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diff --git a/41021-8.txt b/41021-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 8b14785..0000000 --- a/41021-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,7306 +0,0 @@ - CLARA VAUGHAN, VOLUME II (OF III) - - - - -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 http://www.gutenberg.org/license. - - -Title: Clara Vaughan, Volume II (of III) - -Author: R. D. Blackmore - -Release Date: October 10, 2012 [EBook #41021] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CLARA VAUGHAN, VOLUME II (OF -III) *** - - - - -Produced by Al Haines. - - - - -[Illustration: Cover] - - - - - CLARA VAUGHAN - - _A NOVEL_ - - - IN THREE VOLUMES - VOL II. - - R. D. Blackmore - - - - London and Cambridge: - MACMILLAN AND CO. - 1864. - - _The Right of Translation and Reproduction is reserved._ - - - - - LONDON: - R. CLAY, SON, AND TAYLOR, PRINTERS, - BREAD STREET HILL. - - - - - CLARA VAUGHAN - - BOOK II. (_continued_). - - - - CHAPTER XVII. - - -Late in the evening of that same day, I sat in my room by the firelight -only (for I could not work) and tried to look into myself, and find out -the cause of my strange attraction or rather impulsion towards Isola. -Somehow or other I did not wonder so much that she should be drawn quite -as strongly towards me, although an impartial observer would perhaps -have wondered far more. Alter puzzling myself in vain with this -inquiry, my thoughts began to move, in their usual gloomy train. - -Eight years had now elapsed, and what had I discovered? Nothing; but at -long dark intervals some impress of the deed itself, more than of the -doer. Had I halted in pursuit, or had my vengeance cooled? To the -former question my conscience answered "yes," to the latter "no." -Gentle influences had been shed around me, sorrow had bedewed the track -of hate, intercourse with happy harmless people, and gratitude for -unmerited kindness; it was not in human nature, however finely -constitute for evil, entirely to repulse these powers. - -I could not deny, that the religion of my heart, during the last -twelvemonth, had been somewhat neglected. For my devotion to dear -mother, no plea was required. But the time since that, what business -had I with laughing children, and snug firesides, with dickybirds, and -Sandy the squirrel? Even sweet Isola caused me a pang of remorse; but -no, I could not quite abandon her. But now, thank God, I was in the -right road again, and plodding resolutely as my father could expect. To -his spirit, ever present with me, I knelt down and poured out my -remorse; and swore to make amends, whatever it might cost me. Yet even -then, a gentle shadow seemed to come as well, and whisper the words that -calmed the face of death. - -My musings, if so mild a word may suit them, were roughly interrupted by -a loud step on the stairs. Inspector Cutting, who could walk when -needful like a cat, loved to redress this injury to the Goddess Echo, by -making double noise when not on business. Farmer Huxtable, a man of -twice the weight, would have come up those stairs at half the expense in -sound. - -When he entered the room, he found himself in a semi-official state -again, and I saw that he was not come for nothing. In a few brief -words, he told me what he had done, which was not very much; or perhaps -my suspicion was right, that he only told me a part of it. Then he said -abruptly, - -"Miss Valence, I know pluck when I see it." - -"What do you mean, Mr. Cutting?" - -"Excuse me, I forgot that you have been reared in the country. What I -mean is, that I believe you possess an unusual share of courage." - -"As to that, I cannot say, having never been severely tried; but in such -a cause as mine, I could go through a good deal." - -"And not lose your presence of mind, even in real danger?" - -"That again I cannot say, and for the same reason. But I am quite ready -to make the trial." - -I felt the colour mounting in my cheeks. How glad I should be to prove -to myself that I was not ignoble. He observed me closely, and appeared -quite satisfied. - -"What I have to propose to you, is attended with no little danger." - -"I will do my utmost not to be afraid. I am more impulsive perhaps than -brave, but what is life worth to me? I will try to think of that all -the time. No doubt you have a good reason for exposing me to danger." - -"Certainly I have, Miss Valence. For your own purpose it is most -important that you should be able to identify certain persons, whom I -shall show you to-night; that is, unless I am misinformed." - -"To-night! so late as this?" And I began to tremble already. - -"Yes, we must go to-night, or wait for another fortnight; and then it -would be no earlier, even if we got such a chance again. And for your -sake it is better than to be in a fright for a fortnight." - -"Inspector Cutting, I am in no fright whatever. At least I mean no more -so than any other girl would be, who felt a vague danger impending. I -hope and trust that my father's memory and the justice of God will be -with me." - -"Young lady, I see that I may safely venture it. If you had boasted, I -should have hesitated, though I have had some proof already of your -determination. The chief, and indeed the only danger, is lest you lose -your presence of mind, and that most females would do, if placed as you -will be. Now I wish you to make deliberate choice, and not to be -carried away by impulse vindictiveness, or the love of adventure; which, -when the spirit is high like yours, too often leads young females into -trouble, from which it is not always possible even for the most capable -members of the force to extricate them." - -"Of course I know all that. How much longer are we to talk? Must I -disguise myself? When am I to be ready? And where are we going?" - -"Now you are growing impatient. That is not a good sign. Remember, I -can easily procure another witness; but for your own sake I wish to give -you the chance. Probably you will see to-night the man who killed your -father." - -As he spoke my flesh was creeping, and my blood ran cold, then suddenly -flushed through my system like electric fluid. He began again as coolly -as if he were reporting a case of some one discovered "drunk and -incapable." From force of habit, he touched his forehead, and stood at -attention, as he spoke. "In consequence of information which I have -received, I have been induced to make certain inquiries, which have -resulted in the conviction that the criminal I am in search of will be -present at a certain place this night, at a certain hour. It is -therefore my intention to embrace the opportunity of--" - -"Catching him!" cried I in a breathless hurry. - -"To embrace the opportunity," continued the Inspector, like a talking -oak, "of conducting my investigations personally, and in the presence of -a witness. The effect thereby produced upon my mind shall be entered -duly, the moral effect I should have said, and the cause of justice will -be promoted as rapidly as is consistent with the principles of our -glorious constitution." - -"Do you mean to say that you will let him go?" - -"No, I shall not let him go, Miss Valence, for the simple reason that I -shall not apprehend him. I see that you are inclined to take the law -into your own hands. That will never do for me." - -"Oh no, I am not. A year ago I would have done so. But I am older and -wiser now." - -I was thinking of dear mother; and began to feel already that my -character was changing. - - - - - CHAPTER XVIII. - - -Inspector Cutting gave me some minute instructions, and in less than -half an hour we set forth upon our enterprise. I was wrapped in a loose -grey cloak having a hooded cape; and carefully hidden I carried for -self-defence a very keen stiletto. I had procured it indirectly from -the best cutler in London, but neither workmanship nor material could be -compared to that of Italy. - -The night was dark and cold, the streets were almost deserted, and all -the shops except the chemists' and the public-houses closed. We walked -straightway to the nearest cabstand, where Mr. Cutting ordered a -vehicle, and put me inside, himself riding with the driver. So little -did I know as yet of London, that after the first turn or two, I could -not even guess what direction we were taking. I had such confidence in -my guide, a staid respectable man with a grown up family, that I never -thought there could be harm in my journeying with him at night. And -even had I thought so, most likely I should have done it all the same. -Ever since the time he wounded me, or allowed me to wound myself, his -manner towards me had been most kind, considerate, and respectful; -though he found it his duty now and then to repress my impetuosity. - -With all my perception alert, I kept a sharp look-out from the window, -but vainly strove to find anything that might serve for a landmark. -Once we stopped for about five minutes, at a police-station somewhere in -Clerkenwell, where, by the light of a lamp, I read, without leaving the -cab, the ghastly descriptions of all the dead bodies recently found in -London and waiting identification. Hereupon my courage began to ooze, -and the weather seemed much colder. The type was hard to read at that -distance, and the imagination had fair play, as it does when words come -slowly. - -Anon the inspector reappeared, so altered in dress and countenance, that -I did not know him until he made me a bow. With a glance of -encouragement, and a little grin of dry humour, he mounted the box -again. After another long drive, in the course of which we ran silently -over a wooden road,--probably High Holborn,--we stopped in a broad but -deserted thoroughfare, very badly lighted. Here Mr. Cutting opened the -door, helped me out, and discharged the cab, but whispered something to -the driver before he let him go. - -"Now take my arm, Miss Valence, if you please. I have escorted many a -lady of higher birth than yours." - -"Of higher title perhaps, Mr. Cutting; and their grandfathers -money-lenders, or perhaps far worse." - -"I am sure I don't know; we must take things as we find them. I thought -you despised such nonsense. But the cabbage that runs to seed is the -tallest in the field. No Englishman sees the nonsense of it, unless he -happens to be a detective or a grave-digger." - -"Do you mean to say that those of lofty birth are worse than those of -low birth?" - -"No, I mean nothing of the sort. But I do mean that they ought to be -better, and on the whole are not so. Nature holds the balance, and -temptation and education chuck into the opposite scales, and I think the -first chucks fastest. At any rate I would rather have a good drunken -navvy than a lord to take to the station. I mean of course when my own -rank was not what it is." - -This little dissertation was meant to divert my thoughts. I made no -reply, being ignorant of such matters; neither did I care to talk about -them then. Nevertheless, I believe Inspector Cutting was wrong. As we -entered a narrow street he suddenly turned and looked at me. - -"Poor child! how you tremble! Draw your cape more forward; the bitter -cold requires it. Are you trembling from fear?" - -"No; only from cold." But I tried in vain to think so. - -"A steady hand and steadfast nerve are wanted for your task. If you -cannot rely on them, say so at once. In five minutes you will have no -retreat." - -"I shall be better directly. But I am so cold. Inspector Cutting, it -must be freezing hard--ten degrees, I should think." - -"It does not freeze at all. I see we must warm you a little. But no -more 'Inspector Cutting,' if you please, until to-morrow." - -Hereupon he led me into a little room, fenced off from the bar of some -refreshment-house. A glorious fire was burning, by which he set and -left me. Presently he returned, with a small glass in his hand. - -"Drink this, young lady. It will warm you, and brace your nerves." - -I saw by the firelight that it was brandy, or some dark-coloured spirit. - -"No, I thank you. Do you suppose that I require Dutch courage?" - -I threw such emphasis on the personal pronoun, and looked at him so -indignantly, that he laughed outright. - -"I thank you in turn. You suppose that I do. I will justify your -discernment." And with that he tipped it off, and then returned to -business, all the graver for the interlude. - -"Now, if you are really warm, we will start again. Stop one moment. I -have heard you cough two or three times. Can you keep it under?" - -I assured him that I could very easily do so, and that it was nothing -but the sudden effect of the cold. Forth we went again into the winter -night, after I had learned from him that we were now in Whitechapel, not -far from Goodman's Fields. - -After another short walk, we came to the end of a narrow by-street, -where there was an archway. Passing through this archway, we descended -some steep and broken steps. Then the Inspector produced a small lamp -brightly burning, which he must have lit at the public-house. It was -not what is called a bull's-eye, but a reflector-lamp. By its light I -saw that the chief entrance to the house must be round the corner, and -perhaps in another street. With a small key which he took from his -pocket, Mr. Cutting unlocked a little iron gate, and we entered a narrow -passage. At the end of it was a massive door studded with great nails. -Here my guide gave a gentle knock, and hid the lamp as before. - -Presently we heard a shrill sound from the keyhole, like a dryad's -voice. The Inspector stooped thereto, and pronounced the password. Not -without some difficulty the lock was turned and the bolts withdrawn, and -we stood inside. A child, under-sized and unnaturally sharp, stared at -us for a moment, then dodged away from the lamp, as if more accustomed -to darkness. Mr. Cutting closed the door and refastened it, then led me -through some basement rooms unpaved and unfurnished, until we came to an -iron step-ladder. This he ascended, and helped me up, and we found -ourselves in a small dark lobby, containing no furniture, except a high -three-legged stool. When he closed his lamp all around was dark, but on -the rafters overhead a faint patch of light appeared--ceiling there was -none. - -"Do you see that light?" he whispered to me, pointing, as I could just -perceive, to a narrow glazed opening high in the wall, whence the faint -gleam proceeded. - -"Then jump upon this stool, and do your best to see through." - -He cast the light of his lamp upon the stool for a moment, while I did -as he bade me. Standing there, I found that I was tall enough to look -through; but the narrow pane which formed the window was thickly covered -with size, or some opaque integument. All I could tell was, that the -space beyond was lighted. - -"I know you can't see now," he said, as I came down despairing, "but you -shall see by and by. The fools who were here before sized the glass on -the wrong side, and this lot, though much sharper, have not corrected -the error. They keep that window for escape in the last resort. Now -take this bottle and this camel's-hair brush; it will make the glass -transparent without the smallest noise. The men are not there yet. We -could easily rub it clear now, but they will examine it. When the time -comes, use the liquid most carefully and lightly, and don't spread it -higher than an inch from the bottom of the frame. The lights are at -this end; the shadow of the sill will allow you just an inch." - -"And how far may I go horizontally?" - -"The whole length of the glass, to command as much view as possible. -The effect will pass in three or four minutes, but you must not do it -again. If you do, the glass will fly, and you will be in their hands. -Desperate men they are, and though I shall be near, I might be too late -to save you. See all you can, to be able to swear to them all." - -"How shall I know the one?" - -"I cannot tell you. I must leave it to your instinct, or your -intuition. I only know myself that he is one of the four. My -information, such as it is, was obtained very oddly, and I trust to this -night's work to make it more precise. One thing more: No noise, if you -value your life. Keep the bottle stopped. Don't let the stuff drop on -you; don't put your eyes to it, or it will blind you for ever. There is -very little of it, because it is so deadly." - -"When shall I do it?" - -"In one hour from this time. Take this repeater. I have shown you how -to use it. Look well at it now, while you have the light." - -I looked at the watch; it was nearly midnight. - -"Am I to be left in the dark--all in the dark here, by myself?" - -"Yes. I must be seen elsewhere, or the whole thing fails. They know me -even in this dress, and they watch me as I do them. But for to-night I -believe I have misled them. When it is over, wait here till I come for -you, or the little girl you saw." - -"Oh! I wish I had never come; and all so vague and indecisive!" - -"You can go back now, if you please; though ever that would be -dangerous." - -"I will not go back. No doubt I shall know him. When will you secure -him?" - -"When my evidence is completed. Now, remember, you have to deal with -men keen as hawks, and stealthy as tigers. But there is no real danger, -if you keep your self-command. Observe all four as narrowly as you can, -both for your own sake and for mine. Be careful to stand on the centre -of the stool. But you had better not get upon it until they have -searched the room. Now, good-bye. I trust to your courage. If any -harm comes, I will avenge you." - -"A comfort that! What good will it be to me?" - -"If vengeance is no good, what are you doing here?" - -"Thank you. That is no business of yours. Don't let me detain you." - -He told me afterwards that he had vexed me on purpose to arouse my -mettle. And I am sure I needed it. - -"Ah! now you are all right. If your caution fails you, the man who slew -your father will be sure to escape us." - -"If it fails me, 'twill be from anger, not from terror." - -"I know it. Let me look at you." - -He threw the full light on my face. The burnished concave was not -brighter or firmer than my eyes. - -"Pale as death, and quite as resolute. Rely only upon yourself." - -"God and myself," I whispered, as he glided out of sight along the -vaults below. I could see no other entrance to the place in which I -sat; but how could I tell? - -For a minute excitement kept me hot; but as the last gleam of the light -died upon the wall below, my heart began to throb heavily, and a chill -came over me. The pulse thumped in my ears, like a knocking in the -cellar. "Was it fear?" I asked myself, in scorn that I should ask. No, -it was not fear, but horrible suspense. The balance of life and death, -of triumph and disgrace, swung there before me in the dark, as if my -breath would turn it. No dream of a child, no vagary of the brain--the -clear perception of strong will and soul poised upon this moment. - -The moment was too long; the powers began to fail, the senses grew more -faint and confused at every heavy throb. Little images and little -questions took the place of large ones. In vain I looked for even a -cobweb, or the skeleton of a fly, where the dull light flickered through -the pane of glass. In vain I listened for a mouse. Even a rat (much as -I hate him) would have been welcome then. The repeater was purposely -made so low of tick, that I got no comfort thence. All was deep, -unfathomable silence, except the sound of my rebel heart. - -As a forlorn hope, I began to reckon sixty slowly, as a child keeps with -a ticking clock. - -It would not do. My heart was beating louder than ever, and my hands -were trembling; even my teeth rattled like dice in a box as the time -approached. - -The nerves will not be hoodwinked; the mind cannot swindle the body. I -once slapped the cheeks of my governess. I cannot treat nature so. Try -the sweet influence, and the honest coin of reason. It will not do. -All trembling, I strike the repeater. Five minutes more, and the trial -must come. My heart is fluttering like a pigeon's throat. The long -suspense has been too much. Oh! why was I submitted to this cruel -ordeal? The walls are thick. I can hear no movement in the secret room. - -There comes a creeping, fingering, sound, as of one whose candle is out, -groping for the door. It passes along the pane of glass, and a shadow -is thrown on the rafter. Who can it be? What stealthy hand but that of -my father's murderer? - -The word--the thought is enough. What resolution, reason, justice, all -in turn, have failed to do, passion has done at once--passion at myself, -as well as at my enemy. Is it Clara Vaughan, who, for eight long years -of demon's reign, has breathed but for this moment--is Clara Vaughan to -shake like the wooden-legged blackbird now her chance is come? - -A rush of triumph burned, like vitriol, through my veins. Every nerve -was braced, every sense alert and eager. Against the light of that -window, dull as it was, I could have threaded the finest needle that -ever was made. - -I struck my repeater again. It was the hour, the minute, when my father -died. With the mere spring of my instep I leaped upon the stool. I -could see it clearly now. I dipped the broad camel's-hair brush in the -flat phial, holding it carefully at arm's length, and then drew it -lightly along the pane, quite at the bottom, from corner to corner. One -more dip, one more stripe above, a steam hovered on the glass, and there -was a gazing-place, clear as crystal, and wide enough to show most of -the narrow room. Of the room itself I took no heed; the occupants were -my study. - -Only four in all. One man at a high desk writing rapidly; three men -sitting round a small table, talking earnestly, and with much -gesticulation, but the tone too low for me even to guess their language. -From the appearance, manner, and action of the speakers, I felt sure -that it was not English, and I thought that it was not French. Why, I -cannot say; but my attention fixed itself upon the man who was writing -at the top of the room. Perhaps it was because I could see him best, -for he stood with his face full towards me. - -He was a man of middle age and stature, strongly framed, closely knit, -and light of limb, with a handsome, keenly oval face, broad forehead, -black eyes, glancing quickly and scornfully at his three comrades, long -hair of an iron grey, falling on his shoulders, and tossed back often -with a jerk of the head. His hands were white and restless, quick as -light in their motion. On the left thumb flashed a large red jewel. -Though I could not see the paper, I knew by the course of the quill that -the writing was very small. But one minute I watched him, for the film -was returning upon the glass, and I must scan the others; yet in that -time he had written several lines, half of them without looking at the -paper, but with his eyes upon the other three. - -I knew him now he was in clear light, I could swear to him anywhere -again. The last glance I could spare him sent a shudder through me, for -in his impatience he shifted one foot from the shade of the desk. It -was small, pointed, and elegant. - -The film was thickening, like frost upon the pane, when I began to -observe the others. But I saw enough to print their faces on my memory, -or those at least of two. The third I could not see so well. He seemed -older than the rest. All the men wore loose grey tunics, with a red -sash over the left shoulder. I judged that the three were debating -hotly, as to some measure, upon which the fourth had resolved. Every -now and then, they glanced at him uneasily. - -At him I gazed again, with deadly hatred, cold as ice, upon my heart. I -felt my dagger handle. Oh for one moment with him! In my fury I forgot -the Inspector's warning. The film was closing over. I touched the -glass with my lashes. A flash of agony shot through my eyes. With a -jerk I drew back, the stool rocked under me, one foot of it struck the -wall. I clutched the window sill, and threw my weight inwards. Down -came the foot of the stool, loud as the bang of a door. - -I thought it was all over. How I stifled a scream I know not; had it -escaped me, I should never have told this story. I had the presence of -mind to stand still, and watch, though my eyes were maddening me, what -the cut-throats would do. Through the agony, and the dimness, I could -just see them all start, and rush to the door at the side of the room. -The writer stood first, with his papers thrust anyhow into his bosom, a -pistol in one hand, a poniard in the other. Did I know the shape of it? -The other three were armed, but I could not see with what. They -crouched behind a heavy screen, presenting (I supposed) their pistol -muzzles at the door. Finding no attack ensue, they began to search. Now -was the real danger to me. If they searched that window before the size -returned, my life ended there. Fear was past. Desperation seized me. -If I was doomed to blindness, just as well to death. But I clutched my -dagger. - -My left ear was against the wall. I heard a hand graze the partition -inside, then a chair placed under the embrasure, and a step upon it. I -was still upon the stool, stooping close beneath the window frame. -Suddenly the light streak vanished, the size flew over it, as the breath -flies over glass in the hardest frost. The hand felt along the window -frame, the dull shadow of a head flitted upon the beam. It was within a -foot of mine. The searcher passed on, without suspicion. - -Strange it was, but now the deadliest peril was over, triple fear fell -upon me. The heat flew back to my heart, just now so stanch and rigid; -my hair seemed to creep with terror. Dear life, like true love scorned, -would have its way within me. Quietly I slid down from the stool, and -cowered upon it, in a storm of trembling. My eyelids dropped in agony, -I could not lift them again, but blue and red lights seemed to dance -within them. I had made up my mind to blindness; but not, oh not just -yet, to death. - -How long I remained in this abject state, scorning myself, yet none the -braver, is more than I can tell, or even cared to ask. May it never be -the lot of any, not even the basest murderer! Worn out at last, in a -lull of pain and terror, I fell into deep sleep, from which I was -awakened by a hand upon my shoulder. - -I tried to look up, but could not. Sight was fled, and as I thought for -ever. But I felt that it was a friend. - -"Ah, I see how it is"--the voice was Inspector Cutting's--"my poor -child, there is now no danger. Give me your hand:" he tried to lift me, -but I fell against the wall. - -"Take a sip of this, we must restore circulation. It is the cold as -much as anything; another sip, Miss Vaughan." He used my true name on -purpose; it helped to restore me. He was most humane and kind; he did -not even remind me of Dutch courage. - - - - - CLARA VAUGHAN - - BOOK III. - - - - CHAPTER I. - - -In the morning I dreamed of Isola. Across a broad black river, I saw -her lovely smile. Thick fog rose from the water, in which two swans -were beating a dog, and by snatches only could I see my darling. She -waved her little hand to me, and begged me, with that coaxing smile -which bent cast iron and even gold, to come across to Isola. In vain I -looked for a boat, even in my dream I knew that I could not swim, and if -I could, the lead upon my eyelids would have sunk me. So I called to -her to come to me, and with that cry awoke. - -It was striking ten--my own little clock which my father gave me. I -counted every stroke. What was Mrs. Shelfer doing, that she had not -called me yet? What was I doing, that I lay there so late; for I always -get up early? And what was the sun about, that no light came into the -room? I knew it was ten in the morning. - -I felt all round. I was in my little bed, the splinter at the side of -the head-board ran into my finger as usual. There I was, and nowhere -else. Was it a tremendous fog? If it was, they should have told me, -for they knew that I liked fogs. At least they thought so, from the -interest I felt. - -I groped for the little bell-pull, a sleezy worsted cord, which meant to -break every time, but was not strong enough to do it. I jerked with all -my strength, which seemed very little somehow. What a pleasure! The -bell rang like a fire-peal. I fell back on the pillow, exhausted, but -determined to have it out with Mrs. Shelfer. I put my hands up to -arrange my hair, to look a little more like Clara Vaughan, when the -light should enter, and to frighten Mrs. Shelfer. - -There was something on my head. I never wear a night-cap; my long black -hair would scorn it. Am I in a madhouse, is this put to keep me cool? -Cold it is, and my brain so hot. All Wenham lake on Dives, and he will -only hiss. While I am pulling at it, and find it streaming wet, in -comes--I know her step--Mrs. Shelfer. But there is no light from the -passage! - -"Mrs. Shelfer, what do you mean by this?" - -"By what, my dear good soul? I have done all the blessed things I was -told to do for you. You might have put a ostrich feather or a marabout -to my mouth, Miss Valence, and tucked me up, and a headstone, and none -the wiser, when Uncle John brought you home last night." - -"I suppose I am dreaming. But I am sure I rang the bell." - -"Miss Valence, you did so, and no mistake. Bless me! I started in my -shoes. A good job, Shelfer wasn't home, he's so nervous. He'd have -gone for gin straightways. Now get up, that's a dear good soul, and -when you have had some breakfast, we'll talk over it, Miss Valence. Let -me see how your eyes are. Uncle John said they was bad, and I was to -keep them covered. I expects him here every minute. Now turn them up -to the light. What large eyes you have, to be sure. Bless me! Where -are your long black lashes?" - -"Mrs. Shelfer, there is some strange mistake. Let the light into the -room." - -I had risen in the bed, and her breath was on my forehead. - -"Light, dear child, I can't let more. The sun is on your face." - -I fell back upon my pillow, and could rise no more. The truth had been -tingling through me, all the time she talked. I was stone-blind. I -flung the bandage from me, and wished my heart would break. Mrs. -Shelfer tried some comfort. She seemed to grieve for my eyelashes, more -than for my eyes; and addressed her comfort more to my looks than sight. -Of course, I did not listen. When would the creature be gone, and let -me try to think? - -Poor little thing! I was very sorry; what fault was it of hers? Who -and what am I, blind I, to find fault with any one who means me well? I -drop my eyelids, I can feel them fall; I lift them, I can feel them -rise; a full gaze, a side gaze, a half gaze; with both eyes, with one; -it is all the same; gaze there may be, but no sight. Henceforth I want -no eyelids. - -The sun is on my face. I can feel his winter rays, though my cheeks are -wet. What use is he to me? - -I have the dagger somewhere by which my father died. Let me find it, if -I can. - -I could have sworn that the box was in that corner carefully concealed. -I strike against a washing-stand. Ah, now I have it; the box is locked, -my keys are in the top-drawer. I bear the box to the bed, and go -groping for the chest of drawers. Already I can tell by the sun-warmth -on my face, which way I am going. Surely, if I wait, I shall have the -instinct of the blind. - -What care I for that? The coward love of life suggested that poor -solace. Now I have the keys. Quick unlock the box. - -At length I throw the cover back. The weapon handle is to the right. I -stoop to seize it. I grasp a square of colour. Pretty instinct this! -I have got my largest drawing box. - -Oh paints, my paints, so loved but yesterday, that ape the colours I -shall never see, my hot tears make you water-colours indeed! If God has -robbed my eyes of sight, He has not dried my tears. - -The gushing flood relieves me. What right have I to die? Even without -asking if my case be hopeless! Who knows but what these lovely tints may -glow for me again? May I not once more intone the carmine damask of the -rose, the gauzy green of April's scarf? Softening scenes before me -rise. I lay my box of colours by, and creep into my bed for warmth. - -Presently the doctor comes. Inspector Cutting has chosen him, and -chosen well. From his voice I know that he is a gentleman, from his -words and touch instinctively I feel that he understands the case. - -When he has finished the examination he sees me trembling for the answer -which I dare not seek. - -"Young lady, I have hopes, strong hopes. It is quite impossible to say -what course the inflammation may pursue. All depends on that. At -present there is a film over the membrane, but the cornea is uninjured. -Perfect quiet, composure, so far as in such a case is possible, cold -applications, and the exclusion of light, are the simple remedies. All -the rest must be left to nature. Avoid excitement of any kind. Diet as -low as possible. Do not admit your dearest friends, unless they will -keep perfect silence. Even so, they are better away, unless you pine at -loneliness." - -"Oh no. I am quite accustomed to that." - -"That is well. I shall make a point of calling daily, but shall not -examine your eyes every time. The excitement and the effort would -strain the optic nerve. Our object is to keep the inflammation from -striking inwards. I should not tell you all this, but I see that you -have much self-command. On that and your constitution, under -Providence, the cure depends. One question. I am not a professed -ophthalmist, would you prefer to have one?" - -"Oblige me with your opinion." - -"It is a delicate point for me. There is no operation to perform. It -is a medical, not a surgical case. I have dealt with such before. Were -you my own child I would call in no ophthalmist, but as you are a -stranger to me, I wish you to decide for yourself." - -"Then, I will have none. I have perfect confidence in you." - -He seemed gratified, and took his leave. "Please God, Miss Valence, you -shall look me in the face ere long." - - - - - CHAPTER II. - - -"Composure is my only chance." What chance have I of composure until I -know the meaning of what I saw last night? Blind though I am, one face -is ever before me. No thickening of the membrane can exclude that face. -Inspector Cutting is still below; I will send for him at once. - -Mrs. Shelfer remonstrates. "It will excite you so, my good friend. The -doctor said perfect quiet." - -"Just so. I can have none, until I have spoken to your Uncle John. Let -him stay in my sitting-room, open the folding-door a little, and then, -Mrs. Shelfer, please to go down stairs." - -I hear the Inspector's step, not so heavy this time. He asks how I am, -and expresses his sorrow. I feel obliged to him for not reminding me -that the fault was all my own. Then I implore him, if he wishes me ever -to see again, to tell me all he knows about the men I saw last night. - -Thus entreated, he cannot refuse me, but first looks up and down the -stairs, as I know by the sound of his steps; then he shuts the door of -the sitting-room. All he knows is not very much. They are refugees, -Italian refugees; two political and two criminal exiles, leaders now of -a conspiracy to revolutionize their country. - -"But why does he not arrest them?' - -"Simply because he has no right. As for the political refugees, of -course, we never meddle with them; as for the two criminals, they have -not been demanded by their Government. Wonderful now, isn't it? The -two fellows who have committed murder their Government would not give -sixpence for them; but the two men who have only spouted a little, it -would give a thousand pounds for either of them. He can't understand -such a system." - -And Inspector Cutting sucks his lips--I know it by the sound--he always -does it when he is in a puzzle. Being a true Englishman, he knows no -more of serfdom, than of the dark half of the moon. I mean, of course, -political serfdom. Of social slavery we have enough to last ten -generations more. - -"Would he be afraid to arrest them? He said they were desperate men." - -"He should rather hope he wouldn't. They had got their knives, and -pistols, and all that humbug. But it was more show than fight. They -were desperate men in a private quarrel, particular when they could come -round a corner, and when women were concerned; but as for showing honest -fight, he would sooner come across three of them, than one good Irish -murderer." - -"What was his proof against my enemy? I need not ask him which it was." - -The excitement of this question sent needles through my eyes. And I -could not see him, to probe his pupils. - -"Well, his proof was very little. In fact it was no proof at all as -yet. But he was not like a juryman. He was quite convinced; and his -eyes should never be off that man, until he had him under warrant, and -the whole case clear. Would that satisfy me?" - -He spoke with such hearty professional pride, that I could not help -believing him. But as for being satisfied--why should his evidence be a -mystery to me? "Catch him at once," was my idea; but a hot and foolish -one. "Get up the evidence first," was Inspector Cutting's, "I can catch -him at any time." That was the whole gist of it. Could he always catch -him? - -He scorned the idea of there being any difficulty about it. The man -could leave for no part of the Continent; he was a political refugee. -America was his only bourne beyond the Inspector's jurisdiction. And -thither he could not try to go without the Police being down upon him at -once. - -By this time I was worn out, though my reasons were not exhausted. In a -word, I was only half satisfied, but I could not help myself. If, in my -helpless blindness, I offended Inspector Cutting, the whole chance -disappeared. Only one question remained. "Why did he take me thither?" - -"For excellent reasons. As to the one, it was most important that I -should always know him again. Moreover, it saved my energies from waste. -As to the other three, he had his own reasons for requiring an -intelligent witness about their proceedings." - -I thought of the thousand pounds, and said no more. Inspector Cutting -was an Englishman, and proud, in his way, of English freedom. But, like -nine-tenths of us, he thought that we alone understand what freedom is. -What good was it to such fellows as those? They would only be free of -one another's throats. And like all of us, with most rare exception, -next to freedom, he valued money. For our love of this, many foreigners -jeer us. All we can say is, that with us it is second, with them it is -first. But we are of such staple, our second is stronger than their -first. - -When the Inspector was gone, I formed a very sensible resolve. Since -there was nothing more to be done or learned at present, my only care -should be the recovery of my sight. If I were to be blind till death, -the purpose of my life was lost, and I might as well die at once. But -now the first blind agony, the sudden shock, was over; and I had too -much of what the Inspector denominated "pluck," to knock under so. - -In the afternoon, when all was quiet, lovely Isola came. Strict orders -had been given that no one should be admitted. But Mrs. Shelfer was not -proof against the wiles of Isola. - -"She smiled so bootiful, when I opened the door, Miss, it fetched out -all my hair pins; and when I told her you was ill in bed, and struck -stone blind along of some chemical stuff, two big tears came out of her -long blue eyes, same as the wet out of a pennorth of violets, Miss; and -as for stopping her, she threw her muff at me, and told me to stop that -if I liked, and to run and tell you that she was coming, quick, quick! - -"To be sure, and here I am!" cried the cheery voice I loved so well. -"Oh, Clara dear, dear Clara!" The little darling flung her soft warm -arms around me, utterly forgetful of her dress, forgetful of all the -world, but that little bit of it she held. Her delicious breath came -over my fevered cheek, her cool satin flesh was on my burning eyelids. -What lotion could be compared to this? How long she stayed, I cannot -tell; I only know that while I heard her voice, and felt her touch, -blindness seemed no loss to me. She pronounced herself head nurse; and -as for doctors, what were they, compared to her own father? If she -could coax him, he should come next day, and deliver his opinion, and -then the doctor might betake himself to things he understood, if indeed -he understood anything, which she did not believe he did, because he had -said she was not to come. My drawings too she admired, much more than -they deserved, and her brother Conrad must come and see them, he was so -fond of drawing, and there was nothing he could not do. She was so -sorry she must go now, but old Cora must be tired of patroling, and she -herself had a lecture to attend upon the chemical affinity of bodies. -What it meant she had no idea, but that would not matter the least; some -of the clever girls said they did, but she would not believe them; it -took a man, she was sure, to understand such subjects. She would bring -her work the next day, such as it was, and the nicest bit of sponge that -was ever seen, it could not be bought in London; and she would answer -for it I should be able to paint her likeness in a week; and she would -not go till it was dark; and then the Professor should come for her when -his lectures were over, and examine me; he knew all about optics, and -retinas, and pencils of light, and refraction and aberration, and she -could not remember any more names; but she felt quite certain this was a -case of optical delusion, and nothing else. - -How I wished I could have seen her, when she pronounced this opinion, -with no little solemnity. She must have looked such a sage! The -thought of that made me laugh, as well as the absurdity of the idea. But -I only asked how the Professor was to examine my eyes, if he did not -come till dark. - -To be sure! She never thought of that. What a little goose she was! -But she would make him come in the morning, before his work began; and -then old Cora would fetch her home to tea. And she had very great -hopes, that if she could only persuade her papa to deliver a lecture in -my room, it would have such an effect on my optic nerves, that they -would come all right directly, at any rate I should know how to treat -them. - -Delighted with this idea, she kissed me, and hugged me, and off she ran, -after telling me to be sure to keep my spirits up, and the bandage not -too tight. - -The latter injunction was much easier to obey than the former. She had -enlivened me wonderfully, as well as nursed me most delicately; but now -that she was gone, the usual reaction commenced. Moreover, although as -the saying is, the sight of her would have been good for sore eyes, the -effort at seeing her, which I could not control, when she was present, -was, I already felt, anything but good for them. And the loss, when she -was gone, was like a second loss of light. - -Light! What million thoughts flash through me at that little word! -Swiftest thing the mind has met, too like itself to understand. Is it -steed or wing of mind? Nay, not swift enough for that. Is it then the -food of life, prepared betimes ere life appeared, the food the blind -receive but cannot taste? If so, far better to be blind from birth. -Well I know the taste from memory; shall I never taste it else? Has -beauty lost its way to me? The many golden folds of air, the lustrous -dance of sunny morn, the soft reclining of the moon, the grand -perspective of the stars (long avenue to God's own home), are these all -blank to me, and night made one with day? - -Oh God, whose first approach was light, replenisher of sun and stars, -whence dart anew thy gushing floods (solid or liquid we know not), whose -subtle volume has no bourne or track; light, the dayside half of life, -leaping, flashing, beaming; glistening, twinkling, stealing; light! Oh -God, if live I must, grudge me not a ray! - - - - - CHAPTER III. - - -Low fever followed the long prostration to which the fear of outer -darkness had reduced my jaded nerves. This fever probably redeemed my -sight, by generalizing the local inflammation, to which object the -doctor's efforts had been directed. Tossing on my weary bed, without a -glimpse of anything, how I longed for the soft caresses and cool lips of -Isola! But since that one visit, she had been sternly excluded. The -Professor had no chance of delivering his therapeutic lecture. In fact -he did not come. "Once for all," said Dr. Franks, when he heard of that -proposal, "choose, Miss Valence, between my services, and the maundering -of some pansophist. If you prefer the former, I will do my utmost, and -can almost promise you success; but I must and will be obeyed. None -shall enter your room, except Mrs. Shelfer and myself. As to your -lovely friend, of whom Mrs. Shelfer is so full, if she truly loves you, -she will keep away. She has done you already more harm than I can undo -in a week. I am deeply interested in this case, and feel for you -sincerely; but unless you promise me to see--I mean to receive--no one -without my permission, I will come no more." - -It sounded very hard, but I felt that he was right. - -"No crying, my dear child, no crying! Dear me, I have heard so much of -your courage. Too much inflammation already. Whatever you do, you must -not cry. That is one reason why I will not have your friend here. When -two young ladies get together in trouble, I know by my own daughters -what they do. You may laugh as much as you like, in a quiet way; and I -am sure Mrs. Shelfer can make any one laugh, under almost any -circumstances. Can't you now?" - -"To be sure, my good friend, I have seen such a many rogues. That is, -when I know Charley's a-coming home." - -"Now good bye, Miss Valence. But I would recommend you not to play with -your paints so. There is an effluvium from them." - -"Oh, what can I do, what am I to do to pass the endless night? I was -only trying to build a house in the dark." - -"Sleep as much as you can. I am giving you gentle opiates. When you -can sleep no longer, let Mrs. Shelfer talk or read to you, and have a -little music. I will lend you my musical box, which plays twenty-four -tunes: have it in the next room, not to be too loud. And then play on -the musical glasses, not too long at a time: you will soon find out how -to do that in the dark." - -He most kindly sent us both the boxes that very day; and many a weary -hour they lightened of its load. Poor Isola came every day to inquire, -and several times she had her brother with her. She made an entire -conquest of Mrs. Shelfer, who even gave her a choice canary bird. I was -never tired of hearing the little woman's description of her beauty, and -her visit to the kitchen formed the chief event of the day. Mrs. -Shelfer (who had Irish blood in her veins) used to declare that the -ground was not good enough for them to walk on. - -"Such a pair, Miss! To see her so light, and soft, and loving, tripping -along, and such eyes and such fur; and him walking so straight, and -brave, and noble. I am sure you'd go a mile, Miss, to see him walk." - -"You forget, Mrs. Shelfer, I may never enjoy that pleasure." - -"No, no. Quite true, my good friend. But then we may, all the same." - -Exactly so. There lay all the difference to me, but none to any other. -This set me moralising in my shallow way, a thing by no means natural to -me, who was so concentrated and subjective. But loss of sight had done -me good, had turned the mind's eye inward into the darkness of myself. -I think the blind, as a general rule, are less narrow-minded than those -endowed with sight. Less inclined, I mean, to judge their neighbours -harshly, less arrogant in exacting that every pulse keep time with their -own. If eyes are but the chinks through which we focus on our brain -censoriousness and bigotry, if rays of light are shafts and lances of -ill will; then better is it to have no crystalline lens. Far better to -be blind, than print the world-distorted puppets of myself. I, that -smallest speck of dust, blown upon the shore of time, blown off when my -puff shall come; a speck ignored by moon and stars; too small (however -my ambition leap) for earth to itch, whate'er I suck; and yet a speck -that is a mountain in the telescope of God; shall I never learn that His -is my only magnitude; shall I wriggle to be all in all to my own -corpuscle? - - - - - CHAPTER IV. - - -Is there any Mocha stone, fortification agate, or Scotch pebble, with -half the veins and mottlings, angles, flux and reflux, that chequer one -minute of the human mind? Was ever machine invented to throw so many -shuttles? - -At present I am gauged for little threads of thought--two minutes since, -the smallest thing I could think of was myself. Now it is the largest. -Must I grope from room to room, shall I never be sure where the table -is, where my teacup stands; never read, or write, or draw; never tell -when my hands are clean, except by smelling soap; never know (though -small the difference) how my dress becomes me, or when my hair is right; -never see my own sad face, in which I have been fool enough to glory, -never--and this is worst of all--never catch another's smile? - -Here am I, a full-grown girl, full of maiden's thoughts and wonderings, -knowing well that I am shaped so but to be a link in life; must I never -think of loving or of being loved, except with love like Isola's; sweet -affection, very sweet; but white sugar only? - -When my work is over, and my object gained, when my father's spirit -knows the wrong redeemed, as a child I used to think I would lay me down -and die. But since I came to woman's fulness, since I ceased to look at -men and they began to look at me, some soft change, I know not what, has -come across my dream. - -Is my purpose altered? Is my tenor broken? Not a whit of either. -Rather are they stronger set and better led, as my heart and brain -enlarge. Yet I see beyond it all, a thing I never used to see, a glow -above the peaks of hate, a possibility of home. "Saw" I should have -said, for now what have I to do with seeing? - -On the fourteenth morning, I had given up all hope. They told me it was -bright and sunny; for I always asked about the weather, and felt most -cruelly depressed upon a sunny day. By this time I had learned to dress -without Mrs. Shelfer's aid. Still, from force of habit I went to the -glass to do my hair, and still drew back, as far as was allowed, the -window curtain. - -Off with my wet bandage, I am sick of it; let me try no longer to delude -myself. - -Suddenly a gleam of light, I am sure of it; faint indeed, and like a -Will of the Wisp; but I am quite sure it was a gleam of light. I go -nearer the window and try again. No, there is no more for the present, -it was the sudden change produced it. Never mind; I know what I have -seen, a thing that came and cheated me in dreams; this time it has not -cheated me; it was a genuine twinkle of the sun. - -I can do nothing more. I cannot put another stitch upon me. I am -thrilling with the sun, like Memnon. I fall upon my knees, and thank -the Father of light. - -When the Doctor came that day, and looked into my eyes, he saw a decided -change. - -"Miss Valence, the crisis is over. With all my heart I congratulate -you. Another fortnight, and you will see better than ever." - -I laughed, and wept, and, blind as I was, could hardly keep from -dancing. Then I wanted to kiss the Doctor, but hearing Mrs. Shelfer's -step, made a reckless jump and had it out upon her. - -"Bless me, why bless me, my good soul, if I was a young gentleman now--" - -"Why, Miss Valence, I am perfectly astonished," said Doctor Franks, but -I knew he was laughing; "if I had been requested, only two minutes ago, -to pick out the most self-possessed, equable, and courageous young lady -in London, I should have said, 'I don't want any looking, I know where -to find her,' but now, upon my word--" - -"If you are asked to point out the most delighted, grateful, and happy -girl in London, you know where to come for her. Let me kiss you, Dr. -Franks, only once. I won't rob your daughters. It is to you I owe it -all." - -"No, to Providence, and yourself, and an uncommonly good conjunctiva. -Now be prudent, my dear child; a little ecstasy must be forgiven; but -don't imperil your cure by over-excitement. It is, as I hoped it would -be, a case of epiphytic sloughing" (I think that was what he said), "and -it may become chronic if precipitated. The longer and more thorough the -process, the less chance of recurrence." - -"Oh I am satisfied with one eye, or half an eye. Can you promise me -that?" - -"If you will only follow my directions, I can promise you both eyes, -more brilliant than ever; and Mrs. Shelfer says they were wonderfully -bright. But what I order must be done. Slow and sure." - -He gave me short directions, all upon the same principle, that of -graduation. - -"And now, Miss Valence, good-bye. Henceforth I visit you only as a -friend; in which I know you will indulge me, from the interest I feel in -the case, and in yourself. Mrs. Shelfer's wonderful young lady may be -admitted on Thursday; but don't let her look at your eyes. Girls are -always inquisitive. If there is any young gentleman, lucky enough to -explain your strange anxiety to see, you will make short work of him, -when your sight returns. Your eyes will be the most brilliant in -London; which is saying a great deal. But I fear he will hardly know -you, till your lashes grow; and all your face and expression are altered -for the time." - -"One thing will never alter, though it can find no expression, my -gratitude to you." - -"That is very pretty of you, my dear child. You kissed me just now. -Now let me kiss you." - -He touched my forehead and was gone. He was the first true gentleman I -had met with, since the loss of Farmer Huxtable. - - - - - CHAPTER V. - - -When Isola came on the Thursday, and I obtained some little glimpse of -her, she expressed her joy in a thousand natural ways, well worth -feeling and seeing, not at all worth telling. I loved her for them more -and more. I never met a girl so warm of heart. Many women can sulk for -days; most women can sulk for an hour; I believe that no provocation -could have made Isola sulky for two minutes. She tried sometimes (at -least she said so), but it was no good. - -And yet she felt as keenly as any of the very sulkiest women can do; but -she had too much warmth of heart and imagination to live in the folds of -that cold-blooded snake. Neither had she the strong selfishness, on -which that serpent feeds. - -In the afternoon, as we still sat together, in rushed Mrs. Shelfer with -her bonnet on, quite out of breath, and without her usual ceremony of -knocking at the door. I could not think where she had been all the day; -and she had made the greatest mystery of it in the morning, and wanted -to have it noticed. Up she ran to me now, and pushed Isola out of the -way. - -"Got 'em at last, Miss. Got 'em at last, and no mistake. No more Dr. -Franks, nor bandages, nor curtains down, nor nothing. Save a deal of -trouble and do it in no time. But what a job I had to get them to be -sure; if the cook's mate hadn't knowed Charley, they would not have let -me had 'em, after going all the way to Wapping." She holds up something -in triumph. - -"What is it, Mrs. Shelfer? I am sorry to say I cannot see." - -"And right down glad of it, I am, my good friend. Yes, yes. Or I should -have had all my journey for nothing. But Miss Idols knows, I'll be -bound she does, or it's no good going to College." - -"Let me look at it first," says Isola, "we learn almost everything at -college, Mrs. Shelfer; but even we senior sophists don't know every -thing without seeing it yet." - -"Then put your pretty eyes on them, Miss Idols; I'll be bound it will -make them caper. I never see such fine ones, nor the cook's mate -either. Why they're as big as young whelks." - -"Mollusca, or Crustacea, or something!" exclaims Isola, with more pride -than accuracy, "what queer little things. I must take them to my papa." - -"Now, young ladies," cried Mrs. Shelfer in her grandest style, "I see I -must explain them to you after all. Them's the blessed shells the poor -sailors put in their eyes to scour them out, and keep them bright, and -make them see in the dark against the wind. Only see how they crawls. -There now, Miss Valence, I'll pick you out two big lively fellows, and -pop one for you in the corner of each eye; the cook's mate showed me how -to lift your eyelids." - -"How kind of him, to be sure!' - -"And it will crawl about under the lid, you must not mind its hurting a -bit; and it won't come out till to-morrow when the clock strikes twelve, -and then it will have eaten up every bit, and your eyes will be brighter -than diamonds. Charley has seen them do it ever so many times, and he -says it's bootiful, and they don't mind giving five shillings a piece -for them, when they are scarce." - -"Did Mr. Shelfer ever try them? His eyes are so sharp: perhaps that is -the reason." - -"No. I never heard that he did, Miss. But bless you he never tells me -half he does; no, nor a quarter of half." At this recollection, she -fetches a little short sigh, her nearest approach to melancholy, for she -is not sentimental. "Care killed the cat," is her favourite aphorism. - -"Then when he comes home, Mrs. Shelfer, pop one of these shells, a good -big one, into each of his eyes; and let us know the effect to-morrow -morning, and I'll give you a kiss, if you do it well." - -This is the bribe Isola finds most potent with everybody. - -"Lor, Miss Idols, bless your innocent heart, do you suppose he would let -me? Why he thinks it a great thing to let me tie his shoe, and he won't -only when he has had a good dinner." - -"Well," cries Isola, "I am astonished! Catch me tying my husband's -shoes! I shall expect him to tie mine, I know; and he shall only do -that when he is very good." - -With a regal air, she puts out the prettiest foot ever seen. Mrs. -Shelfer laughs. - -"Lor, Miss, it's all very well for girls to talk; and they all does it, -till they knows better. Though for the likes of you, any one would do -anything a most. Pray, Miss Idols, if I may make so bold, how many -offers of marriage have you received?" - -"Let me think! Oh I know! it's one more than I am years old. Eighteen -altogether, Mrs. Shelfer; if you count the apothecary's boy, and the -nephew of the library; but then they were all of them boys, papa's -pupils and that, a deal too young for me. They were all going to die, -when I refused them; but they are all alive so far, at any rate. Isn't -it too bad of them?" - -"Well, Miss Idols, if you get as good a husband as you deserve, and that -is saying a deal, he'll tie your shoe may be for a month, and then he'll -look for you to tie his." - -"And long he may look, even if he has shellfish in his eyes. Why look, -Mrs. Shelfer, they're all crawling about!" - -"Bootiful, isn't it? Bootiful! I wish Miss Valence could see them. -And look at the horns they goes routing about with! How they must -tickle your eyelids. And what coorious eyes they has! Ah, I often -think, Miss Idols, I likes this sort of thing so much, what a pity it is -as I wasn't born in the country. I should never be tired of watching -the snails, and the earywigs, and the tadpoles. Why, I likes nothing -better than to see them stump-legged things come to table in the -cabbage. I have not seen one now for ever so long. Oh that Charley, -what dreadful lies he do tell!" - -"What about, Mrs. Shelfer?" - -"Why, my good friend, he says them green things with stripes on, and -ever so many legs, turns to live butterflies, after they be dead. But I -was too many for him there. Yes, yes. The last one as I boiled, I did -not say a word about it to him, but I put it by in a chiney-teacup, with -the saucer over, in case it should fly away. Bless your heart, young -ladies, there it is now, as quiet as anything, and no signs of a -butterfly. And when he tells me any lies, about where he was last night, -I just goes to the cupboard, and shows him that; and never another word -can he say. And so, Miss Valence, you won't try these little snails, -after my journey and all!" - -"Of course I won't, Mrs. Shelfer. But I am sincerely obliged to you for -your trouble, as well as for all your kind nursing, which I can never -forget. Now let me buy those shellfish from you, and Miss Isola will -take them as a present to her papa." - -"No, no, unless he will put them in his eyes, Miss. I won't have them -wasted. Charley will sell them again in no time. He knows lots of -sailors. Most likely he'll get up a raffle for them, and win them -himself." - -Away she hurries to take off the bonnet she has been so proud of, for -the last two and twenty years. Though I declined the services of the -ophthalmist snails, my sight returned very rapidly. How delicious it -was to see more and more every day! Plenty of cold water was the -present regimen. Vision is less a vision, every time I use it. In a -week more, I can see quite well, though obliged to wear a shade. - -One morning, dear Isola runs upstairs, out of breath as usual; but, what -is most unusual, actually frowning. Has Cora tyrannised, or what? -Through the very shade of her frown, comes her sunny smile, as she -kisses me. - -"Oh, I am so vexed. I have brought him to the door; and now he won't -come in!" - -"Who, my darling?" - -"Why, Conny, to be sure. My brother Conrad. I had set my heart on -showing him to you, directly you could see." - -"Why won't he come in?" - -"Because he thinks that you ought not to see strangers, until you are -quite well. He has not got to the corner yet. I can run like a deer. -Send word by me, that you are dying to see him." - -"Not quite that. But say how glad I shall be." - -"I'll say that you won't get well till you do." - -"Say what you like. He will know it's only your nonsense." - -Off she darts; she is quick as light in her movements, and soon returns -with her brother. - -I lift my weak eyes to his bright ones, and recognise at once the -preserver of my mother and myself. But I see, in a moment, that he has -not the faintest remembrance of me. My whole face is altered by my -accident, and even my voice affected by the long confinement. When he -met me in the wood, he seemed very anxious not to look at me; when he -saved my life from the rushing mountain, he had little opportunity. -Very likely he would not have known me, under another name; even without -this illness. So let it be. I will not reveal myself. I thanked him -once, and he repulsed me; no doubt he had a reason, for I see that he is -a gentleman. Let that reason hold good: I will not trespass on it. - -He took my hand with a smile, the counterpart of Isola's. He had heard -of me so constantly, that I must excuse the liberty. A dear friend of -his sister's could be no stranger to him. A thrill shot through me at -the touch of his hand, and my eyes were weak. He saw it, and placed a -chair for me further from the light. On his own face, not the sun, for -the "drawing-room" windows look north, but the strong reflection of the -noon-day light was falling. - -How like he is to Isola, and yet how different! So much stronger, and -bolder, and more decided, so tall and firm of step. His countenance -open as the noon, incapable of concealment; yet if he be the same (and, -how can I doubt it?), then at least there seemed to be some mystery -about him. - -Isola, with the quickness of a girl, saw how intently I observed him, -and could not hide her delight. - -"There now, Clara dear, I knew you would like him. But you must not look -at him so much, or your poor eyes will be sore." - -Little stupid! As I felt my pale cheeks colouring, I could almost have -been angry, even with my Isola. But she meant no harm. In spite of -lectures and "college," she was gentle nature personified; and no -Professors could make anything else of her. All these things run in the -grain. If there is anything I hate, I am sure I hate affectation. But -there is a difference between us. - -Probably it is this: I am of pure English blood, and she is not. That I -know by instinct. What blood she is of, I am sure I cannot tell. -Gentle blood at any rate, or I could not have loved her so. How -horribly narrow-minded, after all my objectivity! Well, what I mean is, -that I can like and love many people who are not of gentle, but (I -suppose) of ferocious blood; still, as a general rule, culture and -elegance are better matches for nature, after some generations of -training. My father used to say so about his pointers and setters. The -marvel is that I, who belong to this old streak, seem to have got some -twist in it. My grandmother would have swooned at the names of some -people I love more than I could have loved her. My mother would not. -But then she was a Christian. Probably that is the secret of my twist. - -All this has passed through my mind, before I can frown at Isola. And -now I cannot frown at all. Dear little thing, she is not eighteen, and -she knows no better. I have attained that Englishwoman's majority three -weeks ago; and I am sorry for Isola. - -To break the awkwardness, her brother starts off into subjects of art. -He has heard of my drawings, may he see them some day? I ask him about -the magnificent stag. Yes, that is his, and I have no idea how long it -took him to do. He speaks of it with no conceit whatever; neither with -any depreciation, for the purpose of tempting praise. As he speaks, I -observe some peculiarity in his accent. Isola's accent is as pure as -mine, or purer. Her brother speaks very good English, and never -hesitates for a word; but the form of his sentences often is not -English; especially when he warms to his subject; and (what struck me -first, for I am no purist as to collocation of words) his accent, his -emphasis is not native. The difference is very slight, and quite -indescribable; but a difference there is. Perhaps it is rather a -difference of the order of thought than of language, as regards the cast -of the sentence; but that will not account for the accent; and if it -would, it still shows another nationality. - -There is a loud knock at the door. I am just preparing (with Isola's -help) my little hospitalities. If London visits mean much talk and no -food, I hold by Gloucestershire and Devon. I have a famous North Devon -ham, and am proud of its fame. Surely no more visitors for me. - -No; but one for Mrs. Shelfer. The Professor has heard of the eyeshells; -and what politeness, humanity, love of his daughter failed to do, -science has effected. He is come to see and secure them. His children -hear his voice. Of course, we must ask him to come up. Mr. Conrad -rises. Isola runs to fetch her father. Isola loves everybody. I do -believe she loves old Cora. Conrad is of sterner stuff: but surely he -loves his father. As for me--we were just getting on so well--I wanted -no Professor. Isola's brother will not tell a lie. He does not -remember, all at once, any pressing engagement. He holds out his hand, -saying simply, - -"Miss Valence, I heartily beg your pardon for leaving so suddenly; and -just when we were giving you so much trouble. It would be impertinence -for me to tell you the reason. It is a domestic matter. I trust you -will believe me, that no light reason would make me rude. May I come -again with Isola, to see your drawings soon?" - -He meets the Professor on the stairs. The latter enters the room, under -evil auspices for my good opinion. - - - - - CHAPTER VI. - - -If Professor Ross entered my room under evil auspices, it was not long -before he sent the birds the other way. For the first time, since my -childhood, I met a man of large and various knowledge; a man who had -spent his life in amassing information, and learning how to make the -most of it. A little too much perhaps there was of the second, and more -fruitful branch, of the sour-sweet tree. Once I had been fool enough to -fancy that some of my own little bopeeps at nature were original and -peculiar. To Thomas Kenwood, Farmer Huxtable, and even Mr. Shelfer, a -gardener, I had been quite an oracle as to the weather, the sky, and the -insects about. Moreover, in most of the books I had read, there were -such blunders, even in matters that lie on nature's doorsteps, that, -looking back at them, I thought I had crossed her threshold. - -As the proverb has it, nature always avenges herself; and here was I, a -mere "gappermouth" (I use a Devonshire word), to be taught that I had -not yet cropped even a cud to chew. True, I did not expect (like Mr. -and Mrs. Shelfer) that a boiled caterpillar would become a live -butterfly; neither did I believe, with Farmer Huxtable, that hips and -haws foretell a hard winter, because God means them for the thrushes; -but I knew no more than they did the laws and principles of things. My -little knowledge was all shreds and patches. It did not cover even the -smallest subject. Odd things here and there I knew; but a person of -sound information knows the odd and the even as well. My observations -might truly be called my own; but instead of being peculiar to me, -nearly all of them had been anticipated centuries ago. I was but a -gipsey straying where an army had been. - -All this I suspected in less than ten minutes from the Professor's -entrance; he did not leave me long in doubt about it. It is just to -myself to say that the discovery did not mortify me much. My little -observations had been made, partly from pure love of nature's doings, -partly through habits drawn from a darker spring. At first I had felt -no pleasure in them, but it could not long be so. Now they were mine as -much as ever, though a thousand shared them with me. - -As the Professor laid bare my ignorance and my errors, and proved that -the little I did know was at second hand--which it certainly was not--I -attempted no reply; I was too young for argument, and too much -interested to be impatient. So he demolished my ham and myself, with -equal relish and equal elegance of handling. He seemed to have no -intention of doing either, but managed both incidentally, and almost -accidentally, while he opened his mental encyclopædia. - -At length, Isola, who was tired of lectures, such as she got and forgot -every day, felt that it was high time to assert her prerogative, and -come to my rescue. - -"Come, Pappy, you fancy you know everything, don't you?" - -He was just beginning to treat of mosses; and I knew that he was wrong -upon several points, but did not dare to say so. - -"My dear child, of the million things I never shall discover, one is the -way to keep you at all in order." - -"I should hope not, indeed. Come now, here is another thing you don't -know. How long did it take to boil this delicious ham? Clara knows, -and so do I." - -"Upon that matter, I confess my total ignorance." - -"Hear, hear! Pappy, you can lecture by the hour upon isothermic laws, -and fluids, and fibrine, and adipose deposits, and you can't tell how -long it took to set this delicate fat. I'll tell you what it is, Pappy, -if you ever snub me in lecture again before the junior sophists, as you -dared to do yesterday, I'll sing out, 'Ham, Pappy, ham!' and you'll see -how the girls will laugh." - -"No novelty, my dear, for them to laugh at you. I fear you never will -learn anything but impertinence." - -His words were light, and he strove to keep his manner the same; but his -eyes belied him. - -Isola ran round, and administered her never-failing remedy. There was -that sweetness about her nobody could resist it. Returning to her seat, -she gave me a nod of triumph, and began again. - -"Now, Papples, when you are good again, you shall have a real treat. -Clara will show you her cordetto, won't you, dear? It is twice as big -as yours, and more than twice as pretty." - -I took it from my neck, where it had been throughout my illness. Isola -told me continually that it had saved my sight; and so old Cora devoutly -believed, crossing herself, and invoking fifty saints. Long afterwards -I found that Cora knew it to be the heart of the Blessed Virgin, -perpetuated in the material which her husband used. If so, it had been -multiplied as well. - -Dr. Ross took my pretty gordit, and examined it narrowly, carrying it to -the window to get a stronger light. - -"Beyond a doubt," he said at last, "it is the finest in Europe. I have -only seen one to compare with it, and that had a flaw in the centre. -Will you part with it, Miss Valence?" - -"No; I have promised never to do that." - -"Then I must say no more; but I should have been proud to add it to my -collection." - -"To carry it about with you, you mean, Pappy. You know you are a -superstitious old Pappy, in spite of all your learning." - -Weak as my eyes were, I could see the scowl of deep displeasure in his. -Isola was frightened: she knew she had gone too far. She did not even -dare to offer the kiss of peace. No more was said about it, and I -turned the conversation to some other subject. But when he rose to -depart, I found a pretext for keeping Isola with me. - -"Good-bye for the present, Miss Valence," Dr. Ross said gracefully--he -did everything but scowl with an inborn grace--"I hope that your very -first journey in quest of natural history will terminate at my house. I -cannot show you much, but shall truly enjoy going over my little -collection with you whenever you find that your sight is strong enough. -Meanwhile, let me earnestly warn you to abstain from chemical -experiments"--this was the cause of my injury assigned by Mrs. -Shelfer--"until you have a competent director. Isola, good-bye. I will -send Cora for you in good time for tea. Your attendance at lecture will -be excused." - -All my interest in the subjects he had discussed, and in his mode of -treating them, all my admiration of his shrewd intellectual face, did -not prevent my feeling it a relief when he was gone. He was not at all -like his children. About them there was something so winning and -unpretentious, few could help liking them at first sight. They did all -they could to please, but without any visible effort. But with the -Professor, in spite of all his elegance and politeness, I could not help -perceiving that he was not doing his best, that he scorned to put forth -his powers when there was neither antagonist nor (in his opinion) duly -qualified listener. Nevertheless I could have told him some things he -did not know concerning lichens and mosses. - -When I was left with my favourite Isola, that gentle senior sophist -seemed by no means disconsolate at her Papa's departure. She loved him -and was proud of him, but there were times, as she told me, when she was -quite afraid of him. - -"Would you believe it, dear, that I could be afraid of old Pappy?"--his -age was about four and forty--"It is very wicked I know, but how am I to -help it? Were you like that with your Papa, when he was alive?" - -"No, I should think not. But I am not at all sure that he wasn't afraid -of me." - -"Oh, how nice that must be! But it is my fault, isn't it?" - -I could not well have told her, even if I had known it, that the fault -in such cases is almost always on the parent's side. - - - - - CHAPTER VII. - - -That same evening, when dear "Idols" was gone, and I felt trebly alone, -Mrs. Shelfer came to say that her uncle John was there, and would be -glad to see me. Though he had been several times to ask how I was, he -had not seen me since the first day of my blindness. - -After expressing his joy and surprise at my recovery, he assured me that -I must thank neither myself nor the doctor, but my luck in not having -touched the liquid until its strength was nearly expended. - -"Have you any news for me?" I asked abruptly. As my strength returned, -the sense of my wrong grew hotter. - -"Yes; and I fear you will think it bad news. You will lose my help for -awhile in your pursuit." - -"How so? You talk of my luck; I am always unlucky." - -"Because I am ordered abroad on a matter too nice and difficult for any -of my colleagues. To-morrow I leave England." - -"How long shall you be away?" - -"I cannot tell. Perhaps one year; perhaps two. Perhaps I may never -return. Over and above the danger, I am not so young as I was." - -I felt dismayed, and stricken down. Was I never to have a chance? All -powers of earth and heaven and hell seemed to combine against me. Then -came a gleam of hope, obscured immediately by the remembrance of his -words. - -"Are you going to Italy?" - -"No. To Australia." - -Thereupon all hope vanished, and for a time I could not say a word. At -last I said-- - -"Inspector Cutting, the least thing you can do before you go, and your -absolute duty now, is to tell me every single thing you found out, in -the course of your recent search. Something you must have learned, or -you would not have done what you did. All along I have felt that you -were hiding something from me. Now you can have no motive. Now I am -your successor in the secret; I, and no one else. To no other will I -commit the case. How much I have suffered from your secresy, none but -myself can know. Henceforth I will have no help. Three months you have -been on the track, and I almost believe that you have discovered -nothing." - -I spoke so, partly through passion, partly in hope to taunt him into -disclosure. His chief weakness, as I knew well, was pride in his own -sagacity. - -"You shall suffer no more. I had good reasons for hiding it, one of -them your own hastiness. Now I will tell you all I know. In fact, as -you well said, it has become my duty to do so, unless you will authorise -me to appoint a successor before I go." - -"Certainly not. My confidence in you cannot be transferred to a -stranger." - -"One chance more. Let me report the matter officially. It is possible -that my superiors may think it more important than my new mission, which -is to recover a large amount of property." - -"No. I will not allow it. I have devoted myself to one object. I -alone can effect it. It shall not pass to others. I feel once more -that it is my destiny to unravel this black mystery; myself, by my own -courage. In asking your aid I was thwarting my destiny. Since then I -have had nothing but accidents. There is a proverb in some language, -'Who crosses destiny shall have accident.'" - -"Miss Valence, I could never have dreamed that you were so -superstitious." - -"Now tell me all you have done, all you have discovered, and your own -conclusion from it." - -He told me all in a very few words, and his conclusion was mine. To any -other except myself, the grounds on which he had based it, would have -seemed insufficient. I took good care to secure every possible means of -following up the frail clue. Ere he wished me good-bye, he offered one -last suggestion. "If, during my absence, Miss Valence, you press your -evidence far enough to require the strong hand, or if before you have -done so you require a man's assistance, apply at once to my son--you can -always find him through Patty Shelfer. He is only a serjeant as yet, -and not in the detective force; but he has qualities, that young man -has, he has got all my abilities, and more! Ah, he will be at the top -of the tree when I am in my grave, please God." - -His shrewd eyes softened as he spoke, and I liked him ten times as well -for this little flaw in his sheathing. Of course he knew that I could -not entrust myself to a young man, as I could to him. When he was gone, -with many good wishes on both sides, and a little keepsake from me, I -felt that I had lost an intelligent, honest, and true friend. - - - - - CHAPTER VIII. - - -Vigorous and elastic as I am, I cannot deny that the air and weather -have great dominion over me. It was always so with my own dear father. -Two days spent indoors, without any real exercise, would make him feel -as uneasy as a plant in a cellaret. Crusty and crabbed, nothing could -ever make him--not even gout I believe, if he had lived long enough for -it--but when he had lost his fishing, or shooting, or bit of gardening, -too long, he was quite unlike himself. It was a bad time then to coax -for anything--no song, no whistling, no after-dinner nap. - -I too am not of a sedentary nature, though upon due occasion I can sit -writing or drawing for some hours together. But how fine a thing all -the while to see any motion outside--a leaf that can skip, or a cloud -that can run! How we envy a sparrow his little hop, even across the -gutter. It is now a long month since I have been out of doors, except -just to sniff the air, without any bonnet on. I have never been boxed -and pannelled so long since first I crawled out of my cradle. It is a -sharp bright frost--it seems to freeze harder in London than in the west -of Gloucestershire, but not half so cleanly. - -Isola comes, like a tea-china rose bedded in poplin and ermine. Her -close-drawn bonnet of velvet, mazarin blue, is freaked with snowdrops, -nod, nod, nodding, not too many of them. I hail the omen of spring, and -my spirits rise already. Idols is up for a lark (as the junior sophists -express it) and she has set her heart upon leading me such a dance. -Shall she ever set that sweet heart upon anything, and not obtain it at -once? Who knows? Never, I am quite sure, when another heart is the -object. - -"Come, you grave old Grandmother. You are younger than me, I believe, -in spite of all your stories; and you are old enough in your ways, for -old mother Hubbard that lived in a cupboard. Oh my tippets and -furbelows, if I wore as tall as you, and half as long in the waist, what -a dress I would have. Fifteen guineas at least. Come along, you -bed-ridden dump of a Clara; it's freezing like bricks and silica, and I -am in such spirits, and Giudice is frightening Tom out of his life in -the kitchen." - -She danced round my little room, like a leaf when the wind is rising. -The Pixie-king of my gordit could not have been lighter of foot, nor -half so lovely of form. How she managed to spin so between the "sticks," -none but herself can tell. What would poor Mrs. Shelfer have said? In -spite of her fears for the furniture, she would have laughed, I believe, -and blessed the pretty feet. - -"Come along, Clara child. Do you think I am going to stand still here -all day?" - -"If you call that standing still, pray give me the senior sophist's -definition of motion." - -"Oh I want to skate, so dreadfully. And Pappy and Conrad won't let me. -They say it isn't becoming. But what on earth can be more so? Wouldn't -I skim on one foot? I'll skate, in spite of them, Clara, if you'll only -keep me in countenance." - -"Can you imagine me skating?" - -"No. I know you won't do it, you are so fearfully grave. But there's -more fun in you, when you like, or when you can't help yourself, as I've -seen you once or twice, than there is in a hundred such Merry-Andrews as -me. At any rate we'll go and see them. On with your bonnet now, I -cannot wait a minute. Have something to cover your eyes. Conny '11 be -there I know." - -On went my bonnet, nothing loth to have an airing again. It was fading -in the box. - -"Now lots of warm things, darling. You have no idea how cold it is, and -scarcely sun enough to thaw the long frost in your eyes. Let me look at -them, Donna. Oh if mine were half as bright. You can't have got them in -England." - -"Now, Idols, don't talk nonsense. Every inch of me is English, and not -an inch of you; although your eyes are so blue. You are Scotch all -over, or else you are all Swiss." - -For answer she began singing "the Merry Swiss Boy," and was going to -dance to her song, when I danced her off down stairs. Giudice was in -the kitchen, with Tom, from the top of the coffee-mill, sputtering -anathemas at him. A magnificent dog he was, of the race of Maltese -bloodhounds, now so scarce, fawn-coloured, long in the flank, deep in -the jowl, pouch-eared, and grave of eye. He regarded Tom no more than if -he had been an old hat brushed the wrong way; and the birds, who were -all in a flutter, he took for British butterflies. He came leisurely to -me, walking one side at a time, and solemnly deposited his great moist -nose in my hand. I knew him then as the friend who addressed me, long -since, in the Villa Road. - -"Why, you graven images"--a popular person always has fifty nicknames; -Isola had a hundred at least, and she liked them all--"what depth of -secresy and statecraft is this! You know how I love dogs, and you never -even told me of this splendid fellow's existence!" - -"Well, Donna dear, don't look so indignant. He doesn't belong to me, -and he won't come with me unless he is told, and then he makes such a -favour of it. See his long supple stride. He walks just like a -leopard--don't you, you pious panther? I wonder he took to you so. He -is not fierce at all, except when he ought to be; but he hardly ever -makes friends." - -"Whose dog is he?' - -"Conrad's to be sure. And I do believe Conny thinks more of him than he -does of me. Get along, you yellow mammoth! Why he would keep his head -there all day?" - -"All dogs love me, Idols. It was so when I was a child. They know how -honest I am." - -"Well, I believe you are, Donna; and too honest sometimes. But I am -honest enough, and Giudice does not appreciate it. Come along, Judy. -Are you going to stick there all day?" - -Away we went, and the great dog walked behind, keeping his head most -fairly adjusted between us, never shifting its place an inch, whether we -walked or ran--as we did where the street was empty, and when we got -into the Park. - -Oh the cold air of heaven, fresh from the clear North Pole, where the -Great Bear stalks round the Little Bear with the vigilance of a mother, -how it tightens the clip of the joints, puts a sting into every step, -flushes the cheeks with Aurora, and sparkles in young eyes! For the -nonce we forget who we are, never think how our clothes blow about, our -spirits are on the north wind, what are we more than snow flakes, let us -glisten and lift on the air. - -Crossing the Park (lightly furrowed with snow at the drains, like our -hair when we part it) we came to a broad sheet of ice. We had heard a -long way off a crisp musical hollow sound, like tapping a box with a -hole in it. The ice was not like the old ice at Vaughan Park, but -seamed and channeled, and up and down, and powdered light grey with -scrapings from skates and shoes. Thousands of people were on it, some -skating, some sliding, some rushing about and playing hot game with -crooked sticks, some sweeping away with short brooms, some crying things -for sale and offering skates for hire, many standing still and wistfully -eyeing the land; but all in the height of good humour, laughing, -chaffing, holloaing, drinking, and ordering more. Every now and then -some great performer (in his own eyes) would sail by the women grandly -(like a ship heeling over), with his arms folded and foot over foot, and -a long cigar in his mouth. For these one devoutly desired a fall. The -skaters of real eminence scorned this common show-off, and each had his -special admirers forming a ring around him, where he had cut his own -circus of smoother and greener ice. - -Along the brink of firm land, stood nurses and children innumerable; the -maids on the giggle at every challenge borne to them from the glazed -waters, the little ones tugging, and kicking, and frantic to get on. -The background of all the cold scene, whiter as it receded, and broken -by gliding figures, was formed by some low fringed islets, with open -water around them, and crane-necked wild fowl wheeling about, and -warning boards, and icemen pushing flat-bottomed boats along. In the -far distance, to the right, were two or three canvas tents, where they -kept the range of the mercury, and the list of the accidents. The long -vista was closed now and then, as high as hats and bonnets, by scuds of -the drifting ice and snow. - -Here as we stood on the bank, Giudice forsook us shamefully, and bounded -over the ice, with a levity quite scandalous for a serious-minded dog, -towards one of the charmed circles, where eminent skaters whirled, like -peg-tops full of steam-engines. Was it likely that we, two girls of -spirit, would halt ignobly there? First on the ice went I, holding -Isola's hand, and tempting her nothing loth. In spite of her boast -about skating, Idols was frightened at first, and held very tightly by -me, and wanted to run back. But the little feet grew braver at every -step, and she ventured even to clap her hands and dance. To me the -thing was no novelty, except from the number of people, and the -puckering of the ice. I had even the courage to slide with one foot, -but never with both at a time. As for the cracking and bending when -some heavy man scoured by, on purpose, I dare say, to frighten us, I -laughed with my heart in my mouth. Isola was amazed. She never could -have conceived that I had so much effrontery. What cared I, if a -hundred people stared at me? I was doing nothing unseemly, and dozens -of ladies were there. The scene, and the air, and the spirits of youth -set my blood all on the bound, and oh, blessing of blessings, my blessed -sight was come back. How manly, and stirring, to feel, that a slip--and -a limb may be broken; a crack--and one may be drowned. - -But, as usual, I suffered for my temerity. First we followed Giudice, -and found him in the centre of the ring, where the greatest throng was -gathered, the dog skating with his master, who was one of the very best -skaters in the world. Giudice was graver than ever, but wistfully -glanced as he whirled round, at every point of escape. With his heavy -fore feet on his master's shoulders, and his tongue lolling out, and his -eyes rolling sadly at each reluctant caper, and his poor tail between -his jerked legs, it was impossible not to see that his dignity and -self-respect were suffering. So when Conrad came to speak to us, I -earnestly begged that Giudice might be set free, which was done in a -moment, to the great disappointment of the bystanders, and the boundless -delight of the dog, who came and gratefully kissed my hand. - -"Why, Donna," cried Isola in a small pet, "Giudice takes you for his -mistress: he would never do that to me, if I coaxed him a hundred -years." - -Through, the colour the north wind had spread on my cheeks, I felt the -warm blood rushing, and bent over the dog to hide it; then much as I -longed to see Isola's brother skate, I dragged her off rather rudely -towards the rougher part of the ice. Conrad looked rather surprised and -hurt, but resumed his figuring with much apparent philosophy. - -Idols and I, with the flush in our cheeks, and the flash in our eyes, -and our forms all buoyant with innocent fun, came suddenly round a -corner on a party of low-looking men, who were casting flat stones, -bowling, or curling, or playing at drake, with a great tin can for their -mark. We turned and were off in a moment; but we had been observed by -the sharpest and slyest eyes in London. A man gave chase in -half-skating fashion, having bones tied under his boots, in lieu of -skates. We could easily have escaped, in spite of his bones; but was I -going to run away, like a skittish servant-maid? I drew up Miss Isola -sharply, whether she would or no, and confronted the enemy. It was Mr. -Shelfer himself, the man so modest and bashful, who could never bear to -look at me. Though a dozen more came after him, I felt no alarm at all, -knowing his wonderful shyness and diffidence. But his first address -amazed me. - -"Now's your time, lads. At 'em, I say. Here's the two prettiest gals -in London." - -The low scoundrel! I saw that he was quite tipsy. But frightened as I -was, for none but they were near, I could hardly help laughing at him. -He had his usual slouch, and the long sly nose, and the pent-house gleam -of the eye, and his gaunt cheeks drawn as if he was always sucking them, -and the chimneypot hat, that had once belonged to some steady going -Churchman, with the crown flapping in, like the gills of a fish. All -this was balanced by the skill and comical courage of Bacchus, upon a -pair of grating marrow-bones. Behind him his countless pockets yawned -and looked brown on the wind. And this was the being bowed down to by -Mrs. Shelfer! - -"Clara dear, stop, Clara!" the impudent sot cried out. - -I had stopped without that, and was already facing him. For a moment he -was abashed, for my eyes were full upon his; but the others were coming -up. - -"Now this is what I calls harmony, dashed if it isn't. Why look at the -trees and the bushes. There's harmony in them trees, ay in every one on -'em. Fine trees and pretty gals, them's the jockeys for me. That's -what I calls natur' and something like. Houses! Lor, there's no -harmony in houses and pantiles. Fine trees is all harmony, and so is -lovely woman. Don't tell the old gal at home. She never would -understand. Why Idols there is a pretty duck as ever swam on the ice. -But Clara's a ---- fine swan, and no mistake. Ducks is all very well, -but a swan is the jockey for me. There's something to lay hold on -there. Give me a swan I say, and the harmony of them trees. Bob -Ridley, I'll lay you a tanner I kisses that there swan. Ever see such -eyes, Bob, and look at the way she stands. Wonder there's a bit of ice -left here." - -The low rogue had a long pipe "in his head,"--as Farmer Huxtable -expressed it,--and at every leering sentence blew out a puff of smoke. - -"Bet you a tanner, Charley, you don't kiss that stunnin' gal," cried his -friend, as drunk as himself. - -"Here goes, neck or nothing;" and the niddering made a dash at me. I -drew my clenched hand from my muff, where it had been tingling in my -glove, and in his tipsy rush, his face came full against it. It was a -very odd thing, and I know not how it happened. He reeled on his bones -from the collision, and staggered in staring amazement. Before he had -time to recover, Conrad dashed up like a hawk at an owl; by some -wonderful back-stroke he stopped in an instant, wrung Shelfer's crooked -stick from his hand, hooked him under the collar, struck out again, and -towed the poor wretch away backward, at the speed of a mile in a minute. -The fire flew from his skates as he dashed towards the open water. -Giudice, at full gallop behind, tried in vain to keep up. Every man and -woman there turned to watch the issue. Shelfer threw out his hands -wildly, and screamed: he was utterly helpless, his teeth rattled more -than the bones on his boots. At the edge of the open water, three -hundred yards away, Conrad stopped suddenly, like an engine in -collision, unhooked Mr. Shelfer, and let him go with full impetus. -Sprawling and yelling in vain, he flung up his arms, and fell backward -into the water headlong. The icemen came running with boats, and ropes, -and grapnels. But before the first splash was over, another was seen; -Giudice, at a sign from his master, plunged in, drew the poor man of -harmony out, and laid him high and wet on the ice. He was taken at once -to the tent; where, as I afterwards heard, he made a fine afternoon of -it with the society's men; most of whom, it is needless to say, he knew. -Be that as it may, the lesson did him good. He never insulted a lady -again, or (what is still worse) a poor honest girl, with no education, -and no one to defend her. As for me, I really believe he never durst -blink his sly eyes in my direction again. - -I love good justice, in or out of the pod. The bean is as sweet to me -from the rough air of heaven as from a juryman's pocket. But I thought -Master Conrad had overdone it this time. He had no right to risk the -poor man's life. And so I told him when he came back, as calm as if he -had cut a spread eagle. He assured me that he had not risked the man's -life at all. He knew the depth of the water there by the island. It was -five feet and no more. Then I felt all of a glow and longed to give him -the kiss which had cost Mr. Shelfer so much. The next minute I felt -humiliated, and burst into a passion of tears, to think what my father -would say at his pet of grace and luxury being insulted like that. -Idols and Conrad, not knowing my story, could not understand it at all. - -They came home with me at once. Conrad, "under the circumstances," -ventured to offer his arm, which I, under the circumstances, ventured to -accept. At the door he left me; but Idols came in with Giudice, -commissioned to see her safe home. She came in partly lest I should -feel lonely, partly to arraign Mrs. Shelfer (already condemned by both -of us girls) for daring to have such a reprobate drunken husband. - - - - - CHAPTER IX. - - -When Isola had told Mrs. Shelfer everything, and a little more than -everything (for her imagination was lively), the dominant feeling in the -little woman's bosom was not indignation, as we had expected, but -terror. Terror of two evils; the first and chief evil, the possibility -of Charley catching cold; the other, the probability that he would crush -Conrad, and tread him into the earth, at the earliest opportunity. I -assured her warmly that Mr. Conrad could well defend himself, even if -Shelfer should dare to meddle with him. - -"Oh, my good friend, you have no idea what a terrible fellow Charley is. -Why he broke the head of the skittleman at the "Load of Hay." So he -told me himself. Ah, he's a terrible fellow, when he's put out." - -"But you forget, Mrs. Shelfer, he hasn't been put out this time; he was -put in." That Isola always loved small jokes. - -"Put in, Miss Idols?" Mrs. Shelfer never understood any joke but her -own--"oh yes, put into the water you mean. True, true, and serve him -right (so long as he don't take cold) for calling me, his lawful wife -who keeps him together, 'the old gal at home!' But Charley's a terrible -fellow, terrible." - -"Terrible coward more likely," I cried, "or he would never have dared -his low insolence to me. I am sorry for it, Mrs. Shelfer, utterly as I -scorn him, because it compels me to leave your house; and you have been -truly good and kind to me." I thought of Mrs. Huxtable; but how -different was the fibre of her kindness! - -"Leave my house, Miss Valence! No, no, my good friend, that will never -do, not to be thought of, and us so used to you and all, and Tom, and -the blackbird, and the new squirrel! A likely story, my good friend, -and with your eyelashes coming! And do you know who would come instead -of you?" - -"Of course not, Mrs. Shelfer." - -"Why a nasty stinking hussy, that would steal the feathers out of my -best bed again, the same as they did before. My very best bed, Miss -Idols, as dear Miss Minto left me by her will, not a better bed in -London, unless it's the Queen's, and so I used to tell her when I helped -to shake it up. My mouth watered over it so, that she said one day, and -the knife-boy heard her on the stairs, 'Patty, you've been a good girl -to me, and you deserves it, and you shall have it, when I am tucked up -for good and all.' And so I did, very honourable, and all above board. -Yes, yes; I had a commercial gent one time, a wonderful heavy man to be -sure, and he stayed with me three year for the sake of that same bed. -And he knew what beds was, and no mistake. It was bootiful to see when -he was a getting up. It began to rise up, up, the same as Tom's back, -when he see your dog, Miss Idols." - -"Come, Mrs. Shelfer, I fear we can hardly wait." - -"'Twas like dough put afore the fire, Miss. There's no such Dantzic -now. You couldn't put your fist into one side of it, but out it would -come the other. Oh Lor, I could cry; that nasty sly minx, she was -softer than parsnips, you'd say, and one leg more than the other. I -couldn't think why it was she would always make her own bed. 'Thank -you, Mrs. Shelfer'--with her lips sucked in like a button-hole--'thank -you, you are too kind. It doesn't at all fatigue me, and my doctor -pronounces the exercise good for my chest and arms.' Thank God, she got -some exercise good for her legs as well. Six months on the treadmill. -Charley got me an order, and it did my heart good to see her. But my -twenty pounds of best feathers never came back again, and that wasn't -the worst of it neither." - -"Oh dear no," says Idols, "the worst of it was the sin, Mrs. Shelfer." - -"The worst of it was that she stuffed it with sawdust, and oakum, and -jovanna, I do believe, by the smell of it." - -"What do you mean, Mrs. Shelfer?" - -"Lor, Miss Valence, don't you know jovanna that the kingfishers lays on -the top of the sea, and the gardeners make water with it?" - -"And what did she do with your feathers?" - -"Sneaked them out of the house in the crown of her bonnet, and sold them -at eightpence a pound, and they worth three and sixpence, every flue of -them. But the rag and bottleman got two months, thank God for it. Ah, -it will never be a bed again under 5*l.* at least." - -"Is it the one I sleep on, Mrs. Shelfer?" - -"Yes, my good friend, the very same." - -"And you have put me to sleep on guano! Well, I thought it smelt very -odd." - -"No, no, my good friend, wait a bit. We got most of that out again, and -gave it to our geraniums. She stole it out of a sack as Charley kept in -the washhouse. There was feathers in it. That put it into her head, I -suppose. But as for your going, Miss Valence, that will never do. -Never, never. Will it now, Miss Idols? And to see her dress, to be -sure, that baggage! Why, my best tarlatan, as dear Miss Minto give me -to be married in, wasn't good enough for her to sweep the stairs in. -Sweep the stairs--yes, yes, she did sweep the stairs when I see her -last; and she had afore, I know; she was so clever at it; and that was -why one leg was so much more than the other." - -"Mrs. Shelfer, do you expect us to listen to you all night?" - -"True, my good friend, quite true. But when I thinks of my feathers, -something comes over me, I must out with my troubles, or burst. But you -musn't go, Miss Valence. That will never do, never; ask Miss Idols -now." And she turned to Isola, who was quite ready to be turned to. - -"Of course it won't, Mrs. Shelfer. You are quite right, my good friend. -I won't hear of it for a moment. Why Mr. Shelfer was drunk. I know it -by the way he held his pipe. Quite 'drunk and incapable,' you know. -And he will be so sorry, and he'll never do it again. And he did not -mean to be drunk at all, but the frost was very hard, and the cold got -into his head. I am sure it would into mine, if I had stayed much -longer; and he didn't understand brandy-balls, as we do at College--you -could not expect it, you know." - -The pure good faith of this last was too much for me. I laughed -outright, having no husband concerned in it. As for the dry little -woman, she actually cried. I had never seen a tear in her quick, shy -eyes before, though the feather-bed nearly brought them, and so did the -death of the elder Sandy, the squirrel. She turned away. She was -always ashamed of emotion. - -"Bless your innocent heart, Miss Idols, if you don't marry a king! Not -one of us is good enough to tie your shoes as you talked of, you are -that simple and good of heart." - -Is there any goodness more touching to a veteran than a soft young -nature's disbelief in evil? But for bitter experience, I might have -been sweet as Isola. Thank God, that in spite of all vinegar, the -ailment is still infectious. Isola could not make it all out. - -"To-morrow morning, Miss Valence," began Mrs. Shelfer again, "to-morrow -morning, after I have wigged him well all night, and then given him a -good breakfast, he'll come and beg your pardon like a child, and be -ashamed to look any higher than your flounces; and I know you'll forgive -him." - -"Mrs. Shelfer, I have forgiven him long ago. I cannot bear enmity -against such people"--these last three words had better been away--"for -such little wrongs. And I owe you a great deal for all your kindness to -me. The only question is, whether self-respect and prudence allow me to -stay here. I will leave the decision to Miss Isola. Young as she is, -and innocent and confiding, she cannot be wrong on a question of -delicacy. As for prudence, she knows more of London than I do." - -Hereon I sat down with a womanly air. But I could hardly help laughing -when the senior sophist jumped up, proud to deliver judgment. To look -taller, she shook her flounces down, threw back her plump white -shoulders--her bonnet and cloak were off--drew her rich flowing hair -down the pearly curve of her ears and, scarcely satisfied yet, thought -of mounting a stool, then took her foot off the too convictive bema. -After all these anabolisms, she began with much solemnity. She was -thinking of the College, and her father in the rostrum. - -"Miss Valence and Mrs. Shelfer, since you have honoured my weak judgment -by appointing me umpire, and as I am led to believe without any right of -appeal, I will do my utmost to be discreet and impartial. In the first -place I award that Miss Valence remain in this house, forget and forgive -her wrongs. In the second place I recommend (in such a matter I will -not presume to command) that till Mr. Shelfer has made a humble apology -and promised faithfully never to be intoxicated again, however cold the -weather is, Mrs. Shelfer shall not permit him to have a single kiss, nor -a single bit of hot dinner. Now I have delivered my decree." - -"Lor, Miss Idols, you are too soft for the Old Bailey. He never kiss me, -unless it is when he knows I have got some money. But he do like a good -hot dinner. Right enough there, my good friend." - -So this knotty point was settled; and Giudice, who was very loth to -leave me, escorted Miss Idols home, Before going, he made another solemn -deposit of his great jowl in my hand, and looked at me with an air so -tutelary and encouraging, that I could not help laughing; at which he -felt hurt, but condoned it. Isola told me that when he was put in -charge of her, he felt the responsibility so strongly that he would not -stir from her side, not even to speak to the most colloquially gifted -dog; though at other times he would stay gossiping near a lamp-post for -five minutes together. One evening when he was thus commissioned, a -rude fellow pushed between them, and said something to Isola. Giudice -had him down in an instant, and stood over him, like a tawny -thundercloud, with growlings so fearful and such flashing eyes, that two -policemen felt it wiser not to act as conductors. Idols herself was -obliged, at the entreaty of her prostrate foe, to coax the great dog -off; but when the ungrateful man got up, he insisted on giving Giudice -into charge, and having him dragged to the Station. "Very good, Sir," -said the policeman, "we'll enter the charge when you bring him there; -let him go, Miss, for the Gent to collar him." The "Gent" was away in -no time, and Giudice and his mistress walked off amid loud hurrahs from -all the boys of the neighbourhood. - -Conrad called with his sister the day after Mr. Shelfer's ducking, to -reassure himself as to my nerves, which were never better. He looked -over some of my drawings, and without seeming to give, but rather to -seek information, afforded me many a hint, which I afterwards found most -useful. I now learned what his profession was; and it gave me pleasure -to find that he was not, as I had feared, a mere lounger upon town. -Instead of that, he was working very hard, being (as he told me) nothing -more or less than a journeyman sculptor. Though, as himself admitted, -by no means a novice, he was going through the regular course of study -and hand-labour under an eminent artist. But Isola told me, and no -doubt it was true, that he could beat his master out and out, and that -for any choice design, where original power and taste were needed, they -always came to him. Of late the frosts had lightened his tasks; for -warm the room as they would, the weather always affected the material; -and they feared to attempt the more delicate parts of the work during -the rigours of winter. So when the thaw came, he must lose the pleasure -of seeing me for a while, unless dear Isola wished to be escorted home -on a Sunday; if, indeed, I allowed her to come on that day. Why, that -was the very day when I could best indulge in a walk with my gentle -friend, after going to church; and I was sure her society did me more -good than the sermons. On her part, Isola found that the services -always made her so nervous (her nerves were as good as mine), and that -she did not much like walking about with a big dog on Sundays, and Cora -was always cross all the day after mass, so Conrad must promise upon his -honour always to come for her, rain, hail, or shine, on a Sunday. This -he promised so readily, that, for a moment, I fancied it had all been -preconcerted. Then I despised myself for the suspicion. The trick -would have been not out of the compass of Isola, but very unworthy of -Conrad. - - - - - CHAPTER X. - - -Soon as ever my sight was fully restored, and I had Dr. Frank's -permission, I took to my drawing again, and worked at it till my eyes -ached. This was the symptom upon which I had promised immediately to -leave off. Then out I would rush, towards dusk, and away into the great -square, full of the pure air of heaven, round by the church at the top, -and six times round it till my breath was short. The senior sophist -reminds me that round a square is impossible. After squaring the -circle, extract the square root, dear Idols, by the binomial theorem. -You do learn so much at college: but I write simple and often foolish -English. Never mind; I would rather write bad English, than the best -French ever written. One is the tongue of power and multitude: the -other the language of nicety and demarcation. Which of the two is the -more expansive, even a woman may guess. - -High time it was for me to recruit my exchequer. Dr. Franks had charged -me far less than I even dared to hope. How I trembled when I opened the -envelope! What quick terror is half so bad as the slow fear of gathering -debt? I was accustomed to medical charges of the time when I was an -heiress: but his appeared to me now to be even below reason. The sum -could hardly have paid him for his numerous walks to and fro. Then a -wretched idea shot through me: had he charged me so little, because he -knew I was poor? I took Mrs. Shelfer into my confidence; she was likely -to know what the London scale should be. The little thing soon -reassured me: it was quite enough, she declared; if she were in my -place, she would demand a discount for ready money! - -"Oh you dreadfully mean little woman! I should lose my sight, and -deserve it, if I did." - -However, in spite of all this, money was scarce and scarcer every day, -and none of my grand revenues would fall due for ever so long. So -another visit must be paid to Mr. Oxgall. Isola insisted on coming with -me; to my surprise I found that, with all her soft simplicity she had -much more idea of making a market than I had. The reason probably was -that she had much less pride. No pocket would hold mine, when a -tradesman attempted any familiarity. And whoso stands on a pedestal to -sell, is like to find the buyer's arm too short. - -Whether it were that, or the golden charm of her manner, or of something -else, let Mr. Oxgall say; certain it is that the man of crackly canvas -(for whom, by-the-bye, I have a sincere respect, because he cheated me -so little and so neatly)--this man, I say, regarded her with a -wide-mouthed, brooch-eyed, admiration, which he hardly ever expended on -anything out of oils. For the king of painters himself she was a vision -sweeter than dreams of heaven. Such a tint in her lustrous eyes, such -tone in her dainty cheeks, such perfection of line in her features, and -every curve of her exquisite shape. And bounding and sparkling through -all, from the rippled wealth of her hair to the light-curved arch of her -foot, the full play of her innocent, joyous, loving life. - -No wonder the picture-dealer shaded his eyes and gazed, and rubbed them -and gazed again. I have frequently seen respectable elderly gentlemen, -whose rakishness has never been more than found vent in the cock of a -hat, magisterial men I mean, who would no more think of insulting a girl -in London or anywhere else, than of giving their daughters as prizes for -competitive skill in poaching, such good men and true, also -simple-hearted clergymen (for some there still are from the country) -these and the like, I Clara Vaughan have seen, when they met my Isola, -stop short, wink frequently, and without much presence of mind, until -she was gone by; then shumble hotly across the street, with hands in -their tail-coat pockets (for these gentlemen always expect most to be -robbed when there is least chance of it) pretend to look at a shop, then -march at top speed, fumbling all the while for their spectacles, until -they got well a-head of us. Then I have seen them cross again, some -thirty yards in front, with spectacles nicely adjusted, and become again -wholly absorbed by the beauty of metropolitan goods. But when the light -foot sounded, from a fair gazing distance, these same gentlemen have (by -some strange coincidence) alway turned full upon us, in an absent and -yet nervous manner, and focussed their green or pale blue eyes upon the -rich violet orbs of Isola. I have even known them to look at me (when -they could see her no more), to find some sympathy for their vague -emotions. Idols knew it: of course she did. And she rather gloried in -it. She had much respect for a fine old gentleman; and I know not how -it was, but nobody ever thought of insulting her when she could be -clearly seen. - -A "pretty girl" you would never call her--though Mr. Shelfer did--the -term would be quite unworthy; even a "beautiful girl," sweetly beautiful -though she was, would hardly be your expression, at least for a while. -But a "lovely girl," and the loveliest one ever seen, that is what she -would be called at once, if you could take your eyes off, to analyse -your ideas. - -Isola knew it of course, as I said before, she knew all her wondrous -gifts; but as for being conceited, a trull with a splay foot and a crop -of short-horn carrots has often thrice her conceit. A certain pretty -graceful pride she had, which threw a rosy playful halo round her, but -never made other women look plain in her eyes. She will not value her -beauty much, until she falls in love; and blessed is he who shall be the -object, if she is allowed to abide with him. - -Meanwhile Mr. Oxgall wished for nothing but to hear and see her talk; -and this she did to some purpose. I like a man who at the age of sixty -is still impressible to the gay vein of youth. I know at once by his -eyes whether his admiration is abstract and admissible. If it be, I -reciprocate it. What clearer proof can we find, that his heart has not -withered with his body; that he is not a man of mammon, tinsel, or -phylactery,--in a word, no mummy? - -Shall I ever finish this bargain? I have never been so reflective -before; and all the time no less a sum than five pounds hangs upon it. -Five guineas (which sounds better) was the amount at which dear Idols -let off Mr. Oxgall. I believe she might have got ten, but she had an -excellent conscience. It worked like a patent chronometer, with -compensation balance. Mine was still more sensitive. I could hardly -think my landscape, perspective mare's nest and all, worth that amount -of money, and I wished to throw off a guinea, but Idols would not hear -of it. - -"Miss Valence, I am your factor for this beautiful landscape, which has -cost you so much labour. Either accept my terms, inadequate as they -are, or take the agency from me, and recommence with Mr. Oxgall 'de -novo,' as we say at College." - -Betwixt her beauty and my stately integrity, poor Mr. Oxgall knew not -where he stood. I heard him mutter that he would rather go through -fifty auctions, even if it was George Robins. But if she had come to -sell him a picture the very next day, he would have gone through it all -again with the same infatuation. So I took the money; and now my evil -demon, who had chafed beneath all this trampling, had his turn again. We -had foolishly brought the great dog Giudice, for our delight and the -expansion of his mind. In Mr. Oxgall's shop he behaved to admiration. -With the air of a connoisseur he walked from picture to picture, closed -one eye, and faintly wagged his tail. Then he found a Scotch terrier -scarcely worth a sniff, and a mastiff whom he saluted with a -contemptuous growl. The only work of high art he could discover was an -interior, with a flitch of bacon in the foreground uncommonly well -drawn. Before this he sat down, and receiving no invitation, bedewed the -boards with a stalactite from either side of his mouth. The dog was so -well behaved, he never took anything without leave and saying t a long -grace. - -Unluckily Mr. Oxgall, mainly I believe to prolong his interview with -Idols, insisted upon taking us to the shop of a carver and gilder close -by; where my first drawing (which had been sold) was to be seen in its -frame. He declared that we could not tell what a painting was like, -until we had seen it framed. Observing several large mirrors in this -shop, I begged that Giudice might be left outside. And so he was, but -he did not stay there. Scarcely had we begun to discuss the effect of -the frame on my drawing, when Giudice pushed his way in, and looked -about with a truly judicial air. The shop was long, and the owner was -with us at the further end. I saw what would follow, and dashed off to -stop him, but it was too late. Giudice had seen the very finest dog he -ever beheld in his life--a dog really worth fighting. Up went his crest -and his tail, one savage growl, and he sprang at him. Crash,--and the -largest mirror there was a wreck, and Giudice the rock beneath it. For -a time he lay quite stunned; then to my great delight he staggered to -me, not Isola, laid his cut paws in my hands and his bleeding nose in my -lap, and explained it all to me with much entreaty for sympathy. This I -gave him readily, even to tears and kisses. Isola wanted to scold and -even to beat him, but I would not hear of it. He had seen another great -dog between himself and us, how could he help attacking him? I ordered -a sponge and some water at once, and bathed his fore paws, which were -terribly cut; then remembering the Inspector, I sent Idols for some -arnica. But the blood was not stanched by it as I expected; perhaps the -drug was not pure, or the hair obstructed its action. So I held his -paws in the basin, and he whinged, and licked me, and made my face all -bloody. - -Meanwhile the poor carver and gilder thought much more of his -looking-glass than of noble flesh and blood. The picture-dealer as well -was in a great predicament. - -"Mr. Oxgall," I cried, still sponging the wounded dog's nose, "let us -hear no more about it. Tell me the full value of the mirror, and I will -pay for it. What are glass and quicksilver, or even gold, compared to a -noble dog like this? Not worth a wag of your tail, are they, my duck of -diamonds? Give me another kiss, you delicious pet of a dog." - -The delicious dog was entirely of my opinion. His beautiful eyes were -unhurt. His nose tasted wholesomely salt. But Isola was not half so -romantic. Little she cared about money for herself; yet she had no idea -of seeing a friend disburse. Empowered by nature to wind all men round -her finger, she now called art to her aid, and Mr. Oxgall, who was -half-way round already, had no chance of escape. - -She settled it thus: the carver and gilder, in consideration of his -dealings with Mr. Oxgall and his own "careless exposure" of the mirror, -should accept cost price for the article. That amount should be paid in -equal shares by all three of us: by Mr. Oxgall because he would drag us -thither, by herself as the mistress of the dog, and by me as the cause -of the expedition. She had attended a course of lectures upon -jurisprudence, and her decision was better than that of a judge, because -she had seen the whole of it, and because the dog was hers--at least her -brother's, which was all the same. As for the owner of the mirror, he -must think himself wonderfully lucky in having met with such honest -people, and in having sold his glass, and hadn't he got all the pieces, -and she must have the largest one for Judy to dress his hair by. And so -indeed she did. - -After our dear Portia had finished, and the whole thing was settled, it -struck me that no lectures upon jurisprudence could turn wrong into -right. Mr. Oxgall was quite blameless, so was I, so was Idols, except -in bringing unlucky Giudice with her, which, from the outset, I had -discouraged. She, as the temporary owner of the dog, should have borne -all the loss; and so she would have done gladly, only she did not see it -in that light. As it was, she tried afterwards to force upon me her -last three guineas (that being the sum which I had paid, as my third of -the whole), but of course I would not accept them. She had no money -with her, so I paid her contribution, but allowed her to repay me. Mr. -Oxgall's third I made good to him (without consulting her) when he paid -me for my next drawing. So I had earned five guineas, and lost six. Is -it always to be so when I labour to make a little money? - -At my earnest entreaty--Idols could refuse me nothing, when I was in -earnest--darling Giudice was brought home in a cab to my lodgings. I -knew that he would not be cared for at the stables where he was boarded; -and his wounds were very serious. As for home, Professor Ross, who -detested dogs in general, would not admit him into the house. He even -thought it a great stretch of grace to allow old Cora to watch the dog -back to the stables, after he had been patrolling all the afternoon with -his mistress. How I hate such low ingratitude! An animal is to serve -us, body and soul, to crouch and fawn for our notice--not that Giudice -ever fawned to him, but growled awfully--and we are to think it well off -with a curse or a kick, which we durst not give it but for its loyalty -to us. - -What pleasure I had in nursing that poor Giudice, and how grateful he -was! When we got home, I washed his wounds again, with warm water this -time, as the bleeding was stanched; and then I "exhibited" (as the -doctors absurdly say) a little friar's balsam. "Oh, it does smart so!" -Giudice exclaimed with his eyes, "but I know it's for the best, and you -won't see me give one wince." Neither did I. Then a nice soft bandage -over his lovely paws, and a plaister across his nose, and he lies -snugly, at the proper distance from the fire, as proud as possible of -being nursed, and with an interesting air of pallid refinement on his -features. He will hardly notice Idols, but exclaims, at length, with the -petulance of an invalid, "Isola, can't you let me alone? Clara -understands a dog, and I like her much the best." So he followed me all -round the room with his eyes, and begged me to come and talk to him, -which I would not do, because he needed quiet and composure. - - - - - CHAPTER XI. - - -Beloved Giudice remained many days under my care, until he became -convinced that he was my dog absolutely, and had no claim on any other -human being. He more than paid for his board and medical attendance, by -sitting repeatedly for his portrait; in which at last I succeeded to his -and my own satisfaction. Though by no means a conceited dog, there was -nothing he loved better than having his likeness taken; and directly -after breakfast he always assumed the most becoming attitude, and -watched intently for the appearance of the pencil with his massive head -a little on one side, and his dark brown eyes full of dignified -interest, and his great ears curving down through russet tufts, like -tawny cascades in autumn, he seemed fit study for a real artist, who -should quicken as well as copy him. However, he was too much of a -gentleman to sneer at my weak efforts, for he saw that I did my best. -Oftentimes he would gaze steadfastly at the portrait and then at me, and -hobble up, and nudge me, and whine, a little, and then sigh in -self-abasement at his want of speech. Whenever he did this, I knew that -he wished to have something altered; but it was long before I could -discover what that something was. I tried every change of line or -colour that I could think of--all to no purpose. At length it struck me -that as he criticised more with nose than eyes, the defect must be in -the smell. Happy idea! I satisfied my Giudice at last, and did it -thus. After shading around the nose and mouth, before laying on the -colour, I took a clean dry brush, and passed it lightly round the -hollows of his own sweet saltish nostrils, carefully avoiding the cut; -then one turn of the brush, not on the palette, but on a dry square of -colour, and with that I expressed the dear dog's nose so well, that he -would have spoiled it in a sniffing ecstasy, if I had not pulled it -away. His portrait now possessed the life which he required. - -Meanwhile I received almost daily visits from Isola and her brother; the -latter was, of course, very anxious about his poor dog, and could only -relieve that anxiety by long interviews with him. It happened strangely -enough, yet more and more often as time went on, that Isola during these -interviews felt an especial desire for Mrs. Shelfer's society, which she -could only enjoy by betaking herself to the kitchen. There, with all -the pets, except old Tom, who was constancy itself, and the lame -blackbird who was all gratitude, her influence began to supersede mine, -and even Mrs. Shelfer's; for this I cared but little, so long as Giudice -kept to me. - -Over that great dog, as he turned upon his side, and lifted one hind leg -(the canine mode of showing submission to the will of God), over him we -bent, Conrad and I, in most interesting diagnosis, until it seemed the -proper thing that our hair should flow together, and our breath make one -soft breeze. From this position we would rise with a conscious colour -in our cheeks, and a flutter at the heart, and a certain awe of one -another. Then it would be ever so long before either of us dared to -seek the other's eyes. Haply when those eyes were met--unwitting yet -inevitably--they would drop, or turn away, or find some new attraction -in the dog or clouds. - -Then some weak remark would follow, for which the hearer cared no whit, -yet feigned deep interest therein. - -Why labour thus to cheat ourselves--each other we cannot cheat--why feel -we so confused and guilty, why long so heartily to be a hundred leagues -away, yet knowing thoroughly that, if it were so, all the space between -were void and heartache? The reason neither we nor other mortal knows; -the cause is this, that we love one another. - -I have felt that it must be so, at least on my part, ever since the day -he came with Isola, and knew me not, though I knew him so well. Does he -know me now as the Clara Vaughan whom he once avoided? These eyelashes -are as long and dark as ever; the large eyes, shaded by them, are as -deep a gray as twilight in a grove of willows. My cheeks have regained -their curve, my hair was never injured; let me hie to the glass now he -is gone, and see if I be like myself, and whether I have face and form -likely to win Conrad's love. - -No, I am not like myself. No wonder he does not know me. The gloom -habitual to my face is gone. It is the difference betwixt a cavern well -and a sunny fountain. I see a laughing graceful girl, with high birth -marked in every vein, and self-respect in every motion; her clear cheeks -glowing with soft wonder, her red lips parted with delight, her arching -neck and shoulder curve gleaming through a night of tresses, her -forehead calm and thoughtful still, half-belying the bright eyes where -love and pleasure sparkle. For a moment self-approval heightens the -expression. At my silly self my foolish self is smiling; but the smile -has warmer source than maiden's light conceit. I smile because I see -that, as regards exterior, he who slights me must be hard to please; and -some one, whom I think of, is not hard to please. Straight upon the -thought of him--Ah well. - -My father used to quote from the "Hero and Leander" a beautiful verse, -which neither he nor any other could in English render duly, - -[Greek: _Aidoûs hyròn éreuphos apostazousa prosôpou_.]--v. 173. -"Showering from her cheek the flowing carmine of her shame." - - - - - CHAPTER XII. - - -But when Conrad should have learned who it was that nursed his dog, -would he feel the tender gratitude and delight which he now displayed so -freely? Would he say, as in his fervour he now said every day, "Miss -Valence, I do believe there is no one like you in the world!" Would he -not rather say, "Miss Vaughan, how basely you have deceived me! -Giudice, come away!" A whistle and the last sound of the foot, for -which I listened now by the hour. - -This thought was continually with me. It poisoned half the flavour and -ruined all the digestion of my happy moments. But what could I do? How -unmaidenly, how presumptuous of me to imagine that he was likely to -break his heart for me! And if he did--why then he should break my own -as well. I am not one of the drawing-room young ladies, who receive a -modified proposal every Sunday afternoon, and think much more about the -sermon afterwards. I cannot play with the daffodils upon the brink of -love, sleepily thrusting my admirers in, and lounging with half-open -breast, which neither love-knots may secure, nor fluttering sighs -unzone. No, here I am, such as I am, such as God has made me. No -usury, no auction for my heart: once for all I give it, and my life goes -with it. - -So it must always be with a girl of any feeling, who has trained her own -existence. But for my wild ignorance, I would dare to say--so it must -be always with a girl of feeling, twist and warp her as you will. Yet I -am told, by those who know the world, that it is not so with nine girls -out of ten among the lady caste. If, beneath the roc of fashion, they -prefer the diamond to the meat, let them have it, and starve thereon. -The choice is of their own young crops. No parent bird can force the -bauble down. But what have I to do with this? All I know is that -neither I, nor any child of mine, will or shall be gulleted thus for -life. - -After every little burst of thought, every feeble sally of imagination, -came (as always is the case with me) came the slow pusillanimous -reaction. All that I had any right to do was to paint, earn money, and -be off for Italy. - -Little as I knew about the expense of travelling, I felt sure that it -would be vain to start with less than a hundred pounds. Enormous sum! -How could I ever hope to win it, though I painted day and night, and -lived on bread and water. To this diet, or what in London is quite -synonymous, bread and milk, I had already reduced myself, in my stern -resolve to lay by two pounds every week. Farewell to meat, so soon as -my Devonshire "pegmate" was gone, and farewell to what I cared much more -about, a glass of good London stout. I suppose there is something -horribly "vulgar" in my tastes, for I will confess that the liquid -called "black draught" by Mr. Dawe had much charm for me. However, I -abjured it with all other luxuries, and throve no whit the worse. The -kindly little woman, whose summum bonum (next to her "sticks") was -plenty of good fare, took it much to heart that I should live so -plainly. - -"Why, Miss Valence, you are the queerest young lady as ever I set eyes -on. All as ever I see, and I've see'd a many, they picks a little bit -so dainty, like a canary cracking a hemp seed when the gentlemen is by: -then off they goes when there's nobody looking, and munches like so many -pigs in a potato bury. Miss Violante you know. But as for you, why -bless me and keep me, you feeds that great horse of a dog with all the -fat of the land, and you lives on a crust yourself. Now do come down, -that's a good soul; there's a clod of beef a-biling with suet dumplings, -and such lovely parsnips, you can smell it all up the stairs, galloping, -galloping, my good friend, and that rogue of a Charley won't come home I -know, he's got along with that thief Bob Ridley; and I expects the boy -every minute with a little drop of stout, and the best pewter pot for -you. Now if you won't come down, Miss Valence, my dinner will all stick -in my throat, and I am so hungry." - -"So am I, Mrs. Shelfer, you have made me so." - -In her excitement, she slipped from the edge of the chair, whereon she -always balanced herself when I made her sit down. She thought it -disrespectful to occupy too much room, and cuddled herself in the -smallest compass possible. - -Let no ill be thought of Giudice. Who thinks ill of me I care not, for -I can defend myself, if it be worth while. So can Giudice with his -teeth--the finest set in London--but he has no tongue, no merop tongue, -I mean. It was true that Giudice had good fare, and thoroughly he -enjoyed it. That dog knew a juicy bit of meat, short of staple, crisp, -yet melting, quite as well as I did. True, he had a love of bones, -transparent gristle, and white fibres, which I, from inferior structure, -cannot quite appreciate. Yet all this was no part of his mind, much -less did it affect the greatness of his soul. He kept, as all of us do -who are good for anything, a certain alter ego, a higher voice, a purer -sense, a vein which fashion cannot leech, or false shame tourniquet. So -the good dog used to come to me, before he touched his breakfast, lunch, -or dinner, and entreat me to devour all I could, there would be lots -still left for him. - -In my hurry to get start of time, to spin a little faster the revolving -moons, I did a thing which I could ill-approve to myself, even at the -moment. I wrote to Sally Huxtable to obtain Mr. Dawe's permission for -me to sell my gordit. Professor Ross had offered me no less than ten -guineas for it. As a gentleman he should not have made the offer, after -what I had told him. But the love of science--falsely so called by -collectors--drives men to discern propriety "by the wire-drawn line of -their longings."[#] However, I was not quite so blind upon right and -wrong, as to mean to keep all the money. I offered Mr. Dawe half, if -the plaything should be sold. - - -[#] "Exiguo fine libidinum." - - -I knew not why, but I could not bear the idea of a bargain and sale with -Conrad's father, wide apart as the two always were in my mind. I rather -hoped that Beany Dawe, though sorely tempted, would refuse. - -And now the time was almost come for news from Tossil's Barton. Dear -Sally must have filled the twelve copybooks, at the rate of one a week. -Ere I quite expected it, the letter came; but before its tidings are -imparted, I must in few words describe the visit of Inspector Cutting's -son. George Cutting came one evening to see his good Aunt Patty, for so -he called Mrs. Shelfer, who was in truth his cousin. Though I had been -so assured that my enemy could not escape, I was not equally convinced, -and at times a deep anxiety and despair possessed me. - -Therefore I went to the kitchen to see the Inspector's son, and -requested Mrs. Shelfer to allow me five minutes of conversation with -him. He stood all the while, and seemed rather shy and confused. He -had not heard from his father, since the ship sailed; but he had seen in -the papers that she had been spoken somewhere. "The party as I knew of" -was still safe in London--my blood ran like lava at the thought--or I -should have heard of it. He, George Cutting, had his eye upon him, and -so had two of the detective force; but what were they in comparison with -his father? This he asked, despite his shyness, with so large a -contempt, that I began to think the Cutting family admired the Cuttings -only. - -Upon me, who am no Cutting, he left the simple impression that the -qualities, so lauded by his father, lay as yet beneath a bushel. -However, his Aunt Patty declared that he could eat three times as much -as Charley. Not unlikely, if he only drank one-third of Charley's -allowance. - -Mrs. Shelfer, who knew that I was laying by a fixed sum every week, -began to look upon me as a fine young miser. Of course she quite fell -in with what she supposed to be my ideas, for she never contradicted any -one, unless it was a cabman. - -"Oh, I do love money, my good friend; gold, gold, it is so bootiful. -Did you ever hear tell of the marrow bone I had? Oh dear!" - -"What marrow bone, Mrs. Shelfer?" - -"Why a big beef marrow bone, that long, full of sovereigns and guineas -after dear Miss Minto. I stopped it with a bung and a piece of bladder, -and for better than a twelvemonth, while they was executing her will, I -slept with that beneath my pillow for fear the priest should get it. -Lord, how they did fight over the poor old lady's rags and bones, that -leathery priest and three yellow kites of cousins, they said they was, -as come from Portugal. At last they got a ministration[#] with the -testament and text, and they robbed me shameful, shameful, my good -friend. Never catch me going to mass again, or you may tell me of it." - - -[#] ? Letters of Administration cum testamento annexo. - - -"And what became of the marrow bone, Mrs. Shelfer?" - -At this inquiry, she winked both eyes rapidly, and screwed up her little -mouth. - -"Oh what a thief that Father Banger was, to be sure! You see, Miss, I -had strict orders to shut him out, when Miss Minto was near her end, -because he had kicked her dear cat Filippina from the top of the stairs -to the bottom, after he had gived her unction. What a pretty sight it -was to see them seven dear cats, all sitting round the fire, each one on -his proper stool with his name done on it in different coloured worsted. -I had so much a year left me on the Bank of England, honourable to the -day, for each one of those cats, and change of diet every week, and now -there's only one of them left, and that is my dear old Tom." - -"But, Mrs. Shelfer, about the marrow bone--" - -"Well, my good friend, I was going to tell you. The way that Father -Banger got into the house again to steal the poor old lady's money, for -building a school or some such villany. He knowed how fond the poor -soul was of cats, so he borrowed a cat somewhere, and he got two boys to -let it down the area with a whipcord round its stomach, and to jerk, -jerk, jerk away at it, and the poor thing did squeal sure enough. -'Pain, Patty,' says my poor mistress, and she could hardly speak--'Oh, -Patty, there's some cruel Englishman torturing a cat again.' So out I -runs into the area, and in pops Father Banger, who had his back to the -wall, with a great sheet of paper; and he begins to make a list of all -the things in the house. I took the cat to dear Miss Minto, and how -pleased she was! 'Please God,' says she, 'to let me live a few days -more till I make a Catholic of this poor heretic'--she always converted -her cats the first thing--'and then it shall have a stool and a good -annuity.' But next day the poor thing went." - -Little Mrs. Shelfer had so great a fear of death, that like some ancient -nations she shunned all mention of his name, by euphemistic periphrase. -She had never known real illness, and even a stitch or a spasm would -frighten her for days. When I spoke calmly, as I sometimes did, of our -great inevitable friend, whom we so labour to estrange, up would jump -Mrs. Shelfer with a shudder and a little scream. - -"Oh don't, my good soul, oh don't! How can you? Let us live, Miss -Valence, let us live while we can, and not think of such dreadful -things. You make my blood run cold." - -"But, Mrs. Shelfer, surely you know that we all must die." - -"Of course, my good friend, of course. But then you needn't remind one -of it. I met Doctor Franks to-day, and he said, 'Why, Mrs. Shelfer, I -do declare, you look younger than ever,' and a very clever man he is, -yes, yes; and not a gray hair in my head, and my father lived to -eighty-eight." - -"And how old are you, Mrs. Shelfer, now?" - -"Oh I am sure I don't know, Miss Valence, I don't keep no account. Let -us talk of something else. Did you hear what Tom did to your Judy -to-day?" - -Ah, poor little thing! But I am not going to moralise. Shall I ever -know the history of that marrow bone?[#] - - -[#] I have now ascertained that a roving dog popped in and away with the -marrow bone, sovereigns, guineas, and all.--C.V. 1864. - - - - - CHAPTER XIII. - - -Tossil's Barton, estimating the British Post by the standard of Joe -Queen's boy, placed but little confidence in that institution. -Moreover, Tossil's Barton held that a "papper scrawl," as it termed a -letter, was certain to be lost for want of size, unless it were secured -in something large, "something as a man can zee and hold on to," as the -farmer himself expressed it. - -Therefore I was not surprised at receiving, instead of a letter by post, -a packet delivered by the parcels van. This packet was bound round like -the handle of a whip. and stuck at either end with a mass of cobbler's -wax. bearing the vivid impress of a mighty thumb. Within the wrappings -first appeared an ominous crumpled scroll. Ye stars, where angels so -buffooned by eminent painters dwell! Once more I behold Eli on the -turnpike gate, the Great Western steamer, Job with a potsherd of -willow-pattern plate, the Prodigal Son, and worse than all, that hideous -Death and the Lady. Recklessly I tumble out all the rest of the packet. -Three great bolts with silver clasps, three apostle spoons, two old -silver salt-cellars marked W.H.J.H., a child's christening cup, a horn -tobacco-stopper with a silver tip, an agate from the beach, a -tortoise-shell knife with a silver blade, half a dozen coins and a -bronze fibula found upon the farm, an infant's coral, a neck-pin -garnished with a Bristol diamond, a number of mother-of-pearl buttons -and blue beads, and a mass of mock jewelry bought by the farmer from the -Cheapjacks at Barum fair with the produce of his wrestling triumphs. -Separate from the rest, and packed most carefully, were all but two of -the trinkets I had sent as Christmas gifts for the family. - -Touched to the heart by all this loving kindness, I felt so ashamed of -my paltry petulance at Eli, Jonah, and the rest, that I would not -indulge in a peep at Sally's letter, which came last of all, until I had -starved myself for a day. That literary effort showed so much -improvement, both in writing and in spelling, that any critic would have -endorsed Mr. Huxtable's conclusion that the gift must be in the family. -A few words still there were of rather doubtful texture, but who can -bind or bound the caprice and luxury of the English language? Moreover, -Sally's stops were left once more to the discretion of the reader. But -if Lord Byron could not grasp the mysteries of punctuation, how could -Sally Huxtable? Yet that eager little maid would have learned in half -an hour the art which might have mellowed the self-tormentor's howling. -Sally's was a healthy, sweet, and wholesome nature. - - -Tossil's Barton Farm, Trentisoe. - The tenth day of March A.D. 1851. - -"DEAR MISS CLARA DEAR,--If you please, father and mother and me and our -little Jack hope this letter will find you in good health as it leaves -all of us at this present, or when it will be finished, thank God for -the same, and hoping no offence. The baby as was born on the 20th day -of October last is a very fine and lusty wench at this time of writing, -and have got two teeth, and her hair coming again, and answers to the -name of Clara, as you know Miss you was so kind to give her leave and -liberty, and father call Clara to her now, and so do I and Jack, but -mother will call her Babby still, and so the chillers does. - -Father often say, "Babby! Why there be a hundred babbies in the world, -and a thousand either, for ought I knows again it, but I reckon there -isn't half a dozen Claras." But mother say she can't help it: she -always did call them babbies till they was put into short-clothes, and -longer too, if so be there wasn't another, and she feels a call on her -to do it, and no offence Miss Clara for that same. If you please Miss, -when the parson say "Name this child," and Aunt Muxworthy, from over to -Rowley Mires, say, quite peart, "Clara, sir"--father had been learning -her, you see Miss, all the morning--parson look, so mother say, the same -as a skinned sheep all skivered out to dry; and Tim Badcock go haw haw, -till father was forced to slip behind the godmothers and fetch him a -little clout on the side of his head. Then parson say at last, "Clara -maam! There be no child of that name to this side of Coom, and it seem -to me to go again the rub rick." Father say the parson must be a high -farmer, for none of us ever hear tell of that rick in this country. -"Now take my advice and think better of it Mrs. Muxworthy," the parson -say again. So she looks to father, for you see Miss she were not -edified about it being right, because she could not find it in the Bible -nowhere. And she say, "Think better of it farmer now; if you wants a -handsome name, there's Tryphena and Tryphosa, and has been in the family -afore." "Mother," says my father, and he looked the way he do when he -don't intend to talk about a thing, "Mother, go home with the child, and -I'll take her to Parracombe Church next Sunday: and tell Suke not to put -the goose down." - -You see, Miss, we was going to have a supper after church, and the best -goose on the farm, and the parson was coming too. "Sober now," say the -parson, "if so be now, farmer John, you have put your mind upon naming -this here infant Clara, why I will christen her so, only an under -Protestant, and with difference to the chapter." Father only say "Amen, -so be it;" and then parson do it, and do it uncommon well too, father -say. and she only laugh when they give her the splash. Father told us -afterwards as he believed parson was feared he couldn't spell Clara -fitty; but mother say he be wrong there, and all along of his pride, for -parson be a college chap and so he can spell anything amost, in one way -or another. - -Miss Clara, all them beautiful things as you sent for us to Christmas -time, with the forepart of all our names upon them, except Sally, was -sunk in the bottom of the brook in the hole below the stickle by the -hollow ash, where the big trout hath his hover, all along of Joe the -Queen's boy; and we never knew ought about it till your after letter -come. Then our little Jack, who be quite a big boy now, and button his -own corduroys, go down to the brook at once, and pull off all his -things, and there he rake and feel among the stones for the biggest part -of a day, though the ice was on the edge but the water were quite clear; -and Tabby Badcock want to pull off her things and go in too, but Jack -would not let her, and be ashamed of herself, and I sat on the bank and -Tabby, and Jack pull out nine beautiful things, as were meant for -father, and mother, and him, and Billy, and little Honor, and Bobby, and -Peggy, and the two weanies, but he couldn't find nothing as were meant -for me Sally, unless Tabby stole it, and she be quite equal to it I am -afeared: and we all returns you many many kind thanks and love, -especially the ones as had it, and me. Our Jack say, No her wouldn't do -it, he'll go bail for that, no fie! But I shake my head; though perhaps -she never had the chance, if so be there wasn't none marked Sally, and -thank you every bit the same, Miss, so long as there wasn't none for -Tabby." - -Poor little Sally! She must have cried bitterly to think of her being -forgotten. But the best of all, next to the farmer's, was for her, and -there was one for Tabby too. - -"Miss Clara dear, the things was not hurt at all by being under water -for a week, and father say they must be made of the very same gold as -Queen Victoria's crown and sceptre is, as never can rust with the briny -waves; and Beany Dawe feel cock sure as it was the fairy of the brook -stole them from Joe's breeches pocket, and keep mine still he say -because it be the prettiest. But there, he never know much, any more -than Tabby does. - -If you please Miss, asking your pardon, when Aunt Muxworthy were here, -to the christening time, she said she never see such writing in her life -as mine, and it wasn't my best copy neither, and she said it was a sin -to make a scholar of a honest wench like that, and I should want to be -the parson next, and read the forty-two generations and play the fort -piano; and I didn't know, Miss, whether to laugh or cry, so I began to -eat an apple; but father say quite slowly, "Sister Muxworthy, you was -never gifted with no eddication no more nor I Jan Uxtable, and how be us -to know if it be good or bad? Once I had a horse, say father, as afore -ever he went into the field, turned up his nose at the grass like, and -with turning up so much he died at last of the glanders. But I never -see that there horse persuade the others to starve." Aunt Muxworthy -toss her head, and we thought she wouldn't eat no goose, but the smell -of the stuffing and the weather was too many for her; and she eat a -wing, and a leg, and one side of the breast, and it do her good. And -afore she had had much brandy, "John," she say, "you was right and I was -wrong. Let the little wench crack on, and some day they'll hear of her -to tother side of Hexmoor." So father laugh and kiss her, and the -chillers was put to bed, and we drink your health Miss, and Clara's nine -times nine, and father say he'll learn himself some day, when he give up -wrestling, only he fear it would make his hand shake terrible, and then -some laugh and some of us cry, and they has more hot water, and Beany -Dawe set to, and make so many poems he turn the stairs somehow inside -out, and Suke and Tim was forced to heave him into the tallat, and keep -him from going abroad by a rope of onions round him and two truss of hay -on the top. Next day, he make no poems at all till he drink more than a -gallon of cider. - -Oh Miss Clara dear, what ever is the matter with you? Father be in such -a taking I never see. To-day your letter come about selling that -knob-thing of Beany Dawe's, and we knows it must be all along of the -crown jewels you bought for us, as we meant to keep in the family to the -end of all our time. Mother double up, and cry into the churn, and -spoil all the butter; and father were that upset he stamp out of the -house a trying hard to whistle, and he couldn't see no one there to let -it off on but Timothy Badcock, and he were a little saucy, so he toss -Tim up on the linhay roof and his legs come through the thatch, and -father was forced to ease him out with the pitchfork. Tim was stiff a -bit in the evening, and serve him right say mother, for laughing so at -the Cornishers; but father give him some neatsfoot oil and cider, and we -knew us couldn't hurt him because he be double-jointed. - -And if you please Miss Clara dear, we would not stoop to ask Beany Dawe -and he nothing but a sawing poet; so father go to the old oak chest with -the whitewash on it, and pull it open without the key, and take out some -old rubbish he saith, and order mother to pack it without a word, and -mother want to put in a pair of linen sheets and the best table-cloth, -but father say quite crusty like, "Do e take our Miss Clara for a common -packman?" And when I say, "Please father what shall I say about it -all?" he answer me quite low, "How ever can I tell child? Ask your -mother there. Only give my best respects and most humble duty, and tell -Miss Clara I wishes I could find a man to throw me all four pins, for -being such a drunken hosebird not to have more to send her. But I know -her won't take money from the likes of us. Stop," father say, "ask her -to please to lift our horn up as the horn of an unicorn. I knows where -to go for lots of money and all to be had for asking. I'll go to Bodmin -town next week," say father, "and show them Cornishers a trick of -Abraham Cann. Since honest Abraham took the sprain, he left it all to -me, though God knows, and thank him for the same, I never want it yet. -I should like to see the Cornisher as could stand my grip." And then -father pull both his hands out of his pockets. Mother say he wear them -out he do spraddle both his thumbs so. - -It seems a curious thing, Miss Clara dear, father never get vexed or -weist like, but what he want to wrestle, and other times he never think -of it, unless it be to fair or revel time. - -When I asked mother and said as father tell me to, the tears was in her -eyes, and she try to look angry with me, and then she broke out crying -as loud as Suke when the cow Molly kick her. So between the both of -them, Miss, I can't know what to say, so please to make it yourself -Miss, for I am sure I can't find any thing only the best love of our -hearts and a side of bacon us would like to send, and the butter from my -own little cow, all sweet hay and no turmots; I be to sit in Coom -market, all by myself, on Saturday, and mother not come nigh me, and I -know you'll let me send you the money, and I expects elevenpence a -pound, because you never was proud with your loving scholar ever to -command and obey. SALLY HUXTABLE. - -All this here underneath and over the leaf is going to be written after -the rest of this here paper. - -If you please Miss Clara dear, there come now just a very fine spoken -gentleman with a long coat the colour of udder, and blue flaps, and blue -at the hands, and ever so many great silver buttons with a print like -pats of best butter, and gold ribbon round his hat. We seemed at first -he be an officer of dragoons, till we see'd the flour in his hair, and -then us knowed he was the Queen's miller. Father was a great mind to -show him a forehip and send his buttons to you Miss, because he see they -be worth ever so much more than these little things all put together, -only mother stop him. - -Then the gentleman say he know Mr. Henwood well, and respect him much, -and he be sent here by expression to discover where you be Miss Clara, -and it be most particular, and if we wished you well, us would tell him -to once. Father and mother and me puts him in the parlour and gives him -a jug of the very best cider, and then we goes and lays our heads -together about him in the cheese-room, and mother and me was for telling -him, only father say no. You never give us leave, and us wants to do -what is right and upright, unless you order us contrary, and us has no -right to tell without ask you, and you so full of enemies. - -So father say, very grand for him: "Honoured sir, us hopes the honour of -a papper scrawl from Miss Clara in ten days time, or may be a fortnight, -according to the weather please God, and us be satisfied too. My eldest -daughter here be writing to Miss Clara for a week or more, and if so be -she have got room left on the papper scrawl she ask Miss Clara's leave, -and us shall have time enough to hear what her say in a fortnight, or -mebbe three weeks." - -"Oh then, she be gone to Hitaly at the least." The gentleman say. -Father never hear tell of Hitaly whether it be in London town or no, but -he look to mother and me to hold our noise. The gentleman say something -sound very much like "Dang," and father hoped he would be saucy, because -then he send his buttons in spite of mother and me; but when he look at -father he think better of it, and go off very civil in the carriage he -come by, only say he would find out in spite of us. - -And please Miss Clara dear, mother say she be ashamed to send you a -parcel all rubbage, except the pictures, but she do hope they wont cheat -you about them there, for they be the finest ever come to these parts, -and warranted real London made. All the farmers hereaway want to buy -them of us. And father say, "Dang the pictures, tell Miss Clara to come -to us, and her shan't want Beany Dawe's things, nor the Queen's miller -either." Oh do come, Miss Clara dear, the banks be yellow with -primroses, and white and blue with violets, and I know three blackbirds -nests already and an ousel's down by the river. Oh do come. I have got -such a lot to tell you, things as I can't make head or tail of when I -try to spell them, and you shall milk my own cow Sally, and have all my -black hen's eggs, and the ducks too if they hatch,--and sling all the -small potatoes from the plough field to the hazel hedge. Your best -scholar as ever was and loving pupil. - -SALLY HUXTABLE." - - - - - CHAPTER XIV. - - -From Sally's eager description of the coat and buttons, I concluded -easily that a servant from Vaughan St. Mary had been sent in quest of -me. My father hated showy liveries and loathed hair-powder, but Mr. -Edgar Vaughan returned to the family usages, or rather allowed them to -re-establish themselves; for on such questions he was wholly -indifferent. Now what could be his motive for sending so expressly to -discover me? I knew not, neither cared very greatly, but wrote at once -to Tossil's Barton, first to return their loving contribution, which -consisted mainly of ancestral relics prized for generations, secondly, -to set free the secret of my address. - -Into my own self I returned once more. Somehow I seem to expand -whenever I come in contact with the yeoman's family, and their lowly -greatness. I am like a worm when it rains, after the drought of summer. -Surely the God, who leaves us to stifle ourselves with the dust of -fashion and convention, has His own gracious times to breathe upon and -scatter it. At intervals we may see through the reek of our own -exuding, and inhale a more bracing air than sleeps in mausoleums. But -instead of being exalted and fed by the open breeze, we shudder at the -draught and replace our respirators. - -I returned into myself, and found little comfort there. I do not live -inside myself, as most people live in theirs. True, I am apt to resent -any slight to it offered from the outside. True, I seek its keep and -comfort in a mechanical sort of way. But as for crusting in its bottle, -ripening in its husk, rusting in its watch-case, I have been too long -the toy of wind and weather not to be turned inside out. Never can I -moulder into the fungoid nucleus the British taste admires. And yet -there is about me, if I must not say within me, a stanch cleaving, a -cohesion, a concrete will, which is of genuine Anglo-Saxon fibre. So I -thrust aside all dreams of Tossil's Barton and Vaughan Park, and certain -wilder sweeter dreams which have begun to flutter and thrill through me, -and in earnest I return to my task of money-making. - -Giudice still is faithful, and comforts much my solitude. He has never -asked his master's leave or mine, he has never received any formal -invitation, yet here he looks all at home, sleek and unblushing, though -long since quite convalescent and equal to livery stable diet. Once -indeed, as we passed the entrance, he pretended to me that his -conscience pricked him. To ease it, he sniffed about, and halted just -for a moment, then turned his nose up, recocked his tail, and trotted -jauntily on. Since then he has always avoided that left side of the -street. He is affable still to Isola, but clearly regards her as no -more than a pleasant acquaintance. Whenever she enters the room, he -walks from his corner with a stretch and a yawn, sniffs all round her -dress, to learn where she has been, and what dogs she has spoken to; -then, in the absence of any striking discovery, he looks into her face -with a grave complacence, and brings me his conclusion. Tom, and the -birds, the squirrel, and the little marmoset (Mrs. Shelfer's newest and -dearest pet), he gazes upon from a lofty standing as so many specimens -of natural history, interesting so far, but otherwise contemptible. He -is now allowed free run of the house, understands all the locks, and -presents himself in every room at the proper meal-time. Even the little -dress-maker is then honoured with his attentions. Everybody loves him, -he is so gentle and clever and true. Back he comes to me, with his -mouth rather greasy I must admit, gives me one kiss (as a form, I am -afraid), and exclaiming, "Dear me! What a life this is!' sits down on -his rug to think. - -No one can tempt him further than the corner of our street, except his -master or myself. Miss Flounce, with my permission, granted not without -jealousy, once aspired to the escort of Giudice. Although she carried a -bag of his favourite biscuits (made perhaps of bone-dust), and kept one -of them in her hand, Judy flattered her only to the corner; then he -turned abruptly, and trotted firmly (rudely she called it) home, with -his eyes upon my balcony. I gave him more of his biscuits than he would -have got from her. - -All this was very delightful. But there were two sad drawbacks. In the -first place, Giudice expected me to forego every other line of art, and -devote all my time to portraiture of himself. This was unreasonable, -and I could not do it. Apart from other considerations, Mr. Oxgall, -after buying three studies of him, declined to take any more until those -three should be sold. To Giudice himself I had based my refusal upon -more delicate grounds. I had quoted to him, - - "Although, lest I profane your hallowed part, - Queen Nature chills the blood around my heart; - Sweet dog, permit me to indulge my dream - Of country valleys, and the mazy stream." - -But he took no heed, and never would permit me so to do, without the -keenest jealousy. - -The other drawback was still more serious. Either by maintaining the -dog, I placed his owner under an obligation; or by engrossing the dog's -society, I laid myself under obligation to his owner. Either view of -the case was unpleasant; the latter, which I adopted, soon became -intolerable. So I spoke about it to Isola, for I could not well explain -myself to her brother, who ought indeed to have perceived my dilemma. - -"Oh Donna," she cried, "what nonsense you do talk! Obliged to us indeed! -I am sure we are all greatly obliged to you; and many a stir it saves us -at home, for the dog detests papa so; and when Conrad comes to see us, -he can't bear to have Judy shut out like a thief, and he the most -honourable dog that ever wagged a tail." - -"To be sure he is. You know you are, don't you, oh combination of -Bayard and Aristides?" - -That union of justice and chivalry wagged his tail to me, and nodded -gravely to Isola. - -"But I have said all along that Conny should pay for his board, and he -feels it too: but we could not tell how to propose it to you, dear -Donna, you are so very outrageous." - -"I should hope so indeed." - -"And then I am sure it would break poor Judy's heart to go. Wouldn't it -now, Judy?" - -Giudice did not answer her, but came and laid his great head on my lap, -and looked up at me as only a dog can look. In that wistful look he -said as plainly as possible-- - -"You know I am only a dog. But you, Clara, happen to be a human being; -and so you know all we dogs know, and ever so much besides. Only you -can't smell. You can talk, as fast as you like, both to each other and -to us, but we can talk to none except our fellow dogs. Now don't take a -mean advantage of me. I know that I was made only to be your servant, -and I love you with all my heart, that I do. I can't tell at all where -I shall go when I die, or if I shall go anywhere; and I am sure I shall -die, if you cast me away like this." - -So I kissed his dotty whiskers, and promised not to desert him, though I -should go all the way to the stables twice a day to see him. - -"And another thing, Clara dear," resumed his master's sister, "I -consider him now more my dog than Conny's. You know he was given between -us"--this was the first time I heard of it--"and I only lent Conrad my -half as long as he liked to pay for him." - -Lovely Isola, like most other lovely girls, was keen about -money-matters. Not that she was ungenerous. That impulsive little -mortal would give away all her substance, the moment her heart was -touched, and it was not hard to touch, despite all the quick suspicions -which her London life and native shrewdness had now begun to produce. -But as regards small dealings, she was thoroughly qualified to keep a -meat-pie shop, or go upon board wages, or even to take furnished -lodging: by which climax I mean no disrespect to Mrs. Shelfer, who -(considering her temptations) is the very pink of honesty, especially -since Giudice can. - -As to these small matters, and as to many large ones, I was dear Isola's -cardinal opposite. She would make, for most men, a far better wife than -I should; although she will never love with a tenth part of the -intensity. She can't even hate like me. When I hate, I loathe and -abhor. I never hate any one lightly, and hardly ever am reconciled, or -suppress it. Isola talks about hating, but has never learned what it -means. Spite she can carry, and nurse like a doll, and count it a minor -virtue, albeit she cannot be sulky; hate is too heavy a burden. Scorn, -which is with women the hate of things beneath them, Isola hardly knows. -Perhaps she will learn it when her knowledge of the world narrows and -condenses, as with most women it does. - -Another great difference there is between Isola and me. Although she -never would think of deceiving any one seriously, and would on no -account tell a downright malicious lie, yet she is not so particular -about telling little fibs, or at any rate colouring matters so highly -that others are misled. This she can justify to herself in a charming -warm-hearted way. And yet she rarely makes mischief. Her departures -are half unconscious, and always arise from good will. - -"And so now, Clara dear," concluded the senior sophist, "as Conrad has -owned all the dog so long, it is my turn to own every bit of him for an -equal period, and I must pay you half a crown a week for his keep, and -half a guinea for doctoring him so well." - -I was much inclined to take her at her word, it would have been such a -surprise. But what a disgrace to Giudice and to me! - -"Oh Donna," she continued, "you have no idea how fond dear Conny is of -you. I am getting so jealous. He thinks much more of you than he does -of me." - -I bent over my drawing with more carmine on my cheeks than was on the -palette. What folly to be sure! And Isola would come round in front. - -"Why don't you answer me, Clara? Did you ever know such a shame? Well, -I do believe you like being admired every bit as much as I do, in spite -of all your sublimity. Why there comes Conny himself;" and to my great -relief she stepped into the balcony. "I thought so. I knew the ring of -his heel. He will wear such clumsy boots, though his foot is as pretty -as mine. I always know his step, and so does Judy." - -Alas! and so do I. How weak and paltry of me, with a life like mine -before me! - -"I will go and open the door," cries his sister; "how rude he is to come -when you are so busy, Clara." - -Away she runs, then ushers him grandly in, and away again to nurse the -marmoset. I know that I look slightly discomposed. There is a glow -upon me as if I had stepped into sunlight. Conrad fails to notice it, -or conceals the perception. He stands before my easel. How I long for -his approbation! That of course is only from his knowledge of art and -his native taste. Yet I fear to look at his face, but wait for him to -speak. With a stretch like a windlass, and a cavernous yawn, up comes -Giudice, and pokes himself right in front of my work. Could I have -foreseen that effrontery and execrable taste, less bread and milk would -he have had for breakfast. Conrad perceives my vexation, and despite -his good breeding is too natural not to smile. The smile is infectious, -and I obtain no more than a look of commendation. But that is enough for -me. I resolve to keep the drawing: Mr. Oxgall may bid what he likes. - -As our eyes meet, Conrad's and mine, I see that he is not in his usual -spirits. Something has happened to vex him. Oh that I dared to ask -what it is. I also am heavy at heart, and ill at ease with myself. Is -it any wonder? My nature is true and straight-forward as well as proud -and passionate. But here have I been, for weeks and weeks, stooping -below its level. I have even been deceitful. Perhaps there was no -dishonour in my change of name, with such an object in view. Perhaps -there was good excuse for maintaining disguise with Conrad, when first -we met in London. But was it right and honourable to persist in my -alias, when I could not help suspecting his growing attachment to me? -Peradventure my conscience alone would not account for all the misery I -felt about this. Had I no selfish misgivings as well? Now as I stood -before him, my breast began to flutter with fear, not so acute, but -deeper than my alarm in the dark, when I crouched from the conspirators. - -"Miss Valence," at last he began, "I am grieved in my heart by hearing -that you were not treated at all politely last night." He was greatly -moved, and began to lose his command of colloquial English. I had spent -an evening at the Professor's house in Lucas Street, the second time -only of my being there. Now I came to recollect it, Dr. Ross had -certainly been a little overbearing, but I did not feel hurt thereby, -because I cared not for him, and knew it to be his manner. Isola had -told her brother, but without meaning any harm. Her father no doubt had -been vexed, because I could not sell him my gordit. - -"Oh, Mr. Ross," I replied, "I think nothing at all of that. A learned -man like your father cannot be expected to bear with every ignorant -girl's curiosity." - -"To a lady's love of knowledge every gentleman should administer and be -gratified. All men of lofty science enjoy to meet with a gentle mind -inquiring." - -It was not the first time Master Conrad had disparaged, by implication, -his father's great acquirements. To me it seemed scarcely graceful, and -very far from dutiful, but many of my sentiments are dreadfully -old-fashioned. An awkward pause ensued; how could I answer without -condemning one or the other? Though I could not quite acquit Conrad, my -heart was entirely with him, for I had long been aware that he was not -happy at home. There he stood, with an angry countenance, having -declined the chair I had offered him. Suddenly he took both my hands and -looked me full in the face, though his eyes were glistening. I gazed -full at him, with vague apprehensions rising. How or why, I know not, -but at that very moment my hair, which is always a trouble to me, fell -in a mass down my cheeks and neck. He started back, but still held my -hands. - -"I am made certain that I have seen you long ago. I will think, I will -think." - -I saw at once how it was, the fear on my face reminded him. I meant to -tell him some day, but I never meant him to find out. Scorning myself -for a hypocrite, I looked stedfastly at him and smiled. - -"You will forgive me, Miss Valence, you know that I would not use a -freedom." - -He saw in my eyes that I knew it, and dropped my hands, and went on. - -"You will think me the weakest in mind and most wicked, but I am most -unhappy." - -I started in turn, and how I longed to console him. What use is pride if -it cannot even command one's eyes? - -"It is to me a disgrace to come to you with my troubles. But I do it -from no unmanly temper. I do it alone for the sake of my precious -sister Isola. I have no longer any one whom I dare to love but her, and -now I am compelled to abandon her at the last." - -"Do you mean to be long away?" This I managed to ask pretty well, -though it was sore work. - -"I shall not be away from London, but I shall be departed from Isola. -The house where she lives I am no more to visit. A long time I have -gone there only a little, and alone to see her. She is ordered now to -come no more to me. This day I spoke very violently. But I will not -detain you with that. I will confess I did wrong; but I was richly -provoked. My object in burdening you is double:--First to implore you, -if I may without using liberty, to endure well with the Professor, lest -she should be interdicted from coming to visit you, and then she would -have no one remaining to love her. Second to ask, a thing that I -hesitate because I cannot narrate to you all things, whether you would -indulge me, if there is no wrong, to come now and then to see my own and -my only sister." - -"Of course you do not mean without her father's knowledge." - -"I would never insult you, Miss Valence, by asking a thing like that. I -desire nothing of what you call clandestine. You are so free and open, -you would never have to do with any sort of concealment. Neither am I -in the habit to do anything like that. It has only been commanded that -I may not go there, or invite her to come to my house. The Professor -has great power in the present, but he does not pretend to interdict me -from my sister." - -His eyes flashed, as he spoke, with an expression quite unfilial. -Remembering how differently I had loved my own dear father, I felt -disappointed and grieved, but had no right to show it. - -"Only one more thing I will entreat of you, Miss Valence; poor Isola has -never learned what means any grief. If she is vexed by this, I pray you -to sustain and comfort her; for I shall never make a wrong advantage of -your most kind permission, so as to see her very often." - -He raised my hand to his lips in gratitude for what he called a kindness -beyond all value to him, and his voice was trembling as he turned away. -But I had done no kindness, I had given no permission; for I was not -calm enough to distinguish right from wrong. Strange indeed it seemed to -me that I, for the most part so decided, could not now determine, but -was all perplexity. My great iceberg self-reliance, built in bleak and -lonesome years, was now adrift and melting in the bright sun of -friendship and the warm sea-depths of love. - - - - - CHAPTER XV. - - -Isola happened that day to leave me before the usual time, being afraid -that her father, who was not in his sweetest mood, would be angry with -her. She was grieved of course at the new dissension, and thought me -(her ideas were of loose texture) somewhat to blame somehow. -Nevertheless she soon forgave me the crime I had not committed. - -That day I could paint no more, but sat me down to meditate. Suddenly a -loud ring and a louder knock echoed through the house. Quickly Mrs. -Shelfer's little feet came pattering up the stairs, and her grey eyes -actually seemed to come in first at the door. On the crown of her head -her black cap hung, like the top of a chaise doubled back. - -"Oh my good friend, look here! I was never so frightened in all my -life." - -She held as far from her as she could reach a closed envelope, addressed -"Miss Clara Vaughan." I tore it open and read--"Mr. Vaughan is dying, -come instantly. Sent by Mrs. Fletcher." - -"Telegraph, my good soul," cried Mrs. Shelfer, "Electric Telegraph -Company, all screams the wires red hot, and you must sign the message he -says. And is there any answer? And they give him eighteen pence. Oh -dear, I shall never get over it. Never had such a turn since my brother -John went, and they tucked him up so bootiful, and I said to the clerk -at Barbican--" - -"Out of my way if you please. Let me sign the form, and leave me alone -a minute. There is no answer." - -Should I go or not? Bitterly as I disliked him, could I let him die -among hirelings and strangers--I, his brother's daughter! A year ago I -would have done so and thought it the judgment of God. Now I remembered -my dear mother's death, and doubted about going only because I knew not -how he would take it. My hesitation was very brief. A cab was ordered, -Giudice entrusted to Mrs. Shelfer's care, a short note left for Isola, a -few things put together anyhow, and I was ready to start. - -Even in this hurry a selfish terror smote me, and I cautioned Mrs. -Shelfer strictly to conceal both name and destination. She had only to -say that some relative was suddenly taken ill, somewhere down in the -country; the country being to her mind a desert marked with milestones, -my description did not seem unreasonably vague. - -As I stood in the passage waiting for the cab, the poor dog, who had -been quite flurried, and scented indefinite evil, commenced, prolonged, -and would not conclude a howl of passing sadness. - -"Oh, my good friend," cried Mrs. Shelfer, "let me stop the cab. All -waste of money to go. The good gentleman, whoever he is, is as dead as -a crabshell now. There was a terrier with a split ear, next door but -one, when my poor brother John was ill; his name was Jack, I think, no, -Tom; bless me, no, what am I thinking of, Bob--Charley knows, I dare -say--" - -"Well, send me his name by telegraph. Here's the cab, Mrs. Shelfer." - -Heavy thumps of weary wambling feet, grating of wheels, a needless -"whoa," and we open the door. - -Giudice bolts first into the cab, and sitting upright with his tongue -out and a sprightly pant, occupies the whole. It takes the united -strength, address, and authority of cabman, landlady, and myself to get -him out again. Then he coils his tail to his stomach, droops his ears -and eyes, and receiving two hot tears and a kiss is sidled and deluded -into the narrow passage. The last thing I hear is a howl that winds far -round the corner and beyond the square. - -In an hour and a half from the delivery of the message, I was in a -second-class carriage, and we shrieked away from Paddington. The hurry -and rush overcame me for a while. Soon the April evening was spread -with shadowy gray, and we were rushing past the wooded waves of -Pangbourne, and casting silver rings of steam on the many-fingered -spruce, before I could collect and feel my thoughts again. As we glided -through plantations and between the winding hills, with the partridge -beginning his twilight call, the pheasants come out of the coppice to -feed, and the late rook plying his dusky wings, at length the dust and -city turmoil lagged round the corner miles away, and we sparkled in the -dewy freshness of the silent moon. Though all alone in the carriage, I -vainly tried for prudence' sake to creep into the cloak of sleep. Every -vein and every pore was full of gushing thrilling electric life. The -country, the country! the heavenly country's glory! how had I breathed -and groped in the city grave so long? For every thought that dribbled -there and guttered in my brain, a hundred thousand now flow through me, -not of brain, but soul. Thoughts I cannot call them, for there is no -volition, neither have they sequence, impress, or seen image: only a -broad stream gliding, whence and whither I know not. How can I describe -to others what I cannot tell myself? - -"Glost'! Glost'! change here for Chelt'm!" &c. broke my dreaming -suddenly. It was eleven at night. I had come unwrapped; the heavenly -country and nature's tide forgot to keep me warm. Out I came upon the -platform, and dreamily began to seek my carpet-bag, for I had no heavy -luggage. The moon was struggling with the gas-lights, as nature in me -fought with modern life. - -"Fly, Miss, fly?" the lonely porter asked. - -"Yes, please," said I. - -"Where for, Miss?" - -"Vaughan St. Mary."--At this part of my life, I dropped the grand -"Vaughan Park;" it seemed too fine for me, and I was well content to be -of Conrad's class in the world. - -"Oh, there's a carriage waiting at every train, if you please, Miss." - -And with tenfold politeness the porter showed me across the square to -one of the family hearses, which my father and I so detested. It so -happened that the driver and footman were taking some light refreshment -at the bar of a neighbouring edifice, while the horses champed their -bits and whinnied. The men came out against their will, and stared at -me in the broad moonshine. I was very simply, plainly, and cheaply -dressed, in deep mourning still for my darling mother; but no servant of -even slight experience could take me, I think, for anything but a lady; -little as it matters. The men were half-drunk, very surly at being -disturbed, and inclined to form a low estimate of my dress and -carpet-bag. - -"You mean to say you be Miss Vaughan, young 'ooman?" stuttered the -reeling coachman, with his hands beneath his flaps and a short pipe in -his mouth, "Now I tell you plainly, there's no mistake about me mind, I -can't noway credit it. It don't seem likely, do it, Bob?" - -"Likely, Jacob? Yes, like enough to a fool; but nohow creditable to the -like of us. Think I don't know now? Perhaps the young 'ooman will -answer a few questions, Jacob." - -"Ah, let you alone; let you alone, Bob! Specially for young women!" - -"Porter, a cab at once, if you please; or a fly I think you call it -here." Oh my London impudence! - -"To be sure, Miss; the best in Gloucester directly. And, -Miss"--confidentially, "if I was in your shoes, I'd walk them chaps -about their business to-morrow. How they have been carrying on here, to -be sure, ever since the six o'clock train come in. Why, in the time of -the old Squire Vaughan--" - -"Thank you, the fly, if you please." - -In two minutes I was off for my father's home with mighty rattle of -glass, and many jerking noises. About three miles from Gloucester we -were passed by Jacob and Robert, who were sitting side by side and -driving furiously. Convinced at last by the porter of my genuine -Vaughanship, they had set off full speed to secure first audience. - -At length we passed the lodge, where the gates creaked as of yore, and -dear old Whitehead trembled at my voice, and so along the great avenue -where I had studied the manners and ways of every tree, and where Tulip -(Nestor among deer) came to stare at us with his grey face silver in the -moonlight. Poor old friend, he knew me as well as Giudice did, but I -could not stop to talk to him. Soon as the bell was rung the broad bolt -of the great lock, which I was once so proud to draw, flew back with -suspicious promptitude. - -Albeit he had changed the cloth too ochrously described by Sally, for a -suit of gentle gray, and had drawn out his face to a most unjovial -length, and assumed an attitude of very profound respect, there he was, -quite unmistakeable to observant eyes, the Bacchanalian Bob. - -"And please, Miss"--after he had fussed awhile--"what train did you -please to come by? I understand that the carriage has been waiting -there all day; indeed, I saw it come back from the pantry window myself, -and they said in the yard the last train was in afore they come away." - -"I came by the train that ought to be there at half-past ten o'clock." - -"Well to be sure! That must be the very train as Samuel and Humphry -said they waited for; but they never has much judgment, them two men. -And to let you come in a common fly, Miss!" - -"I saw my father's carriage at the station, and two low-looking servants -quite tipsy. Their names, however, were not Samuel and Humphry, but -Jacob and Robert." - -Strange servants now came thronging round, with an obsequiousness so -long unknown that it quite disgusted me. No familiar face among them, -none whom I could bring myself to ask how my guardian was. But from -their servility to me I concluded that his time was short. - -"Will you step into the small drawing-room, if you be so kind, Miss? -There is a good fire there, Miss, and a lady waiting for you." - -"Thank you. Take my things to my own little room, if you please; that -is, if you know which room was called mine." - -"Tilly knows, Miss. I'll run and fetch Tilly," cried the officious Bob. - -"If Matilda Jenkins is still here, let her answer my bell as long as I -remain." - -And therewith I was shown into the room where the lady was expecting me. -She sat with her back to the door, and I could only see that she was -richly attired in full evening dress. There was a powerful smell of -vinegar in the room, and two pastiles were burning. As I walked round -the table she rose with some reluctance, and I confronted Mrs. Daldy. - - - - - CHAPTER XVI. - - -We stood for a moment, examining each other. She was fattening nicely -on what she called "holy converse and spiritual outpourings at -Cheltenham." She rushed forward with great enthusiasm. - -"Why, Clara, darling, is it possible? Can this be you--so grown, and -improved in every way? I never should have known you, I do declare! -Why, you have quite a brilliant colour, and your eyes, and your hair--oh -dear, how proud your sweet mother would have been! You lovely creature, -I must have a kiss! What, not even your pretty hand?" - -"No, Mrs. Daldy; never more my hand to a person who dared to insult my -father. Me you might have insulted a thousand times, and I would have -forgiven you." - -"Come now, let bygones be bygones, that's a dear. Oh for a little more -of the essence of Christianity! Let us stoop to the hem of the garment -of the meek and lowly"--I will not write the sacred name she used--"let -us poor grovelling fellow-sinners--" - -"Don't couple me with yourself, I beg." I was losing my temper, and she -saw her advantage. - -"Not even as a sinner, dear? I thought in my humility that we all were -sinners." - -"So we are; but not all hypocrites." - -She kept her temper wonderfully, in all except her eyes. - -"Ah, you impetuous young people cannot understand the chastened lowly -heart, which nothing but heavy trials and the grace of God produce. You -know, Clara, you never could." - -This last truth was put in the form of an exclamation, and in such a -different tone from the rest, moreover it was so true, that I could -hardly help smiling. - -"Since last I saw you, I have been tried severely and chastised most -heavily. I bow to the rod. All works together for our spiritual good. -Until that blessed day, when all the sheaves--" - -"Mrs. Daldy, I as well have seen and suffered much since last we met. -If I could not be hoodwinked then by this sham religion, is it likely -that I can be now? I wonder that you waste your time so." - -The truth was that she talked in this strain less from hope than habit. - -"Then if I must treat you, Miss Vaughan, but as a sister worldling, let -us at least combine, for Providence has seen fit to make our interests -the same." - -"How so?" I was doing my utmost to bear with her awhile. - -"First, before I tell you anything, have you as keen an eye for the -perception of your own sweet interest as for the discovery of what you -kindly call 'hypocrisy?' Ah well, it is all for my good." - -Her rolling compendious eyes glistened at the thought that she was about -to catch me here. I pretended to be caught already. - -"What of it, if I have?" - -"Then I will tell you something. Sit down by me, Clara." - -"Thank you, I will stand." - -"Now first, before I tell you anything, we must make some little -arrangement for our mutual benefit, and then resolve upon united action. -You must give me one little pledge. That being done I will tell you -everything, and it is of the last importance to you." - -"Is it about my father?' - -"No. It has nothing to do with him; it is about your uncle, who now -lies at the door of death. All, it is all for the best. There is, I -fear, no chance of his recovery, and the disposal of this splendid -property is in our hands, if we know how to play our cards, and if we -act together. But there is no time to be lost. Only think, 15,000*l.* -a year, for it is now worth every farthing of that, besides this -beautiful place. Why, Clara, all the pleasures of life will be at our -feet!" - -In her greedy excitement, she forgot all her piety; but I liked her -better so. In a moment she saw that she had laid her wicked heart too -open. In my eyes there was no co-partner flash of avarice. - -"What is the matter with my poor uncle?" - -"First a paralytic stroke; since that low gastric fever, and entire -prostration. Do you remember when you came to your dear mother's -funeral?" - -"Of course, I do." - -"And could you help observing how altered he was even then? The hour he -heard of her death, he was seized with violent illness, yet he would go -out of doors alone, on the very day of the funeral. Something then -excited him; he came home worse, and in the night was visited with a -slight paralytic stroke. However, he quite recovered the use of his -limbs for a time, though never his former spirits--if we can call them -spirits. For several months he went about as usual, except that instead -of a horse he rode a quiet pony. He saw to the property, received the -Michaelmas rents, and invested large sums of money both in land and the -funds; he even commenced some great improvements, for he has always -been, as you know, a most skilful and liberal steward and manager." - -"That I never denied. There could not be a better one." - -"But suddenly, after no Christmas festivities (for he would hear of -none, for the sake of your dear mother), he was found on the morning of -the last day in the year bolt upright in his study chair, and fully -dressed, with two pistols, loaded and cocked, on the table, no sign of -life in his face or pulse, his body stiff yet limp, like a sand-bag -tightly stuffed. The man who found him described it better than I can. -'Poor master, whichever way I put him, there he stop, like a French dog -doing tricks.'' - -"How terrible!" - -"Yes, but it was true. At first they thought it was catalepsy only; but -when that passed off, paralysis remained. I wanted to send for you at -once." - -Here she met, for she could not help it, but did not answer, my gaze; -and I knew it was a lie. - -"However, I was over-ruled; and your poor uncle lay bed-ridden, but in -no actual danger, until this horrid low fever came. He must have a -frame of iron to have borne up as he has. The doctor says this fever is -partly from the prostration of the nerves." - -"Who is the doctor?" I felt almost as if I could love my uncle. - -"A very eminent man. His name is Churchyard." - -"That is not our old medical man. Where does this gentleman come from?" - -"Cheltenham, I believe." - -"Surely, you must know that, if he is an eminent man; living there -yourself!" - -I saw that she had brought him. - -"Well," she answered sharply, "it matters little where he comes from, -and I have not verified his residence. I fear all the doctors in Europe -could not save your poor dear uncle." And here (from habit when death -was thought of) she fell into the hypocritical vein once more--"Ah, how -true it is! The thing that will most avail him now, when his poor -sinful frame is perishing, and the old man with all its works--" - -"Thank you. I know all that. Which room does my uncle occupy?" - -"Surely, you never would think of disturbing him at midnight!" - -"Does death look what o'clock it is? If he is really dying, I must see -him at once." - -She seemed resolved to prevent me. I was determined to do it. It is -needless to tell all her stratagems, and needless to say (unless I have -failed to depict myself) that they proved utterly vain. I was only -surprised that she did not come with me. - - - - - CHAPTER XVII. - - -How vast the rooms appeared to me, how endless the main passages, after -the dimensions long familiar at Tossil's Barton, and Mrs. Shelfer's. I -even feared to lose the way, where my childish feet had measured every -step. First I hurried to my own snug room, or rooms--for I had parlour -and bedroom adjoining--in the western wing, where mother used to live. -Everything there was in beautiful order, a lamp and a good fire lighted; -and Matilda Jenkins met me at the door. - -Directly after our departure for Devonshire, Mr. Vaughan had thought fit -to discharge all the old servants, except the housekeeper and Matilda. -They were all in league against him, for they could not bear that the -"rightful owners," whom they had known so long, should be ejected. -Moreover, his discipline was far more stern than ours; for my father and -mother had always ruled by love. The housekeeper, a great friend of -mine, was retained from respect and policy, and poor Tilly (who entered -life through a dust-bin) from contempt of her insignificance. By that -time she had risen to the rank of scullery-maid and deputy dishwasher; -now she had climbed in the social scale to the position of -under-housemaid. - -"Why, Matilda, how well you look, and how smart! I declare you are -getting quite tall. I suppose the new times agree with you better than -the old." - -"Oh don't say that, Miss Clara, please don't! I'd tear the gownd off my -back"--looking savagely at the neat print--"if I thought it make you -think that. No, I gets a little more wages, but a deal more work, and I -never gets a kind word. Oh it does my heart good to see you here again, -in your own house, Miss Clara dear, and evil to them as drove you -out"--and she lifted the corner of her new white muslin apron;--"and I -have tended your rooms all myself, though it wasn't in my part, and -never let no one else touch them, ever since I was took from the -kitchen, and always a jug full of flowers, Miss, because you was so fond -of them." - -"Thank you, Matilda. How kind of you, to be sure!" - -"Many's the time I've cried over them, Miss, and the new shilling you -give me, when we was little girls together. But please to call me -'Tilly,' Miss, the same as you always used." - -"I can't stop to talk to you now, Tilly; how is Mrs. Fletcher?" - -"Quite hearty, Miss, all but the rheumatics. Ah, she do suffer terrible -from them. Us both waited up, Miss, and I to and fro the door, till the -carriage come home; and then she went off to bed, and I was up with her, -and never knowed when you come. But she's getting up now, Miss, to come -here to see you." - -"Go and stop her, at once. I will see her to-morrow. Stop, show me -first your master's room; knock gently and bring out the nurse. The -doctor is gone I believe." - -"Yes, Miss, he left here at eight o'clock, for he had a long way to -drive, and he couldn't do nothing more. But you must not go, Miss, oh -pray, Miss, don't go there!" - -We went along the passage, until we came to the door. I was surprised -to see a new door across the lobby, very closely fitted. There was an -inner door also, and the nurse did not seem very wakeful. Instead of -knocking again, Matilda retreated hastily. At last the nurse appeared, -and I found her to be a very respectable woman, who had been with my -mother, through several attacks of illness. A dark suspicion, which I -had scarcely confessed to myself, was partly allayed hereby. After -whispering for a few moments, she led me into the dimly lighted room, -and to my uncle's bed. - -I started back in terror. Prepared as I was for a very great change, -what I saw astounded me. The face so drawn and warped aside, withered -and yet pulpy, with an undercast of blue; the lines of the mouth so -trenched and livid, that the screwed lips were like a bull's-eye in a -blue diamond pane; and the hair, so dark and curly when last I saw him, -now shredded in patches of waxy gray. The only sign of life I saw, was -a feeble twitching of the bed-clothes, every now and then. The poor -eyes were closed, hard, and wrinkled round; one wasted arm lay on the -quilt, the hand bent up at the wrist, the fingers clutched yet flabby, -and as cold as death. It was a sight for human pride to cower at, and -be quelled. - -"Is he like this always?" - -"No," she replied, "but he has been so now for ten hours and more: -generally he is taken with pain and thirst, every six hours; and it -makes my heart ache to hear him moan and cry." - -"Does he say anything particular then?" - -God knows I was not pursuing my own fell purpose in asking this. Thank -Him, I was not such a fiend as that. All I wished was to relieve him -whom I pitied so. - -"Yes, he opens his eyes and stares, and then he always says, and he -tries to shake his head only he isn't strong enough, 'My fault, ah me, -my fault, and to rob them too! If I could but see her, if I could but -see her, and die!' He always says that first, and then that exhausts -him so, he can hardly say 'water' after, and then he moans so -melancholy, and then he goes off again." - -The tears stood in her eyes, for she had a tender heart. I burst into my -usual violent flood, for I never have any half-crying. - -"Have you any medicine to give him?" - -"No, Miss, no more; he has taken a shopful already, though he can only -swallow at the time he wakes up. The doctor said to-night he could do no -more; this awful black fever must end in mortification; no medicine -moves it at all." - -"Did the doctor call it black fever?" - -"Yes, the very worst form of typhus of the real Irish type, such as they -have had once or twice in Manchester. It has settled most on the -stomach, but all the blood is poisoned." - -And she sprinkled herself, and the bed again, with disinfecting fluid, -and threw some over me. - -"Excuse me, Miss, you wouldn't allow me, so I am bound not to ask you. -You know you came in dead against my will, and dead against all -orders"--this was what the whispering had been about--"and if anything -happens to you, Miss Vaughan, who is to have all the property, but that -bad Mrs. Daldy?" - -Oh! In a moment I saw the whole; though it was too black for belief, -blacker than any fever that festers the human heart. This was the -purpose with which that woman had sent for me. She had lied to me as to -the character of the disease. She had opposed me, because she knew it -the surest way to urge me. She had brought me too at night, when fevers -are doubly infectious. - -"You see, Miss, we are forced to keep the three windows open, and the -passage doors all closed. It's a wonder I had any of the fluid left, -for they never sent it up this afternoon; but I had a drop put by, no -thanks to them for the same. Mrs. Daldy brought the first nurse, but -she ran clean away when the fever took the turn; and they were forced to -send for me, for nobody else would come near him. But my poor old man -has no work, and I've minded as bad a case as this, and they say I be -fever-proof. But you, Miss, you; I should never forgive myself, if -anything happened to you, and in your youth and bloom. Though I could -not stop you, you know I did my best. And they say you catch things -most when you come off a journey." - -"Jane, whatever happens, you are not to blame. I have no fear whatever; -and now I am here, I will stay. It is safer so, both for myself and -others." - -"Well, Miss, so I have heard say. Once in for it, keep to the air. But -come into this little room, if you want to talk to me, Miss. We can -hear the poor gentleman move, or even sigh; and the air is a little -fresher there. But we must keep the window open." - -She led me into the dressing room; but even there the same crawling -creeping smell pervaded, as if a grave had been opened, when the ground -was full of gas. Instead of talking to the nurse, I began to think. It -broke upon me vaguely, that I had heard of some very simple remedy for a -fever of this nature, and that my dear mother, who in her prosperous -times was the village doctoress, had been acquainted with the case. But -in the whirl of my brain, I could not bring to mind what it was. Oh -what would I give, only to think of it now! Though not, I am sorry to -say, at all of a pious turn (at least if Mrs. Daldy is so), in the -strong feeling of the moment, I fell upon my knees, and prayed for help. -So had my mother taught me, and Mother Nature taught me now. I will not -be so daring as to say that my prayer was answered. Perhaps it was only -that it calmed my mind. - -"Jane, have they been brewing lately?" Alas the bathos! But I can't -help it. - -"Yes, Miss; last Thursday and Friday. They won't let me go near the -kitchen part: but I know it all the same." - -"Go and get me a nice jug of fresh yeast. I will watch your master." - -She stared, and hesitated; but saw that I was in earnest. - -"I don't know where to find it, Miss; and none of them will come near -me; and they'll stop me too if they can. Why they won't bring my food -to the door, but put it half-way down the passage. They wanted to lock -me in, only I wouldn't stand that; and they break all the plates and -dishes, and to-day they sent word that my dinner must come in at the -window to-morrow." - -"Low cowards and zanies! Now find the yeast, Jane, if you have to -search for an hour. They must all be gone to bed now, except Matilda -Jenkins; and she dare not stop you if you say you have my orders." - -"Bless you, Miss; she'll run away as if I was a ghost." - -"Then call to her, that I say she must go to bed directly." - -After a few more words, Jane went her way stealthily, like a -thorough-bred thief; and I was left alone with my poor dying uncle. -Wonderful as it seemed to me, I felt now a tender affection for him, I -the resolute, the consistent, the bitter Clara Vaughan. Even if he had -told me that moment, that he had plotted my father's death, I would have -perilled my life for his; because I should have known that he was sorry. -Yet I was full of cold fear, lest he should awake to consciousness, and -utter that awful cry, while I alone was with him, in the dead hour of -night. - -Sooner than I expected, the nurse came back with a jug of beautiful -yeast, smelling as fresh as daybreak. We put it outside the window on -the stone sill, to keep it cool and airy. She had seen no one except -Matilda, who was waiting for me, and crying dreadfully, predicting my -certain death, and her own too; if she should have to attend me. She -kept at a most respectful distance from Jane; and, with all her -affection, was glad to be clear of me for the night. - -For nearly two hours, the nurse and I sat watching, with hardly a spoken -word, except that I asked one question. - -"How often has Mrs. Daldy been to see my uncle?" - -"She would hardly leave his bedside, until the fever declared itself. -Since then she has not been once." - -Broad awake at that strange hour, and in that strange way, I began to -pass through the stereoscope of my brain the many strange slides of my -life. Of all of these, the last for the moment seemed the strangest. -Suddenly we heard a low feeble moan. Running into the bedroom, there we -saw the poor sick one with his eyes wide open, vainly attempting to -rise. I put my arms around him, and raised him on the pillow. He tried -to say 'thank you,' for he was always a gentleman in his manners; then -he gazed at me with hazily wondering eyes. Then he opened his mouth in -a spasmodic way, and began that bitter cry. - -Ere he closed his mouth again, I poured well into his throat a -table-spoonful of yeast, handed to me by Jane. To my great pleasure, it -glided beyond the black tongue; and I gave him two more spoonfuls, while -he was staring at me with a weak and rigid amazement. - -"No water, Jane, not a drop of water! It will work far better alone. -He doesn't know what it is, and he thinks he has had his water. Keep -him thirsty that he may take more." - -As he lay thus in my arms, I felt that one side was icily cold, and the -other fiery hot. His face looked most ghastly and livid, but there was -not that mystical gray upon it, like the earth-shine on the moon, which -shows when the face of man is death's mirror, and the knee of death on -man's heart. In a minute he slid from my grasp, down on the pillow -again, and, with a long-drawn sigh, became once more stiff and -insensible. My hope was faint indeed, but still it was hope: if he had -hope's vitality, he might yet be saved. - -The rest of that night was passed by the nurse and myself in heavy yet -broken sleep. Jane assured me that there was no chance of my poor uncle -becoming conscious again, for at least six hours. I was loth to forego -my watch, and argued that the dose we had given might cut short this -interval; but lo--while I kept repeating at weary and weary periods, -that I could do no harm, since the physician gave up, and I might do -good--sleep, the lover of repetition, laid his hand alike on my formula -and myself. Dear Judy's howl was in my dream, and Mrs. Shelfer's never -ceasing prattle. - - - - - CHAPTER XVIII. - - -Cold and fresh was the morning air, and the open window invited the -sounds of country life. Who could think of fever with the bright dew -sparkling on the lawn, the lilac buds growing fat enough to claim their -right of shadow, the pleasant ring of the sharpening scythe, and the -swishing sweep of the swathe? From the stable-yard, round the corner, -came the soothing hiss of the grooms, the short stamp of the lively -steed (I fancied I knew my own favourite "Lilla"), and the gruff "Stand -still, mare, wull'e?" Far down the avenue whistled the cowboy, -waddle-footed, on his way to the clover leys, or the milkmaid sung with -the pail on her hip, and the deer came trooping and stooping their horns -along. Was it not one of my own pet robins, who hopped on the -window-sill, peered bravely at himself in the jug, and tried to remember -the last of his winter notes? - -But it is cold, Jane, very cold indeed; and we have never been to bed; -and now the mowers have descried us, why do they stop their work, and -shake their heads together so, and keep outside the ranunculus bed, and -agree that the grass beneath our windows does not require cutting? Why, -if they were Papists, they would cross themselves, and that saves many -an oath. But the grass does want cutting, Jane. It cannot have been -cut for a week. I will call to them. No, it might disturb my uncle. - -There is no sound from the bed-room yet: all deep and deadly silence. I -will go and see. - -There my patient lies, just as when I saw him first, except that I have -arranged the wreck of his hoary locks, and applied a lotion to his -temple on the burning side. And yet, now I look closer, the face is not -quite so livid; or is it the difference between the candle-light and the -morning ray? - -Even while I looked, he started up, as if my eyes revived him. He did -not moan or cry; but opened wide his filmy eyes, and gazed feebly and -placidly at me. For a time he did not know me: then a great change -gradually crept through his long faltering gaze. Fearing the effects of -excitement upon him, I tried to divert his attention by another good -dose of yeast. Three times he took it with resignation like a -well-trained child, but his eyes all the time intent on me. Presently -they began to swim and swerve; the effort of the faint blood-tissued -brain and the exertion of swallowing had been too much for his shattered -powers. He fell off again into the comatose state, but with a palpable -difference. The pulse, which had throbbed on the hot side only, could -now be felt most feebly moving in the other wrist, and the tension of -the muscles was relaxed: circulation was being restored and balanced, -and the breathing could now be traced, short as it was and irregular. - -I have not time to describe all the symptoms of gradual improvement, and -I have not the medical knowledge needful to do so clearly. Enough that -the six-hour interval was shortened that day by half, that the breathing -became more regular, and a soft perspiration broke through the clogged -and clammy pores. Jane wanted to second this by an additional blanket, -but I feared to allow it in a case of so utter prostration. When the -perspiration was over, then I prescribed the blanket for fear of a chill -reaction. - -At every return of consciousness, our patient made an effort to speak, -but I hushed him with my hand on his lips, and he even managed to smile, -when he found that I would be obeyed. In the evening he tried to open -his arms to me, and then tried to push me away, in some faint -recollection of the nature of his disorder. To me the interest was so -intense, and the delight so deep, that if I had lost him now, it would -surely have broken my heart. - -At sunset of that day, as nurse and I sat near the dressing-room window, -watching the slant rays flickering on the sward, and the rooks alighting -and swinging over their noisy nests, a black cloud hung for a moment -just above the sun, a black cloud with a vivid edge of gold. It -tempered the light in a peculiar manner, and seemed to throw it -downwards. Peering through my fingers at it, for it was very beautiful, -I saw a whitish mist or vapour steaming and hovering above the disk of -the setting sun, between my eyes and that golden marge. I wondered what -this could be; there was no heat to cause strong evaporation, nor any -mist or dewy haze about, nor was the sun "drawing water." But what I -saw was like that trembling twinkle of the air, which we often observe -on a meadow footpath in the hot forenoon of July. I drew Jane's -attention to it, not expecting any solution, but just for something to -say. - -"Dear me, Miss, don't you know what that is? I see it every evening; it -will be twice as plain when the sun goes down, and then it will be quite -white." - -"Well, what is it? Why can't you tell me? Is everything here a -secret?" - -I was rather irritable, but vexed with myself for being so. Too much -excitement and too little sleep were the causes. - -"No, Miss, there's no secret at all about that. Every one knows what -that is. It's only the scum that rises through the grass from the -arched pool that takes all the drains of the house. Some of the arch -fell in they say, and the ground shakes when they mow it; they are -afraid to roll there." - -"Is it possible? And you knew it, a practised nurse like you! Did my -uncle know it?" - -"I am sure, Miss, I can't tell: most likely not, or he would have had it -mended, he hates things out of repair. But it can't do any harm, with -the mould and the grass above it." - -"Can't it indeed? And you can see it rise. Shut all the bedroom -windows in a moment, Jane. I'll shut this." - -She thought my wits were wandering, from what I had gone through; -nevertheless she obeyed me. - -It happened that I had attended, at Isola's urgent request, one lecture -of the many delivered by Dr. Ross. She forgot what the subject was to -be. It proved to be an unsavoury and "unlady-like" one--Mephitis. -Isola wanted to run away, but I have none of that nonsense about me, -when human life is concerned, and listened with great attention, and -even admiration; for he handled the matter eloquently and well. - -"Now, Jane, throw all the doors open, and the lobby window that looks in -the other direction. When do you think it will be possible to move our -poor patient from these rooms? The air here is deadly poison." - -"Well I'm sure, Miss! And he couldn't have a nicer nor a more airy -room; and all my things in order too, and so handy, and so many -cupboards!" - -"Out of this poison he must go. When can he be moved?" - -"Well, Miss, he might be moved to-morrow, if we could only get plenty of -hands, and do it cleverly." - -"Surely we can have plenty of hands. There used to be twenty-five -servants here; and I have not heard that my uncle has lessened the -number." - -"No, Miss; but save and keep us, we shan't get one of them here." - -"Nonsense! I will have them, or they leave the house. Of course I -won't peril their lives. We shall only want two or three; and they may -take a bath of disinfecting stuff, with all their clothes on, before -they come; and they may smoke all the while." - -The nurse laughed grimly, and shook her gray head. - -"And we will fumigate, Jane, fumigate tremendously. Surely Englishmen -have more self-respect than to be such babies, and you a woman, and I a -girl, shaming them out of face." - -"It doesn't matter, Miss; they won't come. I know them well, the lot I -mean that are in the house now." - -"Very well, Jane, we'll have Gamekeeper Hiatt, and his eldest son; they -are men I know. And if that is not enough, we'll send to Gloucester for -Thomas Henwood. But why don't you open the lobby door, as I told you?" - -"If you please, Miss, I can't. They have fastened it outside." - -"Do you mean to say that they have dared to lock us in?" - -"Indeed I do, Miss; we have been fastened in since the morning." - -"And pray, why did you not tell me?' - -"Because I feared to excite you, Miss. I know your temper when you are -wronged, ever since you was that high; and in this fever air, excitement -is sure to kill you. Brutes! But I suppose they don't know it." - -"They know it well; at least the master-spirit does. And for that very -reason I will crush my indignation. Since I was that high, Jane, I have -passed through much tribulation, and have dropped my lady-heiress tone. -I can now command myself." - -"Then, Miss, I will show you what they sent this morning, round the -handle of the coffee-jug. I was afraid to let you see it before." She -gave me a twist of paper, on which was written as follows:-- - -"For the safety of the household, Mrs. Fletcher orders that the persons -in the fever-room be allowed no communication with the other servants. -The intercepting door is fastened, because a most sinful un-Christian -act was perpetrated last night. Due supplies will be delivered once -a-day, at 10 A.M. No empty vessels and no correspondence received. Any -attempt to break these rules will be punished by suspension of supplies. -Servants are forbidden to come beneath the sick-room windows. May the -Lord have you in His keeping, in His tender mercy, according to His holy -will. You are requested to read Philippians i. 8-11 inclusive. There -are three holy bibles on the drawers and dressing-tables." - -When I had read this, and perceived, by the blasphemy at the end, that -it could proceed from no other than that awful woman, I confess that my -spirit was cowed within me. Not from selfish fear, nor yet from the -taming of passion, but from the lowering thought that I belonged to the -same race of being as the author of such Satanity. Presently, I became -too indignant to speak, or even think. It added, if that were possible, -to my indignation, that I had seen her leave the house, about nine -o'clock that morning, in our best close carriage. She kept the windows -up until she was past the lawn and the light iron gates, beyond the -arcade of roses; then, at the first turn in the avenue, she let down the -glass and gracefully kissed her hand to me. I did not believe, however, -that she was gone back to Cheltenham. With so much at stake in our -house, and depending on her direction, she would surely stop in the -neighbourhood, if only to watch the course of events. - -Sooner than I dared to expect, I regained the command of myself; horror -within me was stronger than wrath, and stronger than either became the -resolve to survive and win. "There can be no God," I exclaimed, in my -presumptuous ignorance, "if this scheme of the devil is permitted to -triumph." - -First I tried the door, which severed us from the rest of the house. My -uncle's rooms were in the western wing, very near those which my dear -mother had occupied, and not very far from my own. They formed one -floor of the western gable; the three bedroom windows and that of the -dressing-room looked to the west, while the great lobby window, from -which I had seen Mrs. Daldy's departure, looked southward along the -avenue, the curve of which could be seen also from the bedroom windows. -An oaken door, at the end of the main passage, cut off the rooms in this -storey of the gable from all the rest of the house. This door Jane had -left locked from the inside, fearing lest others should lock her in, as -they had threatened to do. But now we found that a strong iron bolt had -been fixed upon the outside, while we were asleep in the morning, and -that we had no chance of forcing it. - -Next I asked Jane, whether she thought that the house, now Mrs. Daldy -was gone, would be still in the hands of our enemies. Would not Mrs. -Fletcher at once re-assert her authority? Might not Matilda Jenkins be -expected to fly to the rescue? The nurse, knowing all the politics of -the servants' hall, assured me that there was no hope of either of these -events. Robert, a drunken Wesleyan, turned out of the sect in -Cheltenham, was Mrs. Daldy's lieutenant, and would take all care of -Matilda, to whose good graces he had been making overture. As for Mrs. -Fletcher, she was probably in the same plight as ourselves. From what I -heard about Robert, I began to believe that he had private orders to -disown me at the station, for the double purpose of yielding a tit-bit -of insolence, and warning of my arrival. - -However, that mattered very little; but out of those rooms I must get, -either by door or by window; and that, too, without delay. Do they -expect to triumph so easily over Clara Vaughan? And in her father's -house? The windows were about twenty feet from the ground, as nearly as -I could guess, and the rooms beneath were empty. At once I resolved to -attempt an escape that way, and to do so before the moon, which was -southing now, should shine on the western aspect. Good Jane was -terrified at the thought; and then, upon my persisting, implored me to -let her make the attempt, if it must be made at all. - -"Now, Jane, no more, if you please. We can't waste time about that. -You have a husband partly dependent upon you, and several children to -think of. For me nobody cares." But I hoped somebody did. "And you -know I am far more active and much lighter than you are. Help me out -with the feather bed." - -The little bed in the dressing-room, which she had to sleep on, was -speedily brought to the window, and dropped just underneath it. It fell -upon the grass with a pleasing and quiet flop. Then the two strong -bell-ropes, already cut down and plaited together, were tied round the -bars of the double window sashes, the lower sash being thrown up to the -full extent, the glass pressed quietly out with a pair of wet towels, -and the splinters removed, so as not to cut the rope. The latter still -failed to reach more than half-way to the ground, but I would venture -the drop if I could only descend so far. After winding a linen sheet -around my body and dress, with the end tied round one ankle, so as to -leave me free use of my limbs, I sat upon the window-sill in the broad -shadow, and calculated my chances. Should I begin the descent with -face, or with back, to the wall? Face to the wall I resolved on, for -though I should have to drop backward so, yet what I feared most of all -was having the back of my head crushed against the house. Next to this -I dreaded a sprain of the ankle, but all our family are well-knit and -straight in the joint. - -So I launched myself off, beginning as gently as could be, Jane having -firm hold of one hand, until I was well on the voyage. Though not well -versed in calisthenic arts, I got on famously almost as far as the end -of the rope, keeping away from the wall by the over-saling of the -window-sill, and the rapid use of my feet. Then I rested a moment on a -projecting ledge--called, I believe, a "stringing-course"--and away hand -below hand again. But I struck my knuckles terribly against that -stringing-course, and very nearly lost hold from the pain of the blow; -then bending my body forward I gave one good push at the wall, and -shutting both eyes, I believe, let go the rope altogether. Backward I -fell, and rolled over upon the feather bed. I was not even stunned, but -feared for a moment to try if my limbs were sound. - -There I sat and stripped off the winding sheet. Presently, up I got, -and, in my triumph, alas! could not help crying "All right, Hurrah!" -like a foolish little child. In a moment I saw that my cry had been -heard, where it should not have been. A rapid flitting of lights along -the lower windows and in the stableyard, and I knew that chase would be -given. - -But after leaving my father's house in such a dignified manner, was it -likely that I would give in and be caught? Now, Clara, you could beat -all your nurses in running, off and away like the wind! Away I went -full speed towards the shade of the avenue, while Jane had the wit to -scream out of the window, "Help! Help! Here's the house on fire!" -This made some little diversion; I had a capital start, and it was but -half a mile to the lodge where old Whitehead lived. Once there, I -should care for nobody. I must have escaped very easily, for my feet -seemed as swift as a deer's; but, as my luck would have it, the light -iron gates between the lawn and the park were fastened. What on earth -should I do? I saw men running across the lawn, and, what was worse, -they saw me. In vain I pulled at the gates; they rattled, but would not -yield. Had I owned true presence of mind, I should have walked boldly -up to the men, and dared them to touch me fresh from the fever-room. In -the flurry of the moment I never thought of that, but darted into the -shrubbery, and crouched among thick laurels. Presently I heard them -rush down the main drive and begin the search, with some heavy swearing. -Two of them came to the very clump I was hiding in, and pushed a -pitchfork almost into my side, but the stupid fellows had lanterns, -which blinded them to the moonlight. On they went with grumblings and -growlings, which told me exactly where to shun them. Judging at length, -from the silence, that the search had passed to the right, I slipped -from my tangled lair, and glided away to the left, beyond the shrubbery -spring, where a little gate, as I knew, led to a glade in the park. The -deep ha-ha which I had feared to jump in the dark, because of the loose -stones at the bottom, was here succeeded by a high oak paling, and -probably through that gate had come the murderer of my father. - -With a cold shudder at the remembrance, I stole along through the -shadowy places, and had almost reached the little gate, when I saw two -of the searchers coming straight towards me. To the right of me was the -park-paling, on the left a breastwork of sod, which I could not climb -without being clearly seen; to fly was to meet the enemy; should I -yield, and be baffled after all; insulted too, most likely, for I knew -that the men were tipsy? - -In my hand was the tightly-wound sheet, used as a rope to confine my -dress. I had folded it short and carried it, on the chance of its -proving useful. In a moment I was under the palings in deep shadow, -with the white sheet thrown around me, falling from my forehead, and -draped artistically over the right arm. Stock still I stood against the -black boards, and two great coils of long black hair flowed down the -winding sheet. The men came up, tired of the chase, and grumbling; and -by their voices I knew them for my good friends Jacob and Bob. -Suddenly, they espied a tall, white figure, of tremendous aspect. They -stopped short, both tongue and foot, and I distinctly heard their teeth -chatter. With a slow and spectral motion, I raised my draped white arm, -and fetched a low, sepulchral moan. Down fell the lantern, and, with a -loud yell, away went the men, as hard as their legs could carry them. - -Laughing heartily, I refolded my sheet, and taking the short cut across -the park to the lodge where old Whitehead lived, arrived, without having -met even my old friend "Tulip." - -The old man, in hot indignation, drew forth his battered musket--for he -had once been in the militia--and swore that he would march upon the ----- rogues at once. Instead of that I sent him for the two Hiatts, and -the village constable; and soon, without invitation, half the village -attended. With my torn dress tucked up by good Mrs. Whitehead, and a -hat on my head, newly bought for her clean little grandchild, I set -forth again in the moonlight, at the head of a faithful army, to recover -my native home. - -Hiatt easily opened the gate, which had defied my flurried efforts, and -we presented ourselves at the main entrance, a force that would frighten -a castle. It is needless to say that we carried all before us. The -state of siege was rescinded, Mrs. Fletcher and Tilly set free, all the -ringleaders turned away neck and crop, and what was far more important, -my poor uncle removed, without being conscious of it, to a sweet and -wholesome room. The sturdy Gloucestershire yeomen scorned all idea of -danger. - -Tired with all my adventures, before I slept that night--still near my -uncle's bed--two reflections came dreamily over my mind. - -The first was a piece of vanity. "Ah, Mrs. Daldy, you little know Clara -Vaughan!" - -The second was, "Dear me, how Conrad would be astonished at this! And -how strange that his father should thus have saved my uncle's life! For -he must have died, if left in that noisome room." - - - - - CLARA VAUGHAN - - BOOK IV. - - - - CHAPTER I. - - -Before that week was over, my uncle could sit up in bed for a short time -every day, being duly propped in a downy nest of pillows. One arm, -however, remained quite impotent, and part of one side rigid and numb. -His recovery was slow and tedious, as might well be expected with one -who had been dragged not from the jaws but the very throat of death. -For a long time also his mind was feeble and dim, a mirror overcast by -the vapours of the body. - -To me, who am fond of observing, in my own little childish way, it was -interesting as well as delightful to note how, day by day, the mind and -body, hand in hand, rose stronger. More than all was I taught, and -humbled in my own conceit, by taking heed how tardily came back the -power to guide and control the imagination. That object-glass of the -mind--not achromatic even in first-rate intellects--had long been out of -the focal distance from the lens of reason's eye. Upon it had been -glancing loose distorted images, rendered home imperfectly, if at all, -to the retina of the brain. Herein its state was the very opposite to -that of my own phrenoscope. I have no large imagination; but the images -it presents are vivid, and I see well round them. Every one of them is -not cast, but cut, on my sensorium. Whether I can strike them off in -words--whether my telegraph can print its message--is quite another -question, and beside its purpose. Having rendered home to me the idols -(oftentimes inverted, though distinct) it leaves expression and judgment -to do their best with the copyright. - -Now, both in fabric and in mould, my uncle's mind was different. -Naturally his powers were far superior, but he seemed to take no pride -in them. No dark and settled purpose had ever thrown its shadow, and -even its weight, upon them; nor had they felt, so far as I knew, the -rough grasp of adversity. Therefore they were longer in recovering from -the blow, than I think my own would have been. - -There were few things, among the many desired by Mrs. Daldy, which she -failed to reconcile with her strong sense of religion. "There is not -one"--I have heard her say--"not one of the things we believe to be for -our good, which we should scruple to lay before the Throne of Grace. -Even the throbbings of that little unregenerate heart"--Clara Vaughan's -to wit, who had kicked her that morning, quite by accident of -course--"even they are known and sifted there"--slight confusion of -metaphor caused by strong conviction of sin--"Infinite mercy knows the -things that be for our edification, and confirmation in the faith. Yes, -backsliding sinner, the want of real heart-felt spiritual life can be -supplied by prayer alone. Is it not so in your experience, Elder?" -"Prayer, my dear Madam, and searching of the heart. Oh the depth of the -wickedness of the unconverted heart!" And he took another glass of -sherry. That night I remember she worked very hard, for her; and the -next day she presented me with markers the size of a gallows, progged -with many holes; on one was done in cross-stitch, "Pray without -ceasing," and upon the other "Wrestle thou in prayer. Gen. xxxii. 24." -Both of these I threw into the fire there before her eyes. - -From this it will be clear, that in her devotions she still remembered -me, and doubtless prayed in good Scriptural phraseology for my release -from this wicked world. Dr. Churchyard's last report had raised her -terror to the highest pitch, and instead of wrestling in prayer, she had -run away in high panic, upon hearing that the fever-nurse was seen at -large the night before. "We must use the means of grace," she said to -Mrs. Fletcher, before she locked her in, "and accept the mercies -vouchsafed to us. And it would be sinful, dear Mrs. Fletcher, in me to -neglect such a warning as this." - -It was wise, as well as righteous, in her to keep aloof for a time, -while her devices worked their consummation. For the present it appeared -to me that they were failing signally. My uncle was regaining strength -of mind and body; while native air, a sense of triumph, and daily -exercise, kept me in blooming health. My patient, who otherwise could -hardly bear me to leave him for an hour, insisted upon my taking a long -ride every day. Lilla was charmed, and so was I, with the sweet spring -air, and the rich familiar scenery. And how it did make me eat! -Thankful indeed I ought to be, and am, that it pleased God to spare me -that awful and deadly pestilence. But the worst injury done by canting -hypocrites is, that the repulsion they create drives away others from -good. Truly I may say, that for days after being in contact with that -slimy sanctity, I could not say my own prayers, as a little child should -do. - -Of that fever there had been three fatal cases in the village, before it -entered our house; and I found that it was spreading rapidly. With my -uncle's authority, I had the drainage surveyed and amended at once; and -so the pest was stayed. Of course we did not neglect our own weak -point; and the crawling noisome smell was no longer perceived in the -room, nor the white vapour on the grass. - -And so three weeks went by; no news from London or Devonshire, no -explanation between my uncle and myself, no arrangements as to my -expectations in life. As yet my uncle was too weak to bear any sort of -excitement, and seemed desirous only to be passive in my hands. His -eyes always followed me to every part of the room, and he would even be -propped on the sofa to see me ride down the avenue; and there I always -found him watching for my return. Meanwhile I yearned to be once more -in a certain little room with a north aspect, opposite a cheesemonger's -shop in an obscure street of London. Nightly I dreamed of Giudice, and -daily I dreamed of dear Isola and Conrad. The dog in the stableyard, -who had hitherto owned no especial attractions for me, suddenly found -himself petted, and coaxed, and fed (which he thought much more of) to -the scandal of Mrs. Fletcher, and the great alarm of the grooms, who -would rather not have me there. Moreover, the dog himself, though I -strove to invest him with every chivalrous attribute, was of a low and -ungenial order, adorned with no graces of mind, and little taste, except -for bones and gravy. But perhaps my standard was too high: peradventure -I even commenced with more prejudice than a bulldog's. Be that as it -may--and if I can see round things, I ought to see round myself--every -day fell heavier and heavier from the fair balance of time; and every -night the stars--for there was now no moon--looked wearier in the -heavens, and less inclined for business. How long, how long shall you -go round the pole in your steady pacing way, as if the sky were for -auction, and you were pacing the lots; while I, with more fire in me -than you can strike or steal, am ditched like a glow-worm kicked under a -dock-leaf, and see no polestar at all? - -Here is May, the height of May: I am full of life and spirit: the garb -of death, like an April cloud, blows over. Let me see. Last birthday I -was eighteen: I have known more troubles than years, and enjoyed no -youth as yet. Last year I spent in growing, and pining, and starving. -Now the Power, that balances earth and heaven, has filled me with joy -and light. - -Neither am I renegade to my life, in opening wide my heart to this flood -of love and happiness. Still am I set upon one strong purpose. Still -am I sworn, and will not repent, that if filial duty demand it, I will -trample love under my feet, and cut the throat of happiness. - -During most of this time, I had no idea where the queen of hypocrites -was; though doubtless she knew all that was happening to us. As soon as -he heard of my uncle's surprising rally, Dr. Churchyard came over, and -claimed all the merit for his own last prescription. Brought face to -face with the awkward fact that the medicine had not been procured, he -was not in the least disconcerted, but found that we had misunderstood -him, the prescription to which he referred was the one before the last. -At any rate, he enhanced his own fame immensely, and became -"instrumental under Providence" in killing more people than ever. In -reply to Mrs. Fletcher, for I would not deign to ask him, he stated that -the excellent and devoted Mrs. Daldy had not been seen lately in -Cheltenham. Her son, however, was there, and foremost in the ranks of -Pump-room Lady-killers. Just what he was fit for. - -The doctor entertained a belief, and spread the report in Cheltenham, -that Dorcas was lodged in a humble cot among the haunts of pestilence, -imperilling her life and lavishing her substance to relieve the -fever-stricken. This being more than I could stand, I asked the worthy -doctor--who, after all, was a man of the world--what three wealthy -persons Dorcas had carried with her. At first he feigned not to -understand me, then looked sly, and changed the subject cleverly. Of -course I referred to the well-known fact, that she supported her -grandeur and her son's extravagance by playing an admirable rubber. She -was playing a better one now. - -Dr. Churchyard finished by writing another prescription, which, after -his departure, I handed to the husband of Venus, legitimate disposer of -mineral medicines. - - - - - CHAPTER II. - - -London! London! was still the cry of my heart; and was I not summoned -thither by duty long ago? What might become, during all this time, of -the man whom I was bound to watch at every turn, and whom I was now in a -better condition to deal with? My first visit, every morning, was to my -parents' graves, and neither of them would be there but for his ruthless -hand. As I sat there how lonely I felt! how sadly forlorn in the world, -be my lot wealth or poverty, victory or defeat! - -One morning as I sat there my spirit was moved by dreams of the night -before, and I vowed, in that bodily but invisible presence, that none, -except one whose name I whispered, should ever kneel on that turf hand -in hand with me. - -Borne out of my usual vein by the deed myself had done, I entered the -ancient church, always left open for me, and, kneeling at the -altar-rails, with many a Vaughan supine in prayer, pennons, helms, and -trophies round me, stately dames in marble white, and old crusaders -clutching still the cross--there I made my vow upon the knee-cupped -stones, that if he claimed me not, the race should end with me. - -It was a presumptuous and unholy act, with all around me quelled by -time, with ages laid aside in dust, with many a stouter heart and larger -mind than mine, helpless even to superintend the wasting of his -tenement, with all his bygone bliss and woe, stanchest love and -deadliest hate, less eloquent now than the fly whom the spider has -caught in his skull. - -Returning across the park, after a warm interview with "Tulip," who -insisted mainly upon having his ears well scratched, I found my uncle in -his snug wheel-chair, waiting near the side-door for me to help and -accompany him forth. This was our best way to take him out, because of -the steps at the front-door. He had not yet been in the open air since -his terrible illness, but, judging by my own experience, I thought that -he pined for the breeze, and, after long council, it was resolved to -trust him forth this day. With all his heart he was longing to be out; -but, instead of expressing impatience, smiled gratefully at me. I now -observed that he had a sweet and winning smile--a gift bestowed not -rarely on faces of a sombre cast. - -In return for it I kissed him, and we sailed smoothly out. How he -revelled, to be sure, in the first clear breath from the lips of heaven! -Stretching one poor arm forth--the other he could not move--he tried to -spread himself like a flower to the sun. Then he drew long draughts of -liquid freedom, and was for a time as one intoxicated. In the glorious -crystal bath he seemed to float away from earth. Coming to himself at -length, he looked at me, and said, "Now John may go, if he pleases." A -year ago he would have said, "Go, John," and no more. But illness is a -great refiner. When John was out of sight he allowed free vent to the -tears of joy and gratitude, whereof, in my opinion, he had no call to be -ashamed. I kissed him many times. My warm impassioned nature always -felt for and delighted in any touch like this. Then he placed his -better hand on the cold and rigid one, lifting this with that, and -poured forth silent thanks to the Giver of all things. - -"Clara, darling," at length he said, "how can I ever show you a -thousandth part of my gratitude for all the lovingkindness you have -heaped on me? Coals of fire, indeed! and they have warmed my selfish -heart. With loathsome death before your face, in all the pride and -bloom of early youth and richest--" - -I will not repeat his words, because it would not become me; but I am -forced by all that has happened to show what his feelings were. - -"And all this for me--me who have been your bitterest enemy, who have -turned you out of your father's house, and caused your mother's death!" -Here I stopped him, lest he should be overcome. - -"Dear uncle, talk no more of this--never even think of it. The fault -was all my own. You know I would not stop, often as you asked me. -There always was a bar between us, and it was my obstinacy." - -"No, it was my pride. Clara, in my better mind I loved you all along. -How could I help admiring your truth and courage and devotion to your -father? Although I own that you were very bitter against me, yet, if I -had only used the proper means, I might have got the better of it. If I -had told you all my story, you would have pitied more even than -condemned me. But my pride forbade, and I made the common mistake of -regarding you as a child, because you were that in years. I forgot to -allow for the forcing powers of grief. Even now, pulled down as I am, -and humbled by the wisdom of Heaven, I cannot tell you my strange -history without the acutest pain." - -"Then I am sure, uncle, I will never let you do it." - -"Yes, it is my duty, and the sooner done the better. Rescued though I -am, for the present, by your wonderful courage and skill, I feel that -one more blow, even a slight one now, and time for me is ended. But if -it were God's will to cut me off to-morrow, I should die in happiness, -having made my peace, and won your kind forgiveness." - -"You shall not tell me now at any rate. And I won't have you talk so, -uncle. Mind, I am head-nurse still. Now come and see how lovely the -ranunculus are getting." - -I began to wheel him over the grass and gather flowers (which "he played -with like a child), to change, if possible, the current of his thoughts. -Stupid thing! I took the wrong way to do it. - -"Oh, uncle dear! you will laugh at me, and say I am as bad as ever; but -as soon as you get better I want to be off again, kind and good as you -are to me." - -He trembled so violently, that I feared the chair would be upset. - -"What, Clara, can't you live with me even now? Everything shall be -yours, as it ought to be. I will never meddle with you in any way, but -keep to some lonely corner, and not see you very often. Oh, Clara! dear -Clara! don't go away! You know I am quite helpless, and I can't live -long, and you are all in all to me, and I am so proud of you, darling! -But it is not for myself I care. I cannot tell, much less can you, what -mischief may be done if you leave this house again. That low, crafty -woman will be back again directly--she who made cowards of all the -household, and acted the coward herself, who left me to die in my lonely -bed, while she took all my keys. If her treachery succeeds, I shall rise -from my grave. And I know she will poison me yet, if she gets the -chance, and can make anything by it." - -It was the first time he had spoken to me of Mrs. Daldy, and I was -amazed at his bitterness, for I had heard of no quarrel between them. -What on earth did it mean? - -"Don't go, Clara!" he implored me, with the cold sweat on his forehead, -and every line in his poor thin face a-quivering. "Don't go, my -darling, blessed Clara! I have had none to love for years and years, and -to love you is so sweet! If you go I must die at once, and, worse than -that, die wretched in the knowledge that you will be robbed." - -He fell back in the chair, from which, in his excitement, he had striven -to rise, and for some minutes there he lay insensible. When I had -succeeded in bringing him to himself, he looked at me so piteously, with -so much death in his eyes, that I promised, with a sinking heart, never -to leave him more, except upon absolute necessity, until he should be -well, or need my care no longer. - -He even tried to persuade me not to go to London for the things I had -left there, but to send a trusty person to pack and bring them home. To -this, however, I could not yield, feeling, as I did, that, after all my -love for Isola, and all her kindness to me, I was bound to see her and -say farewell; and what harm could there possibly be in so short an -absence? My uncle wished me to bring her down for a good long visit, -but this at such a time could not be thought of. Moreover, lively, -impulsive Idols would have grown very long-faced in a dull sick house, -which ours must be for the present. It was settled at last that I -should go to London the following Monday, stay there one entire day, and -come back the day after with all my trifling chattels. One thing more -my uncle proposed which I would not hear of. It was, that he should -transfer to me, by deed of gift, all the estate, both real and personal, -reserving only a small annuity for himself, and a sum of 10,000*l.* for -some special purpose, which he would disclose to me at leisure. Thus, -he said, he should feel as if justice had been done, and there would be -some security against Mrs. Daldy's schemes. Of the latter I felt no -fear whatever, and thought it the effect of a shaken mind that he -attached so much importance to them. Under no circumstances would I -think, for a moment, of allowing him so to divest himself. Money, to any -amount, I could have, though I wanted very little, seeing that now, once -more, a solemn duty would withdraw me from my long pursuit, and from all -the frivolities which many girls delight in. I begged my uncle to -appoint an honest steward for the estate, and to assign me a moderate -yearly allowance, which would save much trouble. To this he at last -consented, and proposed for me so large a revenue, that, after removing -the last cipher, I had more than I knew how to spend. The first thing I -did was to send the kind farmer the residue of the sum he had lent me, -together with interest at ten per cent., which did not seem excessive, -considering that he had no security. - -And now, with the utmost anxiety, I looked forward to the time when my -poor uncle should be strong enough to tell me, without risk, that -history of himself which he had distinctly promised me. Surely it must -shed some light on the mystery of my own. This thought, as well as the -sense of duty, reconciled me in some measure to the suspension of my -life-long search. He would have told me everything then and there, in -his warm gratitude for my undertaking; but I durst not let him. He was -already fatigued with so much talking, and when the stimulus of the -fresh air was gone, he suffered a serious relapse. - - - - - CHAPTER III. - - -On the following Monday, my poor uncle being rather better again, I set -off for London, as had been determined, and arrived there late in the -afternoon. It had been proposed to send a servant with me, but I had -been too long accustomed to independence, and also had reasons of my own -for refusing. I was to receive, on the morrow, an account, by -telegraph, of my patient's health and spirits, and promised to give, in -return, some tidings of myself. Mrs. Shelfer had not been apprised of -my coming, because she would have been sure to tell Miss Isola, whom, as -well as her brother, I wished to take by surprise. Dear Isola had often -inquired about my family, but only knew that I was an orphan, much -reduced in the world, poor, and all alone. Much as I loved her, I knew -quite well that she could not keep a secret, and whenever she teased me -about my "iron mask," I retorted upon her that she had first to discover -the secret of her own home. - -As we rushed towards the mighty city, what a flush was in my cheeks, -what a flutter in my heart! Whom might I not see even upon the -platform, or, at any rate, in the streets, and, poverty being removed, -what obstacle could there be between us? Not that I intended to resign -myself to affection, and lead a life of softness, until I had discharged -to the utmost my duty to the dead. Yet some sort of pledge might -pass--some surety there might be, that neither of us would feel -thereafter quite alone in the world. But how could I tell that he even -cared about me? Well, I had a strong suspicion. In some things the -eyes are the best detective police. Only I had always been so unlucky. -Was it not too good luck for me ever to be true? - -Mrs. Shelfer's door was opened at my knock, not by her own little -bustling self, nor even by shock-headed and sly "Charley," but by a -short stout man of affable self-importance, with a semi-Jewish face, and -a confidential air. He had a pot of porter in one hand and a paper-roll -in the other, a greasy hat on his head, and one leg of his trousers had -lost the lower half. Upon learning my name and object, he took no -notice whatever of me, but put up his paper-roll for a trumpet, and -shouted along the passage, "Balaam, here's a kick! I'm bothered if it's -all lies, after all. Never dreamed the old gal could tell a word of -truth. Had a higher opinion of her. Blowed if the young woman herself -ain't come!" - -"Easy there, Balak"--the mouth of the speaker was full--"keep the door, -I tell you. Never gets a bit of time to my victuals. She's up to a -plant, I doubt. Just let me have a squint at her." Out came another -man with a like appearance and air, and a blade-bone in his hand, -whereat he continued to gnaw throughout the interview. It was indeed a -squint with which he favoured me, and neither of them would move for me -to pass. - -"Pray what is the meaning of all this?" I asked, in my grandest manner. -"Surely I have not mistaken the house I lived in. This, I believe, is -Mrs. Shelfer's house?" - -Instead of answering me, they closed the door enough to put the -slide-chain on, leaving me still outside, where, with boiling -indignation, I heard myself discussed; the cabman looking on with an -experienced grin. - -"Well, Balaam, now, and what do you think of that party?" - -"Uncommon fine young gal, and doosed mannersome too; but it don't -follow, for all that, that the thing is on the square, you know. Have -she got any luggage, Balak?" - -"No, mate. And that looks fishy, now one come to think on it. Stop, -let me have another look." - -"No; leave that to me. Slip the chain out, Balak: and keep your foot -behind the door. She can't push us both in without assault and -battery." - -To my shame and indignation, I was subjected to another critical -cross-fire from half drunken eyes. I turned my back and stamped in my -vexation; the cabman gave me an approving nod. This little act of mine -was so unmistakably genuine, and displayed such very nice embroidery--I -do like a tasteful petticoat--that the hard heart of Balaam was -softened; at the same moment a brilliant idea stole through his cautious -mind. - -"Stop now, Balak, put your foot there. She can't push us both in, I -believe; leastways not without battery and contempt of court. Now what -do you think of this?"--And he whispered to his grimy friend. - -"Well, that beats all I ever heer'd on. Let you alone for brains, -Balaam, and me for muscle and pluck!" - -"Now, young lady," began Balaam in a diplomatic tone, "me and my mate -here be in a constitution of trust, or else you may take your oath, and -never a pervarication, we never would keep an agreeable young -female"--here he gave me two ogles intended for one--"on the flinty -stones so long; only we can't say if you mean honest, and there be such -a many bad ones going, and we've got a leary file inside. Now listen to -what I say. There's a dog as big as a lion in the room as you calls -yourn; and he do show his teeth, and no mistake. We be afeared to show -our noses there, even at the command of dooty. You can hear him -growling now like all the Strand and Fleet Street; and my mate Balak -here leave half his breeches behind him, saving your presence, Miss, and -lucky to get off so. Now if so be you undertakes, honour bright, to -march straight into that front room, my mate and self have concluded to -let you in." - -"Of course I will," said I, smiling at their terrors. So I paid the -cabman, took up my little bag, and ran right up the stairs. Balaam and -Balak feared to come round the corner. "You must unlock the door, -Miss," cried one of them, "we was forced to lock him in." - -"Oh Judy, my darling Judy, my own pet love of a Judy." He let me say no -more; his paws were on my shoulders, and I was in a shower-bath of -kisses. In the ecstasy of my joy, I forgot all about the two men and -their mysterious doings, and flung myself down on a chair, while Judy, -out of his mind with delight, even tried to sit on my lap. He whinnied, -and cried, and laughed, and yelled, and could find no vent for his -feelings, until he threw his great head back and told all in a wow-wow, -that must have been heard in Oxford Street. A little familiar knock, -and Mrs. Shelfer appeared, looking rather better than ever. - -"Why, dear Mrs. Shelfer, how glad I am to see you! And you look much -younger, I declare!" - -"And, Miss, you do look bootiful, bootiful, my good friend! Splendid -things,"--I was dressed a little better, but still in sombre -colours--"splendid, Miss Vaughan, and how you becomes 'em to be sure! -Talk of Miss Idols after that, why it's the Queen to a gipsy! And pray, -Miss, if I may make so bold, what did you give for this? it beats my -sarcenet dress, I do believe." - -"Nothing, Mrs. Shelfer, only a little kiss." - -"Gracious me, Miss, then you've been and got engaged, and to a lord at -least. I heard you were come into your great fortune at last; more than -all Middlesex they tell me, Regency Park and all! And that poor -straight-legged young man, as come here every day to see Judy, and to -ask for you." - -"Now, Mrs. Shelfer, don't talk nonsense,"--my heart was jumping, but I -did not want her to see it. "I only hope you haven't said a word to him -about these foolish reports." - -"Me, Miss! Do you think I would now?" - -"Yes; I know by your face you have. You can't cheat me, Mrs. Shelfer. -Never mind, if you have not mentioned my name." It never struck me that -Conrad would be frightened at my money. - -"No, never, Miss, as I hope to be saved." And she crossed herself, -which I had never seen her do. - -"Come, Mrs. Shelfer, now; I've got some pretty little trifles for you in -this bag." - -She jumped with pleasure; she was so fond of knick-knacks: then she put -her fingers on her lips and went to the door and listened. Presently -she came back with a mysterious air. - -"Pray, Miss, as you are so very kind, excuse my taking the liberty, but -would you mind giving Judy the bag in his paws? no fear of them getting -it there." - -"Why, what on earth is the matter? Why didn't you let me in? Who are -those nasty men?" - -"Oh, it's nothing, Miss; nothing at all to speak of: only they knocks my -sticks so in making the inwentory, and the one they made last time, and -the time before, would do every bit as well. But they charges for it, -every time, the rogues--and they dare to put the chairs down lackered -and American cloth, good, morocco as ever was, and as if Miss Minto--" - -"Now, Mrs. Shelfer, tell me in two words what it means. Is it a sale?" - -"No, no, Miss, I should hope not; only an execution, and them two men -are the bailiffs; civil tongues enough, and very good judges of porter -and periwinkles. They're the ones as come last time; but I'd sooner have -the old ones, jolly fellows they were, and knew how to wink both eyes. -But that cross-eyed thief--" - -"And have they got my things, Mrs. Shelfer?" - -"No, Miss; only what few was in the bedroom; they daren't come here for -Judy. It was as much as their lives were worth. If I had known they -was coming, I'd have had him at the front door, but they locked him in -as soon as he got a piece out of the other fellow's leg. Bless me, how -he did holloa!" - -"Do you mean to say, Mrs. Shelfer, that they have taken possession of my -things in my bedroom?" - -"To be sure, Miss. I said they was yours, and of course they wouldn't -believe me, and the folding door was shut, but Judy would have broken it -down only they put the bedstead again it. Gracious me! I never see a -dog take on so in all my life! He was like a roaring lion." - -"I should rather hope so. Giudice, I commend you; and I've a great mind -to let you out, and what is more, I will if they don't give me back my -things. Surely, Mrs. Shelfer, they have no right to my property." - -"Well, so I say, Miss; because it isn't for the landlord; but they won't -believe they are yours." - -"If they don't believe me pretty soon, Giudice shall convince them. He -is a judge you know, and I've no idea of robbery any more than he has. -But who is doing all this, and why do you seem so unconcerned about it? -I should cry my eyes out, I am sure." - -"Bless your pretty heart, Miss; this makes the fifteenth time I've had -them here in the last four years. At first I was terribly put out, and -made myself a figure crying; but now I only think it's company, and they -drink as if they was, that's certain. You must have seen the -inwentories, Miss, round the candles lots of times. Only one thing they -does that don't strike me as wery honourable, though it's law I b'lieve; -they charges me, and wery high too, for eating up my victuals, and they -will have meat four times a day. Why, that Balak, him with his breeches -gone--" - -"Who put them in, Mrs. Shelfer, and how much is it for?" - -"Oh, it's one of Charley's bills or notes, of course. Quinlan holds it, -him as keeps "the little dust-pan," down Maiden Lane, and Charley says -that all he got for it was ten shillings and a waggon-load of -water-cresses. Now they'll be here directly, Miss, with you to keep the -dog in. Excuse me, Miss, I see you have got one of them new wide things -as go all round and up--capital things, I must have one before they come -again. And could you manage to sit upon the sofa, Miss, and the three -best chairs in your petticoat, with the tea-poy on your lap?" - -"What on earth do you mean, Mrs. Shelfer?" - -"Why, Miss, they can't lay hold of any article in use, I believe, and -you have got so much room in your things." - -"Do you suppose I intend to let them come here, for a moment? Now let -me look at my bedroom. Come, Judy." - -"Oh, Miss, they did have such a hunt here for Charley's double-barrel -gun; a regular beauty it is, and that big rogue Quinlan is after it. -They know it all round this neighbourhood, it was made by a famous -maker, Joe something, I b'lieve, and the best he ever made; it was poor -Miss Minto's brother's; and they shan't have it, not one of 'em. I'd -sooner shoot them with it. I keeps it always in the safest place I -knows on, and twice a year I see that it don't get rusty." - -"What safe place do you keep it in?" - -She put her little mouth up to my ear, and her little hand up to her -mouth, and whispered-- - -"At the broker's, Miss, in Barbican. He has had it now six years. It's -in for a quarter its value, but that's all the better for me: I have -less to pay for keeping it, and I carries the ticket night and day in my -bosom. And do you know, my good friend, they thought they had got it -just now; they got a key that fitted that box of yours, that you always -locked so carefully, and they made sure that was it; ha, ha, how I -laughed at them when they opened it!" - -"What! have they dared to open my mahogany box?" It was the repository -of my precious relics. - -"To be sure they did, Miss, and they found such curious things there! A -lovely thing all set with jewels, they said, a baggonet fit for the Duke -of Wellington, and plaster shapes like a cobbler's last, and coloured -paper with queer letters on it, and a piece of long black hair, and a -plan with distances on it--Lor, Miss, what on earth is the matter? -Water! water! You're like death--Balaam! Balak!" - -"Stop, Mrs. Shelfer"--I had fallen on the bed--"I would not for ten -thousand pounds have had that box exposed to those low ruffians, -ransacked, and even catalogued. If I can punish them I will; and you -too, you low, miserly, meddling, inquisitive old crone." - -She cared for nothing--though afterwards she told me she never saw such -eyes in her life--until I luckily called her an "old crone." At that, -she fell back upon the towel-horse, and sobbed with both hands over her -eyes, as if her heart would break. I had pierced her in the tenderest -point--her age. - -I did not feel sorry for her at all for at least two minutes, but let -her cry away. "Serves her right," I thought. Even if she could not -have stopped them from opening that box of mine, at any rate she had no -right to gossip about it, and enjoy it all, as she evidently had done. -Furthermore, I knew well that she had always been on the tingle to learn -the contents of that box, and many a time I had baffled her. Now she -had triumphed thoroughly, and I should not have been female if I had -calmly allowed it. But seeing her great distress (through all of which -she talked, with sobs for affirmations), I began to think what a pity it -was; then to wonder whether she deserved it all; next, to believe that -she had done no harm; lastly, to feel that I had been a brute. -Thereupon I rushed to coax and kiss her, wiped away her tears with my -own lawn handkerchief--the feel of which consoled her, for the edge was -lace--and begged her pardon fifty times in a thousand foolish words. -Finally she was quite set up again by this: - -"I tell you, my dear Patty, when I come to your age, when I am five and -thirty"--she was fifty-two at least--"I shall fully deserve to be called -an old woman for this; and much older I shall look, there is no doubt, -than you do." - -"Right, my good friend, you are quite right there"--this expression -showed me that she herself was right.--"Why the young man from the -butcher's, he said to me this morning, and beautiful black hair reminded -me of yours, Miss, all stuck together with the fat from off the -kidneys--" - -"Come, Mrs. Shelfer, let me see about my box." - -"To be sure, to be sure, my dear Miss Vaughan; but what do you think he -said? 'Now, William John,' says I, 'a good steak mind, a tender juicy -steak, for the gentleman visitors here'--Balaam, Miss, and Balak, if you -please,--'does like good juicy meat.' 'Mrs. Shelfer, ma'am,' he says, a -bowing with his tray like that, 'you shall have a steak, ma'am, as fresh -and as juicy as yourself.' Now wasn't that pretty, my good friend?" - -"Beautiful, Mrs. Shelfer. But see about my box." - -"Surely, surely, Miss Vaughan. But it was very pretty, like a -valentine, don't you think it was now?" - -"Where is it?" - -"Downstairs, Miss, in my little parlour." - -"Then send it up at once, by one of the men." - -Presently Balaam came up, looking askance at Judy, and with the mahogany -box under his right arm. He touched his dirty hat, for Mrs. Shelfer had -filled him by this time with the wonders of my wealth, and then he -looked doubtfully, and with sorrow, at his burden. - -"Put it here if you please," and I pointed to some chairs, "the dog will -not touch you while I am here. Now what is the amount of this -execution?" - -"Debt fifteen pounds, Miss; expenses up to five o'clock, four pound -ten." - -"Here is the money. Now give me a receipt." - -"No, Miss! You don't mean to pay all!" - -"Of course, I do." - -"Then, Miss, I beg your pardon, but I can't allow you. I has a duty to -my employer, and I has a duty to the public too, not forgetting Mrs. -Shelfer, and Charley an old friend, and all so handsome in the way of -victuals. And I'm sure she wouldn't wish you to be cheated, Miss. Pay -ten pounds for the debt, Miss, and that's a deal more than it cost them -or they expects to get. 'Twixt you and me, Miss, every stick of this -here furniture is in a dozen bills of sale already; and we comes here -more for practice like, than for anything else." - -In short, I paid 10*l.* for the debt, and 4*l.* for the expenses: -whereupon Balaam looked at me with a most impressive and confidential -glance. - -"Now, Miss, you won't think me rude; but you have come down so handsome, -I can tell you something as you may like to know. I've seed the very -moral of that sword of yours before." - -"Are you certain? Pray where was it?" I trembled with excitement. - -"It was in a place in Somers-town, Miss; where I made a levy, some eight -year agone." - -"What was the name of the people?" - -"Dallyhorse, or Jellycorse, or something of the sort. Foreigners they -was, and they had only just come to this country. But I can tell you -the name more shipshape from the books. Ah, the very moral of it; only -there warn't no serpent." - -"Do you know what has become of them?" - -"No that I don't, and don't want to come across them again. A mean set -of mongrel parlywoos; I got starved amost. But I did hear they was -riding the high horse now, and something about court." - -"Are you quite sure that the weapon was exactly like this? Look at this -again." - -"Miss, I can take my oath it was the fellow pea, all but the little -snake, and he ain't a fixture, I don't believe. I would have sworn it -was the very same, only you tells me not. I noticed it most particular; -for I never see one like it, though I have had a sight of foreign -weapons in my hands ere now. And the gent had got it put away so; we -come across it only through a cat as happened to be confined--" - -"And what became of it? Did your employer have it?" - -"Not he, Miss. When the gent found we had got it, he was put out and no -mistake; though he sham not. Away he goes and gets the money somehow, -and has us all away in no time." - -"How many were there in the family?" - -"Well, let me see. They was only living in lodgings, and had but half -the house. There was Dallyhorse himself, and a queer-looking lady, and -some children, I don't know how many children, for they kept them out of -the way; and a nice young woman as did the cooking for them, and -precious little it was." - -"What was his profession? And who was his creditor?' - -"I don't know. They called him an artist I think, but he look to me -more like a sailor. It was a boarding-house bill, as I was on him for. -Rum-tempered fellow. I thought he would have stuck me when I got his -sword thing. A tallish man he was, slight build, and active, and such -black eyes." - -"Now, Balaam, if you can trace that man, and find out where he is living -now, I will give you two hundred pounds. Here's ten pounds for you as -an earnest." - -Balaam was so amazed, that he almost looked straight at me. - -"Please, Miss, may I tell Balak? I shan't be happy if I doesn't. We -always works together, and it wouldn't be on the square like." - -"Was he with you then? And can he keep a secret?" - -"Yes, Miss, he was with me, and I'd trust him with a gallows secret. I -can't do no good without him." - -"Then, certainly you may tell him; but not while in this house. Here is -my country address, that you may know who you act for. Keep clear of -the Police. Keep the whole matter to yourselves. In two days, I leave -London; if you discover nothing in that time, write to me here, and I -will take good care to have the letters forwarded. Do nothing, but find -out that one thing, and when I have verified it, I will pay you the two -hundred pounds." - -"Would you mind, Miss, putting it on paper?" - -"Yes: for many reasons, I will not write it down. But you are at liberty -to inquire who I am, and whether I am likely to disgrace my word." - -After taking his address, "Balaam Levison, Dove Court, Chancery Lane," I -allowed him to depart, and heard him pause on every stair, to ponder -this strange matter. - -Presently Mr. Shelfer came home, and was delighted to see the bailiffs; -and the pleasure being mutual, and my cash burning to be quenched, a -most hilarious evening was the natural result. My health was drunk, as -I could hear too plainly, to unfathomable depths: and comic songs from -three loud organs, provided with patent nasal stops, with even Patty's -treble pipe audible in the chorus, broke from time to time the tenour of -my sad and lonely thoughts. - - - - - CHAPTER IV. - - -The bailiff's discovery, and the pursuit commenced thereon, appeared to -me so important, that in reply to the message received the next -morning--that my uncle was much the same, and longing for my return--I -sent word that my journey was put off until the day after the morrow. -This allowed me one day more for tidings from my new scouts, as to the -success of their efforts. I was very sorry to disappoint my poor sick -uncle, but it seemed still worse to run away all in the dark. - -The next thing I did was to arrange with Mrs. Shelfer about the money I -had paid for her. It was not the money I cared for, but I had other -views. Although she was politely thankful, I perceived that she thought -it a very bad job indeed, and a most romantic transaction. Thirty per -cent. was the very largest dividend she had ever intended to pay. But -the plan which I proposed was so much for her benefit, while it suited -me, who otherwise must have lost the money, that it almost recovered her -from the shock of having paid a debt. The plan was simply this, that -she should reserve my rooms for me, airing and cleaning them duly, and -always keeping the bed in a fit state to be slept on at an hour's -notice. My previous rent had been twelve shillings a week, the utmost I -could afford out of my narrow income; attendance, and linen, and other -troubles being now dispensed with, I thought it fair to allow her ten -shillings off her debt to me, for every week I should so retain the -rooms. The 4*l.* for the expenses of the execution I forgave her -altogether; inasmuch as I had paid without consulting her. Directly my -payment should be exhausted, to wit in twenty weeks, I would send her a -further sum, if I still required the rooms. - -She was delighted with this arrangement, which in fact enabled her to -have her "sticks" all to herself, to pet them and talk to them every -day, and even to clean them, if such a freak of destruction ever should -enter her brain. She could use the sitting-room for her own pleasure -and pride, as much as ever she chose, so long as it always was ready for -me; and already visions were passing before her mind's eye, of letting -the parlour downstairs with the onion-room for its dormitory. To me the -arrangement was very convenient, as affording a fixed and familiar -resort in London, and a pivot of ready communication. Nor was it a small -consolation to feel that I still retained a stronghold in the -neighbourhood of dear friends. - -All this being comfortably settled, Giudice and I went forth to pay our -visit in Lucas Street. The whole of that street we found so utterly -changed in appearance by a vigorous onset of painters, grainers, and -decorators, that it was not easy to know the house we were in quest of. -Even the numbers on the doors, which had been illegible, or very nearly -so, had now been re-arranged and painted over again upon the fashionable -and very sensible mode of marking odd numerals on one side, and even -ones on the other. Finding myself in a difficulty, and the houses all -alike as the central peas of a pod, I trusted to Judy's delicate nose, -and rang the bell of the door at which he halted. Then he drew back, -and trembled, and crouched upon the pavement, to wait for my return. As -I heard the tinkle, my heart began to flutter: who could tell what new -phase of my life might begin with that little pull? After some delay, -poor old Cora came, looking as weird and woebegone as ever--fierce would -have been that look to any one but me. I knew that I held her by my -magic gordit, like the slave of the lamp. After imploring in some -mumbled words (which I interpreted only by knowledge of her desire) -gracious leave to kiss that potent charm, she led me into the -breakfast-parlour, where I found sweet Isola in a passionate flood of -tears. - -At sight of me, her beautiful smile broke through them, and her quick -deep sobs spent themselves in kisses. - -"Oh, I am so gug-gug-glad, my own dear Cla-Cla-Clara; and I won't -cuc-cuc-cry one bit more, the moment I can stop." - -She put her arms around me, and her head upon my breast, as if I had -been, at the very least, her brother. - -"My pretty dear, what is it all about?" - -I had never seen her look so lovely as now, her violet eyes brimming -with liquid brightness, the velvet of her cheeks deepened to rich -carmine, and the only thing that sweet face ever wanted, the expression -of earnest feeling, now radiant through the whole. - -"Why, dear, I ought not to tell you; but I must tell somebody, or my -heart will break." - -Here she pressed her little hand on that pure unfissured casket, where -sorrow was as yet an undreamed-of robber. - -"You know, dear, it's all about papa and my darling Conny. The only -trouble I ever have, but a very great one, big enough and too big for -two little folk of my size. Half an hour ago, I went in suddenly to get -a book upon the politico-economical science, the very one papa is -lecturing about so beautifully; and I did not even know that Conny was -in the house. There papa was, white as death with passion; and Conrad -with his eyes like coals of sparkling fire; and what do you suppose my -papa called his own son Conny?" - -"Don't tell me, if it's anything bad. I can't bear it, Isola." - -"Oh, I knew you were fond of him, and I am so glad!" - -This she said in such an artless way--as if Conrad and I were two dolls -which she meant to put in one doll's house--that instead of colouring, I -actually laughed. - -"Oh, but I must tell you, Clara: it's right for you to know; one of the -leading principles of political economy--" - -"Don't talk to me of that stuff." - -"Well, I won't; because I see that you don't understand it. But he -actually called him--and his voice came from a depth, like an Artesian -well--he called our darling Conny--" - -"What?" And in my passion, I flung off her hand, and stood up. - -"A low bastard, a renegade hound, a scandal to his country--and then he -even said Rimbecco." - -She pronounced the last word almost with a scream, as an insult beyond -forgiveness. What it meant I did not ask, I had heard enough already. - -"I must leave this house. Where is your brother Conrad?" - -"Gone, I believe, to inquire for you. Nothing but that composes him. I -wish he would never come here. And he was ordered not to. But it is -about some business. Oh, he never will come again." And she began to -cry at the thought of the very thing she had wished for. - -"Neither will I come again. Where is your father now?" - -"Up at his lumbering cabinet, where he always consoles himself, whenever -he is put out. But if you are going, dear child, do let me come with -you. I shall cry till I die here, all by myself: and Pappy never cares -about me, when he is in his black dudgeon." - -In a few minutes we left the rude unpleasant house, and even Judy seemed -relieved to get away from the door. By the time we reached Mrs. -Shelfer's, Idols was in capital spirits again, and pressed me for some -account of the wonderful wealth, and the grand house she had heard of. -No doubt this rumour had found its way through Ann Maples. - -"And the great Lord--what's his name, dear Donna? I wouldn't believe a -word of it; though I'm sure you are a deal too good for all the house of -peers. But Conny did; and wasn't he in a way? But he ought to be very -glad you know--wish you every blessing, as they say in the plays; and a -peer is the very highest blessing to an Englishwoman. But one thing I -am quite resolved on: Judy belongs to me now, don't you, lovely Judy?" - -"No," said the judicious, "I belong to Clara." - -"Though Conny pretends, since he was left at your place, that he belongs -to him. Now I will give him to you; and so will Conny too. You can -afford to keep him now, and I can't, he does eat such a lot; and he does -not care a pin for me, but he loves you with all his heart." - -"How do you know he does?" I was not attending much, but thinking of -some one else. - -"Why, can't you see that he does, how he wags his tail every time you -even look at him? But I hope poor Conny is here. I should think he -would stop, when he finds _darling Clara_ come back." - -I had jumped to that hope long ago, before we even left Lucas Street, -and that had something to do with my walking so fast. - -No, he was not there, he had not been there to-day. It was my turn now -to cry; what might he not have done, after that fearful insult, and from -his own father too? - -The tears, which I confided to no one except the wooden-legged -blackbird--for Giudice would have made such a fuss about them--were -still upon my cheeks, when I heard the well-known step--not half so -elastic as usual. I fled into my bedroom, and pushed the boxes about, -to make a goodly noise, and to account for the colour in my face. Then -out I came at the side-door, and ran downstairs perversely, though I -knew that Conrad and Isola were in my sitting-room. - -But this first-rate manoeuvre only outwitted its author, for Isola ran -down after me, and sent me upstairs alone. All my little nonsense -vanished the moment I looked in Conrad's face. His healthy brown -complexion was faded to an opal white; beneath his eyes such dark blue -rims, that I thought he had spectacles on; and on either cheek a round -red spot was burning. So shocked I was, that when he took my hand, I -turned my face away and smothered down a sob. I felt that I had no -right to be so fresh and blooming. Nor was it only in health that the -contrast between us lay. I was dressed with unusual care, having -fidgeted all the morning, and with my utmost taste. Poor Conrad was in -his working clothes, full of marble dust, tumbled, threadbare, and even -in need of mending; his hair swept anyhow, and his hands not over-lately -washed. Yet, for all that, he was as clearly a gentleman, as I was a -lady. - -Not so would he have been arrayed, I fancy, had he thought to see neat -Clara. And yet, who knows? "I trust that you will excuse me," he began -to say, "but such things have happened lately--you will not account me -rude--I had no sense at all of this great pleasure." - -"I fear you have not been very happy." I knew not what to say, or how -to keep my voice clear. - -"Yes," he replied, "as happy as I deserve. It serves me aright for -esteeming so much of myself, before that I do anything. But I will win -my way"--and his own proud glance flashed out--"and we shall see how -many will scorn me then." - -"No one in the world can scorn you," I said very softly, and my voice -thrilled through him. - -"Ah, you are always kind and gentle:"--am I though, thought I--"but I -will no more fatigue you with my different lot in life. I am told that -some great nobleman has won you for his own. Perhaps you will give me -an order." - -His throat was swelling with these bitter words, and he looked at his -dusty clothes. Somewhat rude I thought him, but I knew not half his -troubles. - -"Whoever told you that, has made a great mistake. I am engaged to no -one. Your sister knows me better." And I turned away to the window. -For a minute he said nothing; but I could hear his heart beat. -Stedfastly I looked at the cheesemonger's shop. Oh for a flower, or -something on the balcony! - -Presently he came round the corner of the sofa. Without being rude, I -could not help turning round. - -His face was much, much, brighter, and his eyes more kind. - -"Have I said any harm--I would not for the world--I knew not it was -harm." - -"No harm," I said, "to think so ill of me! To believe, for a single -moment, that because I am not so poor, I would go and forsake--at least, -I mean, forget--any one I cared for!" - -"Can I ever hope, if I serve you all my life, that you will ever care -for me?" - -"Don't you know I do?" And I burst into my violent flood. - -When I came to myself, both his arms were round me, and I was looking up -at his poor sick face, my hair quite full of marble chips, and he was -telling me with glad tears in his eyes, which he never took from mine, -how he cared for nothing now, not for all the world, not for glory or -fur shame, so long as I only loved him. - -"With all my heart and soul," I whispered, "him and no one else -whatever, whether in life or death." - -All the folly we went through I am not going to repeat, though I -remember well every atom of it. Let the wise their wisdom keep, we are -babes and sucklings. Neither of us had ever loved before, or ever meant -to love again, except of course each other, and that should be for ever. - -"One thing I must tell you, my own sweet love, and yet I fear to do it. -But you are not like other girls. There is no one like you, nor has -there ever been. I think you will not scorn me for another's fault." - -"Of course I won't, my own pet Conny. What is this awful thing?" - -"I am an illegitimate son." - -One moment I sprang from him; the next I despised myself. But in spite -of all my troubles, there still lurked in my heart the narrow pride of -birth. Down to the earth it fell beneath the foot of true love, and I -kissed away from his eyes the mingled reproach and sorrow, assuring him -that at least he should have a legitimate wife. - -To make amends, I leaned upon him one moment, and put my hand on his -shoulder, and let him play awhile with the dark shower of my hair. - -"Darling Conny, you have told me yours, now you shall hear my secret. -Only promise me you will give tit for tat. You say you loved me ever -since you saw me first; then you must have loved your Clara when you -saved her life." - -"What do you mean, my Clara? Those low ruffians in the Park were not -going to kill you." - -"No, dearest; I don't mean that at all. But there's a kiss for that, I -have owed it you ever since. But what I mean no kisses can repay; no, -nor a life of love. You saved a life worth fifty of my own." - -Some dark alarm was growing in his eyes, on which I gazed with vague -increasing terror. - -"Why, dearest, it is nothing. Only your own Clara is not Clara Valence; -you must call her 'Clara Vaughan.'" - -With actual violence he thrust me from his arms, and stood staring at -me, while I trembled from head to foot; his face was one scarlet flame. - -"And pray, Sir, what harm have I done? Am I to suppose that -you"--special emphasis meant for illegitimacy--"that you are ashamed of -my father and me?" - -"Yes, I am. Accursed low licentious race! If you knew what you have -done, you would tear your heart out rather than give it to me." - -"Thank you--I feel obliged--my heart indeed--to a bastard. Take back -your ring if you please; kindly restore me mine. May I trouble you for -room enough to go by?" - -And I swept out of the room, and through the side-door into my bed-room, -where I crouched in a corner, with both hands on my heart, and the whole -world gone away. "Mad!" I heard him cry, "yes, I must go mad at last!" -Away he rushed from the house, and I fell upon the bed, and lay in fits -till midnight. - - - - - CHAPTER V. - - -I believe that my heart would have burst, if they had not cut my stays; -and how I wished it had. When I came back to my unlucky self, there was -something shivery cold in the forehead wave of my hair. Was it Conrad's -finger? I put up my hand to dash it away, and caught a fine fat leech. -Dr. Franks was sitting by me, holding a basin and a sponge. - -"That's the last of them, my dear child. Don't disturb him. He is -doing his duty by you." - -"His duty! Was it his duty to say such fearful things? To break my -heart with every word! Ashamed of me--ashamed of my darling father! -Low and licentious! What have I done? what have I done? Oh, it I only -knew what harm I have ever done!" - -"No harm, my poor dear, no harm in the world; let me bathe your pretty -face. Come now, you shan't cry another drop. What is to become of the -beautiful eyes I was so proud of saving?" - -"Oh, I wish you hadn't, how I wish you hadn't. Dr. Franks, I have no -father, and no mother, and no one in all the world to love me, and I was -just getting so nice and happy again, so proud of myself, and so much -prouder of him, and I began to think how glad my own dear father would -be; and, Dr. Franks, I did love him so, with all my heart, perhaps it's -not very large, but with every morsel and atom of my heart--and now, now -I must hate him as much as ever I can. Oh let me go home, do let me go -home, where my father and mother are buried." And I rose in the bed to -start, and the candles glimmered in my eyes. - -"Please to go out of the room, every one please to go; and don't let -Isola come. I can't bear the sight of her now. It won't take me long -to dress, and I don't want any luggage; and, Mrs. Shelfer, please to go -for a cab: and I shan't want the rooms any more, and it does not matter -a bit about any letters. I'll tell my father everything when I see him, -and then perhaps he'll tell me what harm it is I have done. Why don't -you go, when you see I want to get up?' - -"Don't you see, my dear child, we are going? Only you must take this -glass of wine first, to prepare you for your long journey. Will you -take it now, while we fetch the cab?" - -"Yes, anything, anything: I don't care what it is. Only let me get -ready." - -And I drank, without even tasting it, a glass of some dark liquid, which -saved me from wandering further either in mind or body. - -When I awoke, it was broad noon once more, and Dr. Franks was sitting by -me with one of my hands in his. "Magnificent constitution," I thought I -heard him mutter, "glorious constitution." What good was it to me? At -the foot of the bed, sat Isola crying terribly. Slowly I remembered all -my great disaster, but saw it only through a dull gray veil. The power -of the opiate was still upon my brain. But a cold dead pain lay heavy -on my heart, and always seemed to want a heavy hand upon it. After he -had given me a reviving draught, Dr. Franks perceived that I wished to -speak to Isola, and accordingly withdrew. - -Poor Isola came slowly and sat beside my pillow, doubting whether she -should dare to take my hand. Therefore I took hers, drew her face -towards me, and covered it with kisses. Isola had done no harm to me -whatever, and I felt it something to have even her to love. She was -overcome with affectionate surprise. - -"Oh, Clara dearest, I am so very glad to find you love me still. I -feared that you would never care for me again. What is it all about, -dear, if you are well enough to tell me, what is all this dreadful -misery about?" - -"That is the very thing I want to learn from you, dear. Surely you must -know better far than I do." - -I would not even ask her what had become of Conrad. - -"No, I don't dear. I don't know at all. All I know is there must have -been some dreadful quarrel between you and Conrad. I must tell you, -dear, I was so anxious about something you can guess, that I stole up to -the door soon after he came in; and you were so intent upon the window, -that you never even saw me put the door ajar; and then I heard him tell -you how very much he loved you, and I was so glad. And then I thought it -was not quite fair of me, and I knew all I wanted, so I ran downstairs -again. And the next thing I heard was your bedroom door bang and then -Conny dashed out the house, and Judy came down to me looking very -sorrowful. And I ran up to you, and here I found you shrieking so, and -rolling, and clutching at the bedclothes, and I was so frightened I -could not even move. And then Judy came and made such a dreadful -howling, and Mrs. Shelfer ran straight off for the doctor, and I poured -the water in the decanter over you, and I can't tell any more." - -"But surely, darling, you have been home since that?" - -"Oh yes; when Dr. Franks came, and you were a little better, he would -make me go home, because he did not want two patients, he said; and his -eldest daughter, such a nice girl, came with me; and my papa didn't even -know that I had been out of the house. He was still upstairs, brooding -over his relics, and all the sixth form at the College had to go to -dinner without their lectures; but I do believe the stupid girls were -glad." - -"And did you hear--no, it doesn't matter." - -"No, I never heard what became of Conrad. No doubt he went back to his -favourite chip, chipping. He has got a splendid thing he is full of now, -and it prevents his sleeping; something or other very horrible from -Dante, and the leading figure is modelled after you. I have seen the -drawings, and he has got you exactly." - -"How gratifying to be sure! I will ask you no more questions. Pray let -me know when I am for sale; though I should call it a work of -illegitimate art." - -My eyes were on her face, but she showed no consciousness whatever, -which she must have done had she known the fact referred to, for she was -quick of perception, and open as the day. I was angry with myself for -the low and bootless sneer, which was pretty certain to be conveyed to -her brother. - -"Now I will delay no longer. Let me speak to Dr. Franks. I shall go -this afternoon." - -Poor Isola turned pale; she had looked upon the occurrence as only a -lover's quarrel, sure to be set right in a day or two. She could not -harbour any great resentment long, and forgot that I could. - -"Don't talk so, dear; and you so very weak! it would be sure to kill -you. And what will Conny think? You must not go, at any rate, till you -have been to see him." - -"I go to him! I hope to see him never more until I charge him in -another world with this bitter wrong. No, no more if you please; I will -not hear his name again. How can he be your brother? Darling Idols, I -never shall forget you. Take this, my pet, and think of me sometimes, -for you will never see me more." - -I gave her an emerald ring, set with lovely pearls, small types of -herself. It was not the one I had reclaimed from her brother, that was -a plain keeper. - -"Oh Clara, Clara, don't say that, whatever you do, because I know you -will keep to it, you are so shamefully obstinate. And I never loved any -one in the world like you; no, not even Conny." - -"And not even your father or mother?" - -"No, not half so much. I like Pappy very well when he is good and kind, -but that is not very often now"--the poor little thing's eyes filled -again with tears,--"and as for my mother, I never even saw her; she died -when I was born." - -"And I love you too, my sweet, best of all the world--now. -Nevertheless, we must part." - -"And never see each other? I don't call that loving. Tell me why: do -tell me why. There seems some horrid mystery about every one I love." - -And she was overcome with grief. She had not been, like me, apprenticed -young to trouble. - -"Darling, I will write to you sometimes. You can come here for the -letters. I will have no secrets any more from you; but you must never -attempt to write to me--only send your name on a bit of paper when my -letters go." - -"But why on earth mayn't I write to you, Clara dear?" - -"I can't tell you why. Only I cannot bear it." The truth was I could -never have borne to read about her brother. So all that was settled, -and I said good-bye with plenty of bitter crying. As for Balaam and -Balak, from whom I expected tidings, and George Cutting, whom I had -thought it right to send for--I had not the heart to attend to any of -them. Dr. Franks had done his utmost to oppose my sudden journey, but I -told him truly that I should go mad if I stopped there any longer. I -could not bear the mere sight of the room where I had been, in the -height of delicious joy, so trampled upon and outraged. My brain was -burning, and my heart was aching for the only spot on earth where true -love could be found, the spot where lay my father and my mother. - -Seeing how the fever of the mind was kindling, the doctor, like a good -physician, knew that the best plan was to indulge, and so allay it. Yet -he begged me, if I had any regard for him, not to travel all alone while -in that dangerous state. With most unlooked-for and unmerited kindness, -he even sent his eldest daughter, at an hour's notice, to see me home in -safety. - -The last farewell was said to Judy, whom I would not take away, greatly -as I loved him still; and he received most stringent orders first to -conduct dear Isola home, and then to go to his old quarters at the -livery stables. Apparently he acquiesced, though with wistful glances; -but at Paddington, as I was getting the tickets, to my amazement in he -rushed, upset a couple of porters, and demanded his ticket too. Under -the circumstances there was nothing for it, except to let him go with -us, or to lose the train. So his ticket was taken, and he dashed into -the dog-box with an enthusiasm which earned him a hard knock on the -head. - - - - - CHAPTER VI. - - -Annie Franks was exactly as Isola had described her, "such a nice girl." -Kind-hearted like her father, truthful, ladylike, and sensitive; -retiring too, and humble-minded, with a well of mute romance in the -shadow of her heart, a wave of which she would not for the world -display. The only vent she ever allowed this most expansive element was -novel-reading, or a little quiet hero-worship. Her greatest happiness -was to sit upon a lonely bank, and read a slashing curtel-axe and -gramercy romance, with lots of high-born ladies in it, and lots of -moonlight love. If history got hard thumps among them, and chronology, -like an unwound clock, was right but twice in twenty-four, simple Annie -smiled no less, so long as the summer sun flashed duly on pennon, helm, -and gonfalon, and she could see bright cavalcades winding through the -greenwood shade. In "coat and waistcoat" novels her soul took no -delight. Not a shilling would she squeeze from her little beaded purse -for all the quicksilver of Dickens, or the frosted gold[#] of Thackeray. -Yet she was not by any means what fast young ladies call a "spooney;" -she had plenty of common sense upon the things of daily life, plenty of -general information, and no lack of gentle self-respect. - - -[#] "Ice-tempered steel" I had written. But alas, the great author is -dead, and they say that his kind heart was grieved by nothing so much as -the charge of Cynicism. If he were a Cynic, would that we all were -dogs!--"[Greek: _Kynòs ómmat' echôn, kradíen d' eláphoio_.]"--C.V. 1864. - - -Now she was wending through an upland meet for gray-clad reverie, where -she might dream for days and days, and none but silly deer intrude. As -we passed along in the gloaming of the May, through bosomed lawn and -bosky dell, with lilac plumes for cavaliers, and hawthorn sweeps for -ladies' trains, the soft gray eyes of Annie ceased at last to watch me, -and her thoughts were in costume of Chevy Chase or Crecy. - -By reason of the message sent the day before, no one in the house -expected me; so we stole in quietly, lest my uncle should be alarmed, -and I requested Gregory, tipsy Bob's successor, to bring Jane to meet -us, in my own little room. Annie being installed there, to her great -delight, and allowed free boot of "Marry, Sir knight," and "Now by my -halidame," I went to see my poor dear uncle, who by this time was -prepared for my visit. Very weak he seemed, and nervous, and more -rejoiced at my return than even I had expected. To me also it was warm -comfort in my cold pride-ailment to be with one of my own kin, whom none -could well disparage. There was a dignity about him, an air of lofty -birth, which my own darling father had been too genial to support. Soon -I perceived from my uncle's manner, that something had happened since my -departure to add to his uneasiness. But he offered no explanation and I -did not like to ask him. He in turn perceived the heavy dark -despondency, which, in spite of all my efforts, would at times betray -itself. Pride and indignation supported me, when I began to think, but -then I could not always think, whereas I could always feel. Moreover, -pride and indignation are, in almost every case, props that carry barbs. -In a word, though I would scorn the love-lorn maiden's part, it was sad -for me to know that I could never love again. - -With a father's tenderness, he feebly drew my head to his trembling -breast, and asked me in a tearful whisper what had happened to me. But -I was too proud to tell him. Oh that I had not been! What misery might -have been spared to many. But all the time my head lay there, I was on -fire with shame and agony, thinking of the breast on which my hair had -last been shed. - -"Now, good nurse Clara," he said at last with a poor attempt at -playfulness, "I shall have no more confidence in your professional -skill, unless you wheel me forth to-morrow with a cheerful face. You -are tired to-night, my love, and so should I have been, if you had not -come home. To-morrow you shall tell me why you came so suddenly and -saved me a day of longing. And to-morrow, if I am strong enough, I will -tell you a little history, which may be lost, like many a great one, -unless it is quickly told. Stop--one cup of tea, dear, and how proud I -am to pour it out for you--and then I will not keep you from a livelier -friend. To-morrow, you must introduce me. I still like pretty girls, -and you should have brought that lovely Isola with you. I can't think -why you didn't. She would have been most welcome." - -"Come, uncle, I shall be jealous. The young lady I have brought is -quite pretty enough for you." - -He sighed at some remembrance, and then asked abruptly, - -"Do you mean to sleep, my darling, in the little room to-night?" His -voice shook so, while he asked this question, that I was quite certain -something had alarmed him. The little room was the one I had occupied -between the main corridor and his present bedroom. It was meant for an -ante-room, not a sleeping chamber; but I had brought my little iron -bedstead thither. - -"To be sure I do, dear uncle; do you suppose, because I have been off -duty, that I mean to be cashiered? Only one thing I must tell you; I -have brought home with me one of the very best friends I ever had. You -have heard me talk of Giudice. I cannot bear the thought of parting -with him to-night, he will cry so dreadfully in the strange stables; and -in London he always slept on the mat outside my door. May I have him in -the lobby, uncle, you will never hear him move, and he never snores -except just after dinner?" - -"To be sure, my pet; I would not part you for the world. God bless you, -my own child, and keep your true heart lighter." - -If I had been really his own child, he could not have been more loving -to me, than he had now become. - -After giving Annie Franks her tea, which she was far too deep in -tournament to drink, I paid a visit to Mrs. Fletcher's room, and learned -from her that nothing, so far as she knew, had happened to disturb my -uncle: Mrs. Daldy had not been near the house, and there was a rumour -afloat that she had been called to take part in a revival meeting near -Swansea. So after introducing Judy, who was a dreadful dog for jam, and -having him admired almost as much as he ought to be, I returned to -Annie, and found her in high delight with everything and everybody, and -most of all with her tapestry-writer. Leaving her at last under Tilly's -care, Judy and I were making off for our sleeping quarters, when truant -Matilda followed me down the passage hastily. - -"Oh, Miss, please, Miss, I want to tell you something, and I did not -like to name it before that nice young lady, because I am sure she is -timid like." - -Matilda looked not timid like, but terrified exceedingly, as she stared -on every side with her candle guttering. - -"Hold your candle up, Matilda; and tell me what it is." - -By this time we were in the main passage, "corridor" they called it, and -could see all down it by the faint light of some oil-lamps, to the oriel -window at the farther end, whereon the moon (now nearly full again) was -shining. - -"Why, Miss, the ghost was walking last night, and the night before." - -"Nonsense, Matilda. Don't be so absurd." - -"It's true, Miss. True as you stand there. Pale gray it is this time, -and so tall, and the face as white as ashes." And a shiver ran through -Tilly, at her own description--"You know, Miss, it's the time of year, -and she always walks three nights together, from the big east window to -this end and back again. So please to lock your door, Miss, and bolt it -too inside." - -"Well done, Tilly! Does any one intend to wait up for the ghost? What -time does it come?" - -"One o'clock, Miss, as punctual as a time-piece. But could you suppose, -Miss, any one would dare to wait up and see it?" - -"Then how have they seen it, in the name of folly?" - -"Why, Miss, I'll tell you. One of the carriage-horses got an -inflammation in his eyes, and the farrier give orders to have it sponged -never more than three hours between, and so William Edwards, the -head-groom if you please, Miss"--Tilly curtseyed here, because this was -her legitimate sweetheart--"he stops up till one o'clock to see to it, -and then Job Leyson goes instead. So William come in, Miss, on Monday -night, to go to bed, please, Miss, and he took the short cut, not that -he were allowed, Miss, or would think of taking a liberty on no account -whatever, but he were that sleepy he didn't know the way to bed, so he -went across the corridor for the short cut from the kitchen gallery to -the servants' passage; and there he saw--he hadn't any light, Miss, and -the lamps all out--Goodness me! Whatever was that? Did you hear it, -Miss?" - -"Yes, and see it, Tilly; it's a daddy in your candle. Go on, Tilly, will -you. Am I to stop here all night and get as bad as you are?" - -"There William Edwards, a man who never swears or drinks, there he saw -all in the dark, coming so stately down the corridor, as if it hadn't -room enough, with one arm up like this, a tall pale melancholy ghost, -and he knew it was the lady who was wronged and killed, when the great -wars was, Miss, two hundred year agone." - -"Well, Tilly, and did he speak to it?" - -"He was that frightened, Miss, he could not move or speak; but he fell -again the wall in the side-passage, with his eyes coming out of his -head, and his hair up like my wicker-broom. And then she vanished away, -and he got to bed, and did perspire so, they was forced to wring the -blankets." - -"Capital, Tilly! And who saw her the next night?" - -"Why that nincompoop Job Leyson, Miss. Our William was a deal too wise -to go that way any more, but he tell Job Leyson, and he a foolish empty -fellow, perhaps you know, Miss. 'Ho,' says Job, 'I often hear tell of -her, to-night I'll have a peep.' So last night when William went to bed -on the servants' side, down comes Job and takes the front way, pretty -impudent of him I think. And, Miss, I don't know what he see, I never -says much to him; but there they found him in the saddle-room, at five -o'clock this morning, with his heels up on a rack, and his head down in -the bucket, and never a bit of sponge had come near the poor mare's -eye." - -"Oh, thank you, Tilly. Perhaps you had better snuff your candle. No -ghost will have much chance that comes near my Judy." And with that I -went to bed, tired of such nonsense. - -An hour of deep sleep from pure weariness both of mind and body, and I -awoke with every fibre full of nervous life. The moon was high in the -south-east, and three narrow stripes of lozenged light fell upon the old -oak floor. Although my uncle had left the gable where the windows faced -the setting sun, he still kept to the western wing. The house, which -was built in the reign of Henry the Eighth, covered the site and in some -parts embodied the relics of a much more ancient structure. The plan -was very simple, at least as regarded the upstair rooms. From east to -west ran one long corridor, crossed at right angles, in the centre and -near the ends, by three gable passages. Although there were so many -servants, not half the rooms were occupied: all the best bedrooms had -been empty many a year. No festivities had filled them since my -father's days. Gloom and terror still hung over the eastern part, where -he had been so foully murdered. In most of the downstair windows along -the front of the house, the rickety lattice of diamond panes had been -replaced by clear plate-glass, but the old hall, and the corridor, and -some of the gable windows still retained their gorgeous tints and -heraldry. - -As the shadows of the mullions stole upon my counterpane, there began to -creep across my mind uneasy inklings of the ghost. A less imaginative -man than William Edwards, I who had often enjoyed his escort, knew well -there could not be. As for Job Leyson I could not tell with what -creative powers his mind might be endowed; but--to judge from -physiognomy--a light ring snaffle would hold them. - -Thinking, with less and less complacence, of this apparition story, and -the red legend which lay beneath it, for the spectral lady was believed -to be a certain Beatrice Vaughan, daughter of the Cavalier who perceived -the moss-light, and heiress of the house 200 years ago--thinking of -this, I say, with more and more of flutter, I sat up in the bed and -listened. My uncle's thick irregular breathing, the play of an ivy-leaf -on the mullion, the half-hour struck by the turret-clock, were all the -sounds I heard; except that my heart, so listless and desponding, was -re-asserting some right to throb for its own safety. With my hand upon -it, I listened for another minute, resolving if I heard nothing more to -make a great nest in the pillows--I always want three at least--and shut -both ears to destiny. But there came, before the minute passed, a low, -long, hollow sound, an echo of trembling expectation. In a moment I -leaped from the bed; though I had never heard it before, I knew it could -only be the bloodhound's cautious warning. - -I flung a long cloak round me, gathered close my hair, hurried velvet -slippers on, locked my uncle in, and quietly opened the outer door. -There stood Giudice in the moonlight, with his head towards the far east -window, his ears laid back, his crest erect, and in his throat a -gurgling sound, a growl suppressed by wonder. He never turned to look at -me, nor even wagged his tail, but watched and waited grimly. I laid my -hand upon him, and then glided down the corridor, avoiding the moonlight -patches. Giudice followed, like my shadow, never a foot behind me, his -tread as stealthy as a cat's. Before I reached the oriel window where -the broad light fell, something told me to draw aside and watch. I -withdrew, and Giudice with me, into the dark entrance to my father's -room. Here we would see what came. Scarcely had I been there ten -throbs of the heart, when between me and the central light, where the -moonbeams fell askance, rose a tall gray figure. I am not quite a -coward, for a woman at least, but every drop of blood within me at that -sight stood still. Even Giudice trembled, and his growl was hushed, and -every hair upon him bristled as he crouched into my cloak. Slowly the -form was rising, like a corpse raised from a coffin by the loose end of -the winding-sheet. I could not speak, I could not move, much less could -I think. With a silent stately walk, or glide--for no feet could I -see--the figure came towards the embrasure where we lurked. Ashy white -the face was, large the eyes and hollow, all the hair fell down the -back, the form was tall and graceful, one arm was lifted as in appeal, -to heaven, and the shroud drooped from it, the other lay across the -breast. The colour of the shroud was gray, pale, unearthly gray. For -one moment as it passed, I kept my teeth from chattering. Giudice -crawled one step before me, with his mind made up for death. Back the -blood leaped to my heart, as the apparition glided slowly down the -corridor without sigh or footfall. - -What to do I knew not; my feet were now unrooted from the ground. -Should I fly into my father's death-room? No; I was afraid. To stay -where I was seemed best, but how could I see it come back, as I knew it -would? Another such suspension of my life, and all, I felt, would be -over. - -Suddenly, while still the figure was receding in the distance, I saw a -great change in the bloodhound. He strode into the corridor, and began -to follow. At the same time, the deep gurgle in his throat revived. In -a moment, it flashed through me that he had smelt the ghost to be a -thing of flesh and blood. It might be my father's murderer. At any -rate it had entered as he must have done. Close behind the dog I stole -after the spectral figure. The supernatural horror fled; all my life -was in my veins. What became of me I cared not, I who was so wretched. -Almost to the end, that gliding form preceded us, then turned down a -flight of steps leading to the basement. Triple resolution gushed -through me at this; this was the spot where the ghost was known to turn, -and glide back through the corridor. When it had descended about -half-way down the staircase, where the steps were on the turn and -narrow, standing at the head I distinctly heard a flop, as of a -slipper-heel dropping from the foot, and then caught up again. What -ghost was likely to want slippers? And what mortal presence need I -fear, with Judy at my side? Keeping him behind me by a gentle touch, I -hurried down the stairs. Luckily, I stopped before I turned the corner, -for a gleam came up the passage; the ghost had struck a lucifer. - -It was a dark and narrow passage, proof to any moon-light, and the -spectre lost no time in lighting a small lamp, to find the study door; I -mean my uncle's private study, where he kept his papers. The lamp was -of peculiar shape, very small, and fitted with three reflectors, to -throw the light in converging planes. - -Still remaining in deep shadow, I saw the person--ghost no -longer--produce a key, open the study door and enter. Then an attempt -was made to lock the door from the inside, but--as I knew by the -sound--the false key would not work that way, and the door was only -closed. Whispering into Judy's ear, that if he dared to move--for his -honest wrath at these burglarious doings could scarcely be controlled--I -would make a ghost of him next day, I left him in the passage, and -softly followed the intruder. First I looked through the key-hole; the -room was very dark and full of heavy furniture; I could see nothing; but -must risk the chance. So I slipped in noiselessly and closed the door -behind me. With the ghostly apparel thrown aside, and a mask laid on an -ebony desk, stood intently occupied at the large bureau, which I had -once so longed to search, my arch-enemy, Mrs. Daldy. I was not at all -surprised, having felt long since that it could be no other. Sitting -upon a stiff-backed velvet chair, in the shadow of an oaken -bookcase--crouch I would not for her--I waited to see what she would do. -Already the folding-doors of the large bureau were open; their creaking -had drowned the noise of my entry. Before her was exposed a multitude -of drawers. All the visible doors she had probably explored on the -previous nights, as well as the other repositories of various kinds -which the room contained. Her search was narrowed now to one particular -part of this bureau. - -The folding-doors were very large, and richly inlaid with arabesques and -scroll-work of satin-wood and ebony: all the inside was fitted and -adorned with ivory pillars, small alcoves containing baby mirrors, -flights of chequered steps, and other quaint devices, besides the more -business-like and useful sliding trays. With the lamp-light flashing on -it, it looked like a palace for the Queen of Dolls--a place for puppet -ceremony and pleasure. Every drawer was faced with marquetrie, every -little door had panels of shagreen. In short, the whole thing would -have been the pride of any shop in Wardour Street, when that street was -itself. Having never seen it open till now, I was quite astonished, -though I don't know how often my father had promised to show it to me on -my very next birthday, if I were good. Probably I was never good -enough. - -Without any hesitation, Mrs. Daldy pressed a fan, or slide, of -cedar-wood, in the right corner of the cabinet; the slide sunk into a -groove, and disclosed two deep, but narrow drawers; these she pulled out -from their boxes, and laid aside; they were full of papers, which she no -doubt had already examined. Then she placed the diminutive lamp on one -of the doll steps, and produced from her pocket three or four little -tools. Before commencing with these, she probed and pressed the -partition between the sockets of those two drawers, in every imaginable -way--a last attempt to find the countersign of some private nook, which -had defied her the night before. - -At length, with a low cry of impatience, she seized a small, thin -chisel, and a bottle of clear liquid: with the one she softened the buhl -veneer upon the partition's face, and with the other she removed it. -Then, after a little unscrewing, she carefully prized away the stop of -cedar-wood, while I admired her workman-like proceedings (so far as they -were visible to me), and the graceful action of the arms she was so -proud of. Her shoulder came rather in my way, but I got a glimpse of the -narrow, vertical opening, where the cedar-stop had been. She drew a -long breath of delight and pride, then thrust a wire-crook into this -opening, and hooked forth two thin and closely-fastened packets. Eagerly -she looked at them; they were what she wanted. No doubt she knew their -contents; her object was to get hold of them. Having placed them -carefully in her bosom, she prepared for a little more joiner's work, to -restore what she had dismantled. Her dexterity was so pleasing, that I -let her proceed for a while. She soon refixed the cedar-stop, tapping it -in the most knowing way with the handle of the screw-driver, then she -screwed it tightly, and spread the wood with some liquid cement to carry -the veneer. She had mislaid the narrow strip of tortoise-shell and -brass, and was looking for it on the chequered steps, when I called -aloud: - -"Shall I show you where you put it, Mrs. Daldy? But where on earth did -you learn your trade?" - -Never was amazement written more strongly on any human face. If the -ghost had frightened me, I now had my full revenge. She dropped the -bottle of cement, and it rolled on the cabinet steps; she turned, with -her face as white as the mask, and glared round the room, for I was -still concealed in the recess. I thought she would have blown out the -lamp, but she had not presence of mind enough: otherwise among all that -furniture it would not have been easy to catch her; and she knew nothing -of my sentinel at the door. - -After some quiet enjoyment of her terror, I came forth, and met her -fairly. - -"What, Clara Vaughan! Is it possible? I thought you were in London." - -"Is it possible that I have found a Christian, so truly earnest about -her soul, so yearning over the unregenerate, committing a black robbery -in the dead of night? Is this what you call a wholesome conviction of -sin?" - -Low exultation I confess: but the highest blood in the land, if it were -blood, could scarcely have forborne it: for how I abhorred that -hypocrite! - -For a time she knew not what to do or say, but glared at me without much -Christian feeling. Then she tried to carry it off in a grandly superior -style. She drew herself up, and looked as if I were not worth reasoning -with. - -"Perhaps you are young enough to imagine, that because appearances are -at this moment peculiar--" - -"Thank you: there is no need to inquire into the state of my mind. Be -kind enough to restore those packets which you have stolen." - -"Indeed! I am perfectly amazed at your audacity. What I have belongs to -me righteously, and a stronger hand than yours is required to rob me." -She grasped her chisel, and stood in a menacing attitude. I answered -her very quietly, and without approaching nearer. - -"If I wish to see you torn in pieces, I have only to raise my hand. -Giudice!" And I gave a peculiar whistle thoroughly known to my dog. He -leaped against the door, forced the worn catch from the guard, and stood -at my side, with his great eyes flashing and his fangs laid bare. Mrs. -Daldy jumped to the other side of the table, and seized a heavy chair. - -"My dear child, my dear girl, I believe you are right after all. It is -so hard to judge--for God's sake keep him back--so hard to judge when -one's own rights are in question. The old unregenerate tendencies--" - -"Will lodge you in Gloucester jail to-morrow. Once more those -papers--or--" and I looked at Giudice and began to raise my hand. His -eyes were on it, and he gathered himself for the spring like a cannon -recoiling. In the height of her terror, she tore her dress open and -flung me the packets across the end of the table. I examined and fixed -them to Judy's collar. Then we both advanced, and penned her up in a -corner. It was so delightful to see her for once in her native -meanness, despoiled of her cant and phylactery, like a Pharisee under an -oil-press. She fell on her knees and implored me, in plain earnest -English for once, to let her go. She appealed to my self-interest, and -offered me partnership in her schemes; whereby alone I could regain the -birthright of which I had been so heinously robbed. I only asked if she -could reveal the mystery of my father's death. She could not tell me -anything, or she would have jumped at the chance. At last I promised to -let her go, if she would show me the secret entrance under the oriel -window. It was not for her own sake I released her, but to avoid the -scandal and painful excitement which her trial must have created. When -she departed, now thoroughly crestfallen, I followed her out of the -house by the secret passage, wherein she had stored a few of her -stage-properties. Giudice, whom, for fear of treachery, I kept at my -side all the time, showed his great teeth in the moonlight, and almost -challenged my right to let her go. After taking the packets from him, I -gave him a sheepskin mat under the window there, and left him on guard; -although there was little chance of another attempt being made, while -the papers were in my keeping. Her mask and spectral drapery remained -with me, as trophies of this my ghostly adventure. - - - - - CHAPTER VII. - - -Next day when I showed my uncle the two sealed packets which I had -rescued, and told him all that had happened, at first he was overcome -with terror and amazement. His illness seemed to have banished all his -satirical humour, and that disdainful apathy which is the negative form -of philosophy. He took the parcels with a trembling hand, and began to -examine the seals. - -"All safe," he said at last, "all safe, to my surprise. Dear child, I -owe you more than life this time. You have defeated my worst enemy. To -your care only will I commit these papers, one of which, I hope will -soon be of little value. It is my will; and by it your father's estates -are restored to you, while the money which I have saved by my own care -and frugality is divided into two portions, one for you, and the other, -upon certain events, for that worthless Mrs. Daldy. This must be -altered at once. When you have heard my story, you may read the will, -if you like. Indeed I wish you to do so, because it will prove that in -spite of all our estrangement, I have meant all along to act justly -towards you. But that you may understand things properly, I will tell -you my strange history. Only one thing you must promise before I -begin." - -"What is it, uncle dear?" - -"That you will forgive me for my one great error. Although it was the -cause of your dear father's death." - -I could not answer, for a minute. Then I took his hand and kissed it, -as he turned his face away. - -"My darling, I am not quite strong enough now after all you have been -telling me. Although I had dark suspicions yesterday that some plot was -in action; for I had observed that things in the study were not as I had -left them; and I had other reasons too. But take me, my precious child, -to the sunny bank this afternoon, and please God, I will at least begin -my tale." - -I begged him in vain to defer it: there was a weight upon his mind, he -said, which he must unload. So in the early afternoon, I wheeled him -gently to the sheltered nook. There, with the breezes way-lost among -new streets of verdure, tall laburnum dangling chains of gold around us, -and Giudice stretching out his paws in sunny yawns of glory, I listened -to my uncle's tale, and was too young to understand the sigh which -introduced it. How few may tell the story of their lives without -remembering how they played with life! Alas the die thrown once for -all, but left to roll unwatched, and lie uncounted! - -Though I cannot tell the story in his impressive way, I will try to -repeat it, so far as my memory serves, in his words, and with his -feelings. Solemnly and sadly fell the history from his lips, for his -mind from first to last was burdened with the knowledge that the end was -nigh at hand, that nothing now remained, except to wait with resignation -the impending blow. - - - - STORY OF EDGAR VAUGHAN. - - -"I have always been, as you know, of a roving unsocial nature. My -father being dead before I was born, and my mother having married again -before I could walk, there was little to counteract my centrifugal -tendencies. I seemed to belong to neither family; though I always clung -to the Vaughans, and disliked the Daldys. The trustees of my mother's -settlement were my virtual guardians; for all the Vaughan estates being -most strictly entailed, my father had nothing to dispose of, and -therefore had made no will. My mother's settlement comprised only -personal estate, for no power had been reserved under the entail to -create any charges upon the land. The mortgages, of which no doubt you -have heard, as paid off by your father, were encumbrances of long -standing. - -"The estates, I need not tell you, were shamefully mismanaged, during -your father's long minority. An agent was appointed under the Court of -Chancery, and an indolent rogue he was. Meanwhile your father and -myself went through the usual course of education, no difference being -made in that respect between us. Although we were only half-brothers, we -were strongly attached to each other, especially after a thorough -drubbing which your good papa found it his duty to administer to me at -Eton. It did me a world of good; before that, I had rather despised him -for the gentleness of his nature. At Oxford, after your father had -left, I kept aloof both from the great convivial and from the thinly -peopled reading set, and lived very much by myself. Soon as the -humorous doings, whose humour culminates in the title 'lectures,' soon -as these were over, I was away from the freckled stones, punting lazily -on the Cherwell, with French and Italian novels; or lounging among the -gipseys on the steppes of Cowley. Hall I never frequented, but dined at -some distant tavern, and spent the evening, and often the night till -Tom-curfew, in riding through the lonely lanes towards Otmoor, Aston -Common, or Stanlake. It was strange that I never fell in love, for I -had plenty of small adventures, and fell in with several pretty girls, -but never one I cared for. Gazing on the wreck I am, it is no conceit -to say that in those times I was considered remarkably good-looking. Of -course I was not popular; that I never cared for; but nobody had reason -to dislike me. I affected no peculiarity, gave myself no airs, behaved -politely to all who took the trouble to address me; and the world, which -I neither defied nor courted, followed its custom in such cases, and let -me have my way. - -"At Lincoln's Inn, my life was much the same, except that wherries -succeeded punts, and evening rides were exchanged for moonlight walks in -the park. It was reported at home, as it is of most men who are called -to the Bar, that I was likely to do great things. There never was a -chance of it. Setting aside the question of ability, I had no -application, no love of the law, no idea whatever of touting; and still -more fatal defect, my lonely habits were darkening into a shy dislike of -my species. - -"You have heard that I was extravagant. As regards my early career, the -charge is quite untrue. Money, I confess, was never much in my -thoughts, nor did I ever attempt to buy things below their value; but my -wants were so few, and my mode of life so ungenial, that I never -exceeded the moderate sum allotted to me as a younger son. Afterwards -this was otherwise, and for excellent reasons. - -"During the height of the London season I was always most restless and -misanthropic. Not that I looked with envy on the frivolous dust of -fashion, and clouds of sham around me; but that I felt myself lowered as -an Englishman by the cringing, the falsehood, the small babooneries, -which we call 'society.' I longed to be, if I could but afford it, -where men have more manly self-respect, and women more true womanhood. - -"Your parents were married, my darling Clara, at the end of December, -1826, six years before your birth. Upon that occasion, your dear father, -the only man in the world for whom I cared a fig, made me a very -handsome present. In fact he gave me a thousand pounds. He would have -given me a much larger sum, for he was a most liberal man, but the -estates had suffered from long mismanagement, and were seriously -encumbered. I do not hesitate to say that the gross income of this -property is now double what it was when your father succeeded to it, and -the net income more than quadruple. During the four years which elapsed -between that event and his marriage, he had devoted all he could spare -to the clearance of encumbrances and therefore, as I said, the present -he made me was a most generous one. More than this, he invited and -pressed me to come and live on the estate, and offered to set me up in a -farm which I might hold from him on most advantageous terms. Upon my -refusal, he even begged me to accept, at a most liberal salary, the -stewardship of the property, and the superintendence of great -improvements, which he meant to effect. I remember, as if it were -yesterday, the very words he used. He took my hand in his, and with -that genial racy smile, which very few could resist, - -"'Come, Ned,' he cried, 'there are but two of us; there's room for both -in the old nest; and you are big enough to thrash me now.'" - -At the sweet recollection of his Eton drubbing, as he called it, my poor -uncle's eyes grew moist. - -"So you see, my child, instead of grudging your father the property, I -had every reason to love and revere him. However, I refused this as -well as the other offer; but I accepted his present, and invested it -rather luckily. After spending a pleasant month at home--as I always -called it--I returned to London early in April, 1827. There are no two -minds alike, any more than there are two bodies; and yet how little -variety exists in polite society! Surely it were more reasonable to -wedge the infant face into a jelly-mould, to flute its ears and cheeks -like collared head, and grow the nose and lips and eyebrows into -rosettes and grapes and acorns, than to bow and cramp and squeeze a -million minds into one set model. Yet here I find men all alike, Dane -and Saxon, Celt and Norman, like those who walk where snow is deep, or -Alpine travellers lashed to a rope, trudging each in other's footprint, -swinging all their arms in time, looking neither right nor left, and so -on through life's pilgrimage, a file some million deep. Who went first -they do not know, why they follow they cannot tell, what it leads to -they never ask. I was marked and scorned at once, because I dared to -adopt a hat that did not scalp me in half-an hour, and a cravat that did -not throttle me; and even had the hardihood to dine when I felt hungry. -How often I longed for a land of freedom and common sense, where it is -no disgrace to carry a barrel of oysters, or shake hands with a -tradesman. I know what you are smiling at, Clara. You are thinking to -yourself, 'how different you are now, my good uncle; and wern't you a -little inconsistent in sanctioning all this livery humbug here?' Yes, I -am different now. I am older and wiser than to expect to wipe away with -my coat-sleeve the oxide of many centuries. As for the livery, it makes -them happy: it is an Englishman's uniform. And I have seen and suffered -so bitterly from the violence of an untamed race, that I admire less -what I used to call the unlassoed arch of the human neck. I have seen a -coarse line somewhere, - - "'And freedom made a deal too free with me,' - -which expresses briefly the moral of my life. However, at the time I -speak of, nursing perhaps a younger son's bias against the social laws, -and fresh from the true simplicity and unaffected warmth of your -father's character and the gentle sweetness of your mother's, I could -not sit on the spikes of fashion's hackney coach, as becomes a poor -Briton, till the driver whips behind. Finding of course that no one -cared whether I sat there or not, and that all I got at the side of the -road was pea-shots from cads in the dickey, I did what thousands have -done before me, and will probably do again, I voted my fellow-Britons a -parcel of drivelling slaves, and longed to be out of the gang. Perhaps -I should never have made my escape, for like most of my class, I spent -all my energy in small eccentricity, if it had not been for what we -idlers entitle the force of circumstances. At a time when my life was -flowing on calmly enough though babbling against its banks, it came -suddenly on an event which drove it into another and rougher channel. - -"Early one afternoon in the month of April, 1829, I launched my little -boat from the Temple-stairs, where I kept it, and feeling more than -usually saturnine and moody, resolved on a long expedition. So I -victualled my ship like Robinson Crusoe, and took some wraps and -coverings. It was then slack water, just at the height of the flood. I -meant to have gone to Richmond, but being far too indolent to struggle -against the tide, I yielded to nature's good pleasure, and pulled away -down stream. In a few minutes a rapid ebb tide was running, and I made -up my mind to go with it as far as ever it chose, and to return with the -flood whenever that pleased to meet me. - -"After rowing steadily for several hours, I found myself a long way past -my customary Cape Turn-again. With a strong ebb tide as well as a -land-fresh in the river, I had got beyond Barking Reach, and as far as -the Dagenham marshes. Here some muddy creeks, pills, and sluggish -channels wind and welter among the ooze-lands on the north side of the -Thames. All around them stretches and fades away a dreary flat -monotonous waste; no dot of a house, no jot of a tree, to vary the dead -expanse; except that by the river-side one or two low cabooses, more -like hoys than houses, are grounded among the slime. This, so far as my -memory serves, was the state of these Essex marshes in the year 1829: -how it is now I cannot say. - -"It was high time for me to turn: row as I would, I could hardly get -back to my haven by midnight. Outrigger skiffs were not yet known; and -an oarsman could not glide along at the rate of ten miles an hour. Just -as I was working round, a steam packet, which had been moored a short -way below, crippled perhaps in her engines, now at the turn of the tide -passed up, and was quickly out of sight. As she passed me I hailed for -a tow-rope; but either they could not hear, or they did not choose to -notice me. There was nothing for it but to bend my back to the oars, -and keep a sharp look out. Presently the flood began to make strongly up -the river, and I gave way with a will, my paddles bending and the water -gleaming in the early starlight. It was a lonely and melancholy scene. -The gray mist returning from some marshy excursion, and hugging the warm -sea-water, floated along in dull folds, with a white flaw of steam here -and there curdling over the current. Not a ship, not a barge was in -sight; no voice of men or low of cattle broke the foggy silence: but the -wash of the stream on its sludgy marge, or on some honey-combed -mooring-post, surged every now and then betwixt the jerks of my -rowlocks. The loneliness and the sadness harmonised with my sombre -mind. All is transient, all is selfish, all is a flux of melancholy. -If we toss and dance we are only boats adrift; we are nothing more than -crazy tide-posts, if we be philosophers. - -"Suddenly a clear loud cry broke my vacant musings. It startled me so -that I caught a crab, ceased rowing, and gazed around. At first I could -not tell whence it came, till my boat, with the way she had on her, shot -round a low spit of the Essex shore, which from the curve of the river I -was nearing rapidly. Louder and louder the cry was twice repeated, and -I heard in the still spring evening the oaths of men and the scuffling -of feet. Within fifty yards of me was an ill-looking house, made of -battens, and raised on piles above high water mark. A tattered sign -hung on a pole, and a causeway led to the steps. While I was -hesitating, two figures crossed a lattice window, as if in violent -struggle, and a heavy crash resounded. Three strong strokes of my oars, -and the keel grated on the causeway. Out I leaped with the boat-hook, -threw the painter over a post, and rushed up the slimy jetty, and the -narrow wooden steps. The door was fastened, I pushed it with all my -force, but in vain. One faint scream reached my ears, as of some one at -length overpowered. Swinging the boat-hook with both hands, I struck -the old door with the butt, and broke it open. In the lower room there -was no one, but a moaning and trampling sounded over head. Upstairs I -ran, and into the room where the villany was doing. A poor girl lay on -the floor at the last gasp of exhaustion. Two ruffians with a rope were -bending over her. Down went one, at a blow of my boat-hook, flat beside -his victim: the other leaped at my throat. I saw and soon felt that he -was a powerful man, but in those days I was no cripple. We were most -evenly matched. I wrenched his hand from my throat, but twice he got me -under him, twice I writhed from his grasp like a python from a tiger's -jaw. Clutched and locked in each other's arms, in vain we tugged to get -room for a blow. Throttle, and gripe, and roll--which should be first -insensible? An accident gave me the mastery. For a moment we lay face -to face, glaring at each other, drawing the strangled breath, loosing -the deadly grip, panting, throbbing, and watching. My boat-hook lay on -the floor, my enemy spied and made a sudden dash at it. Instead of -withholding, I jobbed him towards it with all my might, and as he raised -it, the point entered one of his eyes. With a yell of pain and fury, he -sank beneath me insensible. Shaking and quaking all over after the -desperate struggle, I bound him and his mate, hand and foot, with the -twisted tarry junk, which they had meant for the maiden. - -"At length I had time to look round. On a low truckle bed at the end of -the long dark room, in which a ship-lamp was burning, there lay an -elderly lady in a perfect stupor of fright and illness. Upon the floor -with her head thrown back against the timbers, and her black eyes wide -open and fixed on me, sat a girl of remarkable beauty, though her cheeks -were as white as death. A magnificent ring, for which she had fought -most desperately, was wrenched from its place on her finger and hung -over the opal nail, for her hands were clenched, and her arms quite -stiff, in the swoon of utter exhaustion. Both ladies were in deep -mourning. - -"For the rest a few words will suffice. The poor ladies revived at -last, after chafing of hands and sprinkling, and told me where to find -the woman of the house, who had been locked up in another room by her -husband and brother. There was no one else on the premises. How came -the ladies there, what was their destination, and why were they so -outraged? They were on their return to London from the Continent, being -called home by tidings of death, and had sailed from Antwerp two days -and a-half before, in the steamer which I had seen lying to. Steamers -were then heavy lumbering things, and all that time Mrs. Green and her -daughter had been knocking about on a pecky sea. No wonder that the -poor mother had cried out feebly, to be landed anywhere, anywhere in the -world, where things would leave off going round. And before they came -to that tedious halt in the river, fair Adelaide, who had enjoyed her -meals throughout, renewed and completed her poor mamma's excavation, by -inquiring calmly with her mouth full of pickled pork, where the -peas-pudding was. Now too Miss Adelaide soon recovered from her fearful -battle for honour and life. She was what is called now-a-days a girl of -"splendid organisation." If she had not been so, she would have lain -ere now with her mother at the bottom of Barking Reach. The two -scoundrels of that lonesome hostelry had been ordered to send to Barking -for a conveyance. But they only pretended to do so; for they had cast -foul covetous eyes on the wealth of their unknown guests and on brave -Adelaide's beauty. Beyond a doubt both ladies would have been murdered, -but for the gallant resistance, the vigour, and presence of mind of -Adelaide. - -"Having restored their watches, and scattered trinkets, and led the poor -things from the scene of the combat, I was quite at a loss for means to -convey them home. Barking was a long way off, and the marshy track -unknown to me, and not likely to be found in the dark. Moreover, there -must be some hazard in leaving them still in that villanous den, no -matter how their cowardly foes might be bound. At last, and with great -difficulty, I embarked the two ladies in my shallop, and wrapped them -warmly from the night air; then after relashing my prisoners, and -locking them up in separate rooms, and the woman downstairs, I pulled -away stoutly for Woolwich. Here I obtained a carriage, and started my -convoy for London, and then returned with two policemen to the "Old Row -Barge," as the low caboose was called. But both our birds were flown, -as I was inclined to expect. Most likely the woman had contrived to get -out, and release them. At any rate the "Old Row Barge" had no crew, and -the deserters had set it on fire. The flames, as we rowed away, after -vainly searching the marshes, cast a lurid glow on the mud-banks, and on -the slackening tide; a true type it was of what soon befell me--the -burning of my caboose. The two men were caught long afterwards by the -Thames Police, and transported for life on a conviction for river -piracy. At least, I was told that they were the men." - -"And of course, dear uncle, you fell deeply in love with the beautiful -Adelaide Green." - -"Of course, my dear, a young lady would conclude so. But at present I -must not talk any more." I had several times tried to stop him. "And -what I have next to relate is matter of deeper feeling. By Jove, to -think how I battled with that strong man! And now your little fist, -Clara, would floor me altogether." - -He sighed, and I sighed for him. Then I thought of Mr. Shelfer, and -gloried in my prowess, as I wheeled my uncle home. - - - - - CHAPTER VIII. - - -My uncle's tale, as repeated here, will no more be broken either by my -interruptions, which were frequent enough, or by his own pauses, but -will be presented in a continuous form. - - -STORY OF EDGAR VAUGHAN. - -"On the following day, when I called at the house in Bloomsbury--then a -fashionable neighbourhood--to which I had been directed, I was met at -the threshold, with power and warmth, by Peter Green himself, an old -acquaintance of mine, who proved to be Adelaide's brother. My nature -had been too reserved for me to be friendly with him at College, but I -had liked him much better than any one else, because he was so decided -and straight-forward. The meeting rather surprised me, for Green is not -a rare name, and so it had never occurred to me to ask the weary -Adelaide whether she knew one Peter Green, a first-class man of -Christchurch. Peter, who was a most hearty fellow, and full, like his -sister, of animal life, overpowered me with the weight of his gratitude, -which I did not at all desire or deserve. As, in spite of your rash -conclusion, my romantic Clara, I did not fall in love with Adelaide, who -besides her pithsome health and vigour was in many respects astray from -my fair ideal, and more than all, was engaged long ago to the giver of -the sapphire ring, I need not enlarge upon my friendship with Peter -Green, whom I now began to like in real earnest. - -Young as he was, his father's recent death had placed him at the head of -a leading mercantile house, Green, Vowler, and Green, of Little Distaff -Lane. And young as he was--not more than seven-and-twenty--his manners -were formed, and his character and opinions fixed, as if he had seen all -the ways, and taken stock of the sentiments of all the civilised world. -Present to him any complexity, any conflict of probabilities, any maze -whose ins and outs were abroad half over the universe, and if the -question were practical, he would see what to do in a moment; if it were -theoretical, he would quietly move it aside. I have known many learned -judges sum up a case most lucidly, blow away all the verbiage, sweep -aside all the false issues, balance the contradictions, illuminate all -the obscurities, and finally lift from its matrix, and lay in the -colourless sunlight the virgin truth, without either dross or polish. -All this Peter Green seemed to have done in a moment, without any -effort, without any reasoning process; not jumping at his conclusion, -but making it fly to him. He possessed what an ancient writer, once -highly esteemed at Oxford, entitles the "wit universal," which confers -and comprises the "wit of details." For this power when applied to a -practical purpose, a great historian employs a happy expression not -welcomed by our language; he calls it the power to "pontoon the -emergency." Excuse my harsh translation, perhaps it is better than -paraphrase. - -With all these business qualities, my friend was as merry and -unpretentious a man as ever made a bad joke, or laughed at another -fellow's; liberal also, warm-hearted, and not sarcastic. In a word, he -was a genuine specimen of the noble English merchant, who has done more -to raise this country in the esteem of the world than would a thousand -Nelsons or Wellingtons. - -Now this man discerned at a glance the wretched defects of my nature and -position. An active mind like his could never believe in the -possibility of being happy without occupation. And by occupation he -meant, not the chasing of butterflies, or maundering after foxes, but -real honest Anglo-Saxon work; work that strings the muscles, or knits -the hemispheres of the brain. And work he would himself, ay, and with -all his energies. Not the man was he to tap the table with his pipe, -and cry out, "Bravo, Altiora! A little more gin if you please, and -chalk it down to the Strike;" but he was the man to throw off his coat, -and pitch into the matter before him without many words, though with -plenty of thought. Now, this man, feeling deeply indebted to me, and -beginning to like me as my apathy and reserve went to pieces before his -energy, this man, I say, cast about for some method of making me useful -and happy. Wonderfully swift as he was in pouncing upon the right -thing, I believe it took him at least five minutes to find out the -proper course for an impracticable fellow like me. And when he had -found this out, it took even him a week to draw the snail out of his -hole. Years of agreeable indolence, and calm objective indifference, -seldom ruffled except at fashionable snobbery, had made of me not a -Sybarite, or a supercilious censor, much less a waiter on fortune, but a -contemplative islander, a Haytian who had been once to Spain, and would -henceforth be satisfied with the view of her caravels. But my -Adelantado was a man of gold and iron. Green, Vowler, and Green were -largely concerned in the oil and dried fruit business. They had -ransacked the olive districts of continental Europe, and found the price -going up and the quality going down, so they wanted now to open another -oil vein. - -Peter Green observing my love of uncultured freedom, the only subject on -which I ever grew warm and rapturous, espied the way to relieve me of -some nonsense, give my slow life a fillip, and perhaps--oh climax--open -a lucrative connexion. He knew, for he seemed to know everything done -or undone by commerce, that there was a glorious island rich in jewels -and marble and every dower of nature, and above all teeming with olives, -lemons, and grapes, and citrons; and that this gifted island still -remained a stranger, through French and Genoese ignorance, to our London -trade. This was the island libelled by Seneca, idolised by its natives, -drenched with more blood than all the plains of Emathia, yet mother of -heroes and conquerors of the world--if that be any credit--in a single -word, Corsica. Once or twice indeed our countrymen have attempted to -shake hands with this noble race, so ruined by narrow tradition; and in -the end we shall doubtless succeed, as we always do; but the grain of -the Corsican is almost as stubborn as our own. In fact the staple is -much the same, the fabric is very different. Bold they are, and manly, -simple, generous, and most hospitable, lovers too of their country -beyond all other nations; but--oh fatal ignorance--industry to them is -drudgery; and labour is an outrage. Worse than all is the fiend of the -island, the cursed Blood-revenge. - -"Just the place for you, Vaughan," said the indomitable Peter, "every -one there as dignified as an eagle after stealing a lamb. No -institutions to speak of, but the natural one of Vendetta, splendid -equality, majestic manhood, lots of true womanhood, and it does all the -work that is done, which isn't saying much. Why, my dear Quixotic, the -land of Sampiero and Paoli, and where Rousseau was to legislate, only he -proved too lazy,--is not that the jockey for you? After all these -levees and masquerades that you so much delight in--you need not scowl -like a bandit; it is only because they don't want you, you are just the -same as the rest, or why do you notice the nonsense?--after all this -London frippery, Monte Kotondo will be a fresh oyster after devil'd -biscuits." - -"True enough, my friend: but an oyster to be swallowed shell and all." - -"Well, is not that just what you want? Lime is good for squeamishness. -And more than that, you are just the man we want. You can talk Italian -with excellent opera style and sentiment; and you won't be long till you -fraternise with the Corsicans. Perhaps they will drive out the French, -who don't know what to do with it, and make you their king like Theodore -of Neuhoff; and then you proclaim free trade restricted to the navy of -Green, Vowler, and Green. But in sober earnest, think of it, my dear -Vaughan. Anything is better than this cynic indolence. Some of your -views will be corrected, and all enlarged by travel. A common -sentiment. Yes, the very thing you are short of. All your expenses we -pay of course, and give you an honest salary; and all we ask of you is -to explore more than a tourist would; and to send us a plain description -of everything. You have plenty of observation; make it useful instead -of a torment to you. We know well enough the great gifts of that -island, but we want to know how they lie, and how we may best get at -them." - -"Then you would expect me to make commercial arrangements?" - -Peter laughed outright. "I should rather fancy not. Somewhat queer ones -they would be. Platonic no doubt, and panisic, but not altogether -adapted to double entry." - -"Then in fact I am to go as a committee of inquiry." - -"I have told you all we want. If you make any friends all the better; -but that we leave to yourself. Perhaps you'll grow sociable there. -Though the Corsican does not sing, 'We won't go home till morning,' and -be going home all the time." - -"And how long would my engagement last?" - -"Till you have thoroughly traversed the country, if you stick to it so -long; and then if you quit yourself well, we should commission you for -Sardinia. What an opening for an idle man, though it would soon kill -me--so little to do. But you may cut it short when you like. Plenty of -our people would jump at such an offer; but for a country like that we -must have a thorough gentleman. A coarse-mannered bagman would very -soon secure the contents of a fusil. He would be kissing the Corsican -girls, who are wonderfully lovely they say, and their lovers amazingly -jealous; and every man carries a gun. A timid man they despise, an -insolent man they shoot; and most of our fellows are one or the other, -or both. But will you undertake it? Yes, or no, on the spot. And I -ask you to say 'yes' as a special favour to me." - -"Then of course I say yes. When shall I go?" - -"To-morrow, if you like. Next month if you prefer it. We can give you -introductions. There is no real danger for a thorough gentleman, or you -should not go for all the olives in Europe. Mind we want a particular -sort, very long and taper--Virgil's 'Ray,' in fact. You shall have a -sample of it. As yet we know but one district of Italy where it grows, -but have got scent of it in Corsica. Glorious fellows they are, if half -that I hear is true, glorious fellows but for their laziness, and that ----- Vendetta." - -To be brief, I received very clear instructions in writing, and was off -for Bonifazio the following week, in a small swift yacht of my own, a -luxury to which I had always aspired, and which I could now for a time -afford. But before I went, your poor father, Clara, protested most -strongly against the scheme, and even came to London in the vain hope of -dissuading me. He had some deep presentiment that it would end darkly, -and so indeed it did. - -"Ned," said he once more, "there are only two of us, and my dear wife is -very delicate. I have been at Genoa, where those islanders are well -known, and even there they are rarely spoken of but with a cold shudder. -They are a splendid race, I believe, great heroes and all that, but they -shoot a man with no more compunction than they shoot a muffro. I -implore you, my dear brother, not to risk the last of our family, where -blood flows as freely as water. And your temper, you know, is not the -best in the world. Don't go, my dear fellow, don't go. I shall have to -come and avenge you, and I don't understand Vendetta." - -Ah, me! If I had only listened to him. And yet, I don't know. After a -pleasant voyage we reached the magnificent island, about the middle of -May. My intention was to skirt round it from the southern extremity, -taking the western side first, and touching at every anchorage, whence I -would make incursions, and return to my little cutter, as the most -convenient head-quarters. Of course I should have to rough it; but what -young man would think twice of that, with an adventurous life before -him? - -I will not weary you, my dear child, with a long description of Corsica. -It is a land which combines all the softness and the majesty, all the -wealth and barrenness, all the smile and menace of all the world beside. -I could talk of it by the hour; but you want to know what I did, and was -done to, more than what I saw. From the awful rock of Bonifazio, the -streets where men should have no elbows, and the tower of Torrione, -along the fantastic coast which looks as if time were a giant rabbit, we -traced the blue and spur-vexed sea, now edged with white, and now with -gray, and now with glowing red, until we reached that paradise of -heaven, the garden of Balagna. - - - - - CHAPTER IX. - - - STORY OF EDGAR VAUGHAN. - - -Let me hold myself. Weak as I am and crippled by premature old age, not -the shortness of my breath, not the numbness of my heart, not even the -palsy of my frame, can quench or check the fire rekindled by the mere -name of that heavenly valley. To live there only half a minute is worth -a day of English life. Life--it is a space to measure, not by pendulum -or clock-hand, not by our own strides to and fro (the ordnance scale of -the million), not even by the rolling sun, and nature's hail and -farewell; but by the well-spring of ourselves, the fount of thought and -feeling. Every single breath I draw of this living air--air the bride of -earth our sire, wedded to him by God Creator, air whose mother-milk we -fight for in clusters baulking one another--every breath I draw dances -with a buoyant virtue, sucked, in any other land, but from mountain -nipples. Bright air of a rosy blue, where northern eyes are dazed with -beauty, where every flower cuts stars of light, and every cloud is -sunshine's step; can even lovers parted thus believe themselves divided? -Every rock has its myrtle favour, every tree its clematis wreath; under -the cistus and oleander hides the pink to lace its bodice, watched by -the pansy's sprightly eye. Lavishly, as children's bubbles, hover -overhead oranges, and citrons, lemons, almonds, figs, varied by the -blushing peach and the purpling grape. Far behind, and leaning forth -the swarthy bosom of the mountain, whose white head leans on the heaven, -are ranks on ranks of glaucous olive, giants of a green old age dashed -with silver gray. And oh, the fragrance under foot, the tribute of the -ground, which Corsica's great son--as we men measure greatness--pined -for in the barren isle, where the iron of his selfishness entered his -own soul. - -These are said to be the largest olive-trees in the world, and of the -very best varieties. Heaps upon heaps the rich fruit lies at the foot -of the glorious tree; nature is too bountiful for man to heed her gifts. -For this district of Balagna, and that of Nebbio further north, my -attention had been especially bespoken by my shrewd and sagacious -friend. Therefore and by reason of the charms around me, here I -resolved to pass the summer; so my vessel was laid up at Calvi, and -being quartered in Belgodere at a little Inn--"locanda" it should be -called, but I hate interlarding--I addressed myself right heartily to -business and to pleasure. - -First I had to study the grand Palladian gift. Unless old Seneca was, -as the Corsicans say, a great liar, he cannot have been the author of -that epigram which declares this land a stranger to the peaceful boon. -It is impossible to believe that a country so adapted to that tree, so -often colonized by cultured races, can have been so long ungifted with -its staff of life. The island itself in that same epigram is utterly -mis-described. - -As regards the inhabitants, the first line of the well-known couplet is -verified by ages; to the second it does not plead guilty now, and -probably never did. - - "Law the first revenge. Law the second to live by robbery. - Law the third to lie. The fourth to deny any Gods." - - -The Corsicans, on the contrary, have always been famous for candour, -whose very soul is truth, and for superstition, the wen or hump of -religion. For my own part, loving not that unprincipled[#] fellow hard -labour, towards whom these noble islanders entertain a like antipathy, -and loving much any freedom not hostile to my own, I got on with the -natives admirably, for a certain time. Time had reconciled me to their -custom of carrying, instead of cane or umbrella, long double-barrelled -guns, whose muzzle they afford the stranger full opportunity of -inspecting. First-rate marksmen are they, but they sling their guns at -hap-hazard on their backs, and cheek to jowl we come upon the cold metal -at the corner of the narrow streets. Tall and powerful men they are, -especially the mountaineers; with all the Spaniard's dignity and the -Italian's native grace. The women are lithe, erect, and beautifully -formed, with a swan-like carriage, and a free and courteous bearing, -such as very few of our high-born damsels own. - - -[#] "Labor improbus" of Virgil. - - -The olive-growers frankly gave me all their little information about -that tree whose typical virtues they have never cared to learn. The -variety chiefly grown, or rather which chiefly grows itself, is one they -call the Genoese. The owners afford them very little culture, and many -are too idle even to collect the fruit. There are said to be ten -million olive-trees in the island; at least they were reckoned up to -that number by order of the Government; then the enumerators grew tired, -and left off counting. Whatever number there is might easily be -tripled, if any one had the energy to graft the oleasters, with which -the hills are covered. There is also the Saracen olive, and the Sabine, -the latter perhaps the Regia of Columella, Raggiaria of Cæsalpinus, and -Radius of Virgil. However, though not unlike my sample fruit, it was -not quite identical, and as my employers wanted a very special sort for -very special qualities, I was as far from my object as ever. - -One magnificent summer evening, as I rode along the mountain side near -the village of Speloncato, suddenly the track turned sharply into a -wooded dingle. Steeped in the dream of nature's beauty, I was thinking -of nothing at all, as becomes a true Corsican, when I received a -sharpish knock in the eye. Something fell and lodged in my capacious -beard. Smarting from the pain. I caught it, and not being able to see -clearly, took it at first for a spent and dropping bullet. But when my -eyes had ceased to water, I found in my hand a half-grown olive of the -very kind I had so long been seeking. I drew forth some of my London -specimens which had been chemically treated to prevent their -shrivelling, and compared it narrowly. Yes, there could be no doubt; -the same pyriform curve, the same bulge near the peduncle, the same -violet lines in the skin, and when cut open, the same granulation and -nucleus. I was truly delighted, at length I should be of some real -service; at least if there were many trees here of this most rare -variety. By riding up the dingle, I soon ascertained that it was -planted with trees of this sort only, gray old trees of a different -habit from any other olive. Afterwards I found that it requires a -different soil, and a different aspect. Full speed I galloped back to -the hamlet of Speloncato, and inquired for the owner of this olive -Eldorado. Signor Dezio Della Croce, owner of all this lovely slope, and -of large estates extending as far as the road to Corte; in fact the -chief proprietor of the neighbourhood. He was, said the peasant with -some pride, a true descendant of the great race of Cinarca, foremost in -the island annals for a thousand years, and of whom was the famous -Giudice Della Rocca, Count and Judge of Corsica, six hundred years ago." - -At the sound of his name, Giudice opened his great sleepy eyes, and -pricked his ears: I promised not to interrupt, but he gave no such -pledge. - -"Let the Cinarchesi blood go for its full value; but it was worth -something to the Della Croce to be descended also from the Tuscan -Malaspina; for the lands of those great Marquises were now in the -possession of the Signor Dezio. And the Signor had such a daughter, a -young maiden. Ah, Madonna! The loveliest girl in Corsica. And the -vine-dresser crossed himself. As I listened to all this information, I -began to look through my unused credentials, which I always carried. It -struck me that this name of Della Croce was quite familiar to me, though -I knew not how, until a letter in the sprawling hand of young Laurence -Daldy fell out from among Peter's crabbed characters. Laurence Daldy, -my mother's younger son, was now in full career, as a pigeon and a -Guardsman, spending at full gallop his dead father's money. These -Daldys were of Italian origin, the true name being D'Aldis, which after -some years of English life they had naturalised into Daldy. And now I -recollected that when we Vaughan boys scorned them as ignoble sons of -commerce, they used to brag about their kinship to the ancient Della -Croce. - -Riding up the forest hill, on whose western bluff stands boldly the gray -old tower of the Malaspinas, I began of course to make forecasts about -the character of my host. My host I knew he needs must be, for Corsica -is of all the world the most hospitable spot. Although by this time -well acquainted with the simple island habits, I could not but expect to -find a man of stateliness and surroundings, of stiffness and some -arrogance. Now the sun was setting, and the western fire from off the -sea glanced in spears of reddening gold into the solemn timeworn keep. -All things looked majestic, but a deal too lonely. Where was I to -apply, how was I to get in? The narrow doorway overhung with the wreck -of some portcullis, was blocked instead with a sort of mantlet like the -Roman Vinea; the loopholes on the ground-tier were boarded almost to the -top, the high windows, such as they were, had their rough shutters -closed. Everything betokened a state of siege and fear. Two or three -magnificent chesnuts, which must have commanded the front of the tower, -had been cut down and added to the defences of the approach. Over these -I managed at last to leap my horse, who was by no means a perfect -hunter; and there I halted at a loss how to proceed. I had been long -enough in Corsica to know, even without a certain ominous gleam from a -loophole, and the view in transverse section of a large double-barrelled -gun, that the owner of this old mansion was now in the pleasant state of -Vendetta. - -Expecting every moment to be shot, and nothing said about it, I waved my -letter, as a white flag, furiously above my head. Presently that -frightful muzzle was withdrawn, and the slide pushed back, to -reconnoitre me at leisure. I tried, for the first time in my life, to -look like a real Briton; my Corsican ambition was already on the wane. -So I sat my horse, and waited; and what came was worth a thousand years -of waiting. - -Round the bastion of the tower, under the rich magnolia bloom, towards -me glided through the rosy shadow the loveliest being that ever moved -outside the gates of heaven. She seemed not to walk but waft along, -like the pearly Nautilus. A pink mandile of lightest gauze lit the -sable of her clustering hair, and wreathing round her graceful head -deepened the tinge of the nestling cheeks. The lithe faldetta of white -cashmere, thrown hastily over the shoulders, half concealed the flowing -curves of the slender supple form, half betrayed them as it followed -every facile motion. But when she smiled--oh, Clara, I would have -leaped from her father's tower, or into the black caves of the -Restonica, for one smile of hers. The dark-fringed lustre of her eyes -seemed to dance with golden joy, trusting, hoping, loving all things, -pleasure pleased at pleasing. And the gleesome arch of her laughing -lips, that never shaped evil word! Oh, my Lily, my own Lily, I shall -see you soon again. - -My dear Clara, I ought to know better. I am ashamed of myself. And -after so many years! But at the first glance of Fiordalisa, my fate was -fixed for this life and the other. I never had loved before. I never -had cared to look at a girl; in fact I despised them all. Now I paid -for that contemptuous folly. Loving at one glance, loving once, for -all, for ever, my heart stood still like the focus of a hurricane; my -speech and every power but that of vision failed me. I dared not try to -leave the saddle, such a trembling took me. - -It was a visitation unknown in our foggy plains, scoffed at by our prosy -race, but known full well in Southern climes, as the sunstroke of love. -My own darling--I can call her nothing less--my own delicious darling -was quite startled at me. Whether she had a like visitation in a milder -form, is more than I can say; but I hope with all my heart she had; for -then, as the Southern tale recites, God placed her hand in mine. - -How I got my horse tied up, how I followed her through the side -entrance, and returned her father's greeting, I have not the least idea; -all I know is that she smiled, and I wanted nothing more. But I could -not bear to see her in the true Homeric fashion still maintained in -Corsica, waiting on us like a common servant, with her beautiful arched -feet glancing under the brown pelone, and her tapering white arms laid -demurely on her bosom; then at her father's signal how she flew for the -purple grapes or the fragrant broccio! But do what she would, it seemed -to become her more than all she had done before. As that form of love -and elegance flitted through the simple room, and those lustrous -heavenly eyes beamed with hospitable warmth, Signor Dezio Della Croce, -careworn man with beard of snow, seemed at times no little proud of his -sweet and only child, but was too proud to show his pride. As for me, -he must have thought that I spoke very poor Italian. - - - - END OF VOL. II. - - - - LONDON - R. CLAY, SON AND TAYLOR, PRINTERS - BREAD STREET HILL - - - - - - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CLARA VAUGHAN, VOLUME II (OF -III) *** - - - - -A Word from Project Gutenberg - - -We will update this book if we find any errors. - -This book can be found under: http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/41021 - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one -owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and -you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission -and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth in the -General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to copying and -distributing Project Gutenberg(tm) electronic works to protect the -Project Gutenberg(tm) concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a -registered trademark, and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, -unless you receive specific permission. 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