. Don't cut too much of that
+syringa; its sweetness is overpowering in a room."
+
+Mary walked away. William felt excessively annoyed. "You are more
+dangerous than a child," he exclaimed. "What made you say that?"
+
+And Henry, like a true child, fell back, laughing aloud. "I say, though,
+comrade, where are you off to?" he called after William, who was leaving
+the room.
+
+"To cut the flowers for your sister, of course."
+
+But when William reached Mary Ashley, she had apparently forgotten her
+errand. Standing in a dark spot against the trunk of the acacia tree,
+her face was white and still, and the basket lay on the ground. She
+picked it up, and would have hastened away, but William caught her hand
+and placed it within his arm, little less agitated than she was.
+
+"Not to tell him that news," he whispered. "I did indeed come here,
+hoping to solicit one to be my wife; but it was not Sophy Glenn. Mary,
+you cannot mistake what my feelings have long been."
+
+"But--papa?" she gasped, unable to control her emotion.
+
+He looked at her; he made her look at him. What strange, happy light was
+that in his earnest eyes, causing her heart to bound? "Mr. Ashley sent
+me to you," he softly whispered.
+
+Henry lay and waited till he was tired. No William; no Mary; no flowers;
+no anything. Had they both gone to sleep? He arose; and, taking his
+stick, limped away to see after them. But he searched the flower-garden
+in vain.
+
+In the sheltered shrubbery, pacing it leisurely, as closely together as
+they could well be linked, were they; a great deal too much occupied
+with each other to pay attention to anything else. The basket lay on the
+ground, empty of all, except the scissors.
+
+"Well, you two are a nice lot for a summer's day!" began Henry, after
+his old fashion, and using his own astonished eyes. "What of the
+flowers?"
+
+Mary would have flown, but William held her tightly, and led her up to
+her brother. He strove to speak jestingly; but his voice betrayed his
+emotion.
+
+"Henry, shall it be your sister, or Sophy Glenn?"
+
+"So! you have been settling it for yourselves, have you! I would not be
+in your shoes, Miss Ashley, when the parental thunderbolts shall
+descend. Was this what you flung Sir Harry over for? There never was any
+accounting for taste in this world, and there never will be. I ask you
+where the flowers are, and I should like an answer."
+
+"I will cut them now," said William. "Will you come?" he asked, holding
+out his arm to Henry.
+
+"No," replied Henry, sitting down on the shrubbery bench, "I must
+digest this shock first. You two will be enough to cut them, I dare
+say."
+
+They walked away towards the flower-garden. But ere they had gone many
+steps he called out; and they turned.
+
+"Mary! before you tie yourself up irrevocably, I hope you will reflect
+upon the ignominy of his being nothing on earth but a manufacturer. A
+pretty come down, that, for the Lady Marr who might have been!"
+
+He was in one of his most ironical moods; a sure sign that his inward
+state was that of glowing satisfaction. This had been his hope for
+years--his plan, it may be said; but he had kept himself silent and
+neutral. As he sat there ruminating, he heard the distant sound of the
+pony carriage; and, taking a short cut, met it in the park. Mr. Ashley
+handed the reins to his groom, got out, and gave his arm to Henry.
+
+"How are you by this time?"
+
+"Better, sir. Nothing much to brag of."
+
+"I thought William would have been with you. Is he not come?"
+
+"Yes, he is come. But I am second with him to-day. Miss Mary's first."
+
+"Oh indeed!" returned Mr. Ashley.
+
+"They are gone off somewhere, under the pretext of cutting flowers. I
+don't think the flowers were quite the object, though."
+
+He stole a glance at his father as he spoke. But he gathered nothing.
+And he dashed at once into the subject he had at heart.
+
+"Father, you will not stand in their light! It will be a crushing blow
+to both, if you do. Let him have her! There's not a man in the world
+half as worthy."
+
+But still Mr. Ashley made no rejoinder. Henry scarcely gave him time to
+make one.
+
+"I have seen it a long time. I have seen how Halliburton kept down his
+feelings, not being sure of the ground with you. I fear that to-day they
+must have overmastered him; for he has certainly spoken out. Dear
+father, don't make two of the best spirits in the world miserable, by
+withholding your consent!"
+
+"Henry," said Mr. Ashley, turning to him with a smile, "do you fancy
+William Halliburton is one to have spoken out without my consent?"
+
+Henry's thin cheek flushed. "Did you give it him? Have you already given
+it him?"
+
+"I gave it him to-day. I drew from him the fact of his attachment to
+Mary: not telling him in so many words that he should have her, but
+leaving it for her to decide."
+
+"Then it will be: for I have seen where Miss Mary's love has been. How
+immeasurably you have relieved me!" continued Henry. "The last half-hour
+I have been seeing nothing but perplexity and cross-grained guardians."
+
+"Have you?" returned Mr. Ashley. "You should have brought a little
+common sense to bear upon the subject, Henry."
+
+"But my fear was, sir, that you would not bring the common sense to
+bear," freely spoke Henry.
+
+"You do not quite understand me. Had I entertained an insuperable
+objection to Mary's becoming his wife, do you suppose I should have been
+so wanting in prudence and forethought as to have allowed opportunity
+for an attachment to ripen? I have long believed that there was no man
+within the circle of my acquaintance, or without it, so deserving of
+Mary, except in fortune: therefore I suffered him to come here, with my
+eyes open as to what might be the result. A very probable result, it has
+appeared to me. I would forgive any girl who fell in love with William
+Halliburton."
+
+"And what about ways and means?"
+
+"William's share shall be increased, and Mary will not go to him
+dowerless. They must live in our house in Helstonleigh; and when we want
+to go there we must be their guests."
+
+"It will be the working-out of my visions," said Henry in low deep
+tones. "I have seen them in it in fancy; in that very house; and myself
+with them, my home when I please. I think you have been planning for me,
+as much as for them."
+
+"Not exactly, Henry. I have not planned. I have only let things take
+their course. It will be happier for you, my boy, than if she had gone
+from us to be Lady Marr."
+
+"Oh! if ever I felt inclined to smother a man, it was that Marr. I
+never, you know, brought myself to be decently civil to him. There's no
+answering for the vanity of maidens, and I thought it just possible he
+might put William's nose out of joint. What will the mother say?"
+
+"The mother will be divided," said Mr. Ashley, a smile crossing his
+face. "She likes William; but she likes a title. We must allow her a day
+or two to get over it. I will go and give her the tidings now, if Mary
+has not done so."
+
+"Mary is with her lovier," returned Henry. "She can't have dragged
+herself away from him yet."
+
+Mary, however, was not with her "lovier." As Mr. Ashley crossed the
+hall, he met her. She stopped in hesitation, and coloured vividly.
+
+"Well, Mary, I soon sent you a candidate; though it was in defiance of
+your express orders. Did I do right?"
+
+Mary burst into tears, and Mr. Ashley drew her face to him. "May God
+bless your future and his, my child!"
+
+"I am afraid to tell mamma," she sobbed. "I think she will be angry. I
+could not help liking him."
+
+"Why, that is the very excuse he made to me! Neither can I help liking
+him, Mary. I will tell mamma."
+
+Mrs. Ashley received the tidings not altogether with equanimity. As Mr.
+Ashley had surmised, she was divided between conflicting opinions. She
+liked and admired William; but she equally liked and admired a title and
+fortune.
+
+"Such a position to relinquish--the union with Sir Harry!"
+
+"Had she married Sir Harry we should have lost her," said Mr. Ashley.
+
+"Lost her!"
+
+"To be sure we should. She would have gone to her new home, twelve miles
+on the other side of Helstonleigh, amidst her new connections, and have
+been lost to us, excepting for a formal visit now and then. As it is, we
+shall keep her; at her old home."
+
+"Yes, there's a great deal to be said on both sides," acknowledged Mrs.
+Ashley. "What does Henry say?"
+
+"That he thinks I have been planning to secure his happiness. Had Mary
+married away, we--when we quit this scene--must have left him to his
+lonely self: now, we shall leave him to them. Things are wisely
+ordered," impressively added Mr. Ashley: "in this, as in all else.
+Margaret, let us accept them, and be grateful."
+
+Mrs. Ashley went to seek William. "You will be a loving husband to her,"
+she said with agitation. "You will take care of her and cherish her?"
+
+"With the best endeavours of my whole life," he fervently answered, as
+he took Mrs. Ashley's hands in his.
+
+It was a happy group that evening. Henry lay on his sofa in complacent
+ease, Mary drawn down beside him, and William leaning over the back of
+it, while Mr. and Mrs. Ashley sat at a distance, partially out of
+hearing.
+
+"Have you heard what the master says?" asked Henry. "He thinks you have
+been getting up your bargain out of complaisance to me. You are aware, I
+hope, Mr. William, that whoever takes Mary must take me?"
+
+"I am perfectly willing."
+
+"It is well you are! And--do you know where you are to live?"
+
+William shook his head. "You can understand how all these future
+considerations have weighed me down," he said, glancing at Mary.
+
+"You are to live at the house in Helstonleigh. It's to be converted into
+yours by some patent process. The master had an eye to this, I know,
+when he declined to take out any of the furniture, upon our removal
+here. The house is to be yours, and the run of it is to be mine; and I
+shall grumble away to my heart's content at you both. What do you answer
+to that, Mr. William? I don't ask her; she's nobody."
+
+"I can only answer that the more you run into it, the better pleased we
+shall be. And we can stand any extent of grumbling."
+
+"I am glad you can. You ought to by this time, for you have been pretty
+well seasoned to it. So, in the Helstonleigh house, remember, my old
+rooms are mine; and I intend to be the plague of your lives. After a
+time--may it be a long time!--I suppose it will be 'Mr. Halliburton of
+Deoffam Hall.'"
+
+"What nonsense you talk, Henry!"
+
+"Nonsense? I shall make it over to you. Catch me sticking myself out
+here in solitary state to the admiration of the peacock! What's the
+matter with you now, you two! Oh, well, if you turn up your noses at
+Deoffam, it shall never be yours. I'll leave it to the eldest
+chickabiddy. And mark you, please! I shall have him named 'Ashley,' and
+stand godfather to him; and, he'll be mine, and not yours. I shall do
+just as I like with the whole lot, if they count a score, and spoil them
+as much as I choose."
+
+"What _is_ the matter there?" exclaimed Mrs. Ashley, perceiving a
+commotion on the sofa.
+
+Mary succeeded in freeing herself, and went away with a crimsoned face.
+"Mamma, I think Henry must be going out of his mind! He is talking so
+absurdly."
+
+"Absurdly! Was what I said absurd, William?"
+
+William laughed. "It was premature, at any rate."
+
+Henry stretched up his hands and laid hold of William's. "It is true
+what Mary says--that I must be going out of my mind. So I am: with joy."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+But the report of Herbert Dare's death proved to be a false one.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI.
+
+THE DREAM REALIZED.
+
+
+The approaching marriage of William Halliburton gave rise to a dispute.
+A dispute of love, though, not bitterness. Frank and Gar contended which
+should have their mother. William no longer wanted her; he was going to
+a home of his own. Frank wished to take larger chambers where she would
+find sufficient accommodation; he urged a hundred reasons; his
+grievances with his laundress, and his buttonless shirts. Gar, who was
+in priest's orders now, had remained in that same first curacy, at a
+hundred a year and the parsonage house to live in. He said he had been
+wanting his mother all along, and could not do without her.
+
+Jane inclined to Gar. She said she had an idea that old ladies--how they
+would have rebelled at hearing her call herself old!--were out of place
+in a young barrister's chambers; and she had a further idea that
+chambers were comfortless quarters to live in. The question was to be
+decided when they met at William's wedding. Frank was getting on well;
+better than the ordinary run of aspirants; he had come through
+Helstonleigh two or three times on circuit, and had picked up odds and
+ends of briefs there.
+
+Meanwhile William took possession of Mr. Ashley's old house, and the
+wedding day approached. Besides her boys, Jane had another visitor for
+the time; her brother Francis, who came down to marry them. Perhaps
+because the Vicar of Deoffam had recently died. He might have come all
+the same, had that gouty old gentleman been still alive.
+
+All clear and cloudless rose the September sun on Deoffam; never a
+brighter sun shone on a wedding. It was a quiet wedding: only a few
+guests were invited to it. Mary, in her white lace robes and floating
+veil--flushed, timid, lovely--stood with her bridesmaids; not more
+lovely than one of those bridesmaids, for one was Anna Lynn.
+
+Anna Lynn! Yes; Anna Lynn. To the lasting scandal of Patience, Anna
+stood in the open church, dressed in bridesmaid's attire. Mary, who had
+not been permitted the same intimacy with Anna since that marked and
+unhappy time, but who had loved her all along, had been allowed by Mrs.
+Ashley to choose her for one of her bridesmaids. The invitation was
+proffered, and Samuel Lynn did not see reason to decline it. Patience
+was indignantly rebellious; Anna, wild with delight. Look at her, as she
+stands there! flowing robes of white around her, not made after the
+primitive fashion of _her_ robes, but in the fashion of the day. Her
+falling hair shades her carmine cheeks, and her blue eyes seek modestly
+the ground. A fair picture; and a dangerous one to Henry Ashley, had
+those old feelings of his remained in the ascendant. But he was cured;
+as he told William: and he told it in truth.
+
+A short time, and Anna would want bridesmaids on her own account; though
+that may be speaking metaphorically of a Quakeress. Anna's pretty face
+had pierced the heart of one of their male body; and he had asked for
+Anna in marriage. A very desirable male was he, in a social point of
+view; and female Helstonleigh turned up its nose in envy at Anna's
+fortune. He was considerably older than Anna; a fine-looking man and a
+wealthy one, engaged in wholesale business. His name was Gurney; his
+residence, outside the city, was a handsome one, replete with every
+comfort; and he drove a carriage-and-pair. He had been for some time a
+visitor at Samuel Lynn's, and Anna had learned to like him. That his
+object in visiting there could only be Anna, every one had been sure of,
+his position being so superior to Samuel Lynn's. Every one but Anna.
+Somehow, since that past escapade, Anna had not cast a thought to
+marrying, or to the probability of anyone asking her; and she did not
+suspect his intentions. If she had suspected them, she might have set
+herself against him; for there was a little spice of opposition in her,
+which she loved to indulge. However, before that suspicion came to her
+she had grown to care for him too much to play the coquette. Strange to
+say, there was something in his figure and in the outline of his face,
+which reminded people of Herbert Dare; but his features and their
+expression were quite different.
+
+It was a most excellent match for Anna; there was no doubt of that; but
+it did not afford complete satisfaction to Patience. Patience felt a
+foreboding that he would be a good deal more indulgent to Anna than she
+considered was wholesomely good for her: Patience had a misgiving that
+Anna would be putting off her caps as she chose, then, and would not be
+reprimanded for it. Not unlikely; could that future bridegroom, Charles
+Gurney, catch sight of Anna as she stands now! for a more charming
+picture never was seen.
+
+William, quiet and self-possessed, received Mary from the hands of her
+father, who gave her away. The Reverend Francis Tait read the service,
+and Gar, in his white canonicals, stood with him, after the new fashion
+of the day. Jane's tears dropped on her pearl-grey damask dress; Frank
+made himself very busy amongst the bridesmaids; and Henry Ashley was in
+his most mocking mood. Thus they were made man and wife; and Mr. Tait's
+voice rose high and echoed down the aisles of the little old church at
+Deoffam, as he spoke the solemn injunction--"THOSE WHOM GOD HATH JOINED
+TOGETHER, LET NO MAN PUT ASUNDER."
+
+Helstonleigh's streets were lined that day, and Helstonleigh's windows
+were alive with heads. It was known that the bride and bridegroom would
+pass through the town, on the first stage of their bridal tour, whose
+ultimate destination was to be the Continent. The whole crowd of the
+Ashley workpeople had gathered outside the manufactory, neglecting their
+afternoon's work; a neglect which Samuel Lynn not only winked at, but
+participated in, for he stood with them. As the carriage, which was Mr.
+Ashley's, came in sight, its four horses urged by the postillions to a
+sharp trot, one deafening cheer arose from the men. William laughed and
+nodded to them; but they did not get half a good view of the master's
+daughter beside him: nothing but a glimpse of a flushed cheek, and a
+piece of a white veil.
+
+Slouching at the corner of a street, in a seedy coat, his eyes
+bloodshot, was Cyril Dare. Never did one look more of a _mauvais sujet_
+than he, as he watched the chariot pass. The place now occupied by
+William might have been his, had he so willed it and worked for it. Not,
+perhaps, that of Mary's husband; he could not be sure of that, but as
+Mr. Ashley's partner. A bitter cloud of disappointment, of repentance,
+crossed his face as he looked at them. They both saw him standing there.
+Did Mary think what a promising husband he would have made her? Cyril
+flung a word after them; and it was not a blessing.
+
+Dobbs had also flung something after them, and in point of time and
+precedence this ought to have been mentioned first. Patience, watching
+from her window, curious as every one else, had seen Dobbs come out with
+something under her apron, and take up her station at the gate, where
+she waited patiently for just an hour and a quarter. As the carriage had
+come into view, Dobbs sheltered herself behind the shrubs, nothing to be
+seen of her above them, but her cap and eyes. The moment the carriage
+was past, out flew Dobbs to the middle of the road. Bringing forth from
+their hiding-place a pair of shoes considerably the worse for wear, the
+one possessing no sole, and the other no upper leather, Dobbs dashed
+them with force after the chariot, very much discomposing the manservant
+in the rear, whose head they struck.
+
+"Nothing like old shoes to bring 'em luck," grunted Dobbs to Patience,
+as she retired indoors. "I never knew good come of a wedding that didn't
+get 'em."
+
+"_I_ wish them luck; the luck of a safe arrival home from those
+unpleasant foreign parts," emphatically remarked Patience, who had found
+her residence amongst the French nothing less than a species of
+terrestrial purgatory.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII.
+
+THE BISHOP'S LETTER.
+
+
+A day or two after the wedding, a letter was delivered at Mrs.
+Halliburton's residence, addressed to Gar. Its seal, a mitre, prepared
+Gar to find that it came from the Bishop of Helstonleigh. Its contents
+proved to be a mandate, commanding his attendance the following morning
+at the palace at nine o'clock. Gar turned nervous. Had he fallen under
+his bishop's displeasure, and was about to be reprimanded? Mr. Tait had
+gone back to London; Gar was to leave on the following day, Saturday;
+Frank meant to stay on for a week or two. It was his vacation.
+
+"That's Gar all over!" cried Frank, who had perched himself on a side
+table. "Gar is sure to look to the dark side of things, instead of the
+bright. If the Lord Chancellor sent for me, I should set it down that my
+fortune was about to be made. His lordship's going to present you with a
+living, Gar."
+
+"That's good!" retorted Gar. "What interest have I with the bishop?"
+
+"He has known you long enough."
+
+"As he has many others. If the bishop interested himself for all the
+clergymen who have been educated at Helstonleigh college school, he
+would have enough upon his hands. I expect it is to find fault with me
+for some unconscious offence."
+
+"Go it, Gar! You'll get no sleep to-night."
+
+"Frank, I must say the note appears a peremptory one," remarked Jane.
+
+"Middling for that. It's short, if not sweet."
+
+Whether Gar had any sleep or not that night, he did not say; but he
+started to keep the appointment punctually. His mother and Frank
+remained together, and Jane fell into a bit of quiet talk over the
+breakfast table.
+
+"Frank," said she, "I am often uneasy about you."
+
+"About me!" cried Frank in considerable wonderment.
+
+"If you were to go wrong! I know what the temptations of a London life
+must be. Especially to a young man who has, so to say, no home."
+
+"I steer clear of them. Mother darling, I am telling you the truth," he
+added earnestly. "Do you think we could ever fall away from such
+training as yours? No. Look at what William is; look at Gar; and for
+myself, though I don't like to boast, I assure you, the Anti-evil-doing
+Society--if you have ever heard of that respected body--might hoist me
+on a pedestal at Exeter Hall as their choicest model. You don't like my
+joking! Believe me, then, in all seriousness, that your sons will never
+fail you. We did not battle on in our duty as boys, to forget it as men.
+You taught us the bravest lesson that a mother can teach, or a child
+learn, when you contrived to impress upon us the truth that God is our
+witness always, ever present."
+
+Jane's eyes filled with tears: not of grief. She knew that Frank was
+speaking from his heart.
+
+"And you are getting on well?"
+
+"What with stray briefs that come to me, and my literary work, and the
+fellowship, I make six or seven hundred a year already."
+
+"I hope you are not spending it all?"
+
+"That I am not. I put by all I can. It is true that I don't live upon
+bread and potatoes six days in the week, as you know we have done; but I
+take care that my expenses are moderate. It is keeping hare-brained
+follies at arm's-length that enables me to save."
+
+"And now, Frank, for another question. What made you send me that
+hundred-pound note?"
+
+"I shall send you another soon," was all Frank's answer. "The idea of my
+gaining a superfluity of money, and sending none to my darling mother!"
+
+"But indeed I don't know what to do with it, Frank. I do not require
+it."
+
+"Then put it by to look at. As long as I have brains to work with, I
+shall think of my mother. Have you forgotten how she worked for us? I
+wish you would come and live with me?"
+
+Jane entered into all her arguments for deeming that she should be
+better with Gar. Not the least of them was, that she should still be
+near Helstonleigh. Of all her sons, Jane, perhaps unconsciously to
+herself, most loved her eldest: and to go far away from him would have
+been another trouble.
+
+By-and-by, they saw Gar coming back. And he did not look as if he had
+been receiving a reprimand: quite the contrary. He came in almost as
+impulsively as he used to do in his schoolboy days.
+
+"Frank, you were right! The bishop is going to give me a living. Mother,
+it is true."
+
+"Of course," said Frank. "I always am right."
+
+"The bishop did not keep me waiting a minute, although I was there
+before my time. He was very kind, and----"
+
+"But about the living?" cried impatient Frank.
+
+"I am telling you, Frank. The bishop said he had watched us grow
+up--meaning you, as well--and he felt pleased to tell me that he had
+never seen anything but good in either of us. But I need not repeat all
+that. He went on to ask me whether I should be prepared to do my duty
+zealously in a living, were one given to me. I answered that I hoped I
+should--and the long and the short of it is, that I am going to be
+appointed to one."
+
+"Long live the bishop!" cried Frank. "Where's the living situated! In
+the moon?"
+
+"Ah, where indeed? Guess what living it is, mother."
+
+"Gar, dear, how can I?" asked Jane. "Is it a minor canonry?"
+
+They both laughed. It recalled Jane to her absence of mind. The bishop
+had nothing to do with bestowing the minor canonries. Neither could a
+minor canonry be called a "living."
+
+"Mother, it is Deoffam."
+
+"Deoffam! Oh, Gar!"
+
+"Yes, it is Deoffam. You will not have to go far away from Helstonleigh,
+now."
+
+"I'll lay my court wig that Mr. Ashley has had his finger in the pie!"
+cried quick Frank.
+
+But, in point of fact, the gift had emanated from the prelate himself.
+And a very good gift it was: four hundred a year, and the prettiest
+parsonage house within ten miles. The brilliant scholarship of the
+Halliburtons, attained by their own unflagging industry, the high
+character they had always borne, had not been lost upon the Bishop of
+Helstonleigh. Gar's conduct as a clergyman had been exemplary; Gar's
+preaching was of no mean order, and the bishop deemed that such a one as
+Gar ought not to be overlooked. The day has gone by for a bishop to know
+nothing of the younger clergy of his diocese, and he of Helstonleigh had
+Gar Halliburton down in his preferment book. It is just possible that
+the announcement of his name in the local papers, as having helped to
+marry his brother at Deoffam, may have put that particular living into
+the bishop's head. Certain it was, that, a few hours after the bishop
+read it, he ordered his carriage, and went to pay a visit at Deoffam
+Hall. During his stay, he took Mr. Ashley's arm, and drew him out on to
+the terrace, very much as though he wished to take a nearer view of the
+peacock.
+
+"I have been thinking, Mr. Ashley, of bestowing the living of Deoffam
+upon Edgar Halliburton. What should you say to it?"
+
+"That I should almost feel it as a personal favour paid to myself," was
+the reply of Mr. Ashley.
+
+"Then it is done," said the bishop. "He is young, but I know a great
+many older men who are less deserving than he."
+
+"Your lordship may rely upon it that there are few men, young or old,
+who are so intrinsically deserving as the Halliburtons."
+
+"I know it," said the bishop. "They interested me as lads, and I have
+watched them ever since."
+
+And that is how Gar became Vicar of Deoffam.
+
+"You will be trying for a minor canonry now, Gar, I suppose, living so
+near to it?" observed Jane.
+
+"Mrs. Halliburton, will you be so kind as not to put unsuitable notions
+into his head?" interrupted Frank. "The Reverend Gar must look out for a
+canonry, not a minor. And he won't stop there. When I am on the
+woolsack, in my place in the Lords, Gar may be opposite to me, a
+spiritual peer."
+
+Jane laughed, as did Frank. Who knew, though? It all lay in the future.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+A DYING CONFESSION.
+
+
+Meanwhile William Halliburton and his wife had crossed the Channel.
+Amongst other letters, written home to convey news of them, was the
+following. It was written by Mary to Mrs. Ashley, after they had been
+abroad a week or two.
+
+     "_Hotel du Chapeau Rouge_, _Dunkerque_,
+
+     "_September 24th._
+
+     "MY EVER DEAR MAMMA,
+
+     "You have heard from William how it was that we altered our
+     intended route. I thought the sea-side so delightful that I was
+     unwilling to leave it, even for Paris, and we determined to
+     remain on the coast, especially as I shall have other
+     opportunities of seeing Paris with William. Boulogne was
+     crowded and noisy, so we left it for less frequented towns,
+     staying a day or two in each place. We went to Calais and to
+     Gravelines; also to Bourbourg, and to Cassel--the two latter
+     _not_ on the coast. The view from Cassel--which you must not
+     confound with Cassel in Germany--is magnificent. We met some
+     English people on the summit of the hill, and they told us the
+     English called it the Malvern of France. I am not sure which
+     affords the finer view, Cassel or Malvern. They say that eighty
+     towns or villages may be counted from it; but I cannot say that
+     we made out anything like so many. We can see the sea in the
+     far distance--as we can, on a clear day, catch a glimpse from
+     Malvern of the Bristol Channel. The view from some of the
+     windows of the Hotel de Sauvage was so beautiful that I was
+     never tired of looking at it. William says he shall show me
+     better views when he takes me to Lyons and Annonay, but I
+     scarcely think it possible. At a short distance rises a
+     monastery of the order of La Trappe, where the monks never
+     speak, except the 'Memento mori' when they meet each other.
+     Some of the customs of the hotel were primitive; they gave us
+     tablespoons in our coffee-cups for breakfast.
+
+     "From Cassel we came to Dunkerque, and are staying at the
+     Chapeau Rouge, the only large hotel in the place. The other
+     large hotel was made into a convent some time back; both are in
+     the Rue des Capucins. It is a fine and very clean old fortified
+     town, with a statue of Jean Bart in the middle of the Place.
+     Place Jean Bart, it is called; and the market is held in it on
+     Wednesdays and Saturdays, as it is at Helstonleigh. Such a
+     crowded scene on the Saturday! and the women's snow-white caps
+     quite shine in the sun. I cannot tell you how much I like to
+     look at these old Flemish towns! By moonlight, they look
+     exactly like the towns you are familiar with in old pictures.
+     There is a large basin here, and a long harbour and pier. One
+     English lady, whom we met at the table d'hote, said she had
+     never been to the end of the pier yet, and she had lived in
+     Dunkerque four years. It was too far for a walk, she said. The
+     country round is flat and poor, and the lower classes mostly
+     speak Flemish.
+
+     "On Monday we went by barge to a place called Bergues, four
+     miles off. It was market day there, and the barge was crowded
+     with passengers from Dunkerque. A nice old town, with a fine
+     church. They charged us only five sous for our passage. But I
+     must leave all these descriptions until I return home, and come
+     to what I have chiefly to tell you.
+
+     "There is a piece of enclosed ground here, called the Pare. On
+     the previous Saturday, which was the day we first arrived here,
+     I and William were walking through it, and sat down on one of
+     the benches facing the old tower. I was rather tired, having
+     been to the end of the pier--for its length did not alarm us.
+     Some one was seated at the other end of the bench, but we did
+     not take particular notice of her. Suddenly she turned to me,
+     and spoke: 'Have I not the honour of seeing Miss Ashley?'
+     Mamma, you may imagine my surprise. It was that Italian
+     governess of the Dares, Mademoiselle Varsini, as they used to
+     call her. William interposed: I don't think he liked her
+     speaking to me. I suppose he thought of that story about her,
+     which came over from Germany. He rose and took me on his arm to
+     move away. 'Formerly Miss Ashley,' he said to her: 'now Mrs.
+     Halliburton.' But William's anger died away--if he had felt
+     any--when he saw her face. I cannot describe to you how
+     fearfully ill she looked. Her cheeks were white, and drawn, and
+     hollow; her eyes were sunk within a dark circle, and her lips
+     were open and looked black. 'Are you ill?' I asked her. 'I am
+     so ill that a few days will be the finish of me,' she answered.
+     'The doctor gave me to the falling of the leaves, and many are
+     already strewing the grass; in less than a week's time from
+     this, I shall be lower than they are.' 'Is Herbert Dare with
+     you?' inquired William--but he has said since that he spoke in
+     the moment's impulse. Had he taken thought, he would not have
+     put the question. 'No, he is not with me,' she answered, in an
+     angry tone. 'I know nothing of him. He is just a vagabond on
+     the face of the earth.' 'What is it that is the matter with
+     you?' William asked her. 'They call it decay,' she answered. 'I
+     was in Brussels, getting my living by daily teaching. I had to
+     go out in all weathers, and I did not take heed to the colds I
+     caught. I suppose they settled on my lungs.' 'Have you been in
+     this town long?' we inquired of her. 'I came in August,' she
+     answered. 'The Belgian doctor said if I had a change, it might
+     do something for me, and I came here; it was the same to me
+     where I went. But it did me harm instead of good. I grew worse
+     directly I came; and the doctor here said I must not move away
+     again; the travelling would injure me. What mattered it? As
+     good die here as elsewhere.' That she had death written plainly
+     in her face, was evident. Nevertheless, William tried to say a
+     word of hope to her: but she interrupted him. 'There's no
+     recovery for me; I am sure to die; and the time, it's to be
+     hoped, will not be long in coming, or my money will not hold
+     out.' She spoke in a matter-of-fact tone shocking to hear: and
+     before I could call up any answer, she turned to William. 'You
+     are the William Halli--I never could say the name--who was at
+     Mr. Ashley's with Cyril Dare. May I ask where you have
+     descended in Dunkerque?' 'At the Chapeau Rouge,' replied
+     William. 'Then, if I should send there to ask you to come and
+     speak with me, will you come?' she continued. 'I have something
+     that I should like to tell you before I die.' William informed
+     her that we should remain a week; and we wished her good
+     morning and moved away into another walk. Soon afterwards, we
+     saw a Sister of Charity, one of those who go about nursing the
+     sick, come up to her and lead her away. She could scarcely
+     crawl, and halted to take breath between every few steps.
+
+     "This, I have told you, was last Saturday. This evening,
+     Wednesday, just as we were rising from table, a waiter came to
+     William and called him out, saying he was wanted. It proved to
+     be the Sister of Charity that we had seen in the park; she told
+     William that Madame Varsini was near death, and had sent her
+     for him. So William went with her, and I have been writing this
+     to you since his departure. It is now ten o'clock, and he has
+     not yet returned. I shall keep this open to tell you what she
+     wanted with him. I cannot imagine.
+
+     "Past eleven. William has come in. He thinks she will not live
+     over to-morrow. And I have kept my letter open for nothing, for
+     William will not tell me. He says she has been talking to him
+     about herself and the Dares; but that the tale is more fit for
+     papa's ears than for yours or mine.
+
+     "My sincerest love to papa and Henry. We are so glad Gar is to
+     be at Deoffam!--And believe me, your ever-loving child,
+
+     "MARY HALLIBURTON."
+
+     "Excuse the smear. I had nearly put 'Mary Ashley.'"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+This meeting, described in Mary's letter, must have been one of those
+remarkable coincidences that sometimes occur during a lifetime. Chance
+encounters they are sometimes called. Chance! Had William and his wife
+not gone to Dunkerque--and they went there by accident, as may be said,
+for the original plan had been to spend their absence in Paris--they
+would not have met. Had the Italian lady not gone to Dunkerque when
+ordered change--and she chose it by accident, she said--they would not
+have met. But somehow both parties _were_ brought there, and they did
+meet. It was not chance that led them there.
+
+When William went out with the sister, she conducted him to a small
+lodging in the Rue Nationale, a street not far from the hotel. The
+accommodation appeared to consist of a small ante-room and a
+bed-chamber. Signora Varsini was in the latter, dressed in a _peignoir_,
+and sitting in an arm-chair, supported by cushions. A washed-out, faded
+_peignoir_, possibly the very one she had worn years ago, the night of
+the death of Anthony Dare. William was surprised; by the sister's
+account he had expected to find her in bed, almost in the last
+extremity. But hers was a restless spirit. She was evidently weaker, and
+her breath seemed to come irregularly. William sat down in a chair
+opposite to her: he could not see very much of her face, for the small
+lamp on the table had a green shade over it, which cast its gloom on the
+room.
+
+The sister retired to the ante-room and closed the door between with a
+caution. "Madame was not to talk much." For a few moments after the
+first greeting, she, "Madame," kept silence; then she spoke in English.
+
+"I should not have known you. I never saw much of you. But I knew Miss
+Ashley in a moment. You must have prospered well."
+
+"Yes, I am Mr. Ashley's partner."
+
+"So! That is what Cyril Dare coveted for himself. Miss Ashley also.
+'Bah, Monsieur Cyril!' said I sometimes to my mind; 'neither the one nor
+the other for thee.' Where is he?"
+
+"Cyril? He is at home. Doing no good."
+
+"He never do good," she said with bitterness. "He Herbert's own brother.
+And the other one--George?"
+
+"George is in Australia. He has a chance, I believe, of doing pretty
+well."
+
+"Are the girls married?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Not Adelaide?"
+
+"No."
+
+Something like a smile curled her dark and fevered lips. "Mademoiselle
+Adelaide was trying after that vicomte. 'Bah!' I would say to myself as
+I did by Cyril, 'there's no vicomte for her; he is only playing his
+game.' Does he go there now?"
+
+"Lord Hawkesley? Oh, no. All intimacy has ceased."
+
+"They have gone down, have they not? They are very poor?"
+
+"I fear they are poor now. Yes, they have very much gone down. May I
+inquire what it is you want with me?"
+
+"You inquire soon," she answered in resentful tones. "Do you fear I
+should contaminate you?--as you feared for your wife on Saturday?"
+
+"If I can aid you in any way I shall be happy and ready to do so," was
+William's answer, spoken soothingly. "I think you are very ill."
+
+"The doctor was here this afternoon. 'Ma chere,' said he, 'to-morrow
+will about end it. You are too weak to last longer; the inside is
+gone.'"
+
+"Did he speak to you in that way?--a medical man!"
+
+"He is aware that I know as much about my own state as he does. He might
+not be so plain with all his patients. Then I said to the sister, 'Get
+me up and make the bed, for I must see a friend.'--And I sent her for
+you. I told you I wanted you to do me a little service. Will you do it?"
+
+"If it is in my power."
+
+"It is not much. It is this," she added, drawing from beneath the
+_peignoir_ a small packet, sealed and stamped, looking like a thick
+letter. "Will you undertake to put this surely in the post after I am
+dead? I do not want it posted before."
+
+"Certainly I will," he answered, taking it from her hand, and glancing
+at the superscription. It was addressed to Herbert Dare at Dusseldorf.
+"Is he there?" asked William.
+
+"That was his address the last I heard of him. He is now here, now
+there, now elsewhere; a vagabond, as I told you, on the face of the
+earth. He is like Cain," she vehemently continued. "Cain wandered abroad
+over the earth, never finding rest. So does Herbert Dare. Who wonders?
+Cain killed his brother: what did _he_ do?"
+
+William lifted his eyes to her face; as much of it as might be
+distinguished under the dark shade cast by the lamp. That she appeared
+to be in a very demonstrative state of resentment against Herbert Dare
+was indisputable.
+
+"He did not kill his brother, at any rate," observed William. "I fear he
+is not a good man; and you may have cause to know that more conclusively
+than I; but he did not kill his brother. You were in Helstonleigh at the
+time, mademoiselle, and must remember that he was cleared," added
+William, falling into the style of address used by the Dares.
+
+"Then I say he did kill him."
+
+She spoke with slow distinctness. William could only look at her in
+amazement. Was her mind wandering? She sat glaring at him with her light
+blue eyes, so glazed, yet glistening; just the same eyes that used to
+puzzle old Anthony Dare.
+
+"What did you say?" asked William.
+
+"I say that Herbert Dare is a second Cain," she answered.
+
+"He did not kill Anthony," repeated William. "He could not have killed
+him. He was in another place at the time."
+
+"Yes. With that Puritan child in the dainty dress--fit attire only for
+your folles in--what you call the place?--Bedlam! I know he was in
+another place," she continued: and she appeared to be growing terribly
+excited, between passion and natural emotion.
+
+"Then what are you speaking of?" asked William. "It is an impossibility
+that Herbert could have killed his brother."
+
+"He caused him to be killed."
+
+William felt a nameless dread creeping over him. "What do you mean?" he
+breathed.
+
+"I send that letter, which you have taken charge of, to Herbert the bad;
+but he moves about from place to place, and it may never reach him. So I
+want to tell you in substance what is written in the letter, that you
+may repeat it to him when you come across him. He may be going back to
+Helstonleigh some day; if he not die off first, with his vagabond life.
+Was it not said there, once, that he was dead?"
+
+"Only for a day or two. It was a false report."
+
+"And when you see him--in case he has not had that packet--you will tell
+him this that I am now about to tell you."
+
+"What is its nature?" asked William.
+
+"Will you promise to tell him?"
+
+"Not until I first hear what it may be," fearlessly replied William.
+"Intrust it to me, if you will, and I will keep it sacred; but I must
+use my own judgment as to imparting it to Herbert Dare. It may be
+something that would be better left unsaid."
+
+"I do not ask you to keep it sacred," she rejoined. "You may tell it to
+the world if you please; you may tell it to your wife; you may tell it
+to all Helstonleigh. But not until I am dead. Will you give that
+promise?"
+
+"That I will readily give you."
+
+"On your honour?"
+
+William's truthful eyes smiled into hers. "On my honour--if that shall
+better satisfy you. It was not necessary."
+
+She remained silent a few moments, and then burst forth vehemently.
+"When you see him, that cochon, that vaurien----"
+
+"I beg you to be calm," interrupted William. "This excitement must be
+most injurious to one in your weak state; I cannot sit and listen to
+it."
+
+"Tell him," said she, leaning forward, and speaking in a somewhat calmer
+tone, "tell him that it was he who caused the death of his brother
+Anthony."
+
+William could only look at her. Was she wandering? "_I_ killed him," she
+went on. "Killed him in mistake for Monsieur Herbert."
+
+Barely had the words left her lips, when all that had been strange in
+that past tragedy seamed to roll away as a cloud from William's mind.
+The utter mystery there had been as to the perpetrator: the almost
+impossibility of pointing accusation to any, seemed now accounted for:
+and a conviction that she was speaking the dreadful truth fell upon him.
+Involuntarily he recoiled from her.
+
+"He used me ill; yes, he used me ill, that wicked Herbert!" she
+continued in agitation. "He told me stories; he was false to me; he
+mocked at me! He had made me care for him; I cared for him--ah, I not
+tell you how. And then he turned round to laugh at me. He had but amused
+himself--pour faire passer la temps!"
+
+Her voice had risen to a shriek; her face and lips grew ghastly, and she
+began to twitch as one falling into convulsion. William grew alarmed,
+and hastened to her support. He could not help it, much as his spirit
+revolted from her.
+
+"Y a-t-il quelque chose qu'on peut donner a madame pour la soulager?" he
+called out hastily to the sister in his fear.
+
+The woman glided in. "Mais oui, monsieur. Madame s'agite, n'est-ce pas?"
+
+"Elle s'agite beaucoup."
+
+The sister poured some drops from a phial into a wine-glass of water,
+and held it to those quivering lips. "Si vous vous agitez comme cela,
+madame, c'est pour vous tuer, savez-vous?" cried she.
+
+"I fear so too," added William in English to the invalid. "It would be
+better for me not to hear this, than for you to put yourself into this
+state."
+
+She grew calmer, and the sister quitted them. William resumed his seat
+as before; there appeared to be no help for it, and she continued her
+tale.
+
+"I not agitate myself again," she said. "I not tell you all the details,
+or what I suffered: a quoi bon? Pain at morning, pain at midday, pain at
+night; I think my heart turned dark, and it has never been right
+again----"
+
+"Hush, mademoiselle! The sister will hear you."
+
+"What matter? She not speak English."
+
+"I really cannot, for your sake, remain here, if you put yourself into
+this state," he rejoined.
+
+"You must remain; you must listen! You have promised to do it," she
+answered.
+
+"I will, if you will be calm."
+
+"I'll be calm," she rejoined, the check having driven back the rising
+passion. "The worst is told. Or rather, I do not tell you the
+worst--that mauvais Herbert! Do you wonder that my spirit was turned to
+revenge?"
+
+Perceiving somewhat of her fierce and fiery nature, William did not
+wonder at it. "I do not know what I am to understand yet?" he whispered.
+"Did _you_--_kill_--Anthony?"
+
+She leaned back on her pillow, clasping her hands before her. "Ah me! I
+did! Tell him so," she continued again passionately; "tell him that I
+killed Anthony--thinking it was _him_."
+
+"It is a dreadful story!" shuddered William.
+
+"I did not mean it to be so dreadful," she answered, speaking quite
+equably. "No, I did not; and I am telling you as true as though it were
+my confession before receiving the _bon dieu_. I only meant to wound
+him----"
+
+"Herbert?"
+
+"Herbert! Of course; who else but Herbert?" she retorted, giving signs
+of another relapse. "Had I cause of anger against that pauvre Anthony?
+No; no. Anthony was sharp with the rest sometimes, but he was always
+civil to me; I never had a mis-word with him. I not like Cyril; but I
+not dislike George and Anthony. Why, why," she continued, wringing her
+hands, "did Anthony come forth from his chamber that night and go out,
+when he said he had retired to it for good? That is where all the evil
+arose."
+
+"Not all," dissented William in low tones.
+
+"Yes, all," she sharply repeated. "I had only meant to give Mr. Herbert
+a little prick in the dark, just to repay him, to stop his pleasant
+visits to that field for a term. I never thought to kill him. I liked
+him better than that, ill as he was behaving to me. I never thought to
+kill him; I never thought much to hurt him. And it would not have hurt
+Anthony; but that he was what you call tipsy, and fell on the point of
+the----"
+
+"Scissors?" suggested William, for she had stopped. How could he, even
+with this confession before him, speak to a lady--or one who ought to
+have been a lady--of any uglier weapon?
+
+"I had something by me sharper than scissors. But never you mind what.
+That, so far, does not matter. The little hurt I had intended for
+Herbert he escaped; and poor Anthony was killed."
+
+There was a long pause. William broke it, speaking out his thoughts
+impulsively.
+
+"And yet you went to Rotterdam afterwards to make friends with Herbert!"
+
+"When he write and tell me there good teaching in the place, could I
+know it was untrue? Could I know that he would borrow all my money from
+me? Could I know that he turn out a worse----"
+
+"Mademoiselle, I pray you, be calm."
+
+"There, then. I will say no more. I have outlived it. But I wish him to
+know that that fine night's work was _his_. It was the right man who lay
+in prison for it. The letter I have given you may never reach him; and I
+ask you tell him, for his pill, should it not."
+
+"Then you have never hinted this to him?" asked William.
+
+"Never. I was afraid. Will you tell him?"
+
+"I cannot make the promise. I must use my own discretion. I think it is
+very unlikely that I shall ever see him."
+
+"You meet people that you do not look for. Until last Saturday, you
+might have said it was unlikely that you would meet me."
+
+"That is true."
+
+Now that the excitement of the disclosure was over, she lay back in a
+grievous state of exhaustion. William rose to leave, and she held out
+her hand to him. Could he shun it--guilty as she had confessed herself
+to him? No. Who was he, that he should set himself up to judge her? And
+she was dying!
+
+"Can nothing be done to alleviate your sufferings?" he inquired in a
+kindly tone.
+
+"Nothing. The sooner death comes to release me from them, the better."
+
+He lingered yet, hesitating. Then he bent closer to her, and spoke in a
+whisper.
+
+"Have you thought much of that other life? Of the necessity of
+repentance--of seeking earnestly the pardon of God?"
+
+"That is your Protestant fashion," she answered with equanimity. "I have
+made my confession to a priest and he has given me absolution. A good
+fat old man; he was very kind to me; he saw how I had been tossed and
+turned about in life. He will bring the _bon dieu_ to me the last thing,
+and cause a mass to be said for my soul."
+
+"I thought I had heard that you were a Protestant."
+
+"I was either. I said I was a Protestant to Madame Dare. But the Roman
+Catholic religion is the most convenient to take up when you are
+passing. _Your_ priests say they cannot pardon sins."
+
+The interview took longer in acting than it has in telling, and William
+returned to the hotel to find Mary tired, wondering at his absence, and
+a letter to Mrs. Ashley--with which you have been favoured--lying on the
+table, awaiting its conclusion.
+
+"You are weary, my darling. You should not have remained up."
+
+"I thought you were never coming, William. I thought you must have gone
+off by the London steamer, and left me here! The hotel omnibus took some
+passengers to it at ten o'clock."
+
+William sat down on the sofa, and drew her to him; the full tide of
+thankfulness going up from his heart that all women were not as the one
+he had just left.
+
+"And what did Mademoiselle Varsini want with you, William? Is she really
+dying?"
+
+"I think she is dying. You must not ask me what she wanted, Mary. It was
+to tell me something--to speak of things connected with herself and the
+Dares. They would not be pleasant to your ears."
+
+"But I have been writing an account of all this to mamma, and have left
+my letter open, to send word what the governess could have to say to
+you. What can I tell her?"
+
+"Tell her as I tell you, my dearest: that what I have been listening to
+is more fit for Mr. Ashley's ears than for yours or hers."
+
+Mary rose and wrote rapidly the concluding lines. William stood and
+watched her. He laughed at the "smear."
+
+"I am not familiar with my new name yet: I was signing myself 'Mary
+Ashley.'"
+
+"Would you go back to the old name, if you could?" cried he, somewhat
+saucily.
+
+"Oh, William!"
+
+Saturday came round again: the day they were to leave--just a week since
+they had come, since the encounter in the park. They were taking an
+early walk in the market, when certain low sounds, as of chanting,
+struck upon their ears. A funeral was coming along; it had just turned
+out of the great church of St. Eloi, at the other corner of the Place.
+Not a wealthy funeral--quite the other thing. On the previous day they
+had seen a grand interment, attended by its distinguishing marks; seven
+or eight banners, as many priests. Some sudden feeling prompted William
+to ask whose funeral this was, and he made inquiry of a shopkeeper, who
+was standing at her door.
+
+"Monsieur, c'est l'enterrement d'une etrangere. Une Italienne, l'on dit:
+Madame Varsini."
+
+"Oh, William! do they bury her already?" was Mary's shocked
+remonstrance. "It was only yesterday at midday the sister came to you to
+say she had died. What a shame!"
+
+"Hush, love! Many of the people here understand English. They bury
+quickly in these countries."
+
+They stood on the pavement, and the funeral came quickly on. One black
+banner borne aloft in a man's hand, two boys in surplices with lighted
+candles, and the priest chanting with his open book. Eight men, in white
+corded hats and black cloaks, bore the coffin on a bier, and there was a
+sprinkling of impromptu followers--as there always is at these foreign
+funerals. As the dead was borne past him on its way to the cemetery,
+William, following the usage of the country, lifted his hat, and
+remained uncovered until it had gone by.
+
+And that was the last of Bianca Varsini.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV.
+
+THE DOWNFALL OF THE DARES.
+
+
+It was a winter's morning, and the family party round the breakfast
+table at William Halliburton's looked a cheery one, with its adjuncts of
+a good fire and good fare. Mr. and Mrs. Ashley and Henry were guests.
+And I can tell you that in Mr. Ashley they were entertaining no less a
+personage than the high sheriff of the county.
+
+The gentlemen nominated for sheriffs, that year, for the county of
+Helstonleigh, whose names had gone up to the Queen, were as follows:--
+
+Humphrey Coldicott, Esquire, of Coldicott Grange;
+
+Sir Harry Marr, Bart., of The Lynch;
+
+Thomas Ashley, Esquire, of Deoffam Hall. And her Majesty had been
+pleased to pick the latter name.
+
+The gate of the garden swung open, and some one came hastily round the
+gravel-path to the house. Mary, who was seated at the head of the table,
+facing the window, caught a view of the visitor.
+
+"It is Mrs. Dare!" she exclaimed.
+
+"Mrs. Dare!" repeated Mr. Ashley, as a peal at the hall-bell was heard.
+"Nonsense, child!"
+
+"Papa, indeed it is."
+
+"I think you must be mistaken, Mary," said her husband. "Mrs. Dare would
+scarcely be out at this early hour."
+
+"Oh, you disbelievers all!" laughed Mary. "As if I did not know Mrs.
+Dare! She looked scared and flurried."
+
+Mrs. Dare, looking indeed scared and flurried, came into the
+breakfast-room. The servant had been showing her into another room, but
+she put him aside, and appeared amidst them.
+
+What brought her there? What had she come to tell them? Alas! of their
+unhappy downfall. How the Dares had contrived to go on so long, without
+the crash coming, they alone knew. They had promised to pay here, they
+had promised to pay there; and people, tradespeople especially, did not
+much like to begin compulsory measures with old Anthony Dare, who had so
+long held sway in Helstonleigh. His professional business had almost
+left him--perhaps because there was no efficient head to carry it on.
+Cyril was just what mademoiselle had called Herbert, a vagabond; and
+Cyril was an irretrievable one. No good to the business was he--not half
+as much good as he was to the public-houses. Mr. Dare, with white hair,
+bent form, and dim eyes, would go creeping to his office most days; but
+his memory was leaving him, and it was evident to all that he was
+relapsing into his second childhood. Latterly they had lived entirely by
+privately disposing of their portable effects--as Honey Fair used to do
+when it fell out of work. They owed money everywhere; rent, taxes,
+servants' wages, large debts, small debts--it was universal. And now the
+landlord had put in his claim after the manner of landlords, and it had
+brought on the climax. They were literally without resource; they knew
+not where to turn; they had not a penny, or the worth of it, in the wide
+world. Mrs. Dare, in the alarm occasioned by the unwelcome visitor--for
+the landlord's man had made good his entrance that morning--came flying
+off to Mr. Ashley, some extravagant hope floating in her mind that help
+might be obtained from him.
+
+"Here's trouble! Here's trouble!" she exclaimed by way of salutation,
+wringing her hands frantically.
+
+They rose in consternation, believing she must have gone wild. William
+handed her a chair.
+
+"There, don't come round me," she cried, as she flung herself into it.
+"Go on with your breakfast. I have concealed our troubles until I am
+heart-sick, and now they can be concealed no longer, and I have come for
+help to you. Don't press anything upon me, Mrs. William Halliburton; to
+attempt to eat would choke me!"
+
+She sat there and entered on her grievances. How they had long been
+without money, had lived by credit, and by pledging things out of their
+house; how they owed more than she could tell; how a "horrible man" had
+come into their house that morning, as an emissary of the landlord.
+
+"What are we to do?" she wailed. "Will you help us? Mr. Ashley, will
+you?--your wife is my husband's cousin, you know. Mr. Halliburton, will
+_you_ help us? Don't you know that I have a right to claim kindred with
+you? Your father and I were first cousins, and lived for some time under
+the same roof."
+
+William remembered the former years when she had not been so ready to
+own the relationship. He remembered the day when Mr. Dare had put a
+seizure into their house, and his mother had gone, craving grace of him.
+Mr. Ashley remembered it, and his eye met William's. How marvellously
+had the change been brought round! the right come to light!
+
+"What is it that you wish me to do?" inquired Mr. Ashley. "I do not
+understand."
+
+"Not understand!" she sharply echoed, in her grief. "I want the landlord
+paid out. You have ample means at command, Mr. Ashley, and might do this
+much for us."
+
+A modest request, certainly! The rent due was for three years:
+considerably more than two hundred pounds. Mr. Ashley replied to it
+quietly.
+
+"A moment's reflection might convince you, Mrs. Dare, that to pay this
+money would be fruitless waste. The instant this procedure gets
+wind--and in all probability it has already done so--other claims, as
+pressing, will be enforced."
+
+"Tradespeople must wait," she answered, with irritation.
+
+"Wait for what?" asked Mr. Ashley. "Do you expect to drop into a
+fortune?"
+
+Wait for what, indeed? For complete ruin? There was nothing else to wait
+for. Mrs. Dare sat beating her foot against the carpet.
+
+"Mr. Dare has grown useless," she said. "What he says one minute, he
+forgets the next; he is almost in a state of imbecility. I have no one
+to consult with, and therefore I come to you. Indeed, you must help me."
+
+"But I do not see what I can do for you," rejoined Mr. Ashley. "As to
+paying your debts, it is--it is--in fact, it is not to be thought of. I
+have my own payments to make, my expenses to keep up. I could not do it,
+Mrs. Dare."
+
+She paused again, playing nervously with her bonnet strings. "Will you
+go back with me, and see what you can make of Mr. Dare? Perhaps between
+you something may be arranged. I don't understand things."
+
+"I cannot go back with you," replied Mr. Ashley. "I must attend the
+meeting which takes place this morning at the Guildhall."
+
+
+"In your official capacity," remarked Mrs. Dare in not at all a pleasant
+tone of voice. "I forgot that you preside at it. How very grand you have
+become!"
+
+"Very grand indeed, I think, considering the lowly estimation in which
+you held the glove manufacturer, Thomas Ashley," he answered, with a
+good-humoured laugh. "I will call upon your husband in the course of the
+day, Mrs. Dare."
+
+She turned to William. "Will you return with me? I have a claim on you,"
+she reiterated eagerly.
+
+He shook his head. "I accompany Mr. Ashley to the meeting."
+
+She was obliged to be satisfied, turned abruptly, and left the room,
+William attending her to the door.
+
+"What d'you call that?" asked Henry, lifting his voice for the first
+time.
+
+"Call it?" repeated his sister.
+
+"Yes, Mrs. Mary; call it. Cheek, I should say."
+
+"Hush, Henry," said Mr. Ashley.
+
+"Very well, sir. It's cheek all the same, though."
+
+As Mr. Ashley surmised, the misfortune had already got wind, and the
+unhappy Dares were besieged that day by clamorous creditors. When Mr.
+Ashley and William arrived there, for they walked up at the conclusion
+of the public meeting, they found Mr. Dare seated alone in the
+dining-room; that sad dining-room which had witnessed the tragical end
+of Anthony. He cowered over the fire, his thin hands stretched out to
+the blaze. He was not altogether childish; but his memory failed, and he
+was apt to fall into fits of wandering. Mr. Ashley drew forward a chair
+and sat down by him.
+
+"I fear things do not look very bright," he observed. "We called in at
+your office as we came by, and found a seizure was also put in there."
+
+"There's nothing much for 'em to take but the desks," returned old
+Anthony.
+
+"Mrs. Dare wished me to come and talk matters over with you, to see
+whether anything could be done. She does not understand them, she said."
+
+"What _can_ be done, when things come to such a pass as this?" returned
+Anthony Dare, lifting his head sharply. "That's just like women--'seeing
+what's to be done!' I am beset on all sides. If the bank sent me a
+present of three or four thousand pounds, we might go on again. But it
+won't, you know. The things must go, and we must go. I suppose they'll
+not put me in prison; they'd get nothing by doing it."
+
+He leaned forward and rested his chin on his stick, which was stretched
+out before him as usual. Presently he resumed, his eyes and words alike
+wandering:
+
+"He said the money would not bring us good if we kept it. And it has
+not: it has brought a curse. I have told Julia so twenty times since
+Anthony went. Only the half of it was ours, you know, and we took the
+whole."
+
+"What money?" asked Mr. Ashley, wondering what he was saying.
+
+"Old Cooper's. We were at Birmingham when he died, I and Julia. The will
+left it all to her, but he charged us----"
+
+Mr. Dare suddenly stopped. His eye had fallen on William. In these fits
+of wandering he partially lost his memory, and mixed things and people
+together in the most inextricable confusion.
+
+"Are you Edgar Halliburton?" he went on.
+
+"I am his son. Do you not remember me, Mr. Dare?"
+
+"Ay, ay. Your son-in-law," nodding to Mr. Ashley. "But Cyril was to have
+had that place, you know. He was to have been your partner."
+
+Mr. Ashley made no reply. It might not have been understood. And Mr.
+Dare resumed, confounding William with his father.
+
+"It was hers in the will, you know, Edgar, and that's some excuse, for
+we had to prove it. There was not time to alter the will, but he said it
+was an unjust one, and charged us to divide the money; half for us, half
+for you; to divide it to the last halfpenny. And we took it all. We did
+not mean to take it, or to cheat you, but somehow the money went; our
+expenses were great, and we had heavy debts, and when you came
+afterwards to Helstonleigh and died, your share was already broken
+into, and it was too late. Ill-gotten money brings nothing but a curse,
+and that money brought it to us. Will you shake hands and forgive?"
+
+"Heartily," replied William, taking his wasted hand.
+
+"But you had to struggle, and the money would have kept struggle from
+you. It was many thousands."
+
+"Who knows whether it would or not?" cheerily answered William. "Had we
+possessed money to fall back upon, we might not have struggled with a
+will; we might not have put out all the exertion that was in us, and
+then we should never have got on as we have done."
+
+"Ay; got on. You are looked up to now; you have become gentlemen. And
+what are my boys? The money was yours."
+
+"Dismiss it entirely from your memory, Mr. Dare," was William's answer,
+given in true compassion. "I believe that our not having had it may have
+been good for us in the long-run, rather than a drawback. The utter want
+of money may have been the secret of our success."
+
+"Ay," nodded old Dare. "My boys should have been taught to work, and
+they were only taught to spend. We must have our luxuries indoors,
+forsooth, and our show without; our servants, and our carriages, and our
+confounded pride. What has it ended in?"
+
+What had it! They made no answer. Mr. Dare remained still for a while,
+and then lifted his haggard face, and spoke in a whisper, a shrinking
+dread in his face and tone.
+
+"They have been nothing but my curses. It was through Herbert that she,
+that wicked foreign woman, murdered Anthony."
+
+Did he know of _that_? How had the knowledge come to him! William had
+not betrayed it, except to Mr. Ashley and Henry. And they had buried the
+dreadful secret down deep in the archives of their breasts. Mr. Dare's
+next words disclosed the puzzle.
+
+"She died, that woman. And she wrote to Herbert on her death-bed and
+made a confession. He sent a part of it on here, lest, I suppose, we
+might doubt him still. But his conduct led to it. It is dreadful to have
+such sons as mine!"
+
+His stick fell to the ground. Mr. Ashley held him, while William picked
+it up. He was gasping for breath.
+
+"You are not well," cried Mr. Ashley.
+
+"No; I think I am going. One can't stand these repeated shocks. Did I
+see Edgar Halliburton here? I thought he was dead. Is he come for his
+money?" he continued in a shivering whisper. "We acted according to the
+will, sir: according to the will, tell him. He can see it in Doctors'
+Commons. He can't proceed against us; he has no proof. Let him go and
+look at the will."
+
+"We had better leave him, William," murmured Mr. Ashley. "Our presence
+only excites him."
+
+In the opposite room sat Mrs. Dare. Adelaide passed out of it as they
+entered. Never before had they remarked how sadly worn and faded she
+looked. Her later life had been spent in pining after the chance of
+greatness she had lost, in missing Viscount Hawkesley. Irrevocably lost
+to her; for the daughter of a neighbouring earl now called him husband.
+They sat down by Mrs. Dare, but could only condole with her: nothing but
+the most irretrievable ruin was around.
+
+"We shall be turned from here," she wailed. "How are we to find a
+home--to earn a living?"
+
+"Your daughters must do something to assist you," replied Mr. Ashley.
+"Teaching, or----"
+
+"Teaching! in this overdone place!" she interrupted.
+
+"It has been somewhat overdone in that way, certainly of late years," he
+answered. "If they cannot get teaching, they may find some other
+employment. Work of some sort."
+
+"Work!" shrieked Mrs. Dare. "My daughters _work_!"
+
+"Indeed, I don't know what else is to be done," he answered. "Their
+education has been good, and I should think they may obtain daily
+teaching: perhaps sufficient to enable you to live quietly. I will pay
+for a lodging for you, and give you a trifle towards housekeeping, until
+you can turn yourselves round."
+
+"I wish we were all dead!" was the response of Mrs. Dare.
+
+Mr. Ashley went a little nearer to her. "What is this story that your
+husband has been telling about the misappropriation of the money that
+Mr. Cooper desired should be handed to Edgar Halliburton?"
+
+She threw her hands before her face with a low cry. "Has he been
+betraying _that_? What will become of us?--what shall we do with him? If
+ever a family was beaten down by fate, it is ours."
+
+Not gratuitously by fate, thought Mr. Ashley. Its own misdoings have
+brought the evil upon it. "Where is Cyril?" he asked aloud. "He ought to
+bestir himself to help you, now."
+
+
+"Cyril!" echoed Mrs. Dare, a bitter scowl rising to her face. "_He_ help
+us! You know what Cyril is."
+
+As they went out, they met Cyril. What a contrast the two cousins
+presented, side by side!--he and William might be called such. The
+one--fine, noble, intellectual; his countenance setting forth its own
+truth, candour, honour; making the best in his walk of life, of the
+talents entrusted to him by God. The other--slouching, untidy, all but
+ragged; his offensive doings too plainly shown in his bloated face, his
+inflamed eyes: letting his talents and his days run to worse than waste;
+a burden to himself and to those around him. And yet, in their boyhood
+days, how great had been Cyril's advantages over William Halliburton's!
+
+They walked away arm-in-arm, William and Mr. Ashley. A short visit to
+the manufactory in passing, and then they continued their way home,
+taking it purposely through Honey Fair.
+
+Honey Fair! Could _that_ be Honey Fair? Honey Fair used to be an
+unsightly, inodorous place, where mud, garbage, and children ran riot
+together: a species, in short, of capacious pigsty. But look at it now.
+The paths are well kept, the road is clean and cared for. Her Majesty's
+state coach-and-eight might drive down it, and the horses would not have
+to tread gingerly. The houses are the same; small and large bear
+evidence of care, of thrift, of a respectable class of inmates. The
+windows are no longer stuffed with rags, or the palings broken. And that
+little essay--the assembling at Robert East's, and William
+Halliburton--had led to the change.
+
+Men and women had been awakened to self-respect; to the duty of striving
+to live well and to do well; to the solemn thought that there is another
+world after this, where their works, good or bad, would follow them.
+They had learned to reflect that it _might_ be possible that one phase
+of a lost soul's punishment after death, will lie in remembering the
+duties it ought to have performed in life. They knew, without any effort
+of reflection, that it is a remembrance which makes the sting of many a
+death-bed. Formerly, Honey Fair had believed (those who had thought
+about it) that their duties in this world and any duties which lay in
+preparing for the next, were as wide apart as the two poles. Of that
+they had now learned the fallacy. Honey Fair had grown serene. Children
+were taken out of the streets to be sent to school; the Messrs. Bankes
+had been discarded, for the women had grown wiser; and, for all the
+custom the "Horned Ram" obtained from Honey Fair, it might have shut
+itself up. In short, Honey Fair had been awakened, speaking from a
+moderate point of view, to enlightenment; to the social improvements of
+an advancing and a thinking age.
+
+This was a grand day with Honey Fair, as Mr. Ashley and William knew,
+when they turned to walk through it. Mr. Ashley had purchased that
+building you have heard of, for a comparative trifle, and made Honey
+Fair a present of it. It was very useful. It did for their schools,
+their night meetings, their provident clubs; and to-night a treat was to
+be held in it. The men expected that Mr. Ashley would look in, and Henry
+Ashley had sent round his chemical apparatus to give them some
+experiments, and had bought a great magic-lantern. The place was now
+called the "Ashley Institute." Some thought--Mr. Ashley for one--that
+the "Halliburton Institute" would have been more consonant with fact;
+but William had resolutely withstood it. The piece of waste land behind
+it had been converted into a sort of playground and garden. The children
+were not watched in it incessantly, and screamed at:--"You'll destroy
+those flowers!" "You'll break that window!" "You are tearing up the
+shrubs!" No: they were made to understand that they were _trusted_ not
+to do these things; and they took the trust to themselves, and were
+proud of it. You may train a child to this, if you will.
+
+As they passed the house of Charlotte East, she was turning in at her
+garden gate; and, standing at the window, dandling a baby, was Caroline
+Mason. Caroline was servant to Charlotte now, and that was Charlotte's
+baby; for Charlotte was no longer Charlotte East, but Mrs. Thorneycroft.
+She curtsied as they came up.
+
+"Good afternoon, gentlemen. I have been round to the rooms to show them
+how to arrange the evergreens. I hope they will have a pleasant
+evening!"
+
+"They!" echoed Mr. Ashley. "Are you not coming yourself?"
+
+"I think not, sir. Adam and Robert will be there, of course; but I can't
+well leave baby!"
+
+"Nonsense, Charlotte!" exclaimed William. "What harm will happen to the
+baby? Are you afraid of its running away?"
+
+"Ah, sir, you don't understand babies yet."
+
+"That has to come," laughed Mr. Ashley.
+
+"I understand enough about babies to pronounce that one a most exacting
+infant, if you can't leave it for an hour or two," persisted William.
+"You must come, Charlotte. My wife intends to be there."
+
+"Well, sir,--I know I should like it. Perhaps I can manage to run round
+for an hour, leaving Caroline to listen."
+
+"How does Caroline go on?" inquired Mr. Ashley.
+
+"Sir, never a better young woman went into a house. That was a dreadful
+lesson to her, and it has taught her what nothing else could. I believe
+that Honey Fair will respect her in time."
+
+"My opinion is, that Honey Fair would not be going far out of its way to
+respect her now," remarked William. "Once a false step is taken, it is
+very much the fashion to go tripping over others. Caroline, on the
+contrary, has been using all her poor endeavours ever since to retrieve
+that first mistake."
+
+"I could not wish for a better servant," said Charlotte. "Of course, I
+could not keep a servant for housework alone, and Caroline nearly earns
+her food helping me at the gloves. I am pleased, and she is grateful.
+Yes, sir, it is as you say--Honey Fair ought to respect her. It will
+come in time."
+
+"As most good things come, that are striven for in the right way,"
+remarked Mr. Ashley.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV.
+
+ASSIZE TIME.
+
+
+Once more, in this, the almost concluding chapter of the history, are we
+obliged to take notice of Assize Saturday. Once more had the high
+sheriff's procession gone out to receive the judges; and never had the
+cathedral bells rung out more clearly, or the streets and windows been
+so thronged.
+
+A blast, shrill and loud, from the advancing heralds, was borne on the
+air of the bright March afternoon, as the cavalcade advanced up East
+Street. The javelin-men rode next, two abreast, in the plain dark Ashley
+livery, the points of their javelins glittering in the sunshine,
+scarcely able to advance for the crowd. A feverish crowd. Little cared
+they to-day for the proud trumpets, the javelin-bearers, the various
+attractions that made their delight on other of those days; they cared
+only for that stately equipage in the rear. Not for its four prancing
+horses, its silver ornaments, its portly coachman on the hammer-cloth;
+not even for the very judges themselves; but for the master of that
+carriage, the high sheriff, Thomas Ashley.
+
+He sat in it, its only plainly attired inmate. The scarlet robes, the
+flowing wigs of the judges, were opposite to him; beside him were the
+rich black silk robes of his chaplain, the vicar of Deoffam. A crowd of
+gentlemen on horseback followed--a crowd Helstonleigh had rarely seen.
+William was one of them. The popularity of a high sheriff may be judged
+by the number of his attendants, when he goes out to meet the judges.
+Half Helstonleigh had placed itself on horseback that day, to do honour
+to Thomas Ashley.
+
+Occupying a conspicuous position in the street were the Ashley workmen.
+Clean and shaved, they had surreptitiously conveyed their best coats to
+the manufactory; and, with the first peal of the college bells, had
+rushed out, dressed--every soul--leaving the manufactory alone in its
+glory, and Samuel Lynn to take care of it. The shout they raised, as the
+sheriff's carriage drew near, deafened the street. It was out of all
+manner of etiquette or precedence to cheer the sheriff when in
+attendance on the judges; but who could be angry with them? Not Mr.
+Ashley. Their lordships looked out astonished. One of the judges you
+have met before--Sir William Leader; the other was Mr. Justice Keene.
+
+The judges gazed from the carriage, wondering what the shouts could
+mean. They saw a respectable-looking body of men--not respectable in
+dress only, but in face--gathered there, bareheaded, and cheering the
+carriage with all their might and main.
+
+"What can that be for?" cried Mr. Justice Keene.
+
+"I believe it must be meant for me," observed Mr. Ashley, taken by
+surprise as much as the judges were. "Foolish fellows! Your lordships
+must understand that they are the workmen belonging to my manufactory."
+
+But his eyes were dim, as he leaned forward and acknowledged the
+greeting. Such a shout followed upon it! The judges, used to shouting as
+they were, had rarely heard the like, so deep and heartfelt was it.
+
+"There's genuine good-feeling in that cheer," said Sir William Leader.
+"I like to hear it. It is more than lip deep."
+
+The dinner party for the judges that night was given at the deanery. Not
+a more honoured guest had it than the high sheriff. His chaplain was
+with him, and William and Frank were also guests. What did the Dares
+think of the Halliburtons now?
+
+The Dares, just then, were too much occupied with their own concerns to
+think of them at all. They were planning how to get out to Australia.
+Their daughter Julia, more dutiful than some daughters might prove
+themselves, had offered an asylum to her father and mother, if they
+would go out to Sydney. Her sisters, she wrote word, would find good
+situations there as governesses--probably in time find husbands.
+
+They were wild to go. They wanted to get away from mortifying
+Helstonleigh, and to try their fortunes in a new world. The passage
+money was the difficulty. Julia had not sent it, possibly not supposing
+they were so very badly off; she did not know yet of the last touch to
+their misfortunes. How could they scrape together even enough for a
+steerage passage? Mr. Ashley's private opinion was that he should have
+to furnish it. Ah! he was a good man. Never a better, never a more
+considerate to others than Thomas Ashley.
+
+Sunday morning rose to the ringing again of the cathedral bells--bells
+that do not condescend to ring except on rare occasions--telling that it
+was some day of note in Helstonleigh. It was a fine day, sunny, and very
+warm for March, and the glittering east window reflected its colours
+upon a crowd such as the cathedral had rarely seen assembled within its
+walls for divine service, even on those thronging days, Assize Sundays.
+
+The procession extended nearly the whole way from the grand entrance
+gates to the choir, passing through the body and the nave. The high
+sheriff's men, standing so still, their formidable javelins in rest, had
+enough to do to retain their places, from the pressure of the crowd, as
+they kept the line of way. The bishop in his robes, the clergy in their
+white garments and scarlet or black hoods, the long line of college boys
+in their surplices, the lay-clerks, yet in white. Not (as you were told
+of yesterday) on them; not on the mayor and corporation, with their
+chains and gowns; not on the grey-wigged judges, their fiery trains held
+up behind, glaring cynosure of eyes on other days, was the attention of
+that crowd fixed; but on him who walked, calm, dignified, quiet, in
+immediate attendance on the judges--their revered fellow-citizen, Thomas
+Ashley. In attendance on _him_ was his chaplain, his black gown, so
+contrasting with the glare and glitter, marking him out conspicuously.
+
+The organ had burst forth as they entered the great gates,
+simultaneously with the ceasing of the bells which had been sending
+their melody over the city. With some difficulty, places were found for
+those of note; but many a score stood that day. The bishop had gone on
+to his throne; and opposite to him, in the archdeacon's stall, the
+appointed place for the preacher on Assize Sundays, sat the sheriff's
+chaplain. Sir William Leader was shown to the dean's stall; Mr. Justice
+Keene to the sub-dean's; the dean sitting next the one, the high sheriff
+next the other. William Halliburton was in a canon's stall;
+Frank--handsome Frank!--found a place amidst many other barristers. And
+in the ladies' pew, underneath the dean, seated with the dean's wife,
+were Mrs. Ashley, her daughter, and Mrs. Halliburton.
+
+The Reverend Mr. Keating chanted the service, putting his best voice
+into it. They gave that fine anthem, "Behold, God is my salvation." Very
+good were the services and the singing that day. The dean, the
+prebendary in residence, and Mr. Keating went to the communion-table for
+the commandments, and thus the service drew to an end. As they were
+conducted back to their stall, a verger with his silver mace cleared a
+space for the sheriff's chaplain to ascend the pulpit stairs, the
+preacher of the day.
+
+How the college boys gazed at him! Only a short time before
+(comparatively speaking) he had been one of them, a college boy himself;
+some of the seniors (juniors then) had been school-fellows with him. Now
+he was the Reverend Edgar Halliburton, chief personage for the moment in
+that cathedral. To the boys' eyes he seemed to look dark; except on
+Assize Sundays, they were accustomed to see only white robes in that
+pulpit.
+
+"Too young to give us a good sermon," thought half the congregation, as
+they scanned him. Nevertheless, they liked his countenance; its grave
+earnest look. He gave out his text, a verse from Ecclesiastes:
+
+"Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might; for there is
+no work, nor device, nor knowledge, nor wisdom, in the grave, whither
+thou goest."
+
+Then he leaned a little forward on the cushion; and, after a pause,
+began his sermon, which lay before him, and worked out the text.
+
+It was an admirable discourse, clear and practical; but you will not
+care to have it recapitulated for you, as it was recapitulated in the
+local newspapers. Remembering what the bringing up of the Halliburtons
+had been, it was impossible that Gar's sermons should not be practical;
+and the congregation began to think they had been mistaken in their
+estimate of what a young man could do. He told the judges where their
+duty lay, as fearlessly as he told it to the college boys, as he told it
+to all. He told them that the golden secret of success and happiness in
+this life, lay in the faithful and earnest performance of the duties
+that crowded on their path, striving on unweariedly, whatsoever those
+duties might be, whether pleasant or painful; _joined to implicit
+reliance on, and trust in God_. A plainer sermon was never preached. In
+manner he was remarkably calm and impressive, and the tone of his voice
+was quiet and persuasive, just as if he were speaking to them. He was
+listened to with breathless interest throughout; even those gentry, the
+college boys, were for once beguiled into attending to a sermon. Jane's
+tears fell incessantly, and she had to let down her white veil to hide
+them; as on that day, years ago, when she had let down her black crape
+veil to conceal them, in the office of Anthony Dare. Different tears
+this time.
+
+The sermon lasted just half an hour, and it had seemed only a quarter of
+one. The bishop then rose and gave the blessing, and the crowds began to
+file out. As the preacher was being marshalled by a verger through the
+choir to take his place in the procession next the high sheriff, Mr.
+Keating met him and grasped his hand.
+
+
+"You are all right, Gar," he whispered, "and I am proud of having
+educated you. That sermon will tell home to some of the drones."
+
+"I knew he'd astonish 'em!" ejaculated Dobbs, who had walked all the way
+from Deoffam to see the sight, to hear her master preach to the
+cathedral, and had fought out a standing-place for herself right in
+front of the pulpit. "_His_ sermons aren't filled up with bottomless
+pits as are never full enough, like those of some preachers be."
+
+That sermon and the Rev. Edgar Halliburton were talked of much in
+Helstonleigh that day.
+
+But ere the close of another day the town was ringing with the name of
+Frank. He had led; he, Frank Halliburton! A cause of some importance was
+tried in the _Nisi Prius_ Court, in which the defendant was Mr. Glenn
+the surgeon. Mr. Glenn, who had liked Frank from the hour he first
+conversed with him that evening at his house, now so long ago--a
+conversation at which you had the pleasure of assisting--who had also
+the highest opinion of Frank's abilities in his profession, had made it
+a point that his case should be intrusted to Frank. Mr. Glenn was not
+deceived. Frank led admirably, and his eloquence quite took the
+spectators by storm. What was of more importance, it told upon Mr.
+Justice Keene and the jury, and Frank sat down in triumph and won his
+verdict.
+
+"I told you I should do it, mother," said he, quietly, when he reached
+Deoffam that night, after being nearly smothered with congratulations.
+"You will live to see me on the woolsack yet."
+
+Jane laughed. She often had laughed at the same boast. She was alone
+that evening; Gar was attending the high sheriff at an official dinner
+at Helstonleigh. "Will no lesser prize content you, Frank?" asked she,
+jestingly. "Say, for example, the Solicitor-Generalship?"
+
+"Only as a stepping-stone."
+
+"And you still get on well? Seriously speaking now. Frank."
+
+"First-rate," answered Frank. "This day's work will be the best lift for
+me, though, unless I am mistaken. I had two fresh briefs put into my
+hands as I sat down," he added, going off in a laugh. "See if I make
+this year less than a thousand!"
+
+"And the next thing, I suppose, you will be thinking of getting
+married?"
+
+The bold barrister actually blushed. "What nonsense, mother! Marry, and
+lose my fellowship!"
+
+"Frank, it is so! I see it in your face. You must tell me who it is."
+
+"Well, as yet it is no one. I must wait until my eloquence, as they
+called it to-day in court, is a more assured fact with the public, and
+then I may speak out to the judge. She means waiting for me, though, so
+it is all right."
+
+"Tell me, Frank," repeated Jane; "who is 'she'?"
+
+"Maria Leader."
+
+Jane looked at him doubtingly. "Not Sir William's daughter?"
+
+"His second daughter."
+
+"Is not that rather too aspiring for Frank Halliburton?"
+
+"Maria does not think so. I have been aspiring all my life, mother; and
+so long as I work on for it honourably and uprightly, I see no harm in
+being so."
+
+"No, Frank; good instead of harm. How did you become acquainted with
+her?"
+
+"Her brother and I are chums: have been ever since we were at Oxford.
+Bob is at the Chancery bar, but he has not much nous for it--not half
+the clever man that his father was. His chambers are next to mine, and I
+often go home with him. The girls make a great deal of us, too. That is
+how I first knew Maria."
+
+"Then I suppose you see something of the judge?"
+
+"Oh dear," laughed Frank, "the judge and I are upon intimate terms in
+private life; quite cronies. You would not think it, though, if you saw
+me bowing before my lord when he sits in his big wig. Sometimes I fancy
+he suspects."
+
+"Suspects what?"
+
+"That I and Maria would like to join cause together. But I don't mind if
+he does. I am a favourite of his. The very Sunday before we came on
+circuit he asked me to dine there. We went to church in the evening, and
+I had Maria under my wing; Sir William and Lady Leader trudging on
+before us."
+
+"Well, Frank, I wish you success. I don't think you would choose any but
+a nice girl, a good girl----"
+
+"Stop a moment, mother; you will meet the judge to-morrow night, and you
+may then draw a picture of Maria. She is as like him as two peas."
+
+"How old is she, Frank?"
+
+"Two-and-twenty. _I_ shall have her. He was not always the great Judge
+Leader, you know, mother; and he knows it. And he knows that every one
+must have a beginning, as he and my lady had it. For years after they
+were married he did not make five hundred a year, and they had to live
+upon it. He does not fear to revert to it, either; often talks of it to
+me and Bob--a sort of hint, I suppose, that folk do get on in time, by
+dint of patience. You will like Sir William Leader."
+
+Yes: Jane would meet Sir William on the following night, for that would
+be the evening of the entertainment given by the high sheriff to the
+judges at Deoffam Hall.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI.
+
+THE HIGH SHERIFF'S DINNER PARTY.
+
+
+William Halliburton drove his wife over in the pony carriage in the
+afternoon; they would dress and sleep at Deoffam. They went early, and
+in driving past Deoffam Vicarage, who should be at the gate looking out
+for them, but Anna! Not Anna Lynn now, but Anna Gurney.
+
+"William, William, there's Anna!" Mary exclaimed. "I will get out here."
+
+He assisted her down, and they remained talking with Anna. Then William
+asked what he was to do. Wait with the carriage for Mary, or drive on to
+the hall, and walk back for her?
+
+"Drive to the hall," said Mary, who wished to stay a little while with
+Anna. "But, William," she added, as he got in, "don't let my box go
+round to the stables."
+
+"With all its finery!" laughed William.
+
+"It contains my dinner dress," Mary explained to Anna. "Have you been
+here long?"
+
+"This hour, I think," replied Anna. "My husband had business a mile or
+two further on, and drove me here. What a nice garden this is! See, I
+have been picking Gar's flowers."
+
+"Where is Mrs. Halliburton?" asked Mary.
+
+"Dobbs called her in to settle some dispute in the kitchen. I know Dobbs
+is a great tyrant over that new housemaid."
+
+"But now tell me about yourself, Anna," said Mary, leading her to a
+bench. "I have scarcely seen you since you were married. How do you like
+being your own mistress?"
+
+"Oh, it's charming!" replied Anna, with all her old childish, natural
+manner. "Mary, what dost thee think? Charles lets me sit without my
+caps."
+
+Mary laughed. "To the great scandal of Patience!"
+
+"Indeed, yes. One day, Patience called when we were at dinner. I had not
+so much as a bit of net on, and Patience looked so cross; but she said
+nothing, for the servants were in waiting. When they had left the room
+she told Charles that she was surprised at his allowing it; that I was
+giddy enough and vain enough, and it would only make me worse. Charles
+smiled; he was eating walnuts: and what dost thee think he answered?
+He--but I don't like to tell thee," broke off Anna, covering her face
+with her pretty hands.
+
+"Yes, yes, Anna, you must tell me."
+
+"He told Patience that he liked to see me without the caps, and there
+was no need for my wearing them until I should have children old enough
+to set an example to."
+
+Anna took off her straw bonnet as she spoke, and her curls fell to
+shade her blushing cheeks. Mary wondered whether the "children" would
+have faces as lovely as their mother's. She had never seen Anna look so
+well. For one thing, she had rarely seen her so well dressed. She wore a
+stone-coloured corded silk, glistening with richness, and an exquisite
+white shawl that must have cost no end of money.
+
+"I should always let my curls be seen, Anna," said Mary; "there _can_ be
+no harm in it."
+
+"No, that there can't, as Charles does not think so," emphatically
+answered Anna. "Mary," dropping her voice to a whisper, "I want Charles
+not to wear those straight coats any more. He shakes his head at me and
+laughs; but I think he will listen to me."
+
+Seeing what she did of the change in Anna's dress, Mary thought so too.
+Not but that Anna's things were still cut sufficiently in the old form
+to bespeak her sect: as they, no doubt, always would be.
+
+"When art thee coming to spend the day with me, as thee promised?" asked
+Anna.
+
+"Very soon: when this assize bustle shall be over."
+
+"How gay you will be to-night!"
+
+"How formal you mean," said Mary. "To entertain judges when on circuit,
+and bishops, and deans, is more formidable than pleasant. It is a state
+dinner to-night. When I saw papa this morning, I inquired if we were to
+have the javelin-men on guard in the dining-room."
+
+Anna laughed. "Do Frank and Gar dine there?"
+
+"Of course. The high sheriff could not give a dinner party without his
+chaplain at hand to say grace," returned Mary, laughing.
+
+William came back: and they all remained for almost the rest of the
+afternoon, Jane regaling them with tea. It was scarcely over when Mr.
+Gurney drove up in his carriage: a large, open carriage, the groom's
+seat behind, the horses very fine ones. He came in for a few minutes; a
+very pleasant man of nearly forty years; a handsome man also. Then he
+took possession of Anna, carefully assisted her up, took the seat beside
+her, and the reins, and drove off.
+
+William started for the Hall with Mary, walking at a brisk pace. It was
+not ten minutes' distance, but the evening was getting on. Henry Ashley
+met them as they entered, and began upon them in his crossest tones.
+
+"Now what have you two got to say for yourselves? Here, I expect you,
+Mr. William, to pass the afternoon with me: the mother expects Mary: and
+nothing arrives but a milliner's box! And you make your appearance when
+it's pretty nearly time to go up to embellish!"
+
+"We stayed at the Vicarage, Henry; and I don't think mamma could want
+me. Anna Gurney was there."
+
+"Rubbish! Who's Anna Gurney that she should upset things? I wanted
+William, and that's enough. Do you think you are to monopolize him, Mrs.
+Mary, just because you happen to have married him?"
+
+Mary went behind her brother, and playfully put her arms round his
+neck. "I will lend him to you now and then, if you are good," she
+whispered.
+
+"You idle, inattentive girl! The mother wanted you to cut some hot-house
+flowers for the dinner-table."
+
+"Did she? I will do it now."
+
+"Listen to her! Do it now! when it has been done this hour past.
+William, I don't intend to show up to-night."
+
+"Why not?" asked William.
+
+"It is a nuisance to change one's things: and my side's not over clever
+to-day: and the ungrateful delinquency of you two has put me
+out-of-sorts altogether," answered Henry, making up his catalogue.
+"Condemning one to vain expectation, and to fretting and fuming over it!
+I shan't show up. William must represent me."
+
+"Yes, you will show up," replied William. "For you know that your not
+doing so would vex Mr. Ashley."
+
+"A nice lot _you_ are to talk about vexing! You don't care how you vex
+me."
+
+William gently took him by the arm. "Come along to your room now, and I
+will help you with your things. Once ready, you can do as you like about
+appearing."
+
+"You treat me just as a child," grumbled Henry. "I say, do the judges
+come in their wigs?"
+
+Mary broke into a laugh.
+
+"Because that case of stuffed owls had better be ordered out of the
+hall. The animals may be looked upon as personal."
+
+"I hope there's a good fire in your room, Henry."
+
+"There had better be, unless the genius that presides over the fires in
+this household would like to feel the weight of my displeasure."
+
+Mary went to find her mother; she was in her chamber, dressing.
+
+"My dear child, how late you are!"
+
+"There's plenty of time, mamma. We stayed at the parsonage. Anna Gurney
+was there. Henry says he is not very well."
+
+"He says that always when William disappoints him. He will be all right
+now you have come. Go to your room, my dear, and I will send Sarah to
+you."
+
+Mary was ready, and the maid gone, before William left Henry to come
+and dress on his own account. Mary wore white silk, with emerald
+ornaments.
+
+"Shall I do, William?" asked she, when William came in.
+
+"Do!" he answered, running his eyes over her. "No!"
+
+"Why, what's the matter with me?" she cried, turning hurriedly to the
+great glass.
+
+"This." He took her in his arms, and kissed her passionately. "My
+darling wife! You will never 'do' without that."
+
+It was not a formidable party at all, in defiance of Mary's
+anticipations. The judges, divested of their flowing wigs and flaming
+robes, looked just like other men. Jane liked Sir William Leader, as
+Frank had told her she would; and Mr. Justice Keene was an easy,
+talkative man, fond of a good joke and a good dinner. Mr. Justice Keene
+seemed excessively to admire Mary Halliburton; and--there could be no
+doubt about it, and I hope the legal bench won't look grave at the
+reflection--seemed very much inclined to get up a flirtation with her
+over the coffee. Being a judge, I think the bishop ought to have read
+him a reprimand.
+
+Standing at one end of the room, coffee-cups in hand, were Sir William
+Leader, the Dean of Helstonleigh, Mr. Ashley, and his son. They were
+talking of the Halliburtons. Sir William knew a good deal of their
+history from Frank.
+
+"It is most wonderful!" Sir William was remarking. "Self-educated,
+self-supporting, and to be what they are!"
+
+"Not altogether self-educated," dissented the dean; "for the two
+younger, the barrister and clergyman, were in the school attached to my
+cathedral; but self-educated in a great degree. The eldest, my friend's
+son-in-law, never had a lesson in the classics after his father's death,
+and there's not a more finished scholar in the county."
+
+"The father died and left them badly provided for," remarked Sir
+William.
+
+"He did not leave them provided for at all, Sir William," corrected Mr.
+Ashley. "He left nothing, literally nothing, but the furniture of the
+small house they rented; and he left some trifling debts. Poor Mrs.
+Halliburton turned to work with a will, and not only contrived to
+support them, but brought them up to be what you see them--high-minded,
+honourable, educated men."
+
+The judge turned his eyes on Jane. She was sitting on a distant sofa,
+talking with the bishop. So quiet, so lady-like, nay--so attractive--she
+looked still, in the rich pearl-grey dress warn at William's wedding;
+not in the least like one who had had to toil hard for bread.
+
+"I have heard of her--heard of her worth from Frank," he said, with
+emphasis. "She must be one in a thousand."
+
+"One in a million, Sir William," burst forth Henry Ashley. "When they
+were boys, you could not have bribed them to do a wrong thing: neither
+temptation nor anything else turned them from the right. And they would
+not be turned from the right now, if I know anything of them."
+
+The judge walked up to Jane, and took the seat beside her just vacated
+by the bishop.
+
+"Mrs. Halliburton," said he, "you must be proud of your sons."
+
+Jane smiled. "I have latterly been obliged to take myself to task for
+being so, Sir William," she answered.
+
+"To task! I wish I had three such sons to take myself to task for being
+proud of," was his answer. "Not that mine are to be found fault with;
+but they are not like these."
+
+"Do you think Frank will get on?" she asked him.
+
+"It is no longer a question of getting on. He has begun to rise in an
+unusually rapid manner. I should not be surprised if, in after-years, he
+may find the very highest honours opening to him."
+
+Again Jane smiled. "He has been in the habit of telling us that he looks
+forward to ruling England as Lord Chancellor."
+
+The judge laughed. "I never knew a newly-fledged barrister who did not
+indulge that vision," said he. "I know I did. But there are really not
+many Frank Halliburtons. So, sir," he continued, for Frank at that
+moment passed, and the judge pinned him, "I hear you cherish dreams of
+the woolsack."
+
+"To look at it from a distance is not high treason, Sir William," was
+Frank's ready answer.
+
+"Why, what do you suppose _you_ would do on the woolsack, if you got
+there?" cried Sir William.
+
+"My duty, I hope, Sir William. I would try hard for it."
+
+Sir William loosed him with an amused expression, and Frank passed on.
+Jane began to think Frank's dream--not of the woolsack, but of Maria
+Leader--not so very improbable a one.
+
+"I have heard of your early struggles," said the judge to her in low
+tones. "Frank has talked to me. How you could have borne up, and done
+long-continued battle with them, I cannot imagine!"
+
+"I never could have done it but for one thing," she answered: "my trust
+in God. Times upon times, Sir William, when the storm was beating about
+my head, I had no help or comfort in the wide world: I had nothing to
+turn to but that. I never lost my trust in God."
+
+"And therefore God stood by you," remarked the judge.
+
+"And _therefore_ God stood by me, and helped me on. I wish," she added
+earnestly, "the whole world could learn the same great lesson that I
+have learnt. I have--I humbly hope I have--been enabled to teach it to
+my boys. I have tried to do it from their very earliest years."
+
+"Frank shall have Maria," thought the judge to himself. "They are an
+admirable family. The young chaplain should have another of the girls if
+he liked her."
+
+What was William thinking of, as he stood a little apart, with his
+serene brow and his thoughtful smile? His mind was in the past. That
+long past night, following the day of his entrance to Mr. Ashley's
+manufactory, was present to him, when he had lain down in despair, and
+sobbed out his bitter grief. "Bear up, my child," were the words his
+mother had comforted him with: "only do your duty, and trust implicitly
+in God." And when she had gone down, and he could get the sobs away from
+his heart and throat, he made the resolve to do as she had told him--at
+any rate, to try and do it. And he kneeled down there and then, and
+asked to be helped to do it. And, from that hour to this, William had
+never known the trust to fail. Success? Yes, they had reaped
+success--success in no measured degree. Be very sure that it was born of
+that great trust. Oh!--as Jane had just said to Sir William Leader--if
+the world could only learn this wonderful truth!
+
+"BECAUSE HE HATH SET HIS LOVE UPON ME, THEREFORE WILL I DELIVER HIM: I
+WILL SET HIM UP, BECAUSE HE HATH KNOWN MY NAME."
+
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Mrs. Halliburton's Troubles, by Mrs. Henry Wood
+
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