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diff --git a/41636.txt b/41636.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 160e404..0000000 --- a/41636.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,22307 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook, Ravenshoe, by Henry Kingsley, Illustrated by -R. Caton Woodville - - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - - - - -Title: Ravenshoe - - -Author: Henry Kingsley - - - -Release Date: December 16, 2012 [eBook #41636] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) - - -***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RAVENSHOE*** - - -E-text prepared by sp1nd and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team -(http://www.pgdp.net) from page images generously made available by -Internet Archive (http://archive.org) - - - -Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this - file which includes the original illustration. - See 41636-h.htm or 41636-h.zip: - (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/41636/41636-h/41636-h.htm) - or - (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/41636/41636-h.zip) - - - Images of the original pages are available through - Internet Archive. See - http://archive.org/details/ravenshoe00kingiala - - - - - -RAVENSHOE - - -[Illustration: CHARLES IN THE BALACLAVA CHARGE. - -_Drawn by R. Caton Woodville._ - -_Ravenshoe._ _Page 355._] - - -RAVENSHOE - -by - -HENRY KINGSLEY - -New Edition--Third Thousand - -With a Frontispiece by R. Caton Woodville - - - - - - - -London -Ward, Lock and Bowden, Limited -Warwick House, Salisbury Square, E.C. -New York and Melbourne -1894 - -[All rights reserved] - - - - -To - -MY BROTHER, - -CHARLES KINGSLEY, - -I DEDICATE THIS TALE, -IN TOKEN OF A LOVE WHICH ONLY GROWS STRONGER -AS WE BOTH GET OLDER. - - - - -PREFACE. - - -The language used in telling the following story is not (as I hope the -reader will soon perceive) the Author's, but Mr. William Marston's. - -The Author's intention was, while telling the story, to develop, in the -person of an imaginary narrator, the character of a thoroughly -good-hearted and tolerably clever man, who has his fingers (as he would -say himself) in every one's pie, and who, for the life of him, cannot -keep his own counsel--that is to say, the only person who, by any -possibility, could have collected the mass of family gossip which makes -up this tale. - -Had the Author told it in his own person, it would have been told with -less familiarity, and, as he thinks, you would not have laughed quite so -often. - - - - -CONTENTS. - - - PAGE - - -CHAPTER I -AN ACCOUNT OF THE FAMILY OF RAVENSHOE 1 - -CHAPTER II. -SUPPLEMENTARY TO THE FOREGOING 10 - -CHAPTER III. -IN WHICH OUR HERO'S TROUBLES BEGIN 14 - -CHAPTER IV. -FATHER MACKWORTH 20 - -CHAPTER V. -RANFORD 23 - -CHAPTER VI. -THE "WARREN HASTINGS" 34 - -CHAPTER VII. -IN WHICH CHARLES AND LORD WELTER DISTINGUISH -THEMSELVES AT THE UNIVERSITY 44 - -CHAPTER VIII. -JOHN MARSTON 50 - -CHAPTER IX. -ADELAIDE 57 - -CHAPTER X. -LADY ASCOT'S LITTLE NAP 63 - -CHAPTER XI. -GIVES US AN INSIGHT INTO CHARLES'S DOMESTIC RELATIONS, -AND SHOWS HOW THE GREAT CONSPIRATOR -SOLILOQUISED TO THE GRAND CHANDELIER 69 - -CHAPTER XII. -CONTAINING A SONG BY CHARLES RAVENSHOE, AND ALSO -FATHER TIERNAY'S OPINION ABOUT THE FAMILY 79 - -CHAPTER XIII. -THE BLACK HARE 86 - -CHAPTER XIV. -LORD SALTIRE'S VISIT, AND SOME OF HIS OPINIONS 92 - -CHAPTER XV. -CHARLES'S "LIDDELL AND SCOTT" 99 - -CHAPTER XVI. -MARSTON'S ARRIVAL 104 - -CHAPTER XVII. -IN WHICH THERE IS ANOTHER SHIPWRECK 107 - -CHAPTER XVIII. -MARSTON'S DISAPPOINTMENT 114 - -CHAPTER XIX. -ELLEN'S FLIGHT 121 - -CHAPTER XX. -RANFORD AGAIN 124 - -CHAPTER XXI. -CLOTHO, LACHESIS, AND ATROPOS 131 - -CHAPTER XXII. -THE LAST GLIMPSE OF OXFORD 139 - -CHAPTER XXIII. -THE LAST GLIMPSE OF THE OLD WORLD 142 - - -CHAPTER XXIV. -THE FIRST GLIMPSE OF THE NEW WORLD 146 - -CHAPTER XXV. -FATHER MACKWORTH BRINGS LORD SALTIRE TO BAY, AND WHAT CAME OF IT 152 - -CHAPTER XXVI. -THE GRAND CRASH 160 - -CHAPTER XXVII. -THE COUP DE GRACE 167 - -CHAPTER XXVIII. -FLIGHT 176 - -CHAPTER XXIX. -CHARLES'S RETREAT UPON LONDON 180 - -CHAPTER XXX. -MR. SLOANE 185 - -CHAPTER XXXI. -LIEUTENANT HORNBY 190 - -CHAPTER XXXII. -SOME OF THE HUMOURS OF A LONDON MEWS. 194 - -CHAPTER XXXIII. -A GLIMPSE OF SOME OLD FRIENDS 200 - -CHAPTER XXXIV. -IN WHICH FRESH MISCHIEF IS BREWED 203 - -CHAPTER XXXV. -IN WHICH AN ENTIRELY NEW, AND, AS WILL BE SEEN -HEREAFTER, A MOST IMPORTANT CHARACTER IS -INTRODUCED 211 - -CHAPTER XXXVI. -THE DERBY 219 - -CHAPTER XXXVII. -LORD WELTER'S MENAGE 227 - -CHAPTER XXXVIII. -THE HOUSE FULL OF GHOSTS 235 - -CHAPTER XXXIX. -CHARLES'S EXPLANATION WITH LORD WELTER 242 - -CHAPTER XL. -A DINNER PARTY AMONG SOME OLD FRIENDS 246 - -CHAPTER XLI. -CHARLES'S SECOND EXPEDITION TO ST. JOHN'S WOOD 252 - -CHAPTER XLII. -RAVENSHOE HALL, DURING ALL THIS 261 - -CHAPTER XLIII. -THE MEETING 270 - -CHAPTER XLIV. -ANOTHER MEETING 275 - -CHAPTER XLV. -HALF A MILLION 285 - -CHAPTER XLVI. -TO LUNCH WITH LORD ASCOT 288 - -CHAPTER XLVII. -LORD HAINAULT'S BLOTTING-BOOK 302 - -CHAPTER XLVIII. -IN WHICH CUTHBERT BEGINS TO SEE THINGS IN A NEW LIGHT 309 - -CHAPTER XLIX. -THE SECOND COLUMN OF "THE TIMES" OF THIS DATE, WITH OTHER MATTERS 317 - -CHAPTER L. -SHREDS AND PATCHES 320 - -CHAPTER LI. -IN WHICH CHARLES COMES TO LIFE AGAIN 327 - -CHAPTER LII. -WHAT LORD SALTIRE AND FATHER MACKWORTH SAID -WHEN THEY LOOKED OUT OF THE WINDOW 335 - -CHAPTER LIII. -CAPTAIN ARCHER TURNS UP 343 - -CHAPTER LIV. -CHARLES MEETS HORNBY AT LAST 349 - -CHAPTER LV. -ARCHER'S PROPOSAL 358 - -CHAPTER LVI. -SCUTARI 369 - -CHAPTER LVII. -WHAT CHARLES DID WITH HIS LAST EIGHTEEN SHILLINGS 374 - -CHAPTER LVIII. -THE NORTH SIDE OF GROSVENOR SQUARE 379 - -CHAPTER LIX. -LORD ASCOT'S CROWNING ACT OF FOLLY 391 - -CHAPTER LX. -THE BRIDGE AT LAST 400 - -CHAPTER LXI. -SAVED 411 - -CHAPTER LXII. -MR. JACKSON'S BIG TROUT 415 - -CHAPTER LXIII. -IN WHICH GUS CUTS FLORA'S DOLL'S CORNS 420 - -CHAPTER LXIV. -THE ALLIED ARMIES ADVANCE ON RAVENSHOE 423 - -CHAPTER LXV. -FATHER MACKWORTH PUTS THE FINISHING TOUCH ON -HIS GREAT PIECE OF EMBROIDERY 427 - -CHAPTER LXVI. -GUS AND FLORA ARE NAUGHTY IN CHURCH, AND THE -WHOLE BUSINESS COMES TO AN END 438 - - - - -RAVENSHOE. - - - - -CHAPTER I. - -AN ACCOUNT OF THE FAMILY OF RAVENSHOE. - - -I had intended to have gone into a family history of the Ravenshoes, -from the time of Canute to that of her present Majesty, following it -down through every change and revolution, both secular and religious; -which would have been deeply interesting, but which would have taken -more hard reading than one cares to undertake for nothing. I had meant, -I say, to have been quite diffuse on the annals of one of our oldest -commoner families; but, on going into the subject, I found I must either -chronicle little affairs which ought to have been forgotten long ago, or -do my work in a very patchy and inefficient way. When I say that the -Ravenshoes have been engaged in every plot, rebellion, and civil war, -from about a century or so before the Conquest to 1745, and that the -history of the house was marked by cruelty and rapacity in old times, -and in those more modern by political tergiversation of the blackest -dye, the reader will understand why I hesitate to say too much in -reference to a name which I especially honour. In order, however, that I -may give some idea of what the hereditary character of the family is, I -must just lead the reader's eye lightly over some of the principal -events of their history. - -The great Irish families have, as is well known, a banshee, or familiar -spirit, who, previous to misfortune or death, flits moaning round the -ancestral castle. Now although the Ravenshoes, like all respectable -houses, have an hereditary lawsuit; a feud (with the Humbys of Hele); a -ghost (which the present Ravenshoe claims to have repeatedly seen in -early youth); and a buried treasure: yet I have never heard that they -had a banshee. Had such been the case, that unfortunate spirit would -have had no sinecure of it, but rather must have kept howling night and -day for nine hundred years or so, in order to have got through her work -at all. For the Ravenshoes were almost always in trouble, and yet had a -facility of getting out again, which, to one not aware of the cause, was -sufficiently inexplicable. Like the Stuarts, they had always taken the -losing side, and yet, unlike the Stuarts, have always kept their heads -on their shoulders, and their house over their heads. Lady Ascot says -that, if Ambrose Ravenshoe had been attainted in 1745, he'd have been -hung as sure as fate: there was evidence enough against him to hang a -dozen men. I myself, too, have heard Squire Densil declare, with great -pride, that the Ravenshoe of King John's time was the only Baron who did -not sign Magna Charta; and if there were a Ravenshoe at Runnymede, I -have not the slightest doubt that such was the case. Through the Rose -wars, again, they were always on the wrong side, whichever that might -have been, because your Ravenshoe, mind you, was not bound to either -side in those times, but changed as he fancied fortune was going. As -your Ravenshoe was the sort of man who generally joined a party just -when their success was indubitable--that is to say, just when the -reaction against them was about to set in--he generally found himself -among the party which was going down hill, who despised him for not -joining them before, and opposed to the rising party, who hated him -because he had declared against them. Which little game is common enough -in this present century among some men of the world, who seem, as a -general rule, to make as little by it as ever did the Ravenshoes. - -Well, whatever your trimmers make by their motion nowadays, the -Ravenshoes were not successful either at liberal conservatism or -conservative liberalism. At the end of the reign of Henry VII. they were -as poor as Job, or poorer. But, before you have time to think of it, -behold, in 1530, there comes you to court a Sir Alured Ravenshoe, who -incontinently begins cutting in at the top of the tune, swaggering, -swearing, dressing, fighting, dicing, and all that sort of thing, and, -what is more, paying his way in a manner which suggests successful -burglary as the only solution. Sir Alured, however, as I find, had done -no worse than marry an old maid (Miss Hincksey, one of the Staffordshire -Hinckseys) with a splendid fortune; which fortune set the family on its -legs again for some generations. This Sir Alured seems to have been an -audacious rogue. He made great interest with the king, who was so far -pleased with his activity in athletic sports that he gave him a post in -Ireland. There our Ravenshoe was so fascinated by the charming manners -of the Earl of Kildare that he even accompanied that nobleman on a -visit to Desmond; and, after a twelvemonth's unauthorised residence in -the interior of Ireland, on his return to England he was put into the -Tower for six months to "consider himself." - -This Alured seems to have been a deuce of a fellow, a very good type of -the family. When British Harry had that difference we wot of with the -Bishop of Rome, I find Alured to have been engaged in some five or six -Romish plots, such as had the king been in possession of facts, would -have consigned him to a rather speedy execution. However, the king seems -to have looked on this gentleman with a suspicious eye, and to have been -pretty well aware what sort of man he was, for I find him writing to his -wife, on the occasion of his going to court--"The King's Grace looked -but sourly upon me, and said it should go hard, but that the pitcher -which went so oft to the well should be broke at last. Thereto I making -answer, 'that that should depend on the pitcher, whether it were iron or -clomb,' he turned on his heel, and presently departed from me." - -He must have been possessed of his full share of family audacity to -sharpen his wits on the terrible Harry, with such an unpardonable amount -of treason hanging over him. I have dwelt thus long on him, as he seems -to have possessed a fair share of the virtues and vices of his family--a -family always generous and brave, yet always led astray by bad advisers. -This Alured built Ravenshoe House, as it stands to this day, and in -which much of the scene of this story is laid. - -They seem to have got through the Gunpowder Plot pretty well, though I -can show you the closet where one of the minor conspirators, one Watson, -lay _perdu_ for a week or so after that gallant attempt, more I suspect -from the effect of a guilty conscience than anything else, for I never -heard of any distinct charge being brought against him. The Forty-five, -however, did not pass quite so easily, and Ambrose Ravenshoe went as -near to lose his head as any one of the family since the Conquest. When -the news came from the north about the alarming advance of the -Highlanders, it immediately struck Ambrose that this was the best -opportunity for making a fool of himself that could possibly occur. He -accordingly, without hesitation or consultation with any mortal soul, -rang the bell for his butler, sent for his stud-groom, mounted every man -about the place (twenty or so), armed them, grooms, gardeners, and all, -with crossbows and partisans from the armoury, and rode into the cross, -at Stonnington, on a market-day, and boldly proclaimed the Pretender -king. It soon got about that "the squire" was making a fool of himself, -and that there was some fun going; so he shortly found himself -surrounded by a large and somewhat dirty rabble, who, with cries of -"Well done, old rebel!" and "Hurrah for the Pope!" escorted him, his -terror-stricken butler and his shame-stricken grooms, to the Crown and -Sceptre. As good luck would have it, there happened to be in the town -that day no less a person than Lord Segur, the leading Roman Catholic -nobleman of the county. He, accompanied by several of the leading -gentlemen of the same persuasion, burst into the room where the Squire -sat, overpowered him, and, putting him bound into a coach, carried him -off to Segur Castle, and locked him up. It took all the strength of the -Popish party to save him from attainder. The Church rallied right -bravely round the old house, which had always assisted her with sword -and purse, and never once had wavered in its allegiance. So while nobler -heads went down, Ambrose Ravenshoe's remained on his shoulders. - -Ambrose died in 1759. - -John (Monseigneur) in 1771. - -Howard in 1800. He first took the Claycomb hounds. - -Petre in 1820. He married Alicia, only daughter of Charles, third Earl -of Ascot, and was succeeded by Densil, the first of our dramatis -personae--the first of all this shadowy line that we shall see in the -flesh. He was born in the year 1783, and married, first in 1812, at his -father's desire, a Miss Winkleigh, of whom I know nothing; and second, -at his own desire, in 1823, Susan, fourth daughter of Lawrence -Petersham, Esq., of Fairford Grange, county Worcester, by whom he had -issue-- - -Cuthbert, born 1826; - -Charles, born 1831. - -Densil was an only son. His father, a handsome, careless, good-humoured, -but weak and superstitious man, was entirely in the hands of the -priests, who during his life were undisputed masters of Ravenshoe. Lady -Alicia was, as I have said, a daughter of Lord Ascot, a Staunton, as -staunchly a Protestant a house as any in England. She, however, managed -to fall in love with the handsome young Popish Squire, and to elope with -him, changing not only her name, but, to the dismay of her family, her -faith also, and becoming, pervert-like, more actively bigoted than her -easy-going husband. She brought little or no money into the family; and, -from her portrait, appears to have been exceedingly pretty, and -monstrously silly. - -To this strong-minded couple was born, two years after their marriage, a -son who was called Densil. - -This young gentleman seems to have got on much like other young -gentlemen till the age of twenty-one, when it was determined by the -higher powers in conclave assembled that he should go to London, and see -the world; and so, having been cautioned duly how to avoid the flesh and -the devil, to see the world he went. In a short time intelligence came -to the confessor of the family, and through him to the father and -mother, that Densil was seeing the world with a vengeance; that he was -the constant companion of the Right Honourable Viscount Saltire, the -great dandy of the Radical Atheist set, with whom no man might play -picquet and live; that he had been upset in a tilbury with Mademoiselle -Vaurien of Drury-lane at Kensington turnpike; that he had fought the -French _emigre_, a Comte de Hautenbas, apropos of the Vaurien -aforementioned--in short, that he was going on at a deuce of a rate: and -so a hurried council was called to deliberate what was to be done. - -"He will lose his immortal soul," said the priest. - -"He will dissipate his property," said his mother. - -"He will go to the devil," said his father. - -So Father Clifford, good man, was despatched to London, with post -horses, and ordered to bring back the lost sheep _vi et armis_. -Accordingly, at ten o'clock one night, Densil's lad was astounded by -having to admit Father Clifford, who demanded immediately to be led to -his master. - -Now this was awkward, for James well knew what was going on upstairs; -but he knew also what would happen, sooner or later, to a Ravenshoe -servant who trifled with a priest, and so he led the way. - -The lost sheep which the good father had come to find was not exactly -sober this evening, and certainly not in a very good temper. He was -playing _ecarte_ with a singularly handsome, though supercilious-looking -man, dressed in the height of fashion, who, judging from the heap of -gold beside him, had been winning heavily. The priest trembled and -crossed himself--this man was the terrible, handsome, wicked, witty, -Atheistical, radical Lord Saltire, whose tongue no woman could -withstand, and whose pistol no man dared face; who was currently -believed to have sold himself to the deuce, or, indeed, as some said, to -be the deuce himself. - -A more cunning man than poor simple Father Clifford would have made some -common-place remark and withdrawn, after a short greeting, taking -warning by the impatient scowl that settled on Densil's handsome face. -Not so he. To be defied by a boy whose law had been his word for ten -years past never entered into his head, and he sternly advanced towards -the pair. - -Densil inquired if anything were the matter at home. And Lord Saltire, -anticipating a scene, threw himself back in his chair, stretched out his -elegant legs, and looked on with the air of a man who knows he is going -to be amused, and composes himself thoroughly to appreciate the -entertainment. - -"Thus much, my son," said the priest; "your mother is wearing out the -stones of the oratory with her knees, praying for her first-born, while -he is wasting his substance, and perilling his soul, with debauched -Atheistic companions, the enemies of God and man." - -Lord Saltire smiled sweetly, bowed elegantly, and took snuff. - -"Why do you intrude into my room, and insult my guest?" said Densil, -casting an angry glance at the priest, who stood calmly like a black -pillar, with his hands before him. "It is unendurable." - -"_Quem Deus vult_," &c. Father Clifford had seen that scowl once or -twice before, but he would not take warning. He said-- - -"I am ordered not to go westward without you. I command you to come." - -"Command me! command a Ravenshoe!" said Densil, furiously. - -Father Clifford, by way of mending matters, now began to lose _his_ -temper. - -"You would not be the first Ravenshoe who has been commanded by a -priest; ay, and has had to obey too," said he. - -"And you will not be the first jack-priest who has felt the weight of a -Ravenshoe's wrath," replied Densil, brutally. - -Lord Saltire leant back, and said to the ambient air, "I'll back the -priest, five twenties to one." - -This was too much. Densil would have liked to quarrel with Saltire, but -that was death--he was the deadest shot in Europe. He grew furious, and -beyond all control. He told the priest to go (further than purgatory); -grew blasphemous, emphatically renouncing the creed of his forefathers, -and, in fact, all other creeds. The priest grew hot and furious too, -retaliated in no measured terms, and finally left the room with his ears -stopped, shaking the dust off his feet as he went. Then Lord Saltire -drew up to the table again, laughing. - -"Your estates are entailed, Ravenshoe, I suppose?" said he. - -"No." - -"Oh! It's your deal, my dear fellow." - -Densil got an angry letter from his father in a few days, demanding full -apologies and recantations, and an immediate return home. Densil had no -apologies to make, and did not intend to return till the end of the -season. His father wrote declining the honour of his further -acquaintance, and sending him a draft for fifty pounds to pay -outstanding bills, which he very well knew amounted to several -thousands. In a short time the great Catholic tradesmen, with whom he -had been dealing, began to press for money in a somewhat insolent way; -and now Densil began to see that, by defying and insulting the faith and -the party to which he belonged, he had merely cut himself off from rank, -wealth, and position. He had defied the _partie pretre_, and had yet to -feel their power. In two months he was in the Fleet prison. - -His servant (the title "tiger" came in long after this), a half groom, -half valet, such as men kept in those days--a simple lad from Ravenshoe, -James Horton by name--for the first time in his life disobeyed orders; -for, on being told to return home by Densil, he firmly declined doing -so, and carried his top boots and white neckcloth triumphantly into the -Fleet, there pursuing his usual avocations with the utmost nonchalance. - -"A very distinguished fellow that of yours, Curly" (they all had -nicknames for one another in those days), said Lord Saltire. "If I were -not Saltire, I think I would be Jim. To own the only clean face among -six hundred fellow-creatures is a pre-eminence, a decided pre-eminence. -I'll buy him of you." - -For Lord Saltire came to see him, snuff-box and all. That morning Densil -was sitting brooding in the dirty room with the barred windows, and -thinking what a wild free wind would be sweeping across the Downs this -fine November day, when the door was opened, and in walks me my lord, -with a sweet smile on his face. - -He was dressed in the extreme of fashion--a long-tailed blue coat with -gold buttons, a frill to his shirt, a white cravat, a wonderful short -waistcoat, loose short nankeen trousers, low shoes, no gaiters, and a -low-crowned hat. I am pretty correct, for I have seen his picture, dated -1804. But you must please to remember that his lordship was in the very -van of the fashion, and that probably such a dress was not universal for -two or three years afterwards. I wonder if his well-known audacity would -be sufficient to make him walk along one of the public thoroughfares in -such a dress, to-morrow, for a heavy bet--I fancy not. - -He smiled sardonically--"My dear fellow," he said, "when a man comes on -a visit of condolence, I know it is the most wretched taste to say, 'I -told you so;' but do me the justice to allow that I offered to back the -priest five to one. I had been coming to you all the week, but Tuesday -and Wednesday I was at Newmarket; Thursday I was shooting at your -cousin Ascot's: yesterday I did not care about boring myself with you; -so I have come to-day because I was at leisure and had nothing better to -do." - -Densil looked up savagely, thinking he had come to insult him: but the -kindly compassionate look in the piercing grey eye belied the cynical -curl of the mouth, and disarmed him. He leant his head upon the table -and sobbed. - -Lord Saltire laid his hand kindly on his shoulder, and said-- - -"You have been a fool, Ravenshoe; you have denied the faith of your -forefathers. Pardieu, if I had such an article I would not have thrown -it so lightly away." - -"_You_ talk like this? Who next? It was your conversation led me to it. -Am I worse than you? What faith have you, in God's name?" - -"The faith of a French Lycee, my friend; the only one I ever had. I have -been sufficiently consistent to that, I think." - -"Consistent indeed," groaned poor Densil. - -"Now, look here," said Saltire; "I may have been to blame in this. But I -give you my honour, I had no more idea that you would be obstinate -enough to bring matters to this pass, than I had that you would burn -down Ravenshoe House because I laughed at it for being old-fashioned. Go -home, my poor little Catholic pipkin, and don't try to swim with iron -pots like Wrekin and me. Make submission to that singularly -_distingue_-looking old turkey-cock of a priest, kiss your mother, and -get your usual autumn's hunting and shooting." - -"Too late! too late, now!" sobbed Densil. - -"Not at all, my dear fellow," said Saltire, taking a pinch of snuff; -"the partridges will be a little wild of course--that you must expect; -but you ought to get some very pretty pheasant and cock-shooting. Come, -say yes. Have your debts paid, and get out of this infernal hole. A week -of this would tame the devil, I should think." - -"If you think you could do anything for me, Saltire." - -Lord Saltire immediately retired, and re-appeared, leading in a lady by -her hand. She raised the veil from her head, and he saw his mother. In a -moment she was crying on his neck; and, as he looked over her shoulder, -he saw a blue coat passing out of the door, and that was the last of -Lord Saltire for the present. - -It was no part of the game of the priests to give Densil a cold welcome -home. Twenty smiling faces were grouped in the porch to welcome him -back; and among them all none smiled more brightly than the old priest -and his father. The dogs went wild with joy, and his favourite -peregrine scolded on the falconer's wrist, and struggled with her -jesses, shrilly reminding him of the merry old days by the dreary salt -marsh, or the lonely lake. - -The past was never once alluded to in any way by any one in the house. -Old Squire Petre shook hands with faithful James, and gave him a watch, -ordering him to ride a certain colt next day, and see how well forward -he could get him. So next day they drew the home covers, and the fox, -brave fellow, ran out to Parkside, making for the granite walls of -Hessitor. And, when Densil felt his nostrils filled once more by the -free rushing mountain air, he shouted aloud for joy, and James's voice -alongside of him said-- - -"This is better than the Fleet, sir." - -And so Densil played a single-wicket match with the Holy Church, and, -like a great many other people, got bowled out in the first innings. He -returned to his allegiance in the most exemplary manner, and settled -down to the most humdrum of young country gentlemen. He did exactly what -every one else about him did. He was not naturally a profligate or -vicious man; but there was a wild devil of animal passion in him, which -had broken out in London, and which was now quieted by dread of -consequences, but which he felt and knew was there, and might break out -again. He was a changed man. There was a gulf between him and the life -he had led before he went to London. He had tasted of liberty (or -rather, not to profane that Divine word, of licentiousness), and yet not -drunk long enough to make him weary of the draught. He had heard the -dogmas he was brought up to believe infallible turned to unutterable -ridicule by men like Saltire and Wrekin; men who, as he had the wit to -see, were a thousand times cleverer and better informed than Father -Clifford or Father Dennis. In short, he had found out, as a great many -others have, that Popery won't hold water, and so, as a _pis aller_, he -adopted Saltire's creed--that religion was necessary for the government -of States, that one religion was as good as another, and that, _caeteris -paribus_, the best religion was the one which secured the possessor -L10,000 a year, and therefore Densil was a devout Catholic. - -It was thought by the allied powers that he ought to marry. He had no -objection and so he married a young lady, a Miss Winkleigh--Catholic, of -course--about whom I can get no information whatever. Lady Ascot says -that she was a pale girl, with about as much air as a milkmaid; on which -two facts I can build no theory as to her personal character. She died -in 1816, childless; and in 1820 Densil lost both his father and mother, -and found himself, at the age of thirty-seven, master of Ravenshoe and -master of himself. - -He felt the loss of the old folks most keenly, more keenly than that of -his wife. He seemed without a stay or holdfast in the world, for he was -a poorly educated man, without resources; and so he went on moping and -brooding until good old Father Clifford, who loved him dearly, got -alarmed, and recommended travels. He recommended Rome, the cradle of the -faith, and to Rome he went. - -He stayed at Rome a year; at the end of which time he appeared suddenly -at home with a beautiful young wife on his arm. As Father Clifford, -trembling and astonished, advanced to lay his hand upon her head, she -drew up, laughed, and said, "Spare yourself the trouble, my dear sir; I -am a Protestant." - -I have had to tell you all this, in order to show you how it came about -that Densil, though a Papist, bethought of marrying a Protestant wife to -keep up a balance of power in his house. For, if he had not married this -lady, the hero of this book would never have been born; and this greater -proposition contains the less, "that if he had never been born, his -history would never have been written, and so this book would have had -no existence." - - - - -CHAPTER II. - -SUPPLEMENTARY TO THE FOREGOING. - - -The second Mrs. Ravenshoe was the handsome dowerless daughter of a -Worcester squire, of good standing, who, being blessed with an -extravagant son, and six handsome daughters, had lived for several years -abroad, finding society more accessible, and consequently, the -matrimonial chances of the "Petersham girls" proportionately greater -than in England. She was a handsome proud woman, not particularly -clever, or particularly agreeable, or particularly anything, except -particularly self-possessed. She had been long enough looking after an -establishment to know thoroughly the value of one, and had seen quite -enough of good houses to know that a house without a mistress is no -house at all. Accordingly, in a very few days the house felt her -presence, submitted with the best grace to her not unkindly rule, and in -a week they all felt as if she had been there for years. - -Father Clifford, who longed only for peace, and was getting very old, -got very fond of her, heretic as she was. She, too, liked the handsome, -gentlemanly old man, and made herself agreeable to him, as a woman of -the world knows so well how to do. Father Mackworth, on the other hand, -his young coadjutor since Father Dennis's death, an importation of Lady -Alicia's from Rome, very soon fell under her displeasure. The first -Sunday after her arrival, she drove to church, and occupied the great -old family pew, to the immense astonishment of the rustics, and, after -afternoon service, caught up the old vicar in her imperious off-hand -way, and will he nil he, carried him off to dinner--at which meal he was -horrified to find himself sitting with two shaven priests, who talked -Latin and crossed themselves. His embarrassment was greatly increased by -the behaviour of Mrs. Ravenshoe, who admired his sermon, and spoke on -doctrinal points with him as though there were not a priest within a -mile. Father Mackworth was imprudent enough to begin talking at him, and -at last said something unmistakably impertinent; upon which Mrs. -Ravenshoe put her glass in her eye, and favoured him with such a glance -of haughty astonishment as silenced him at once. - -This was the beginning of hostilities between them, if one can give the -name of hostilities to a series of infinitesimal annoyances on the one -side, and to immeasurable and barely concealed contempt on the other. -Mackworth, on the one hand, knew that she understood and despised him, -and he hated her. She on the other hand knew that he knew it, but -thought him too much below her notice, save now and then that she might -put down with a high hand any, even the most distant, approach to a -tangible impertinence. But she was no match for him in the arts of -petty, delicate, galling annoyances. There he was her master; he had -been brought up in a good school for that, and had learnt his lesson -kindly. He found that she disliked his presence, and shrunk from his -smooth, lean face with unutterable dislike. From that moment he was -always in her way, overwhelming her with oily politeness, rushing across -the room to pick up anything she had dropped, or to open the door, till -it required the greatest restraint to avoid breaking through all forms -of politeness, and bidding him begone. But why should we go on detailing -trifles like these, which in themselves are nothing, but accumulated are -unbearable? - -So it went on, till one morning, about two years after the marriage, -Mackworth appeared in Clifford's room, and, yawning, threw himself into -a chair. - -"Benedicite," said Father Clifford, who never neglected religious -etiquette on any occasion. - -Mackworth stretched out his legs and yawned, rather rudely, and then -relapsed into silence. Father Clifford went on reading. At last -Mackworth spoke. - -"I'll tell you what, my good friend, I am getting sick of this; I shall -go back to Rome." - -"To Rome?" - -"Yes, back to Rome," repeated the other impertinently, for he always -treated the good old priest with contemptuous insolence when they were -alone. "What is the use of staying here, fighting that woman? There is -no more chance of turning her than a rock, and there is going to be no -family." - -"You think so?" said Clifford. - -"Good heavens, does it look like it? Two years, and not a sign; besides, -should I talk of going, if I thought so? Then there would be a career -worthy of me; then I should have a chance of deserving well of the -Church, by keeping a wavering family in her bosom. And I could do it, -too: every child would be a fresh weapon in my hands against that woman. -Clifford, do you think that Ravenshoe is safe?" - -He said this so abruptly that Clifford coloured and started. Mackworth -at the same time turned suddenly upon him, and scrutinised his face -keenly. - -"Safe!" said the old man; "what makes you fear otherwise?" - -"Nothing special," said Mackworth; "only I have never been easy since -you told me of that London escapade years ago." - -"He has been very devout ever since," said Clifford. "I fear nothing." - -"Humph! Well, I am glad to hear it," said Mackworth. "I shall go to -Rome. I'd sooner be gossiping with Alphonse and Pierre in the cloisters -than vegetating here. My talents are thrown away." - -He departed down the winding steps of the priest's turret, which led to -the flower garden. The day was fine, and a pleasant seat a short -distance off invited him to sit. He could get a book he knew from the -drawing-room, and sit there. So, with habitually noiseless tread, he -passed along the dark corridor, and opened the drawing-room door. - -Nobody was there. The book he wanted was in the little drawing-room -beyond, separated from the room he was in by a partly-drawn curtain. The -priest advanced silently over the deep piled carpet and looked in. - -The summer sunlight, struggling through a waving bower of climbing -plants and the small panes of a deeply mullioned window, fell upon two -persons, at the sight of whom he paused, and, holding his breath, stood, -like a black statue in the gloomy room, wrapped in astonishment. - -He had never in his life heard these twain use any words beyond those of -common courtesy towards one another; he had thought them the most -indifferent, the coldest pair, he had ever seen. But now! now, the -haughty beauty was bending from her chair over her husband, who sat on a -stool at her feet; her arm was round his neck, and her hand was in his; -and, as he looked, she parted the clustering black curls from his -forehead and kissed him. - -He bent forward and listened more eagerly. He could hear the surf on the -shore, the sea-birds on the cliffs, the nightingale in the wood; they -fell upon his ear, but he could not distinguish them; he waited only for -one of the two figures before him to speak. - -At last Mrs. Ravenshoe broke silence, but in so low a voice that even -he, whose attention was strained to the uttermost, could barely catch -what she said. - -"I yield, my love," said she; "I give you this one, but mind, the rest -are mine. I have your solemn promise for that?" - -"My solemn promise," said Densil, and kissed her again. - -"My dear," she resumed, "I wish you could get rid of that priest, that -Mackworth. He is irksome to me." - -"He was recommended to my especial care by my mother," was Densil's -reply. "If you could let him stay I should much rather." - -"Oh, let him stay!" said she; "he is too contemptible for me to annoy -myself about. But I distrust him, Densil. He has a lowering look -sometimes." - -"He is talented and agreeable," said Densil; "but I never liked him." - -The listener turned to go, having heard enough, but was arrested by her -continuing-- - -"By the by, my love, do you know that that impudent girl Norah has been -secretly married this three months?" - -The priest listened more intently than ever. - -"Who to?" asked Densil. - -"To James, your keeper." - -"I am glad of that. That lad James stuck to me in prison, Susan, when -they all left me. She is a fine, faithful creature, too. Mind you give -her a good scolding." - -Mackworth had heard enough apparently, for he stole gently away through -the gloomy room, and walked musingly upstairs to Father Clifford. - -That excellent old man took up the conversation just where it had left -off. - -"And when," said he, "my brother, do you propose returning to Rome?" - -"I shall not go to Rome at all," was the satisfactory reply, followed by -a deep silence. - -In a few months, much to Father Clifford's joy and surprise, Mrs. -Ravenshoe bore a noble boy, which was named Cuthbert. Cuthbert was -brought up in the Romish faith, and at five years old had just begun to -learn his prayers of Father Clifford, when an event occurred equally -unexpected by all parties. Mrs. Ravenshoe was again found to be in a -condition to make an addition to her family. - - - - -CHAPTER III. - -IN WHICH OUR HERO'S TROUBLES BEGIN. - - -If you were a lazy yachtsman, sliding on a summer's day, before a gentle -easterly breeze, over the long swell from the Atlantic, past the -south-westerly shores of the Bristol Channel, you would find, after -sailing all day beneath shoreless headlands of black slate, that the -land suddenly fell away and sunk down, leaving, instead of beetling -cliffs, a lovely amphitheatre of hanging wood and lawn, fronted by a -beach of yellow sand--a pleasing contrast to the white surf and dark -crag to which your eye had got accustomed. - -This beautiful semicircular basin is about two miles in diameter, -surrounded by hills on all sides, save that which is open to the sea. -East and west the headlands stretch out a mile or more, forming a fine -bay open to the north; while behind, landward, the downs roll up above -the woodlands, a bare expanse of grass and grey stone. Half way along -the sandy beach, a trout-stream comes foaming out of a dark wood, and -finds its way across the shore in fifty sparkling channels; and the eye, -caught by the silver thread of water, is snatched away above and beyond -it, along a wooded glen, the cradle of the stream, which pierces the -country landward for a mile or two, till the misty vista is abruptly -barred by a steep blue hill, which crosses the valley at right angles. A -pretty little village stands at the mouth of the stream, and straggles -with charming irregularity along the shore for a considerable distance -westward; while behind, some little distance up the glen, a handsome -church tower rises from among the trees. There are some fishing boats at -anchor, there are some small boats on the beach, there is a coasting -schooner beached and discharging coal, there are some fishermen -lounging, there are some nets drying, there are some boys bathing, there -are two grooms exercising four handsome horses; but it is not upon -horses, men, boats, ship, village, church, or stream, that you will find -your eye resting, but upon a noble, turreted, deep-porched, grey stone -mansion, that stands on the opposite side of the stream, about a hundred -feet above the village. - -On the east bank of the little river, just where it joins the sea, -abrupt lawns of grass and fern, beautifully broken by groups of birch -and oak, rise above the dark woodlands, at the culminating point of -which, on a buttress which runs down from the higher hills behind, -stands the house I speak of, the north front looking on the sea, and the -west on the wooded glen before mentioned--the house on a ridge dividing -the two. Immediately behind again the dark woodlands begin once more, -and above them is the moor. - -The house itself is of grey stone, built in the time of Henry VIII. The -facade is exceedingly noble, though irregular; the most striking feature -in the north or sea front being a large dark porch, open on three sides, -forming the basement of a high stone tower, which occupies the centre of -the building. At the north-west corner (that towards the village) rises -another tower of equal height; and behind, above the irregular groups of -chimneys, the more modern cupola of the stables shows itself as the -highest point of all, and gives, combined with the other towers, a -charming air of irregularity to the whole. The windows are mostly long, -low, and heavily mullioned, and the walls are battlemented. - -On approaching the house you find that it is built very much after the -fashion of a college, with a quadrangle in the centre. Two sides of -this, the north and west, are occupied by the house, the south by the -stables, and the east by a long and somewhat handsome chapel, of greater -antiquity than the rest of the house. The centre of this quad, in place -of the trim grass-plat, is occupied by a tan lunging ring, in the middle -of which stands a granite basin filled with crystal water from the -hills. In front of the west wing, a terraced flower-garden goes step by -step towards the stream, till the smooth-shaven lawns almost mingle with -the wild ferny heather turf of the park, where the dappled deer browse, -and the rabbit runs to and fro busily. On the north, towards the sea, -there are no gardens; but a noble gravel terrace, divided from the park -only by a deep rampart, runs along beneath the windows; and to the east -the deer-park stretches away till lawn and glade are swallowed up in the -encroaching woodland. - -Such is Ravenshoe Hall at the present day, and such it was on the 10th -of June, 1831 (I like to be particular), as regards the still life of -the place; but, if one had then regarded the living inhabitants, one -would have seen signs of an unusual agitation. Round the kitchen door -stood a group of female servants talking eagerly together; and, at the -other side of the court, some half-dozen grooms and helpers were -evidently busy on the same theme, till the appearance of the stud-groom -entering the yard suddenly dispersed them right and left; to do nothing -with superabundant energy. - -To them also entered a lean, quiet-looking man, aged at this time -fifty-two. We have seen him before. He was our old friend Jim, who had -attended Densil in the Fleet prison in old times. He had some time -before this married a beautiful Irish Catholic waiting-maid of Lady -Alicia's, by whom he had a daughter, now five years old, and a son aged -one week. He walked across the yard to where the women were talking, and -addressed them. - -"How is my lady to-night?" said he. - -"Holy Mother of God!" said a weeping Irish housemaid, "she's worse." - -"How's the young master?" - -"Hearty, a darling; crying his little eyes out, he is, a-bless him." - -"He'll be bigger than Master Cuthbert, I'll warrant ye," said a portly -cook. - -"When was he born?" asked James. - -"Nigh on two hours," said the other speaker. - -At this conjuncture a groom came running through the passage, putting a -note in his hat as he went; he came to the stud-groom, and said -hurriedly, "A note for Dr. Marcy at Lanceston, sir. What horse am I to -take?" - -"Trumpeter. How is my lady?" - -"Going, as far as I can gather, sir." - -James waited until he heard him dash full speed out of the yard, and -then till he saw him disappear like a speck along the mountain road far -aloft; then he went into the house, and, getting as near to the sick -room as he dared, waited quietly on the stairs. - -It was a house of woe, indeed! Two hours before, one feeble, wailing -little creature had taken up his burthen, and begun his weary pilgrimage -across the unknown desolate land that lay between him and the grave--for -a part of which you and I are to accompany him; while his mother even -now was preparing for her rest, yet striving for the child's sake to -lengthen the last few weary steps of her journey, that they two might -walk, were it never so short a distance, together. - -The room was very still. Faintly the pure scents and sounds stole into -the chamber of death from the blessed summer air without; gently came -the murmur of the surf upon the sands; fainter and still fainter came -the breath of the dying mother. The babe lay beside her, and her arm was -round its body. The old vicar knelt by the bed, and Densil stood with -folded arms and bowed head, watching the face which had grown so dear to -him, till the light should die out from it for ever. Only those four in -the chamber of death! - -The sighing grew louder, and the eye grew once more animated. She -reached out her hand, and, taking one of the vicar's, laid it upon the -baby's head. Then she looked at Densil, who was now leaning over her, -and with a great effort spoke. - -"Densil, dear, you will remember your promise?" - -"I will swear it, my love." - -A few more laboured sighs, and a greater effort: "Swear it to me, love." - -He swore that he would respect the promise he had made, so help him God! - -The eyes were fixed now, and all was still. Then there was a long sigh; -then there was a long silence; then the vicar rose from his knees, and -looked at Densil. There were but three in the chamber now. - - * * * * * - -Densil passed through the weeping women, and went straight to his own -study. There he sat down, tearless, musing much about her who was gone. - -How he had grown to love that woman, he thought--her that he had married -for her beauty and her pride, and had thought so cold and hard! He -remembered how the love of her had grown stronger, year by year, since -their first child was born. How he had respected her for her firmness -and consistency; and how often, he thought, had he sheltered his -weakness behind her strength! His right hand was gone, and he was left -alone to do battle by himself! - -One thing was certain. Happen what would, his promise should be -respected, and this last boy, just born, should be brought up a -Protestant as his mother had wished. He knew the opposition he would -have from Father Mackworth, and determined to brave it. And, as the name -of that man came into his mind, some of his old fierce, savage nature -broke out again, and he almost cursed him aloud. - -"I hate that fellow! I should like to defy him, and let him do his -worst. I'd do it, now she's gone, if it wasn't for the boys. No, hang -it, it wouldn't do. If I'd told him under seal of confession, instead of -letting him grab it out, he couldn't have hung it over me like this. I -wish he was--" - -If Father Mackworth had had the slightest inkling of the state of mind -of his worthy patron towards him, it is very certain that he would not -have chosen that very moment to rap at the door. The most acute of us -make a mistake sometimes; and he, haunted with vague suspicions since -the conversation he had overheard in the drawing-room before the birth -of Cuthbert, grew impatient, and determined to solve his doubts at once, -and, as we have seen, selected the singularly happy moment when poor -passionate Densil was cursing him to his heart's content. - -"Brother, I am come to comfort you," he said, opening the door before -Densil had time, either to finish the sentence written above, or to say -"Come in." "This is a heavy affliction, and the heavier because--" - -"Go away," said Densil, pointing to the door. - -"Nay, nay," said the priest, "hear me--" - -"Go away," said Densil, in a louder tone. "Do you hear me? I want to be -alone, and I mean to be. Go!" - -How recklessly defiant weak men get when they are once fairly in a rage? -Densil, who was in general civilly afraid of this man, would have defied -fifty such as he now. - -"There is one thing, Mr. Ravenshoe," said the priest, in a very -different tone, "about which I feel it my duty to speak to you, in spite -of the somewhat unreasonable form your grief has assumed. I wish to know -what you mean to call your son." - -"Why?" - -"Because he is ailing, and I wish to baptise him." - -"You will do nothing of the kind, sir," said Densil, as red as a -turkey-cock. "He will be baptised in proper time in the parish church. -He is to be brought up a Protestant." - -The priest looked steadily at Densil, who, now brought fairly to bay, -was bent on behaving like a valiant man, and said slowly-- - -"So my suspicions are confirmed, then, and you have determined to hand -over your son to eternal perdition" (he didn't say perdition, he used a -stronger word, which we will dispense with, if you have no objection). - -"Perdition, sir!" bawled Densil; "how dare you talk of a son of mine in -that free-and-easy sort of way? Why, what my family has done for the -Church ought to keep a dozen generations of Ravenshoes from a -possibility of perdition, sir. Don't tell me." - -This new and astounding theory of justification by works, which poor -Densil had broached in his wrath, was overheard by a round-faced, -bright-eyed, curly-headed man about fifty, who entered the room -suddenly, followed by James. For one instant you might have seen a smile -of intense amusement pass over his merry face; but in an instant it was -gone again, and he gravely addressed Densil. - -"My dear Mr. Ravenshoe, I must use my authority as doctor, to request -that your son's spiritual welfare should for the present yield to his -temporal necessities. You must have a wet-nurse, my good sir." - -Densil's brow had grown placid in a moment beneath the doctor's kindly -glance. "God bless me," he said, "I never thought of it. Poor little -lad! poor little lad!" - -"I hope, sir," said James, "that you will let Norah have the young -master. She has set her heart upon it." - -"I have seen Mrs. Horton," said the doctor, "and I quite approve of the -proposal. I think it, indeed, a most special providence that she should -be able to undertake it. Had it been otherwise, we might have been -undone." - -"Let us go at once," said the impetuous Densil. "Where is the nurse? -where is the boy?" And, so saying, he hurried out of the room, followed -by the doctor and James. - -Mackworth stood alone, looking out of the window, silent. He stood so -long that one who watched him peered from his hiding-place more than -once to see if he were gone. At length he raised his arm and struck his -clenched hand against the rough granite window-sill so hard that he -brought blood. Then he moodily left the room. - -As soon as the room was quiet, a child about five years old crept -stealthily from a dark corner where he had lain hidden, and with a look -of mingled shyness and curiosity on his face, departed quietly by -another door. - -Meanwhile, Densil, James, and the doctor, accompanied by the nurse and -baby, were holding their way across the court-yard towards a cottage -which lay in the wood beyond the stables. James opened the door, and -they passed into the inner room. - -A beautiful woman was sitting propped up by pillows, nursing a week-old -child. The sunlight, admitted by a half-open shutter, fell upon her, -lighting up her delicate features, her pale pure complexion, and -bringing a strange sheen on her long loose black hair. Her face was bent -down, gazing on the child which lay on her breast; and at the entrance -of the party she looked up, and displayed a large lustrous dark blue -eye, which lighted up with infinite tenderness, as Densil, taking the -wailing boy from the nurse, placed it on her arm beside the other. - -"Take care of that for me, Norah," said Densil. "It has no mother but -you, now." - -"Acushla ma chree," she answered; "bless my little bird. Come to your -nest, alanna, come to your pretty brother, my darlin'." - -The child's wailing was stilled now, and the doctor remarked, and -remembered long afterwards, that the little waxen fingers, clutching -uneasily about, came in contact with the little hand of the other child, -and paused there. At this moment, a beautiful little girl, about five -years old, got on the bed, and nestled her peachy cheek against her -mother's. As they went out, he turned and looked at the beautiful group -once more, and then he followed Densil back to the house of mourning. - -Reader, before we have done with those three innocent little faces, we -shall see them distorted and changed by many passions, and shall meet -them in many strange places. Come, take my hand, and we will follow them -on to the end. - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - -FATHER MACKWORTH. - - -I have noticed that the sayings and doings of young gentlemen before -they come to the age of, say seven or eight, are hardly interesting to -any but their immediate relations and friends. I have my eye, at this -moment, on a young gentleman of the mature age of two, the instances of -whose sagacity and eloquence are of greater importance, and certainly -more pleasant, to me, than the projects of Napoleon, or the orations of -Bright. And yet I fear that even his most brilliant joke, if committed -to paper, would fall dead upon the public ear; and so, for the present, -I shall leave Charles Ravenshoe to the care of Norah, and pass on to -some others who demand our attention more. - -The first thing which John Mackworth remembered was his being left in -the _loge_ of a French school at Rouen by an English footman. Trying to -push back his memory further, he always failed to conjure up any -previous recollection to that. He had certainly a very indistinct one of -having been happier, and having lived quietly in pleasant country places -with a kind woman who talked English; but his first decided impression -always remained the same--that of being, at six years old, left -friendless, alone, among twenty or thirty French boys older than -himself. - -His was a cruel fate. He would have been happier apprenticed to a -collier. If the man who sent him there had wished to inflict the -heaviest conceivable punishment on the poor unconscious little innocent, -he could have done no more than simply left him at that school. We shall -see how he found out at last who his benefactor was. - -English boys are sometimes brutal to one another (though not so often as -some wish to make out), and are always rough. Yet I must say, as far as -my personal experience goes, the French boy is entirely master in the -art of tormenting. He never strikes; he does not know how to clench his -fist. He is an arrant coward, according to an English schoolboy's -definition of the word: but at pinching, pulling hair, ear pulling, and -that class of annoyance, all the natural ingenuity of his nation comes -out, and he is superb; add to this a combined insolent studied sarcasm, -and you have an idea of what a disagreeable French schoolboy can be. - -To say that the boys at poor John Mackworth's school put all these -methods of torture in force against him, and ten times more, is to give -one but a faint idea of his sufferings. The English at that time were -hated with a hatred which we in these sober times have but little idea -of; and, with the cannon of Trafalgar ringing as it were in their ears, -these young French gentlemen seized on Mackworth as a lawful prize -providentially delivered into their hands. We do not know what he may -have been under happier auspices, or what he may be yet with a more -favourable start in another life; we have only to do with what he was. -Six years of friendless persecution, of life ungraced and uncheered by -domestic love, of such bitter misery as childhood alone is capable of -feeling or enduring, transformed him from a child into a heartless, -vindictive man. - -And then, the French schoolmaster having roughly finished the piece of -goods, it was sent to Rome to be polished and turned out ready for the -market. Here I must leave him; I don't know the process. I have seen the -article when finished, and am familiar with it. I know the trade mark on -it as well as I know the Tower mark on my rifle. I may predicate of a -glass that it is Bohemian ruby, and yet not know how they gave it the -colour. I must leave descriptions of that system to Mr. Steinmetz, and -men who have been behind the scenes. - -The red-hot ultramontane thorough-going Catholicism of that pretty -pervert, Lady Alicia, was but ill satisfied with the sensible, old -English, cut and dried notions of the good Father Clifford. A comparison -of notes with two or three other great ladies, brought about a -consultation, and a letter to Rome, the result of which was that a young -Englishman of presentable exterior, polite manners, talking English with -a slight foreign accent, made his appearance at Ravenshoe, and was -installed as her ladyship's confessor, about eighteen months before her -death. - -His talents were by no means ordinary. In very few days he had gauged -every intellect in the house, and found that he was by far the superior -of all in wit and education; and he determined that as long as he stayed -in the house he would be master there. - -Densil's jealous temper sadly interfered with this excellent resolution; -he was immensely angry and rebellious at the slightest apparent -infringement of his prerogative, and after his parents' death treated -Mackworth in such an exceedingly cavalier manner, that the latter feared -he should have to move, till chance threw into his hand a whip wherewith -he might drive Densil where he would. He discovered a scandalous liaison -of poor Densil's, and in an indirect manner let him know that he knew -all about it. This served to cement his influence until the appearance -of Mrs. Ravenshoe the second, who, as we have seen, treated him with -such ill-disguised contempt, that he was anything but comfortable, and -was even meditating a retreat to Rome, when the conversation he -overheard in the drawing-room made him pause, and the birth of the boy -Cuthbert confirmed his resolution to stay. - -For now, indeed, there was a prospect open to him. Here was this child -delivered over to him like clay to a potter, that he might form it as he -would. It should go hard but that the revenues and county influence of -the Ravenshoes should tend to the glory of the Church as heretofore. -Only one person was in his way, and that was Mrs. Ravenshoe; after her -death he was master of the situation with regard to the eldest of the -boys. He had partly guessed, ever since he overheard the conversation -of Densil and his wife, that some sort of bargain existed between them -about the second child; but he paid little heed to it. It was, -therefore, with the bitterest anger that he saw his fears confirmed, and -Densil angrily obstinate on the matter; for supposing Cuthbert were to -die, all his trouble and anxiety would avail nothing, and the old house -and lands would fall to a Protestant heir, the first time in the history -of the island. Father Clifford consoled him. - -Meanwhile, his behaviour towards Densil was gradually and insensibly -altered. He became the free and easy man of the world, the amusing -companion, the wise counsellor. He saw that Densil was of a nature to -lean on some one, and he was determined it should be on him; so he made -himself necessary. But he did more than this; he determined he would be -beloved as well as respected, and with a happy audacity he set to work -to win that poor wild foolish heart to himself, using such arts of -pleasing as must have been furnished by his own mother wit, and could -never have been learned in a hundred years from a Jesuit college. The -poor heart was not a hard one to win; and, the day they buried poor -Father Clifford in the mausoleum, it was with a mixture of pride at his -own talents, and contemptuous pity for his dupe, that Mackworth listened -to Densil as he told him that he was now his only friend, and besought -him not to leave him--which thing Mackworth promised, with the deepest -sincerity, he would not do. - - - - -CHAPTER V. - -RANFORD. - - -Master Charles, blessed with a placid temper and a splendid appetite, -throve amazingly. Before you knew where you were, he was in tops and -bottoms; before you had thoroughly realized that, he was learning his -letters; then there was hardly time to turn round, before he was a -rosy-cheeked boy of ten. - -From the very first gleam of reason, he had been put solely and entirely -under the care of Mr. Snell, the old vicar, who had been with his mother -when she died, and a Protestant nurse, Mrs. Varley. Faithfully had these -two discharged their sacred trust; and, if love can repay such services, -right well were they repaid. - -A pleasant task they had, though, for a more lovable little lad than -Charles there never was. His little heart seemed to have an infinite -capacity of affection for all who approached him. Everything animate -came before him in the light of a friend, to whom he wished to make -himself agreeable, from his old kind tutor and nurse down to his pony -and terrier. Charles had not arrived at the time of life when it was -possible for him to quarrel about women; and so he actually had no -enemies as yet, but was welcomed by pleasant and kind faces wherever he -went. At one time he would be at his father's knee, while the -good-natured Densil made him up some fishing tackle; next you would find -him in the kennel with the whipper-in, feeding the hounds, -half-smothered by their boisterous welcome; then the stables would own -him for a time, while the lads were cleaning up and feeding; then came a -sudden flitting to one of the keeper's lodges; and anon he would be down -on the sands wading with half a dozen fisher-boys as happy as -himself--but welcome and beloved everywhere. - -Sunday was a right pleasant day for him. After seeing his father shave, -and examining his gold-topped dressing-case from top to -bottom--amusements which were not participated in by Cuthbert, who had -grown too manly--he would haste through his breakfast, and with his -clean clothes hurry down the village towards the vicarage, which stood -across the stream near the church. Not to go in yet, you will observe, -because the sermon, he well knew, was getting its finishing touches, and -the vicar must not be disturbed. No, the old stone bridge would bring -him up; and there he would stay looking at the brown crystal-clear water -rushing and seething among the rocks, lying dark under the oak-roots, -and flashing merrily over the weir, just above the bridge; till "flick!" -a silver bar would shoot quivering into the air, and a salmon would -light on the top of the fall, just where the water broke, and would -struggle on into the still pool above, or be beaten back by the force, -to resume his attempt when he had gained breath. The trout, too, under -the bridge, bless the rogues, they knew it was Sunday well enough--how -they would lie up there in the swiftest places, where glancing liquid -glorified the poor pebbles below into living amber, and would hardly -trouble themselves to snap at the great fat, silly stoneflies that came -floating down. Oh! it was a terrible place for dawdling was that stone -bridge, on a summer sabbath morn. - -But now would the country folks come trooping in from far and near, for -Ravenshoe was the only church for miles, and however many of them there -were, every one had a good hearty West-country greeting for him. And, -as the crowd increased near the church door, there was so much to say -and hear, that I am afraid the prayers suffered a little sometimes. - -The villagers were pleased enough to see the lad in the old carved -horsebox (not to be irreverent) of a pew, beneath the screen in the -chancel, with the light from the old rose window shining on his curly -brown hair. The older ones would think of the haughty beautiful lady who -sat there so few years ago, and oftentimes one of the more sagacious -would shake his head and mutter to himself, "Ah! if _he_ were heir." - -Any boy who reads this story, and I hope many will read it, is hereby -advertised that it is exceedingly wrong to be inattentive in church in -sermon time. It is very naughty to look up through the windows at the -white clouds flying across the blue sky, and think how merrily the -shadows are sweeping over the upland lawn, where the pewits' nests are, -and the blackcock is crowing on the grey stones among the heather. No -boy has any right to notice another boy's absence, and spend sermon-time -in wondering whether he is catching crabs among the green and crimson -seaweed on the rocks, or bathing in the still pool under the cliff. A -boy had better not go to church at all if he spends his time in thinking -about the big trout that lies up in one of the pools of the woodland -stream, and whether he will be able to catch a sight of him again by -creeping gently through the hazel and king fern. Birds' nests, too, even -though it be the ringousel's, who is to lay her last egg this blessed -day, and is marked for spoliation to-morrow, should be banished from a -boy's mind entirely during church time. Now, I am sorry to say, that -Charley was very much given to wander in church, and, when asked about -the sermon by the vicar next day, would look rather foolish. Let us hope -that he will be a warning to all sinners in this respect. - -Then, after church, there would be dinner, at his father's lunch time, -in the dark old hall, and there would be more to tell his father and -brother than could be conveniently got through at that meal; then there -was church again, and a long stroll in the golden sunshine along the -shore. Ah, happy summer sabbaths! - -The only two people who were ever cold to Charley, were his brother and -Mackworth. Not that they were openly unkind, but there was between both -of them and himself an indefinable gulf, an entire want of sympathy, -which grieved him sometimes, though he was as yet too young to be much -troubled by it. He only exhausted all his little arts of pleasing -towards them to try and win them; he was indefatigable in running -messages for Cuthbert and the chaplain; and once, when kind grandaunt -Ascot (she was a Miss Headstall, daughter of Sir Cingle Headstall, and -married Lord George Ascot, brother of Lady Alicia, Densil's mother) sent -him a pineapple in a box, he took it to the priest and would have had -him take it. Mackworth refused it, but looked on him not unkindly for a -few minutes, and then turned away with a sigh. Perhaps he was trying to -recall the time so long, long ago, when his own face was as open and as -innocent as that. God knows! Charles cried a little, because the priest -wouldn't take it, and, having given his brother the best slice, ate the -rest in the stable, with the assistance of his foster brother and two of -the pad grooms. Thereby proving himself to be a lad of low and -dissipated habits. - -Cuthbert was at this time a somewhat good-looking young fellow of -sixteen. Neither of the brothers was what would be called handsome, -though, if Charley's face was the most pleasing, Cuthbert certainly had -the most regular features. His forehead was lofty, although narrow, and -flat at the sides; his cheek bones were high, and his nose was aquiline, -not ill-formed, though prominent, starting rather suddenly out below his -eyes; the lips were thin, the mouth small and firmly closed, and the -chin short and prominent. The _tout ensemble_ was hardly pleasing even -at this youthful period; the face was too much formed and decided for so -young a man. - -Cuthbert was a reserved methodical lad, with whom no one could find -fault, and yet whom few liked. He was studious and devout to an extent -rare in one so young; and, although a capital horseman and a good shot, -he but seldom indulged in those amusements, preferring rather a walk -with the steward, and soon returning to the dark old library to his -books and Father Mackworth. There they two would sit, like two owls, -hour after hour, appearing only at meals, and talking French to one -another, noticing Charley but little; who, however, was always full of -news, and would tell it, too, in spite of the inattention of the strange -couple. Densil began to respect and be slightly afraid of his eldest -son, as his superior in learning and in natural abilities; but I think -Charles had the biggest share in his heart. - -Aunt Ascot had a year before sent to Cuthbert to pay her a visit at -Ranford, her son's, Lord Ascot's place, where she lived with him, he -being a widower, and kept house for him. Ranford, we all know, or ought -to know, contains the largest private racing stud in England, and the -Ascot family for many generations had given themselves up entirely to -sporting--so much so, that their marriages with other houses have been -to a certain extent influenced by it; and so poor Cuthbert, as we may -suppose, was quite like a fish out of water. He detested and despised -the men he met there, and they, on their parts, such of them as chose to -notice him, thought him a surly young bookworm; and, as for his -grandaunt, he hated the very sound of that excellent lady's voice. Her -abruptness, her homoeopathic medicines, her Protestantism (which she -was always airing), and her stable-talk, nearly drove him mad; while -she, on the other hand, thought him one of the most disagreeable boys -she had ever met with in her life. So the visit was rather a failure -than otherwise, and not very likely to be repeated. Nevertheless, her -ladyship was very fond of young faces, and so in a twelvemonth, she -wrote to Densil as follows:-- - -"I am one mass of lumbago all round the small of my back, and I find -nothing like opodeldoc after all. The pain is very severe, but I suppose -you would comfort me, as a heretic, by saying it is nothing to what I -shall endure in a few years' time. Bah! I have no patience with you -Papists, packing better people than yourselves off somewhere in that -free-and-easy way. By-the-bye, how is that father confessor of yours, -Markworth, or some such name--mind me, Ravenshoe, that fellow is a -rogue, and you being, like all Ravenshoes, a fool, there is a pair of -you. Why, if one of Ascot's grooms was to smile as that man does, or to -whine in his speech as that man does, when he is talking to a woman of -rank, I'd have him discharged on the spot, without warning, for -dishonesty. - -"Don't put a penny on Ascot's horse at Chester; he will never stay over -the Cup course. Curfew, in my opinion, looks by no means badly for the -Derby; he is scratched for the Two Thousand--which was necessary, though -I am sorry for it, &c., &c., &c. - -"I wish you would send me your boy, will you? Not the eldest: the -Protestant one. Perhaps he mayn't be such an insufferable coxcomb as his -brother." - -At which letter Densil shook his honest sides with uproarious laughter. -"Cuthbert, my boy," he said, "you have won your dear aunt's heart -entirely; though she, being determined to mortify the flesh with its -affection, does not propose seeing you again, but asks for Charley. The -candour of that dear old lady increases with her age. You seem to have -been making your court, too, father; she speaks of your smile in the -most unqualified terms." - -"Her ladyship must do me the honour to quiz me," said Mackworth. "If it -is possible to judge by her eye, she must like me about as well as a mad -dog." - -"For my part, father," said Cuthbert, curling up the corners of his -thin lips sardonically, "I shall be highly content to leave my dear aunt -in the peaceable enjoyment of her favourite society of grooms, -horse-jockeys, blacklegs, dissenting ministers, and such-like. A month -in that house, my dear Charley, will qualify you for a billiard-marker; -and, after a course of six weeks, you will be fit to take the situation -of croupier in a low hell on a race-course. How you will enjoy yourself, -my dear!" - -"Steady, Cuthbert steady," said his father; "I can't allow you to talk -like that about your cousin's house. It is a great house for field -sports, but there is not a better conducted house in the kingdom." - -Cuthbert lay over the sofa to fondle a cat, and then continued speaking -very deliberately, in a slightly louder voice,-- - -"I will allow my aunt to be the most polite, intellectual, -delicate-minded old lady in creation, my dearest father, if you wish it; -only, not having been born (I beg her pardon, dropped) in a racing -stable, as she was herself, I can hardly appreciate her conversation -always. As for my cousin, I consider him a splendid sample of an -hereditary legislator. Charley, dear, you won't go to church on Sunday -afternoon at Ranford; you will go into the croft with your cousin Ascot -to see the chickens fed. Ascot is very curious in his poultry, -particularly on Sunday afternoon. Father, why does he cut all the cocks' -tails square?" - -"Pooh, pooh," said Densil, "what matter? many do it, besides him. Don't -you be squeamish, Cuthbert--though, mind you, I don't defend -cock-fighting on Sunday." - -Cuthbert laughed and departed, taking his cat with him. - -Charles had a long coach journey of one day, and then an awful and -wonderful journey on the Great Western Railway as far as -Twyford--alighting at which place, he was accosted by a -pleasant-looking, fresh-coloured boy, dressed in close-fitting cord -trousers, a blue handkerchief, spotted with white, and a Scotch cap; who -said-- - -"Oh! I'm your cousin Welter. I'm the same age as you, and I'm going to -Eton next half. I've brought you over Tiger, because Punch is lame, and -the station-master will look after your things; so we can come at once." - -The boys were friends in two minutes; and, going out, there was a groom -holding two ponies--on the prettiest of which Charley soon found himself -seated, and jogging on with his companion towards Henley. - -I like to see two honest lads, just introduced, opening their hearts to -one another, and I know nothing more pleasant than to see how they -rejoice as each similarity of taste comes out. By the time these two -had got to Henley Bridge, Lord Welter had heard the name of every horse -in the Ravenshoe stables, and Charley was rapidly getting learned in -Lord Ascot's racing stud. The river at Henley distracted his attention -for a time, as the biggest he had seen, and he asked his cousin, "Did he -think the Mississippi was much bigger than that now?" and Lord Welter -supposed, "Oh dear yes, a great deal bigger," he should say. Then there -was more conversation about dogs and guns, and pleasant country places -to ride through; then a canter over a lofty breezy down, and then the -river again, far below, and at their feet the chimneys of Ranford. - -The house was very full; and, as the boys came up there was a crowd of -phaetons, dog-carts, and saddle-horses, for the people were just -arriving home for dinner after the afternoon drive; and, as they had all -been to the same object of attraction that afternoon, they had all come -in together and were loitering about talking, some not yet dismounted, -and some on the steps. Welter was at home at once, and had a word with -every one; but Charles was left alone, sitting on his pony, feeling very -shy; till, at last, a great brown man with a great brown moustache, and -a gruff voice, came up to him and lifted him off the horse, holding him -out at arm's length for inspection. - -"So you are Curly Ravenshoe's boy, hey?" said he. - -"Yes, sir." - -"Ha!" said the stranger, putting him down, and leading him towards the -door; "just tell your father you saw General Mainwaring, will you? and -that he wanted to know how his old friend was." - -Charles looked at the great brown hand which was in his own, and thought -of the Affghan war, and of all the deeds of renown that that hand had -done, and was raising his eyes to the general's face, when they were -arrested half-way by another face, not the general's. - -It was that of a handsome, grey-headed man, who might have been sixty, -he was so well _conserve_, but who was actually far more. He wore his -own white hair, which contrasted strongly with a pair of delicate thin -black eyebrows. His complexion was florid, with scarcely a wrinkle, his -features were fine and regular, and a pair of sparkling dark grey eyes -gave a pleasant light to his face. His dress was wondrously neat, and -Charles, looking on him, guessed, with a boy's tact, that he was a man -of mark. - -"Whose son did you say he was, general?" said the stranger. - -"Curly's!" said Mainwaring, stopping and smiling. - -"No, really!" said the other; and then he looked fixedly at Charles, -and began to laugh, and Charley, seeing nothing better to do, looked up -at the grey eyes and laughed too, and this made the stranger worse; and -then, to crown the joke, the general began to laugh too, though none of -them had said a syllable more than what I have written down; and at last -the ridiculous exhibition finished up by the old gentleman taking a -great pinch of snuff from a gold box, and turning away. - -Charles was much puzzled, and was still more so when, in an hour's time, -having dressed himself, and being on his way downstairs to his aunt's -room, who had just come in, he was stopped on a landing by this same old -gentleman, beautifully dressed for dinner, who looked on him as before. - -He didn't laugh this time, but he did worse. He utterly "dumbfoundered" -Charley, by asking abruptly-- - -"How's Jim?" - -"He is very well, thank you, sir. His wife Norah nursed me when mamma -died." - -"Oh, indeed," said the other; "so he hasn't cut your father's throat -yet, or anything of that sort?" - -"Oh dear no," said Charles, horrified; "bless you, what can make you -think of such things? Why, he is the kindest man in the world." - -"I don't know," said the old gentleman, thoughtfully; "that excessively -faithful kind of creature is very apt to do that sort of thing. I should -discharge any servant of mine who exhibited the slightest symptoms of -affection as a dangerous lunatic;" with which villainous sentiment he -departed. - -Charles thought what a strange old gentleman he was for a short time, -and then slid down the banisters. They were better banisters than those -at Ravenshoe, being not so steep, and longer: so he went up, and slid -down again;[1] after which he knocked at his aunt's door. - -It was with a beating heart that he waited for an answer. Cuthbert had -described Lady Ascot as such a horrid old ogress, that he was not -without surprise when a cheery voice said, "Come in;" and entering a -handsome room, he found himself in presence of a noble-looking old lady, -with grey hair, who was netting in an upright, old-fashioned chair. - -"So you are Charles Ravenshoe, eh?" she began. "Why, my dear, you must -be perished with cold and hunger. I should have come in before, but I -didn't expect you so soon. Tea will be here directly. You ain't a -beauty, my dear, but I think I shall like you. There never was but one -really handsome Ravenshoe, and that was poor Petre, your grandfather. -Poor Alicia made a great fool of herself, but she was very happy with -him. Welter, you naughty boy, be still." - -The Right Honourable Viscount Welter wanted his tea, and was -consequently troublesome and fractious. He had picked a quarrel with his -grandmother's terrier, which he averred had bitten him in the leg, and -he was now heating the poker, in order, he informed the lady, to burn -the place out, and prevent hydrophobia. Whether he would have done so or -not, we shall never know now, for, tea coming in at that moment, he -instantly sat down at table, and called to Charles to do likewise. - -"Call Miss Adelaide, will you, Sims?" said Lady Ascot; and presently -there came tripping into the room the loveliest little blonde fairy, -about ten years old, that ever you saw. She fixed her large blue eyes on -Charley, and then came up and gave him a kiss, which he, the rogue, -returned with interest, and then, taking her seat at the table, she -turned to Welter, and hoped he was going to be good. - -Such, however, it soon appeared, was not his lordship's intention. He -had a guest at table, and he was bound in honour to show off before him, -besides having to attend to his ordinary duty of frightening his -grandmother as nearly into fits as was safe. Accordingly, he began the -repast by cramming buns into his mouth, using the handle of his knife as -a rammer, until the salvation of his life appeared an impossibility, at -which point he rose and left the room with a rapid, uneven step. On his -re-appearance he began drinking, but, having caught his grandmother's -eye over his teacup, he winked at her, and then held his breath till he -was purple, and she begun to wring her hands in despair. All this time -he was stimulated by Charles's laughter and Adelaide's crying out, -continually, "Oh, isn't he a naughty boy, Lady Ascot? oh, do tell him -not to do it." But the crowning performance of this promising young -gentleman--the feat which threw everything else into the shade, and -which confirmed Charley in his admiration of his profound talents--was -this. Just as a tall, grave, and handsome footman was pouring water into -the teapot, and while her ladyship was inspecting the operation with all -the interest of an old tea-maker, at that moment did Lord Welter -contrive to inflict on the unfortunate man a pinch on the leg, of such a -shrewdly agonising nature as caused him to gnash his teeth in Lady -Ascot's face, to cry aloud, "Oh, Lord!" to whirl the kettle within an -inch of her venerable nose, and finally, to gyrate across the room on -one leg, and stand looking like the king of fools. - -Lady Ascot, who had merely seen the effect, and not the cause, ordered -him promptly to leave the room, whereupon Welter explained, and -afterwards continued to Charles, with an off-hand candour quite his own, -as if no such person as his grandmother was within a hundred miles-- - -"You know, Charley, I shouldn't dare to behave like this if my tutor was -at home; she'd make nothing of telling him, now. She's in a terrible -wax, but she'll be all right by the time he comes back from his -holidays; won't you, grandma?" - -"You wicked boy," she replied, "I hope Hawtrey will cure you; Keate -would have, I know." - -The boys slid on the banisters; then they went to dessert. Then they -went upstairs, and looked over Welter's cricket apparatus, fishing -tackle, and so on; and then they went into the billiard-room, which was -now lighted up and full of guests. - -There were two tables in the room, at one of which a pool was getting -up, while the other was empty. Welter was going to play pool, and -Charles would have liked to do so too, being a very tolerable player; -only he had promised his old tutor not to play for money till he was -eighteen, and so he sat in the corner by the empty table, under the -marking-board, with one leg gathered under him, and instantly found -himself thinking about the little girl he had seen upstairs. - -Once or twice he was surprised to find himself thinking so much about -her, but he found it a pleasant subject, too, for he had sat in his -corner more than half an hour without changing it, when he became aware -that two men were taking down cues from the rack, and were going to play -at his table. - -They were his two friends of the afternoon, General Mainwaring and the -grey-headed man who laughed. When they saw him they seemed glad, and the -old gentleman asked him why he wasn't playing. - -"I musn't play pool," he answered. "I should like to mark for you." - -"Well said, my hero," said the general: "and so Jim's an honest man, is -he?" - -Charles saw that the old gentleman had told the general what had passed -on the stairs, and wondered why he should take such an interest in him; -but he soon fell to thinking about little Adelaide again, and marking -mechanically though correctly. - -He was aroused by the general's voice--"Who did you mark that last miss -to, my little man?" he said. - -"To the old gentleman," said Charles, and then blushed at the -consciousness of having said a rude thing. - -"That is one for you, Methuselah," said the general. - -"Never mind," said the old gentleman, "I have one great source of pride, -which no one can rob me of; I am twelve years older than I look." - -They went on playing. "By-the-bye," said the general, "who is that -exceedingly pretty child that the old lady has got with her?" - -"A child she has adopted," said the old gentleman. "A grand-daughter of -an old friend who died in poverty. She is a noble-hearted old soul, the -jockey, with all her absurdities." - -"Who was she?" said the general. "(That was rather a fluke, was it -not?)" - -"She? Why, a daughter of old Cingle Headstall's, the mad old Cheshire -baronet--you don't remember him, of course, but your father knew him. -Drove his tandem round and round Berkeley square for four hours on a -foggy night, under the impression he was going home to Hounslow, and -then fired at the watchman who tried to put him right, taking him for a -highwayman. The son went to France, and was lost sight of in the -revolution; so the girl came in for what money there was: not very much, -I take it. This poor thing, who was pretty and clever enough, but -without education, having been literally brought up in a stable, -captivated the sagacious Ascot, and made him a capital wife." - -"I suppose she'll portion this girl, then; you say she had money?" - -"H'm," said the old gentleman, "there's a story about the aforesaid -money, which is told in different ways, but which amounts to this, that -the money is no more. Hallo, our marker is getting sleepy." - -"Not at all, sir," said Charles. "If you will excuse me a moment, I will -come back." - -He ran across to Lord Welter, who was leaning on his cue. "Can you tell -me," said he, "who is that old gentleman?" - -"Which old gentleman?" - -"That one, with the black eyebrows, playing with General Mainwaring. -There, he is taking snuff." - -"Oh _him_?" said Welter; "that is Lord Saltire." - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - -THE "WARREN HASTINGS." - - -Time, the inexorable, kept mowing away at poor Charles's flowers until -the disagreeable old creature had cut them all down but two or three, -and mowed right into the morning when it was necessary that he should go -home; and then Charles, looking forward through his tears, could see -nothing at first but the very commonest grass. For was he not going to -leave Adelaide, probably never to see her again? In short, Charles was -in love, and going to separate from the object of his affections for the -first time; at which I request you not to laugh, but just reflect how -old you were yourself when you first fell in love. - -The little flirt, she must have waited till she heard him coming out of -his room, and then have pretended to be coming upstairs all in a hurry. -He got a kiss or a dozen, though, and a lock of hair, I believe; but he -hadn't much time to think about it, for Lord Ascot was calling out for -him, and when he got into the hall, there was all the household to see -him off. Everybody had a kind word for him; the old lady cried; Lord -Saltire and the general shook hands; Lord Welter said it was a beastly -sell; and Lord Ascot hummed and hawed, and told him to tell his father -he had been a good boy. They were all sorry he was going, and he felt as -though he was leaving old friends; but the carriage was there, and the -rain was pouring down; and, with one last look at the group of faces, he -was in the carriage and away. - -It was a terrible day, though he did not notice it at first. He was -thinking how pleasant it was that the people were all so kind to him, -just as kind as they were at home. He thought of Adelaide, and wondered -whether she would ever think of him. He was rather glad that Welter was -a naughty boy (not really naughty, you know), because she would be less -likely to like him. And then he thought how glad the people at home -would be to see him; and then he looked out of the window. He had left -Lord Ascot's carriage and got into the train some time before this. Now -he saw that the train was going very slowly, and nothing was visible -through the driving rain. Then he tried to remember whether he had heard -his father speak of Lord Saltire, and what he had heard about him; and -thinking about this, the train stopped.--Swindon. - -He got out to go to the refreshment room, and began wondering what the -noise was which prevented him from hearing any one when they spoke, and -why the people looked scared, and talked in knots. Then he found that it -was the wind in the roof; and some one told him that a chimney had been -blown across the line, and they must wait till it was removed. - -All the day the brave engine fought westward against the wind, and two -hours after time Charles found himself in the coach which would take him -to Stonnington. The night crept on, and the coach crawled on its way -through the terrible night, and Charles slept. In the cold pitiless -morning, as they were going over a loftily exposed moor, the coach, -though only going foot's pace, stood for a moment on two wheels, and -then fell crashing over on to a heap of road-side stones, awaking -Charles, who, being unhurt, lay still for a minute or so, with a faint -impression of having been shaken in his sleep, and, after due -reflection, made the brilliant discovery that the coach was upset. - -He opened the door over his head and jumped out. For an instant he was -blinded by the stinging rain, but turned his back to it; and then, for -the first time, he became aware that this was the most terrible gale of -wind he had ever seen in his lifetime. - -He assisted the coachman and guard, and the solitary outside passenger, -to lead the poor horses along the road. They fought on for about two -hundred yards, and came to an alehouse, on the sight of which Charles -knew that they were two stages short of where he thought they had been, -for this was the Watershed Inn, and the rain from its roof ran partly -into the Bristol Channel and partly into the British. - -After an hour's rest here Charles was summoned to join the coach in the -valley below, and they crawled on again. It was a weary day over some -very bleak country. They saw in one place a cottage unroofed on a moor, -and the terrified family crouched down beneath the tottering walls. In -the valleys great trees were down across the road, which were cross-cut -and moved by country men, who told of oaks of three hundred years fallen -in the night, and of corn stacks hurried before the blast like the -leaves of autumn. Still, as each obstacle was removed, there was the -guard up blowing his horn cheerily, and Charles was inside with a jump, -and on they went. - -At last, at three o'clock, the coach drove under the gate of the -"Chichester Arms," at Stonnington, and Charles, jumping out, was -received by the establishment with the air of people who had done a -clever thing, and were ready to take their meed of praise with humility. -The handsome landlady took great credit to herself for Charles's -arrival--so much so, that one would have thought she herself had -singlehanded dragged the coach from Exeter. "_She_ had been sure all -along that Mr. Charles would come"--a speech which, with the cutting -glance that accompanied it, goaded the landlord to retort in a voice -wheezy with good living, and to remind her that she had said, not ten -minutes before, that she was quite sure he wouldn't; whereupon the -landlady loftily begged him not to expose himself before the servants. -At which the landlord laughed, and choked himself; at which the landlady -slapped him on the back, and laughed too; after which they went in. - -His father, the landlord told him, had sent his pony over, as he was -afraid of a carriage on the moor to-day, and that, if he felt at all -afraid to come on, he was to sleep where he was. Charles looked at the -comfortable parlour and hesitated; but, happening to close his eyes an -instant, he saw as plain as possible the library at home, and the -flickering fire-light falling on the crimson and oak furniture, and his -father listening for him through the roaring wind; and so he hesitated -no longer, but said he would push on, and that he would wish to see his -servant while he took dinner. - -The landlord eyed him admiringly with his head on one side, and -proceeded to remark that corn was down another shilling; that Squire -West had sold his chesnut mare for one hundred and twenty pounds; and -that if he kept well under the walls going home he would be out of the -wind; that his missis was took poorly in the night with spasms, and had -been cured by two wine-glasses of peppermint; that a many chimney-pots -was blown down, and that old Jim Baker had heard tell as a pig was -blowed through a church window. After which he poked the fire and -retired. - -Charles was hard at his dinner when his man came in. It was the oldest -of the pad grooms--a man with grizzled hair, looking like a white -terrier; and he stood before him smoothing his face with his hand. - -"Hallo, Michael," said Charley, "how came you to come?" - -"Master wouldn't send no other, sir. It's a awful day down there; -there's above a hundred trees down along the road." - -"Shall we be able to get there?" - -"As much as we shall, sir." - -"Let us try. Terrible sea, I suppose?" - -"Awful to look at, sir. Mr. Mackworth and Mr. Cuthbert are down to look -at it." - -"No craft ashore?" - -"None as yet. None of our boats is out. Yesterday morning a Pill boat, -52, stood in to see where she was, and beat out again, but that was -before it came on so bad." - -So they started. They pushed rapidly out of the town, and up a narrow -wooded valley which led to the moor which lay between them and -Ravenshoe. For some time they were well enough sheltered, and made -capital way, till the wood began to grow sparer, and the road to rise -abruptly. Here the blast began to be more sensibly felt, and in a -quarter of mile they had to leap three uprooted trees; before them they -heard a rushing noise like the sea. It was the wind upon the moor. - -Creeping along under the high stone walls, and bending down, they pushed -on still, until, coming to the open moor, and receiving for the first -time the terrible tornado full in their faces, the horses reared up and -refused to proceed; but, being got side by side, and their heads being -homeward, they managed to get on, though the rain upon their faces was -agonising. - -As they were proceeding thus, with Michael on the windward side, Charles -looked up, and there was another horseman beside him. He knew him -directly; it was Lloyd's agent. - -"Anything wrong, Mr. Lewis? Any ship ashore?" he shouted. - -"Not yet, sir," said the agent. "But there'll be many a good sailor gone -to the bottom before to-morrow morning, I am thinking. This is the -heaviest gale for forty years." - -By degrees they descended to more sheltered valleys, and after a time -found themselves in the court-yard of the hall. Charles was caught up by -his father; Lloyd's agent was sent to the housekeeper's room; and very -soon Charles had forgotten all about wind and weather, and was pouring -into his father's ear all his impressions of Ranford. - -"I am glad you liked it," said Densil, "and I'll be bound they liked -you. You ought to have gone first, Cuthbert don't suit them." - -"Oh, Cuthbert's too clever for them," said Charles; "they are not at all -clever people, bless you!" And only just in time too, for Cuthbert -walked into the room. - -"Well, Charley," he said, coolly, "so you're come back. Well, and what -did you think of Welter, eh? I suppose he suited you?" - -"I thought him very funny, Cuthbert," said Charles, timidly. - -"I thought him an abominable young nuisance," said Cuthbert. "I hope he -hasn't taught you any of his fool's tricks." - -Charles wasn't to be put off like this; so he went and kissed his -brother, and then came back to his father. There was a long dull -evening, and when they went to complines, he went to bed. Up in his -room he could hear that the wind was worse than ever, not rushing up in -great gusts and sinking again, as in ordinary gales, but keeping up one -continued unvarying scream against the house, which was terrible to -hear. - -He got frightened at being alone; afraid of finding some ghostly thing -at his elbow, which had approached him unheard through the noise. He -began, indeed, to meditate upon going down stairs, when Cuthbert, coming -into the next room, reassured him, and he got into bed. - -This wasn't much better, though, for there was a thing in a black hood -came and stood at the head of his bed; and, though he could not see it, -he could feel the wind of its heavy draperies as it moved. Moreover, a -thing like a caterpillar, with a cat's head, about two feet long, came -creep--creeping up the counterpane, which he valiantly smote, and found -it to be his handkerchief; and still the unvarying roar went on till it -was unendurable. - -He got up and went to his brother's room, and was cheered to find a -light burning; he came softly in and called "Cuthbert." - -"Who is there?" asked he, with a sudden start. - -"It's I," said Charles; "can you sleep?" - -"Not I," saith Cuthbert, sitting up. "I can hear people talking in the -wind. Come into bed; I'm so glad you're come." - -Charles lay down by his brother, and they talked about ghosts for a long -time. Once their father came in with a light from his bedroom next door, -and sat on the bed talking, as if he, too, was glad of company, and -after that they dozed off and slept. - -It was in the grey light of morning that they awoke together and started -up. The wind was as bad as ever, but the whole house was still, and they -stared terrified at one another. - -"What was it?" whispered Charles. - -Cuthbert shook his head, and listened again. As he was opening his mouth -to speak it came again, and they knew it was that which woke them. A -sound like a single footstep on the floor above, light enough, but which -shook the room. Cuthbert was out of bed in an instant, tearing on his -clothes. Charles jumped out too, and asked him, "What is it?" - -"A gun!" - -Charles well knew what awful disaster was implied in those words. The -wind was N.W., setting into the bay. The ship that fired that gun was -doomed. - -He heard his father leap out of bed, and ring furiously at his bell. -Then doors began to open and shut, and voices and rapid footsteps were -heard in the passage. In ten minutes the whole terrified household were -running hither and thither, about they hardly knew what. The men were -pale, and some of the women were beginning to whimper and wring their -hands; when Densil, Lewis the agent, and Mackworth came rapidly down the -staircase and passed out. Mackworth came back, and told the women to put -on hot water and heat blankets. Then Cuthbert joined him, and they went -together; and directly after Charles found himself between two -men-servants, being dragged rapidly along towards the low headland which -bounded the bay on the east. - -When they came to the beach, they found the whole village pushing on in -a long straggling line the same way as themselves. The men were walking -singly, either running or going very fast; and the women were in knots -of twos and threes, straggling along and talking excitedly, with much -gesticulation. - -"There's some of the elect on board, I'll be bound," Charles heard one -woman say, "as will be supping in glory this blessed night." - -"Ay, ay," said an old woman. "I'd sooner be taken to rest sudden, like -they're going to be, than drag on till all the faces you know are gone -before." - -"My boy," said another, "was lost in a typhoon in the China sea. Darn -they lousy typhoons! I wonder if he thought of his mother afore he went -down." - -Among such conversation as this, with the terrible, ceaseless thunder of -the surf upon the left, Charles, clinging tight to his two guardians, -made the best weather of it he could, until they found themselves on the -short turf of the promontory, with their faces seaward, and the water -right and left of them. The cape ran out about a third of a mile, rather -low, and then abruptly ended in a cone of slate, beyond which, about two -hundred yards at sea, was that terrible sunken rock, "the Wolf," on to -which, as sure as death, the flowing tide carried every stick which was -embayed. The tide was making; a ship was known to be somewhere in the -bay; it was blowing a hurricane; and what would you more? - -They hurried along as well as they could among the sharp slates which -rose through the turf, until they came to where the people had halted. -Charles saw his father, the agent, Mackworth, and Cuthbert together, -under a rock; the villagers were standing around, and the crowd was -thickening every moment. Every one had his hand over his eyes, and was -peering due to windward, through the driving scud. - -They had stopped at the foot of the cone, which was between them and the -sea, and some more adventurous had climbed partly up it, if, perhaps, -they might see further than their fellows; but in vain: they all saw and -heard the same--a blinding white cauldron of wind-driven spray below, -and all around, filling every cranny, the howling storm. - -A quarter of an hour since she fired last, and no signs of her yet. She -must be carrying canvas and struggling for life, ignorant of the -four-knot stream. Some one says she may have gone down--hush! who spoke? - -Old Sam Evans had spoken. He had laid his hand on the squire's shoulder, -and said, "There she is." And then arose a hubbub of talking from the -men, and every one crowded on his neighbour and tried to get nearer. And -the women moved hurriedly about, some moaning to themselves, and some -saying, "Ah, poor dear!" "Ah, dear Lord! there she is, sure enough." - -She hove in sight so rapidly that, almost as soon as they could be sure -of a dark object, they saw that it was a ship--a great ship about 900 -tons; that she was dismasted, and that her decks were crowded. They -could see that she was unmanageable, turning her head hither and thither -as the sea struck her, and that her people had seen the cliff at the -same moment, for they were hurrying aft, and crowding on to the -bulwarks. - -Charles and his guardians crept up to his father's party. Densil was -standing silent, looking on the lamentable sight; and, as Charles looked -at him, he saw a tear run down his cheek, and heard him say, "Poor -fellows!" Cuthbert stood staring intently at the ship, with his lips -slightly parted. Mackworth, like one who studies a picture, held his -elbow in one hand, and kept the other over his mouth; and the agent -cried out, "A troop-ship, by gad. Dear! dear!" - -It is a sad sight to see a fine ship beyond control. It is like seeing -one one loves gone mad. Sad under any circumstances; how terrible it is -when she is bearing on with her, in her mad Bacchante's dance, a freight -of living human creatures to untimely destruction! - -As each terrible feature and circumstance of the catastrophe became -apparent to the lookers-on, the excitement became more intense. Forward, -and in the waist, there was a considerable body of seamen clustered -about under the bulwarks--some half-stripped. In front of the cuddy -door, between the poop and the mainmast, about forty soldiers were drawn -up, with whom were three officers, to be distinguished by their blue -coats and swords. On the quarter-deck were seven or eight women, two -apparently ladies, one of whom carried a baby. A well-dressed man, -evidently the captain, was with them; but the cynosure of all eyes was -a tall man in white trousers, at once and correctly judged to be the -mate, who carried in his arms a little girl. - -The ship was going straight upon the rock, now only marked as a whiter -spot upon the whitened sea, and she was fearfully near it, rolling and -pitching, turning her head hither and thither, fighting for her life. -She had taken comparatively little water on board as yet; but now a -great sea struck her forward, and she swung with her bow towards the -rock, from which she was distant not a hundred yards. The end was -coming. Charles saw the mate slip off his coat and shirt, and take the -little girl again. He saw the lady with the baby rise very quietly and -look forward; he saw the sailors climbing on the bulwarks; he saw the -soldiers standing steady in two scarlet lines across the deck; he saw -the officers wave their hands to one another; and then he hid his face -in his hands, and sobbed as if his heart would break. - -They told him after how the end had come: she had lifted up her bows -defiantly, and brought them crashing down upon the pitiless rock as -though in despair. Then her stem had swung round, and a merciful sea -broke over her, and hid her from their view, though above the storm they -plainly heard her brave old timbers crack; then she floated off, with -bulwarks gone, sinking, and drifted out of sight round the headland, -and, though they raced across the headland, and waited a few breathless -minutes for her to float round into sight again, they never saw her any -more. The _Warren Hastings_ had gone down in fifteen fathoms. And now -there was a new passion introduced into the tragedy to which it had -hitherto been a stranger--Hope. The wreck of part of the mainmast and -half the main-topmast, which they had seen, before she struck, lumbering -the deck, had floated off, and there were three, four, five men clinging -to the futtock shrouds; and then they saw the mate with the child hoist -himself on to the spar, and part his dripping hair from his eyes. - -The spar had floated into the bay, into which they were looking, into -much calmer water; but, directly too leeward, the swell was tearing at -the black slate rocks, and in ten minutes it would be on them. Every man -saw the danger, and Densil, running down to the water's edge, cried-- - -"Fifty pounds to any one who will take 'em a rope! Fifty gold sovereigns -down to-night! Who's going?" - -Jim Matthews was going, and had been going before he heard of the fifty -pounds--that was evident; for he was stripped, and out on the rocks, -with the rope round his waist. He stepped from the bank of slippery -seaweed into the heaving water, and then his magnificent limbs were in -full battle with the tide. A roar announced his success. As he was seen -clambering on to the spar, a stouter rope was paid out; and very soon it -and its burden were high and dry upon the little half-moon of land which -ended the bay. - -Five sailors, the first mate, and a bright-eyed little girl, were their -precious prize. The sailors lay about upon the sand, and the mate, -untying the shawl that bound her to him, put the silent and frightened -child into the hands of a woman that stood close by. - -The poor little thing was trembling in every limb. "If you please," she -said to the woman, "I should like to go to mamma. She is standing with -baby on the quarter-deck. Mr. Archer, will you take me back to mamma, -please? She will be frightened if we stay away." - -"Well, a-deary me," said the honest woman, "she'll break my heart, a -darling; mamma's in heaven, my tender, and baby too." - -"No, indeed," said the child eagerly; "she's on the quarter-deck. Mr. -Archer, Mr. Archer!" - -The mate, a tall, brawny, whiskerless, hard-faced man, about -six-and-twenty, who had been thrust into a pea-coat, now approached. - -"Where's mamma, Mr. Archer?" said the child. - -"Where's mamma, my lady-bird? Oh, dear! oh, dear!" - -"And where's the ship, and Captain Dixon, and the soldiers?" - -"The ship, my pretty love?" said the mate, putting his rough hand on the -child's wet hair; "why the good ship, _Warren Hastings_, Dixon master, -is a-sunk beneath the briny waves, my darling; and all on board of her, -being good sailors and brave soldiers, is doubtless at this moment in -glory." - -The poor little thing set up a low wailing cry, which went to the hearts -of all present; then the women carried her away, and the mate, walking -between Mackworth and Densil, headed the procession homeward to the -hall. - -"She was the _Warren Hastings_, of 900 tons," he said, "from Calcutta, -with a detachment of the 120th on board. The old story--dismasted, both -anchors down, cables parted, and so on. And now I expect you know as -much as I do. This little girl is daughter to Captain Corby, in command -of the troops. She was always a favourite of mine, and I determined to -get her through. How steady those sojers stood, by jingo, as though they -were on parade! Well, I always thought something was going to happen, -for we had never a quarrel the whole voyage, and that's curious with -troops. Capital crew, too. Ah, well, they are comfortable enough now, -eh, Sir?" - -That night the mate arose from his bed like a giant refreshed with wine, -and posted off to Bristol to "her owners," followed by a letter from -Densil, and another from Lloyd's agent of such a nature that he found -himself in command of a ship in less than a month. Periodically, unto -this day, there arrive at Ravenshoe, bows and arrows (supposed to be -poisoned), paddles, punkahs, rice-paper screens; a malignant kind of -pickle, which causeth the bowels of him that eateth of it to burn; -wicked-looking old gods of wood and stone; models of Juggernaut's car; -brown earthenware moonshees, translating glazed porcelain Bibles; and -many other Indian curiosities, all of which are imported and presented -by the kind-hearted Archer. - -In a fortnight the sailors were gone, and, save a dozen or so of new -graves in the churchyard, nothing remained to tell of the _Warren -Hastings_ but the little girl saved so miraculously--little Mary Corby. - -She had been handed over at once to the care of the kind-hearted Norah, -Charles's nurse, who instantaneously loved her with all her great warm -heart, and about three weeks after the wreck gave Charles these -particulars about her, when he went to pay her a visit in the cottage -behind the kennels. - -After having hugged him violently, and kissed him till he laughingly -refused to let her do it again till she had told him the news, she -began--"The beauty-boy, he gets handsomer every day" (this might be -true, but there was great room for improvement yet), "and comes and sees -his old nurse, and who loves him so well, alanna? It's little I can tell -ye about the little girl, me darlin'. She's nine years old, and a -heretic, like yer own darlin' self, and who's to gainsay ye from it? -She's book-learned enough, and play she says she can, and I axed her -would she like to live in the great house, and she said no. She liked -me, and wanted to stay with me. She cries about her mother, a dear, but -not so much as she did, and she's now inside and asleep. Come here, -avick." - -She bent down her handsome face to Charles's ear and whispered, "If my -boy was looking out for a little wee fairy wife, eh?" - -Charles shook his hair, and laughed, and there and then told Norah all -about Adelaide, which attachment Norah highly approved of, and remarked -that he'd be old enough to be married before he knew where he was. - -In spite of Densil's letters and inquiries, no friends came forward to -claim little Mary. Uncle Corby, when in possession of facts, was far too -much a man of business to do anything of the kind. In a very short time -Densil gave up inquiring, and then he began dreading lest she should be -taken from him, for he had got wonderfully fond of the quiet, pale, -bright-eyed little creature. In three months she was considered as a -permanent member of the household, and the night before Charles went to -school he told her of his grand passion. His lordship considered this -step showed deep knowledge of the world, as it would have the effect of -crushing in the bud any rash hopes which Mary might have conceived; and, -having made this provision for her peace of mind, he straightway -departed to Shrewsbury school. - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - -IN WHICH CHARLES AND LORD WELTER DISTINGUISH THEMSELVES AT THE -UNIVERSITY. - - -It is a curious sensation, that of meeting, as a young man of two or -three-and-twenty, a man one has last seen as a little lad of ten, or -thereabouts. One is almost in a way disappointed. You may be asked out -to dinner to meet a man called, say, Jones (or, if you like the name -better, Delamere D'Eresby), whom you believe to be your old friend -Jones, and whom you have not seen for a month or so; and on getting to -the house find it is not your Jones at all, but another Jones whom you -don't know. He may be cleverer, handsomer, more agreeable than your old -friend--a man whom you are glad to know; and yet you are disappointed. -You don't meet the man you expected, and you are rather disposed to be -prejudiced against his representative. - -So it is when you meet a friend in manhood whom you have not seen since -you were at school. You have been picturing to yourself the sort of man -your friend must have developed into, and you find him different from -what you thought. So, instead of foregathering with an old friend, you -discover that you have to make a new acquaintance. - -You will now have to resume the acquaintance of Charles Ravenshoe at two -and twenty. I hope you will not be much disappointed in him. He was a -very nice boy, if you remember, and you will see immediately that he has -developed into a very nice young man indeed. It is possible that I may -not be about to introduce him to you under the most favourable -circumstances; but he created those circumstances for himself, and must -abide by them. As it is not my intention to follow him through any part -of his University life, but only to resume his history when he quits it, -so it becomes imperatively necessary for me to state, without any sort -of disguise, the reason why he did leave it. And, as two or three other -important characters in the story had something to do with it, I shall -do so more at length than would at first seem necessary. - -It was nine o'clock on the 6th of November. The sun, which had been -doing duty for her Majesty all night at Calcutta, Sydney, &c., had by -this time reached Oxford, and was shining aslant into two pretty little -Gothic windows in the inner or library quadrangle of St. Paul's College, -and illuminating the features of a young man who was standing in the -middle of the room, and scratching his head. - -He was a stout-built fellow, not particularly handsome, but with a very -pleasing face. His hair was very dark brown, short, and curling; his -forehead was broad and open, and below it were two uncommonly -pleasant-looking dark grey eyes. His face was rather marked, his nose -very slightly aquiline, and plenty of it, his mouth large and -good-humoured, which, when opened to laugh, as it very frequently was, -showed a splendid set of white teeth, which were well contrasted with a -fine healthy brown and red complexion. Altogether a very pleasant young -fellow to look on, and looking none the worse just now for an expression -of droll perplexity, not unmixed with a certain amount of terror, which -he had on his face. - -It was Charles Ravenshoe. - -He stood in his shirt and trousers only, in the midst of a scene of -desolation so awful, that I, who have had to describe some of the most -terrible scenes and circumstances conceivable, pause before attempting -to give any idea of it in black and white. Every moveable article in the -room--furniture, crockery, fender, fire-irons--lay in one vast heap of -broken confusion in the corner of the room. Not a pane of glass remained -in the windows; the bedroom-door was broken down; and the door which -opened into the corridor was minus the two upper panels. Well might -Charles Ravenshoe stand there and scratch his head! - -"By George," he said at last, soliloquising, "how deuced lucky it is -that I never get drunk! If I had been screwed last night, those fellows -would have burnt the college down. What a devil that Welter is when he -gets drink into him! and Marlowe is not much better. The fellows were -mad with fighting, too. I wish they hadn't come here and made hay -afterwards. There'll be an awful row about this. It's all up, I am -afraid. It's impossible to say though." - -At this moment, a man appeared in the passage, and, looking in through -the broken door, as if from a witness-box, announced, "The dean wishes -to see you at once, sir." And exit. - -Charles replied by using an expression then just coming into use among -our youth, "All serene!" dressed himself by putting on a pilot coat, a -pair of boots, and a cap and gown, and with a sigh descended into the -quadrangle. - -There were a good many men about, gathered in groups. The same subject -was in everybody's mouth. There had been, the night before, without -warning or apparent cause, the most frightful disturbance which, in the -opinion of the porter, had graced the college for fifty years. It had -begun suddenly at half-past twelve, and had been continued till three. -The dons had been afraid to come and interfere, the noise was so -terrible. Five out-college men had knocked out at a quarter to three, -refusing to give any name but the dean's. A rocket had been let up, and -a five-barrel revolver had been let off, and--Charles Ravenshoe had been -sent for. - -A party of young gentlemen, who looked very seedy and guilty, stood in -his way, and as he came up shook their heads sorrowfully; one, a tall -one, with large whiskers, sat down in the gravel walk, and made as -though he would have cast dust upon his head. - -"This is a bad job, Charley," said one of them. - -"Some heads must fall," said Charles; "I hope mine is not among the -number. Rather a shame if it is, eh?" - -The man with the big whiskers shook his head. "The state of your room," -he said. - -"Who has seen it?" eagerly asked Charles. - -"Sleeping innocent!" replied the other, "the porter was up there by -eight o'clock, and at half-past the dean himself was gazing on your -unconscious face as you lay peacefully sleeping in the arms of -desolation." - -Charles whistled long and loud, and proceeded with a sinking heart -towards the dean's rooms. - -A tall, pale man, with a hard, marked countenance, was sitting at his -breakfast, who, as soon as he saw his visitor, regarded him with the -greatest interest, and buttered a piece of toast. - -"_Well_, Mr. Ravenshoe," was his remark. - -"I believe you sent for me, sir," said Charles, adding to himself, -"Confound you, you cruel old brute, you are amusing yourself with my -tortures." - -"This is a pretty business," said the dean. - -Charles would be glad to know to what he alluded. - -"Well," said the dean, laughing, "I don't exactly know where to begin. -However, I am not sure it much matters. You will be wanted in the common -room at two. The proctor has sent for your character also. Altogether, I -congratulate you. Your career at the University has been brilliant; but, -your orbit being highly elliptical, it is to be feared that you will -remain but a short time above the horizon. Good morning." - -Charles rejoined the eager knot of friends outside; and, when he spoke -the awful word, "common room," every countenance wore a look of dismay. -Five more, it appeared, were sent for, and three were wanted by the -proctor at eleven. It was a disastrous morning. - -There was a large breakfast in the rooms of the man with the whiskers, -to which all the unfortunates were of course going. One or two were in a -state of badly-concealed terror, and fidgeted and were peevish, until -they got slightly tipsy. Others laughed a good deal, rather nervously, -and took the thing pluckily--the terror was there, but they fought -against it; but the behaviour of Charles extorted applause from -everybody. He was as cool and as merry as if he was just going down for -the long vacation; he gave the most comical account of the whole -proceedings last night from beginning to end, as he was well competent -to do, being the only sober man who had witnessed them; he ate heartily, -and laughed naturally, to the admiration of every one. - -One of the poor fellows who had shown greatest signs of terror, and who -was as near crying as he could possibly be without actually doing so, -looked up and complimented him on his courage, with an oath. - -"In me, my dear Dick," said Charles, good-naturedly, "you see the -courage of despair. Had I half your chances, I should be as bad as you. -I know there are but a few more ceremonies to be gone through, and -then--" - -The other rose and left the room. "Well," said he, as he went, with a -choking voice, "I expect my old governor will cut his throat, or -something; I'm fifteen hundred in debt." And so the door closed on the -poor lad, and the party was silent. - -There came in now a young man, to whom I wish especially to call your -attention. He was an ordinary young man enough, in the morning livery of -a groom. He was a moderately well-looking fellow, and there seems at -first nothing in any way remarkable about him. But look at him again, -and you are struck with a resemblance to some one you know, and yet at -first you hardly know to whom. It is not decidedly, either, in any one -feature, and you are puzzled for a time, till you come to the conclusion -that everyone else does. That man is a handsome likeness of Charles -Ravenshoe. - -This is Charles's foster-brother William, whom we saw on a former -occasion taking refreshment with that young gentleman, and who had for -some time been elevated to the rank of Mr. Charles's "lad." He had come -for orders. - -There were no orders but to exercise the horses, Charles believed; he -would tell him in the afternoon if there were, he added sorrowfully. - -"I saw Lord Welter coming away from the proctor's, sir," said William. -"He told me to ask what train you were going down by. His lordship told -me to say, sir, that Lord Welter of Christchurch would leave the -University at twelve to-morrow, and would not come into residence again -till next Michaelmas term." - -"By Jove," said Charles, "he has got a dose! I didn't think they'd have -given him a year. Well, here goes." - -Charles went to the proctor's, but his troubles there were not so severe -as he had expected. He had been seen fighting several times during the -evening, but half the University had been doing the same. He had been -sent home three times, and had reappeared; that was nothing so very bad. -On his word of honour he had not tripped up the marshal; Brown himself -thought he must have slipped on a piece of orange-peel. Altogether it -came to this; that Ravenshoe of Paul's had better be in by nine for the -rest of term, and mind what he was about for the future. - -But the common room at two was the thing by which poor Charles was to -stand or fall. There were terrible odds against him--the master and six -tutors. It was no use, he said, snivelling, or funking the thing; so he -went into battle valiantly. - -THE MASTER opened the ball, in a voice suggestive of mild remonstrance. -In all his experience in college life, extending over a period of -forty-five years, he had never even heard of proceedings so -insubordinate, so unparalleled, so--so--monstrous, as had taken place -the night before, in a college only a twelvemonth ago considered to be -the quietest in the University. A work of fiction of a low and vicious -tendency, professing to describe scenes of headlong riot and debauchery -at the sister University, called, he believed, "Peter Priggins," had -been written, and was, he understood, greatly read by the youth of both -seats of learning; but he was given to understand that the worst -described in that book sank into nothing, actually dwindled into -insignificance, before last night's proceedings. It appeared, he -continued (referring to a paper through his gold eye-glasses), that at -half-past twelve a band of intoxicated and frantic young men had rushed -howling into the college, refusing to give their names to the porter -(among whom was recognised Mr. Ravenshoe); that from that moment a scene -of brutal riot had commenced in the usually peaceful quadrangle, and had -continued till half-past three; loaded weapons had been resorted to, and -fireworks had been exhibited; and, finally, that five members of another -college had knocked out at half-past three, stating to the porter -(without the slightest foundation) that they had been having tea with -the dean. Now you know, really and truly, it simply resolved itself into -this. Were they going to keep St. Paul's College open, or were they not? -If the institution which had flourished now for above five hundred years -was to continue to receive undergraduates, the disturbers of last night -must be sternly eliminated. In the last case of this kind, where a man -was only convicted of--eh, Mr. Dean?--pump handle--thank you--was only -convicted of playfully secreting the handle of the college pump, -rustication had been inflicted. In this case the college would do its -duty, however painful. - -Charles was understood to say that he was quite sober, and had tried to -keep the fellows out of mischief. - -THE MASTER believed Mr. Ravenshoe would hardly deny having let off a -rocket on the grass-plat. - -Charles was ill-advised enough to say that he did it to keep the fellows -quiet; but the excuse fell dead, and there was a slight pause. After -which, - -THE DEAN rose, with his hands in his pockets, and remarked that this -sort of thing was all mighty fine, you know; but they weren't going to -stand it, and the sooner this was understood the better. He, for one, as -long as he remained dean of that college, was not going to have a parcel -of drunken young idiots making a row under his windows at all hours in -the morning. He should have come out himself last night, but that he was -afraid, positively afraid, of personal violence; and the odds were too -heavy against him. He, for one, did not want any more words about it. He -allowed the fact of Mr. Ravenshoe being perfectly sober, though whether -that could be pleaded in extenuation was very doubtful. (Did you speak, -Mr. Bursar? No. I beg pardon, I thought you did.) He proposed that Mr. -Ravenshoe should be rusticated for a year, and that the Dean of -Christchurch should be informed that Lord Welter was one of the most -active of the rioters. That promising young nobleman had done them the -honour to create a disturbance in the college on a previous occasion, -when he was, as last night, the guest of Mr. Ravenshoe. - -Charles said that Lord Welter had been rusticated for a year. - -THE DEAN was excessively glad to hear it, and hoped that he would stay -at home and give his family the benefit of his high spirits. As there -were five other gentlemen to come before them, he would suggest that -they should come to a determination. - -THE BURSAR thought that Mr. Ravenshoe's plea of sobriety should be taken -in extenuation. Mr. Ravenshoe had never been previously accused of -having resorted to stimulants. He thought it should be taken in -extenuation. - -THE DEAN was sorry to be of a diametrically opposite opinion. - -No one else taking up the cudgels for poor Charles, the Master said he -was afraid he must rusticate him. - -Charles said he hoped they wouldn't. - -THE DEAN gave a short laugh, and said that, if that was all he had to -say, he might as well have held his tongue. And then the Master -pronounced sentence of rustication for a year, and Charles, having -bowed, withdrew. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - -JOHN MARSTON. - -Charles returned to his room, a little easier in his mind than when he -left it. There still remained one dreadful business to get over--the -worst of all; that of letting his father know. Non-University men sneer -at rustication; they can't see any particular punishment in having to -absent yourself from your studies for a term or two. But do they think -that the Dons don't know what they are about? Why, nine spirited young -fellows out of ten would snap their fingers at rustication, if it wasn't -for the _home_ business. It is breaking the matter to the father, his -just anger, and his mother's still more bitter reproaches. It must all -come out, the why and the wherefore, without concealment or palliation. -The college write a letter to justify themselves, and then a mine of -deceit is sprung under the parents' feet, and their eyes are opened to -things they little dreamt of. This, it appears, is not the first -offence. The college has been long-suffering, and has pardoned when it -should have punished repeatedly. The lad who was thought to be doing so -well has been leading a dissipated, riotous life, and deceiving them -all. This is the bitterest blow they have ever had. How can they trust -him again?--And so the wound takes long to heal, and sometimes is never -healed at all. That is the meaning of rustication. - -A majority of young fellows at the University deceive their parents, -especially if they come of serious houses. It is almost forced upon them -sometimes, and in all cases the temptation is strong. It is very unwise -to ask too many questions. Home questions are, in some cases, -unpardonable. A son can't tell a father, as one man can tell another, to -mind his own business. No. The father asks the question suddenly, and -the son lies, perhaps, for the first time in his life. If he told the -truth, his father would knock him down. - -Now Charles was a little better off than most young fellows in this -respect. He knew his father would scold about the rustication, and still -more at his being in debt. He wasn't much afraid of his father's anger. -They two had always been too familiar to be much afraid of one another. -He was much more afraid of the sarcasms of Mackworth, and he not a -little dreaded his brother; but with regard to his father he felt but -slight uneasiness. - -He found his scout and his servant William trying to get the room into -some order, but it was hopeless. William looked up with a blank face as -he came in, and said-- - -"We can't do no good, sir; I'd better go for Herbert's man, I suppose?" - -"You may go, William," said Charles, "to the stables, and prepare my -horses for a journey. Ward, you may pack up my things, as I go down -to-morrow. I am rusticated." - -They both looked very blank, especially William, who, after a long -pause, said-- - -"I was afraid of something happening yesterday after Hall, when I see my -lord----" here William paused abruptly, and, looking up, touched his -head to some one who stood in the doorway. - -It was a well-dressed, well-looking young man of about Charles's age, -with a handsome, hairless, florid face, and short light hair. Handsome -though his face was, it was hardly pleasing in consequence of a certain -lowering of the eyebrows which he indulged in every moment--as often, -indeed, as he looked at any one--and also of a slight cynical curl at -the corners of the mouth. There was nothing else noticeable about Lord -Welter except his appearance of great personal strength, for which he -was somewhat famous. - -"Hallo, Welter!" shouted Charles, "yesterday was an era in the annals of -intoxication. Nobody ever was so drunk as you. I did all I could for -you, more fool I, for things couldn't be worse than they are, and might -be better. If I had gone to bed instead of looking after you, I -shouldn't have been rusticated." - -"I'm deuced sorry, Charley, I am, 'pon my soul. It is all my confounded -folly, and I shall write to your father and say so. You are coming home -with me, of course?" - -"By Jove, I never thought of it. That wouldn't be a bad plan, eh? I -might write from Ranford, you know. Yes, I think I'll say yes. William, -you can take the horses over to-morrow. That is a splendid idea of -yours. I was thinking of going to London." - -"Hang London in the hunting season," said Lord Welter. "By George, how -the governor will blow up. I wonder what my grandmother will say. -Somebody has told her the world is coming to an end next year. I hope -there'll be another Derby. She has cut homoeopathy and taken to -vegetable practice. She has deuced near slaughtered her maid with an -overdose of Linum Catharticum, as she calls it. She goes digging about -in waste places like a witch, with a big footman to carry the spade. She -is a good old body, though; hanged if she ain't." - -"What does Adelaide think of the change in Lady Ascot's opinions, -medical and religious?" - -"She don't care, bless you. She laughs about the world coming to an end, -and as for the physic, she won't stand that. She has pretty much her own -way with the old lady, I can tell you, and with every one else, as far -as that goes. She is an imperious little body; I'm afraid of her.--How -do, Marston?" - -This was said to a small, neatly-dressed, quiet-looking man, with a -shrewd, pleasant face, who appeared at this moment, looking very grave. -He returned Welter's salutation, and that gentleman sauntered out of the -room, after having engaged Charles to dinner at the Cross at six. The -new comer then sat down by Charles, and looked sorrowfully in his face. - -"So it has come to this, my poor boy," said he, "and only two days after -our good resolutions. Charley, do you know what Issachar was like?" - -"No." - -"He was like a strong ass stooping between two burdens," replied the -other, laughing. "I know somebody who is, oh, so very like him. I know -a fellow who could do capitally in the schools and in the world, who is -now always either lolling about reading novels, or else flying off in -the opposite extreme, and running, or riding, or rowing like a madman. -Those are his two burdens, and he is a dear old ass also, whom it is -very hard to scold, even when one is furiously angry with him." - -"It's all true, Marston; it's all true as Gospel," said Charles. - -"Look how well you did at Shrewsbury," continued Marston, "when you were -forced to work. And now, you haven't opened a book for a year. Why don't -you have some object in life, old fellow? Try to be captain of the -University Eight or the Eleven; get a good degree; anything. Think of -last Easter vacation, Charley. Well, then, I won't----Be sure that -pot-house work won't do. What earthly pleasure can there be in herding -with men of that class, your inferiors in everything except strength? -and you can talk quite well enough for any society?" - -"It ain't my fault," broke in Charles, piteously. "It's a good deal more -the fault of the men I'm with. That Easter vacation business was planned -by Welter. He wore a velveteen shooting-coat and knee-breeches, and -called himself----" - -"That will do, Charley; I don't want to hear any of that gentleman's -performances. I entertain the strongest personal dislike for him. He -leads you into all your mischief. You often quarrel; why don't you break -with him?" - -"I can't." - -"Because he is a distant relation? Nonsense. Your brother never speaks -to him." - -"It isn't that." - -"Do you owe him money?" - -"No, it's the other way, by Jove! I can't break with that man. I can't -lose the run of Ranford. I must go there. There's a girl there I care -about more than all the world beside; if I don't see her I shall go -mad." - -Marston looked very thoughtful. "You never told me of this," he said; -"and she has--she has refused you, I suppose?" - -"Ay! how did you guess that?" - -"By my mother wit. I didn't suppose that Charles Ravenshoe would have -gone on as he has under other circumstances." - -"I fell in love with her," said Charley, rocking himself to and fro, -"when she was a child. I have never had another love but her; and the -last time I left Ranford I asked her--you know--and she laughed in my -face, and said we were getting too old for that sort of nonsense. And -when I swore I was in earnest, she only laughed the more. And I'm a -desperate beggar, by Jove, and I'll go and enlist, by Jove." - -"What a brilliant idea!" said Marston. "Don't be a fool, Charley. Is -this girl a great lady?" - -"Great lady! Lord bless you, no; she's a dependant without a sixpence." - -"Begin all over again with her. Let her alone a little. Perhaps you took -too much for granted, and offended her. Very likely she has got tired of -you. By your own confession, you have been making love to her for ten -years; that must be a great bore for a girl, you know. I suppose you are -thinking of going to Ranford now?" - -"Yes, I am going for a time." - -"The worst place you could go to; much better go home to your father. -Yours is a quiet, staid, wholesome house; not such a bear-garden as the -other place--but let us change the subject. I am sent after you." - -"By whom?" - -"Musgrave. The University Eight is going down, and he wants you to row -four. The match with Cambridge is made up." - -"Oh, hang it!" said poor Charles; "I can't show after this business. Get -a waterman; do, Marston. They will know all about it by this time." - -"Nay, I want you to come; do come, Charles. I want you to contrast these -men with the fellows you were with last night, and to see what effect -three such gentlemen and scholars as Dixon, Hunt, and Smith have in -raising the tone of the men they are thrown among." - -On the barge Charles met the others of the Eight--quiet, staid, -gentlemanly men, every one of whom knew what had happened, and was more -than usually polite in consequence. Musgrave, the captain, received him -with manly courtesy. He was sorry to hear Ravenshoe was going down--had -hoped to have had him in the Eight at Easter; however, it couldn't be -helped; hoped to get him at Henley; and so on. The others were very -courteous too, and Charles soon began to find that he himself was -talking in a different tone of voice, and using different language from -that which he would have been using in his cousin's rooms; and he -confessed this to Marston that night. - -Meanwhile the University Eight, with the little blue flag at her bows, -went rushing down the river on her splendid course. Past heavy barges -and fairy skiffs; past men in dingys, who ran high and dry on the bank -to get out of the way; and groups of dandys, who ran with them for a -time. And before any man was warm--Iffley. Then across the broad -mill-pool and through the deep crooks, out into the broads, and past the -withered beds of reeds which told of coming winter. Bridges, and a -rushing lasher--Sandford. No rest here. Out of the dripping well-like -lock. Get your oars out and away again, past the yellowing willows, past -the long wild grey meadows, swept by the singing autumn wind. Through -the swirling curves and eddies, onward under the westering sun towards -the woods of Nuneham. - -It was so late when they got back, that those few who had waited for -them--those faithful few who would wait till midnight to see the Eight -come in--could not see them, but heard afar off the measured throb and -rush of eight oars as one, as they came with rapid stroke up the -darkening reach. Charles and Marston walked home together. - -"By George," said Charles, "I should like to do that and nothing else -all my life. What a splendid stroke Musgrave gives you, so marked, and -so long, and yet so lively. Oh, I should like to be forced to row every -day like the watermen." - -"In six or seven years you would probably row as well as a waterman. At -least, I mean, as well as some of the second-rate ones. I have set my -brains to learn steering, being a small weak man; but I shall never -steer as well as little Tims, who is ten years old. Don't mistake a -means for an end--" - -Charles wouldn't always stand his friend's good advice, and he thought -he had had too much of it to-day. So he broke out into sudden and -furious rebellion, much to Marston's amusement, who treasured up every -word he said in his anger, and used them afterwards with fearful effect -against him. - -"I don't care for you," bawled Charles; "you're a greater fool than I -am, and be hanged to you. You're going to spend the best years of your -life, and ruin your health, to get a first. _A first! A first!_ Why that -miserable little beast, Lock, got a first. A fellow who is, take him all -in all, the most despicable little wretch I know! If you are very -diligent you may raise yourself to _his_ level! And when you have got -your precious first, you will find yourself utterly unfit for any trade -or profession whatever (except the Church, which you don't mean to -enter). What do you know about modern languages or modern history? If -you go into the law, you have got to begin all over again. They won't -take you in the army; they are not such _muffs_. And this is what you -get for your fifteen hundred pounds!" - -Charles paused, and Marston clapped his hands and said, "hear, _hear_!" -which made him more angry still. - -"I shouldn't care if I _was_ a waterman. I'm sick of all this -pretension and humbug; I'd sooner be anything than what I am, with my -debts, and my rustication, and keeping up appearances. I wish I was a -billiard marker; I wish I was a jockey; I wish I was Alick Reed's -Novice; I wish I was one of Barclay and Perkins's draymen. Hang it! I -wish I was a cabman! Queen Elizabeth was a wise woman, and she was of my -opinion." - -"Did Queen Elizabeth wish she was a cabman?" asked Marston, gravely. - -"No, she didn't," said Charles, very tartly. "She wished she was a -milkmaid, and I think she was quite right. Now, then." - -"So you would like to be a milkmaid?" said the inexorable Marston. "You -had better try another Easter vacation with Welter. Mrs. Sherrat will -get you a suit of cast-off clothes from some of the lads. Here's the -'Cross,' where you dine. Bye, bye!" - -John Marston knew, and knew well, nearly every one worth knowing in the -University. He did not appear particularly rich; he was not handsome; he -was not brilliant in conversation; he did not dress well, though he was -always neat; he was not a cricketer, a rower, or a rider; he never spoke -at the Union; he never gave large parties; no one knew anything about -his family; he never betted; and yet he was in the best set in the -University. - -There was, of course, some reason for this; in fact, there were three -good and sufficient reasons, although above I may seem to have exhausted -the means of approach to good University society. First, He had been to -Eton as a town boy, and had been popular there. Second, He had got one -of the great open scholarships. And third, His behaviour had always been -most correct and gentlemanly. - -A year before this he had met Charles as a freshman in Lord Welter's -rooms, and had conceived a great liking for him. Charles had just come -up with a capital name from Shrewsbury, and Marston hoped that he would -have done something; but no. Charles took up with riding, rowing, -driving, &c., &c., not to mention the giving and receiving of parties, -with all the zest of a young fellow with a noble constitution, enough -money, agreeable manners, and the faculty of excelling to a certain -extent in every sport he took in hand. - -He very soon got to like and respect Marston. He used to allow him to -blow him up, and give him good advice when he wouldn't take it from any -one else. The night before he went down Marston came to his rooms, and -tried to persuade him to go home, and not to "the training stables," as -he irreverently called Ranford; but Charles had laughed and laughed, and -joked, and given indirect answers, and Marston saw that he was -determined, and discontinued pressing him. - - - - -CHAPTER IX. - -ADELAIDE. - - -The next afternoon Lord Welter and Charles rode up to the door at -Ranford. The servants looked surprised; they were not expected. His -lordship was out shooting; her ladyship was in the poultry-yard; Mr. -Pool was in the billiard-room with Lord Saltire. - -"The deuce!" said Lord Welter; "that's lucky, I'll get him to break it -to the governor." - -The venerable nobleman was very much amused by the misfortunes of these -ingenuous youths, and undertook the commission with great good nature. -But, when he had heard the cause of the mishap, he altered his tone -considerably, and took on himself to give the young men what was for him -a severe lecture. He was sorry this had come out of a drunken riot; he -wished it ... which, though bad enough, did not carry the disgrace with -it that the other did. Let them take the advice of an old fellow who had -lived in the world, ay, and moved with the world, for above eighty -years, and take care not to be marked, even by their own set, as -drinking men. In his day, he allowed, drinking was entirely _de -rigueur_; and indeed nothing could be more proper and correct than the -whole thing they had just described to him, if it had happened fifty -years ago. But now a drunken row was an anachronism. Nobody drank now. -He had made a point of watching the best young fellows, and none of them -drank. He made a point of taking the time from the rising young fellows, -as every one ought to, who wished to go with the world. In his day, for -instance, it was the custom to talk with considerable freedom on sacred -subjects, and he himself had been somewhat notorious for that sort of -thing; but look at him now: he conformed with the times, and went to -church. Every one went to church now. Let him call their attention to -the fact that a great improvement had taken place in public morals of -late years. - -So the good-natured old heathen gave them what, I daresay, he thought -was the best of advice. He is gone now to see what his system of -morality was worth. I am very shy of judging him, or the men of his -time. It gives me great pain to hear the men of the revolutionary era -spoken of flippantly. The time was so exceptional. The men at that time -were a race of giants. One wonders how the world got through that time -at all. Six hundred millions of treasure spent by Britain alone! How -many millions of lives lost none may guess. What wonder if there were -hell-fire clubs and all kinds of monstrosities. Would any of the present -generation have attended the fete of the goddess of reason, if they had -lived at that time, I wonder? Of course they wouldn't. - -Charles went alone to the poultry-yard; but no one was there except the -head keeper, who was administering medicine to a cock, whose appearance -was indictable--that is to say, if the laws against cock-fighting were -enforced. Lady Ascot had gone in; so Charles went in too, and went -upstairs to his aunt's room. - -One of the old lady's last fancies was sitting in the dark, or in a -gloom so profound as to approach to darkness. So Charles, passing out of -a light corridor, and shutting the door behind him, found himself unable -to see his hand before him. Confident, however, of his knowledge of -localities, he advanced with such success that he immediately fell -crashing headlong over an ottoman; and in his descent, imagining that he -was falling into a pit or gulf of unknown depth, uttered a wild cry of -alarm. Whereupon the voice of Lady Ascot from close by answered, "Come -in," as if she thought she heard somebody knock. - -"Come up, would be more appropriate, aunt," said Charles. "Why do you -sit in the dark? I've killed myself, I believe." - -"Is that you, Charles?" said she. "What brings you over? My dear, I am -delighted. Open a bit of the window, Charles, and let me see you." - -Charles did as he was desired; and, as the strong light from without -fell upon him, the old lady gave a deep sigh. - -"Ah, dear, so like poor dear Petre about the eyes. There never was a -handsome Ravenshoe since him, and there never will be another. You were -quite tolerable as a boy, my dear; but you've got very coarse, very -coarse and plain indeed. Poor Petre!" - -"You're more unlucky in the light than you were in the darkness, -Charles," said a brisk, clear, well-modulated voice from behind the old -lady. "Grandma seems in one of her knock-me-down moods to-day. She had -just told me that I was an insignificant chit, when you made your -graceful and noiseless entrance, and saved me anything further." - -If Adelaide had been looking at Charles when she spoke, instead of at -her work, she would have seen the start which he gave when he heard her -voice. As it was, she saw nothing of it; and Charles, instantly -recovering himself, said in the most nonchalant voice possible: - -"Hallo, are you here? How do you contrive to work in the dark?" - -"It is not dark to any one with eyes," was the curt reply. "I can see to -read." - -Here Lady Ascot said that, if she had called Adelaide a chit, it was -because she had set up her opinion against that of such a man as Dr. -Going; that Adelaide was a good and dutiful girl to her; that she was a -very old woman, and perhaps shouldn't live to see the finish of next -year; and that her opinion still was that Charles was very plain and -coarse, and she was sorry she couldn't alter it. - -Adelaide came rapidly up and kissed her, and then went and stood in the -light beside Charles. - -She had grown into a superb blonde beauty. From her rich brown crepe -hair to her exquisite little foot, she was a model of grace. The nose -was delicately aquiline, and the mouth receded slightly, while the chin -was as slightly prominent; the eyes were brilliant, and were -concentrated on their object in a moment; and the eyebrows surmounted -them in a delicately but distinctly marked curve. A beauty she was, such -as one seldom sees; and Charles, looking on her, felt that he loved her -more madly than ever, and that he would die sooner than let her know it. - -"Well, Charles," she said, "you don't seem overjoyed to see me." - -"A man can't look joyous with broken shins, my dear Adelaide. Aunt, I've -got some bad news for you. I am in trouble." - -"Oh dear," said the old lady, "and what is the matter now? Something -about a woman, I suppose. You Ravenshoes are always--" - -"No, no, aunt. Nothing of the kind. Adelaide, don't go, pray; you will -lose such a capital laugh. I've got rusticated, Aunt." - -"That is very comical, I dare say," said Adelaide, in a low voice; "but -I don't see the joke." - -"I thought you would have had a laugh at me, perhaps," said Charles; "it -is rather a favourite amusement of yours." - -"What, in the name of goodness, makes you so disagreeable and cross -to-day, Charles? You were never so before, when anything happened. I am -sure I am very sorry for your misfortune, though I really don't know its -extent. Is it a very serious thing?" - -"Serious, very. I don't much like going home. Welter is in the same -scrape; who is to tell her?" - -"This is the way," said Adelaide; "I'll show you how to manage her." - -All this was carried on in a low tone, and very rapidly. The old lady -had just begun in a loud, querulous, scolding voice to Charles, when -Adelaide interrupted her with-- - -"I say, grandma, Welter is rusticated too." - -Adelaide good-naturedly said this to lead the old lady's wrath from -Charles, and throw it partly on to her grandson; but however good her -intentions, the execution of them was unsuccessful. The old lady fell to -scolding Charles; accusing him of being the cause of the whole mishap, -of leading Welter into every mischief, and stating her opinion that he -was an innocent and exemplary youth, with the fault only of being too -easily led away. Charles escaped as soon as he could, and was followed -by Adelaide. - -"This is not true, is it?" she said. "It is not your fault?" - -"My fault, partly, of course. But Welter would have been sent down -before, if it hadn't been for me. He got me into a scrape this time. He -mustn't go back there. You mustn't let him go back." - -"I let him go back, forsooth! What on earth can I have to do with his -lordship's movements?" she said, bitterly, "Do you know who you are -talking to?--a beggarly orphan." - -"Hush! don't talk like that, Adelaide. Your power in this house is very -great. The power of the only sound head in the house. You could stop -anything you like from happening." - -They had come together at a conservatory door; and she put her back -against it, and held up her hand to bespeak his attention more -particularly. - -"I wish it was true, Charles; but it isn't. No one has any power over -Lord Ascot. Is Welter much in debt?" - -"I should say, a great deal," was Charles's reply. "I think I ought to -tell you. You may help him to break it to them." - -"Ay, he always comes to me for that sort of thing. Always did from a -child. I'll tell you what, Charles, there's trouble coming or come on -this house. Lord Ascot came home from Chester looking like death; they -say he lost fearfully both there and at Newmarket. He came home quite -late, and went up to grandma; and there was a dreadful scene. She hasn't -been herself since. Another blow like it will kill her. I suspect my -lord's bare existence depends on this colt winning the Derby. Come and -see it gallop," she added, suddenly throwing her flashing eyes upon his, -and speaking with an animation and rapidity very different from the -cold stern voice in which she had been telling the family troubles. -"Come, and let us have some oxygen. I have not spoken to a man for a -month. I have been leading a life like a nun's; no, worse than any -nun's; for I have been bothered and humiliated by--ah! such wretched -trivialities. Go and order horses. I will join you directly." - -So she dashed away and left him, and he hurried to the yard. Scarcely -were the horses ready when she was back again, with the same stem, cold -expression on her face, now more marked, perhaps, from the effect of the -masculine habit she wore. She was a consummate horsewoman, and rode the -furious black Irish mare, which was brought out for her, with ease and -self-possession, seeming to enjoy the rearing and plunging of the -sour-tempered brute far more than Charles, her companion, did, who would -rather have seen her on a quieter horse. - -A sweeping gallop under the noble old trees, through a deep valley, and -past a herd of deer, which scudded away through the thick-strewn leaves, -brought them to the great stables, a large building at the edge of the -park, close to the downs. Twenty or thirty long-legged, elegant, -nonchalant-looking animals, covered to the tips of their ears with -cloths, and ridden each by a queer-looking brown-faced lad, were in the -act of returning from their afternoon exercise. These Adelaide's mare, -"Molly Asthore," charged and dispersed like a flock of sheep; and then, -Adelaide pointing with her whip to the downs, hurried past the stables -towards a group they saw a little distance off. - -There were only four people--Lord Ascot, the stud-groom, and two lads. -Adelaide was correctly informed; they were going to gallop the Voltigeur -colt (since called Haphazard), and the cloths were now coming off him. -Lord Ascot and the stud-groom mounted their horses, and joined our pair, -who were riding slowly along the measured mile the way the horse was to -come. - -Lord Ascot looked very pale and worn; he gave Charles a kindly greeting, -and made a joke with Adelaide; but his hands fidgeted with his reins, -and he kept turning back towards the horse they had left, wondering -impatiently what was keeping the boy. At last they saw the beautiful -beast shake his head, give two or three playful plunges, and then come -striding rapidly towards them, over the short, springy turf. - -Then they turned, and rode full speed: soon they heard the mighty -hollow-sounding hoofs behind, that came rapidly towards them, devouring -space. Then the colt rushed by them in his pride, with his chin on his -chest, hard held, and his hind feet coming forward under his girth every -stride, and casting the turf behind him in showers. Then Adelaide's -horse, after a few mad plunges, bolted, overtook the colt, and actually -raced him for a few hundred yards; then the colt was pulled up on a -breezy hill, and they all stood a little together talking and -congratulating one another on the beauty of the horse. - -Charles and Adelaide rode away together over the downs, intending to -make a little detour, and so lengthen their ride. They had had no chance -of conversation since they parted at the conservatory door, and they -took it up nearly where they had left it. Adelaide began, and, I may -say, went on, too, as she had most of the talking. - -"I should like to be a duchess; then I should be mistress of the only -thing I am afraid of." - -"What is that?" - -"Poverty," said she; "that is my only terror, and that is my inevitable -fate." - -"I should have thought, Adelaide, that you were too high spirited to -care for that, or anything." - -"Ah, you don't know; all my relations are poor. _I_ know what it is; _I_ -know what it would be for a beauty like me." - -"You will never be poor or friendless while Lady Ascot lives." - -"How long will that be? My home now depends very much on that horse; oh, -if I were only a man, I should welcome poverty; it would force me to -action." - -Charles blushed. Not many days before, Marston and he had had a battle -royal, in which the former had said, that the only hope for Charles was -that he should go two or three times without his dinner, and be made to -earn it, and that as long as he had a "mag" to bless himself with, he -would always be a lazy, useless humbug; and now here was a young lady -uttering the same atrocious sentiments. He called attention to the -prospect. - -Three hundred feet below them, Father Thames was winding along under the -downs and yellow woodlands, past chalk quarry and grey farm-house, -blood-red beneath the setting sun; a soft, rich, autumnal haze was over -everything; the smoke from the distant village hung like a curtain of -pearl across the valley; and the long, straight, dark wood that crowned -the high grey wold, was bathed in a dim purple mist, on its darkest -side; and to perfect the air of dreamy stillness, some distant bells -sent their golden sound floating on the peaceful air. It was a quiet day -in the old age of the year; and its peace seemed to make itself felt on -these two wild young birds; for they were silent more than half the way -home; and then Charles said, in a low voice-- - -"Dear Adelaide, I hope you have chosen aright. The time will come when -you will have to make a more important decision than any you have made -yet. At one time in a man's or woman's life, they say, there is a choice -between good and evil. In God's name think before you make it." - -"Charles," she said, in a low and disturbed voice, "if a conjurer were -to offer to show you your face in a glass, as it would be ten years -hence, should you have courage to look?" - -"I suppose so; would not you!" - -"Oh, no, no, no! How do you know what horrid thing would look at you, -and scare you to death? Ten years hence; where shall we be then?" - - - - -CHAPTER X. - -LADY ASCOT'S LITTLE NAP. - - -There was a very dull dinner at Ranford that day, Lord Ascot scarcely -spoke a word; he was kind and polite--he always was that--but he was -very different from his usual self. The party missed his jokes; which, -though feeble and sometimes possibly "rather close to the wind," served -their purpose, served to show that the maker of them was desirous to -make himself agreeable to the best of his ability. He never once laughed -during dinner, which was very unusual. It was evident that Lord Saltire -had performed his commission, and Charles was afraid that he was -furiously angry with Welter; but, on one occasion, when the latter -looked up suddenly and asked him some question, his father answered him -kindly in his usual tone of voice, and spoke to him so for some time. - -Lady Ascot was a host in herself. With a noble self-sacrifice, she, at -the risk of being laughed at, resolved to attract attention by airing -some of her most remarkable opinions. She accordingly attacked Lord -Saltire on the subject of the end of the world, putting its total -destruction by fire at about nine months from that time. Lord Saltire -had no opinion to offer on the probability of Dr. Going's theory, but -sincerely hoped that it might last his time, and that he might be -allowed to get out of the way in the ordinary manner. He did not for a -moment doubt the correctness of her calculations; but he put it to her -as a woman of the world, whether or no such an occurrence as she -described would not be in the last degree awkward and disconcerting? - -Adelaide said she didn't believe a word of it, and nothing should induce -her to do so until it took place. This brought the old lady's wrath down -upon her and helped the flagging conversation on a little. But, after -dinner, it got so dull in spite of every one's efforts, that Lord -Saltire confided to his young friend, as they went upstairs, that he had -an idea that something was wrong; but at all events, that the house was -getting so insufferably dull that he must rat, pardieu, for he couldn't -stand it. He should rat into Devon to his friend Lord Segur. - -Welter took occasion to tell Charles that Lord Ascot had sent for him, -and told him that he knew all about what had happened, and his debts. -That he did not wish the subject mentioned (as if I were likely to talk -about it!); that his debts should, if possible, be paid. That he had -then gone on to say, that he did not wish to say anything harsh to -Welter on the subject--that he doubted whether he retained the right of -reproving his son. That they both needed forgiveness one from the other, -and that he hoped in what was to follow they would display that courtesy -and mutual forbearance to one another which gentlemen should. "And what -the deuce does he mean, eh? He never spoke like this before. Is he going -to marry again? Ay, that's what it is, depend upon it," said this -penetrating young gentleman; "that will be rather a shame of him, you -know, particularly if he has two or three cubs to cut into my fortune;" -and so from that time Lord Welter began to treat his father with a -slight coolness, and an air of injured innocence most amusing, though -painful, to Charles and Adelaide, who knew the truth. - -As for Adelaide, she seemed to treat Charles like a brother once more. -She kept no secret from him; she walked with him, rode with him, just as -of old. She did not seem to like Lord Welter's society, though she was -very kind to him; and he seemed too much taken up with his dogs and -horses to care much for her. So Charles and she were thrown together, -and Charles's love for her grew stronger day by day, until that studied -indifferent air which he had assumed on his arrival became almost -impossible to sustain. He sustained it, nevertheless, treating Adelaide -almost with rudeness, and flinging about his words so carelessly, that -sometimes she would look suddenly up indignant, and make some passionate -reply, and sometimes she would rise and leave the room--for aught I -know, in tears. - -It was a sad house to stay in; and his heart began to yearn for his -western home in spite of Adelaide. After a short time came a long letter -from his father, a scolding loving letter, in which Densil showed -plainly that he was trying to be angry, and could not, for joy at -having his son home with him--and concluded by saying that he should -never allude to the circumstance again, and by praying him to come back -at once from that wicked, cock-fighting, horse-racing, Ranford. There -was an inclosure for Lord Saltire, the reading of which caused his -lordship to take a great deal of snuff, in which he begged him, for old -friendship's sake, to send his boy home to him, as he had once sent him -home to his father. And so Lord Saltire appeared in Charles's -dressing-room before dinner one day, and, sitting down, said that he was -come to take a great liberty, and, in fact, was rather presuming on his -being an old man, but he hoped that his young friend would not take it -amiss from a man old enough to be his grandfather, if he recommended him -to leave that house, and go home to his father's. Ranford was a most -desirable house in every way, but, at the same time, it was what he -believed the young men of the day called a fast house; and he would not -conceal from his young friend that his father had requested him to use -his influence to make him return home; and he did beg his old friend's -son to believe that he was actuated by the best of motives. - -"Dear Lord Saltire," said Charles, taking the old man's hand; "I am -going home to-morrow; and you don't know how heartily I thank you for -the interest you always take in me." - -"I know nothing," said Lord Saltire, "more pleasing to a battered old -fellow like myself than to contemplate the ingenuousness of youth, and -you must allow me to say that your ingenuousness sits uncommonly well -upon you--in fact, is very becoming. I conceived a considerable interest -in you the first time I saw you, on that very account. I should like to -have had a son like you, but it was not to be. I had a son, who was all -that could be desired by the most fastidious person, brought up in a far -better school than mine; but he got shot in his first duel, at -one-and-twenty. I remember to have been considerably annoyed at the -time," continued the old gentleman, taking a pinch of snuff, and looking -steadily at Charles without moving a muscle, "but I dare say it was all -for the best; he might have run in debt, or married a woman with red -hair, or fifty things. Well, I wish you good day, and beg your -forgiveness once more for the liberty I have taken." - -Charles slipped away from the dinner-table early that evening, and, -while Lady Ascot was having her after-dinner nap, had a long -conversation with Adelaide in the dark, which was very pleasant to one -of the parties concerned, at any rate. - -"Adelaide, I am going home to-morrow." - -"Are you really? Are you going so suddenly?" - -"I am, positively. I got a letter from home to-day. Are you very sorry -or very glad?" - -"I am very sorry, Charles. You are the only friend I have in the world -to whom I can speak as I like. Make me a promise." - -"Well?" - -"This is the last night we shall be together. Promise that you won't be -rude and sarcastic as you are sometimes--almost always, now, to poor -me--but talk kindly, as we used to do." - -"Very well," said Charles. "And you promise you won't be taking such a -black view of the state of affairs as you do in general. Do you remember -the conversation we had the day the colt was tried?" - -"I remember." - -"Well, don't talk like that, you know." - -"I won't promise that. The time will come very soon when we shall have -no more pleasant talks together." - -"When will that be?" - -"When I am gone out for a governess." - -"What wages will you get? You will not get so much as some girls, -because you are so pretty and so wilful, and you will lead them such a -deuce of a life." - -"Charles, you said you wouldn't be rude." - -"I choose to be rude. I have been drinking wine, and we are in the dark, -and aunt is asleep and snoring, and I shall say just what I like." - -"I'll wake her." - -"I should like to see you. What shall we talk about? What an old Roman -Lord Saltire is. He talked about his son who was killed, to me to-day, -just as I should talk about a pointer dog." - -"Then he thought he had been showing some signs of weakness. He always -speaks of his son like that when he thinks he has been betraying some -feeling." - -"I admire him for it," said Charles.--"So you are going to be a -governess, eh?" - -"I suppose so." - -"Why don't you try being barmaid at a public-house? Welter would get you -a place directly; he has great influence in the licensed victualling -way. You might come to marry a commercial traveller, for anything you -know." - -"I would not have believed this," she said, in a fierce, low voice. "You -have turned against me and insult me, because----Unkind, unjust, -ungentlemanlike." - -He heard her passionately sobbing in the dark, and the next moment he -had her in his arms, and was covering her face with kisses. - -"Lie there, my love," he said; "that is your place. All the world can't -harm or insult my Adelaide while she is there. Why did you fly from me -and repulse me, my darling, when I told you I was your own true love?" - -"Oh, let me go, Charles," she said, trying, ever so feebly, to repulse -him. "Dear Charles, pray do; I am frightened." - -"Not till you tell me you love me, false one." - -"I love you more than all the world." - -"Traitress! And why did you repulse me and laugh at me?" - -"I did not think you were in earnest." - -"Another kiss for that wicked, wicked falsehood. Do you know that this -rustication business has all come from the despair consequent on your -wicked behaviour the other day?" - -"You said Welter caused it, Charles. But oh, please let me go." - -"Will you go as a governess now?" - -"I will do nothing but what you tell me." - -"Then give me one, your own, own self, and I will let you go." - -Have the reader's feelings of horror, indignation, astonishment, -outraged modesty, or ridicule, given him time to remember that all this -went on in the dark, within six feet of an unconscious old lady? Such, -however, was the case. And scarcely had Adelaide determined that it was -time to wake her, and barely had she bent over her for that purpose, -when the door was thrown open, and--enter attendants with lights. Now, -if the reader will reflect a moment, he will see what an awful escape -they had; for the chances were about a thousand to one in favour of two -things having happened: 1st, the groom of the chambers might have come -into the room half a minute sooner; and 2nd, they might have sat as they -were half a minute longer; in either of which cases, Charles would have -been discovered with his arm round Adelaide's waist, and a fearful -scandal would have been the consequence. And I mention this as a caution -to young persons in general, and to remind them that, if they happen to -be sitting hand in hand, it is no use to jump apart and look very red -just as the door opens, because the incomer can see what they have been -about as plain as if he had been there. On this occasion, also, Charles -and Adelaide set down as usual to their own sagacity what was the result -of pure accident. - -Adelaide was very glad to get away after tea, for she felt rather guilty -and confused. On Charles's offering to go, however, Lady Ascot, who had -been very silent and glum all tea-time, requested him to stay, as she -had something serious to say to him. Which set the young gentleman -speculating whether she could possibly have been awake before the -advent of candles, and caused him to await her pleasure with no small -amount of trepidation. - -Her ladyship began by remarking that digitalis was invaluable for -palpitation, and that she had also found camomile, combined with gentle -purgatives, efficient for the same thing, when suspected to proceed from -the stomach. She opined that, if this weather continued, there would be -heavy running for the Cambridgeshire, and Commissioner would probably -stand as well as any horse. And then, having, like a pigeon, taken a few -airy circles through stable-management, theology, and agriculture, she -descended on her subject, and frightened Charles out of his five wits by -asking him if he didn't think Adelaide a very nice girl. - -Charles decidedly thought she was a very nice girl; but he rather -hesitated, and said--"Yes, that she was charming." - -"Now, tell me, my dear," said Lady Ascot, manoeuvring a great old fan, -"for young eyes are quicker than old ones. Did you ever remark anything -between her and Welter?" - -Charles caught up one of his legs, and exclaimed, "The devil!" - -"What a shocking expression, my dear! Well, I agree with you. I fancy I -have noticed that they have entertained a decided preference for one -another. Of course, Welter will be throwing himself away, and all that -sort of thing, but he is pretty sure to do that. I expect, every time he -comes home, that he will bring a wife from behind the bar of a -public-house. Now, Adelaide--" - -"Aunt! Lady Ascot! Surely you are under a mistake. I never saw anything -between them." - -"H'm." - -"I assure you I never did. I never heard Welter speak of her in that -sort of way, and I don't think she cares for him." - -"What reason have you for thinking _that_?" - -"Well--why, you know it's hard to say. The fact is, I have rather a -partiality for Adelaide myself, and I have watched her in the presence -of other men." - -"Oho! Do you think she cares for you? Do you know she won't have a -sixpence?" - -"We shall have enough to last till next year, aunt; and then the world -is to come to an end, you know, and we shan't want anything." - -"Never you mind about the world, sir. Don't you be flippant and -impertinent, sir. Don't evade my question, sir. Do you think Adelaide -cares for you, sir?" - -"Charles looked steadily and defiantly at his aunt, and asked her -whether she didn't think it was very difficult to find out what a -girl's mind really was--whereby we may conclude that he was profiting by -Lord Saltire's lesson on the command of feature." - -"This is too bad, Charles," broke out Lady Ascot, "to put me off like -this, after your infamous and audacious conduct of this evening--after -kissing and hugging that girl under my very nose--" - -"I thought it!" said Charles, with a shout of laughter. "I thought it, -you were awake all the time!" - -"I was not awake all the time, sir--" - -"You were awake quite long enough, it appears, aunty. Now, what do you -think of it?" - -At first Lady Ascot would think nothing of it, but that the iniquity of -Charles's conduct was only to be equalled by the baseness and -ingratitude of Adelaide's; but by degrees she was brought to think that -it was possible that some good might come of an engagement; and, at -length, becoming garrulous on this point, it leaked out by degrees, that -she had set her heart on it for years, that she had noticed for some -time Charles's partiality for her with the greatest pleasure, and -recently had feared that something had disturbed it. In short, that it -was her pet scheme, and that she had been coming to an explanation that -very night, but had been anticipated. - - - - -CHAPTER XI. - -GIVES US AN INSIGHT INTO CHARLES'S DOMESTIC RELATIONS, AND SHOWS HOW THE -GREAT CONSPIRATOR SOLILOQUISED TO THE GRAND CHANDELIER. - - -It may be readily conceived that a considerable amount of familiarity -existed between Charles and his servant and foster-brother William. But, -to the honour of both of them be it said, there was more than this--a -most sincere and hearty affection; a feeling for one another which, we -shall see, lasted through everything. Till Charles went to Shrewsbury, -he had never had another playfellow. He and William had been allowed to -paddle about on the sand, or ride together on the moor, as they would, -till a boy's friendship had arisen, sufficiently strong to obliterate -all considerations of rank between them. This had grown with age, till -William had become his confidential agent at home, during his absence, -and Charles had come to depend very much on his account of the state of -things at head-quarters. He had also another confidential agent, to whom -we shall be immediately introduced. She, however, was of another sex and -rank. - -William's office was barely a pleasant one. His affection for his master -led him most faithfully to attend to his interests; and, as a Catholic, -he was often brought into collision with Father Mackworth, who took a -laudable interest in Charles's affairs, and considered himself injured -on two or three occasions by the dogged refusal of William to -communicate the substance and result of a message forwarded through -William, from Shrewsbury, to Densil, which seemed to cause the old -gentleman some thought and anxiety. William's religious opinions, -however, had got to be somewhat loose, and to sit somewhat easily upon -him, more particularly since his sojourn to Oxford. He had not very long -ago confided to Charles, in a private sitting, that the conviction which -was strong on his mind was, that Father Mackworth was not to be trusted. -God forgive him for saying so; and, on being pressed by Charles to state -why, he point-blank refused to give any reason whatever, but repeated -his opinion with redoubled emphasis. Charles had a great confidence in -William's shrewdness, and forbore to press him, but saw that something -had occurred which had impressed the above conviction on William's mind -most strongly. - -He had been sent from Oxford to see how the land lay at home, and had -met Charles at the Rose and Crown, at Stonnington, with saddle horses. -No sooner were they clear of the town than William, without waiting for -Charles's leave, put spurs to his horse and rode up alongside of him. - -"What is your news, William?" - -"Nothing very great. Master looks bothered and worn." - -"About this business of mine." - -"The priest goes on talking about it, and plaguing him with it, when he -wants to forget it." - -"The deuce take him! He talks about me a good deal." - -"Yes; he has begun about you again. Master wouldn't stand it the other -day, and told him to hold his tongue, just like his own self. Tom heard -him. They made it up afterwards, though." - -"What did Cuthbert say?" - -"Master Cuthbert spoke up for you, and said he hoped there wasn't going -to be a scene, and that you weren't coming to live in disgrace, for that -would be punishing every one in the house for you." - -"How's Mary?" - -"She's well. Master don't trust her out of his sight much. They will -never set him against you while she is there. I wish you would marry -her, Master Charles, if you can give up the other one." - -Charles laughed and told him he wasn't going to do anything of the sort. -Then he asked, "Any visitors?" - -"Ay; one. Father Tiernay, a stranger." - -"What sort of man?" - -"A real good one. I don't think our man likes him, though." - -They had now come to the moor's edge, and were looking down on the -amphitheatre which formed the domain of Ravenshoe. Far and wide the -tranquil sea, vast, dim, and grey, flooded bay and headland, cave and -islet. Beneath their feet slept the winter woodlands; from whose brown -bosom rose the old house, many-gabled, throwing aloft from its chimneys -hospitable columns of smoke, which hung in the still autumn air, and -made a hazy cloud on the hill-side. Everything was so quiet that they -could hear the gentle whisper of the ground-swell, and the voices of the -children at play upon the beach, and the dogs barking in the kennels. - -"How calm and quiet old home looks, William," said Charles; "I like to -get back here after Oxford." - -"No wine parties here. No steeplechases. No bloomer balls," said -William. - -"No! and no chapels and lectures, and being sent for by the Dean," said -Charles. - -"And none of they dratted bones, neither," said William, with emphasis. - -"Ahem! why no! Suppose we ride on." - -So they rode down the road through the woodland to the lodge, and so -through the park--sloping steeply up on their left, with many a clump of -oak and holly, and many a broad patch of crimson fern. The deer stood -about in graceful groups, while the bucks belled and rattled noisily, -making the thorn-thickets echo with the clatter of their horns. The -rabbits scudded rapidly across the road, and the blackbird fled -screaming from the mountain-ash tree, now all a-fire with golden fruit. -So they passed on until a sudden sweep brought them upon the terrace -between the old grey house and the murmuring sea. - -Charles jumped off, and William led the horses round to the stable. A -young lady in a straw hat and brown gloves, with a pair of scissors and -a basket, standing half-way up the steps, came down to meet him, -dropping the basket, and holding out the brown gloves before her. This -young lady he took in his arms, and kissed; and she, so far from -resenting the liberty, after she was set on her feet again, held him by -both hands, and put a sweet dark face towards his, as if she wouldn't -care if he kissed her again. Which he immediately did. - -It was not a very pretty face, but oh! such a calm, quiet, pleasant one. -There was scarcely a good feature in it, and yet the whole was so gentle -and pleasing, and withal so shrewd and _espiegle_, that to look at it -once was to think about it till you looked again; and to look again was -to look as often as you had a chance, and to like the face the more each -time you looked. I said there was not a good feature in the face. Well, -I misled you; there was a pair of calm, honest, black eyes--a very good -feature indeed, and which, once seen, you were not likely to forget. -And, also, when I tell you that this face and eyes belonged to the -neatest, trimmest little figure imaginable, I hope I have done my work -sufficiently well to make you envy that lucky rogue Charles, who, as we -know, cares for no woman in the world but Adelaide, and who, between you -and me, seems to be much too partial to this sort of thing. - -"A thousand welcomes home, Charley," said the pleasant little voice -which belonged to this pleasant little personage. "Oh! I am so glad -you're come." - -"You'll soon wish me away again. I'll plague you." - -"I like to be plagued by you, Charley. How is Adelaide?" - -"Adelaide is all that the fondest lover could desire" (for they had no -secrets, these two), "and either sent her love or meant to do so." - -"Charles, dearest," she said, eagerly, "come and see him now! come and -see him with me!" - -"Where is he?" - -"In the shrubbery, with Flying Childers." - -"Is he alone?" - -"All alone, except the dog." - -"Where are _they_?" - -"They are gone out coursing. Come on; they will be back in an hour, and -the Rook never leaves him. Come, come." - -It will be seen that these young folks had a tolerably good -understanding with one another, and could carry on a conversation about -"third parties" without even mentioning their names. We shall see how -this came about presently; but, for the present, let us follow these -wicked conspirators, and see in what deep plot they are engaged. - -They passed rapidly along the terrace, and turned the corner of the -house to the left, where the west front overhung the river glen, and the -broad terraced garden went down step by step towards the brawling -stream. This they passed, and opening an iron gate, came suddenly into a -gloomy maze of shrubbery that stretched its long vistas up the valley. - -Down one dark alley after another they hurried. The yellow leaves -rustled beneath their feet, and all nature was pervaded with the smell -of decay. It was hard to believe that these bare damp woods were the -same as those they had passed through but four months ago, decked out -with their summer bravery--an orchestra to a myriad birds. Here and -there a bright berry shone out among the dull-coloured twigs, and a -solitary robin quavered his soft melancholy song alone. The flowers were -dead, the birds were flown or mute, and brave, green leaves were stamped -under foot; everywhere decay, decay. - -In the dampest, darkest walk of them all, in a far-off path, hedged with -holly and yew, they found a bent and grey old man walking with a -toothless, grey old hound for his silent companion. And, as Charles -moved forward with rapid elastic step, the old man looked up, and -tottered to meet him, showing as he did so the face of Densil Ravenshoe. - -"Now the Virgin be praised," he said, "for putting it in your head to -come so quick, my darling. Whenever you go away now, I am in terror lest -I should die and never see you again. I might be struck with paralysis, -and not know you, my boy. Don't go away from me again." - -"I should like never to leave you any more, father dear. See how well -you get on with my arm. Let us come out into the sun; why do you walk in -this dismal wood? - -"Why?" said the old man, with sudden animation, his grey eye kindling as -he stopped. "Why? I come here because I can catch sight of a woodcock, -lad! I sprang one by that holly just before you came up. Flip flap, and -away through the hollies like a ghost! Cuthbert and the priest are away -coursing. Now you are come, surely I can get on the grey pony, and go up -to see a hare killed. You will lead him for me, won't you? I don't like -to trouble _them_." - -"We can go to-morrow, dad, after lunch, you and I, and William. We'll -have Leopard and Blue-ruin--by George, it will be like old times again." - -"And we'll take our little quiet bird on _her_ pony, won't we?" said -Densil, turning to Mary. "She's such a good little bird, Charley. We sit -and talk of you many an hour. Charley, can't you get me down on the -shore, and let me sit there? I got Cuthbert to take me down once; but -Father Mackworth came and talked about the Immaculate Conception through -his nose all the time. I didn't want to hear him talk; I wanted to hear -the surf on the shore. Good man! he thought he interested me, I dare -say." - -"I hope he is very kind to you, father?" - -"Kind! I assure you, my dear boy, he is the kindest creature; he never -lets me out of his sight; and so attentive!" - -"He'll have to be a little less attentive in future, confound him!" -muttered Charles. "There he is. Talk of the devil! Mary, my dear," he -added aloud, "go and amuse the Rooks for a little, and let us have -Cuthbert to ourselves." - -The old man looked curious at the idea of Mary talking to the rooks; but -his mind was drawn off by Charles having led him into a warm, southern -corner, and set him down in the sun. - -Mary did her errand well, for in a few moments Cuthbert advanced rapidly -towards them. Coming up, he took Charles's hand, and shook it with a -faint, kindly smile. - -He had grown to be a tall and somewhat handsome young man--certainly -handsomer than Charles. His face, even now he was warmed by exercise, -was very pale, though the complexion was clear and healthy. His hair was -slightly gone from his forehead, and he looked much older than he really -was. The moment that the smile was gone his face resumed the expression -of passionless calm that it had borne before; and sitting down by his -brother, he asked him how he did. - -"I am as well, Cuthbert," said Charles, "as youth, health, a conscience -of brass, and a whole world full of friends can make me. _I'm_ all -right, bless you. But you look very peaking and pale. Do you take -exercise enough?" - -"I? Oh, dear, yes. But I am very glad to see you, Charles. Our father -misses you. Don't you, father?" - -"Very much, Cuthbert." - -"Yes. I bore him. I do, indeed. I don't take interest in the things he -does. I can't; it's not my nature. You and he will be as happy as kings -talking about salmon, and puppies, and colts." - -"I know, Cuthbert; I know. You never cared about those things as we do." - -"No, never, brother; and now less than ever. I hope you will stay with -me--with us. You are my own brother. I will have you stay here," he -continued in a slightly raised voice; "and I desire that any opposition -or impertinence you may meet with may be immediately reported to me." - -"It will be immediately reported to those who use it, and in a way they -won't like, Cuthbert. Don't you be afraid; I shan't quarrel. Tell me -something about yourself, old boy." - -"I can tell you but little to interest you, Charles. You are of this -world, and rejoice in being so. I, day by day, wean myself more and more -from it, knowing its worthlessness. Leave me to my books and my -religious exercises, and go on your way. The time will come when your -pursuits and pleasures will turn to bitter dust in your mouth, as mine -never can. When the world is like a howling wilderness to you, as it -will be soon, then come to me, and I will show you where to find -happiness. At present you will not listen to me." - -"Not I," said Charles. "Youth, health, talent, like yours--are these -gifts to despise?" - -"They are clogs to keep me from higher things. Study, meditation, life -in the past with those good men who have walked the glorious road before -us--in these consist happiness. Ambition! I have one earthly -ambition--to purge myself from earthly affections, so that, when I hear -the cloister-gate close behind me for ever, my heart may leap with joy, -and I may feel that I am in the antechamber of heaven." - -Charles was deeply affected, and bent down his head. "Youth, love, -friends, joy in this beautiful world--all to be buried between four dull -white walls, my brother!" - -"This beautiful earth, which is beautiful indeed--alas! how I love it -still! shall become a burden to us in a few years. Love! the greater the -love, the greater the bitterness. Charles, remember _that_, one day, -will you, when your heart is torn to shreds? I shall have ceased to love -you then more than any other fellow-creature; but remember my words. You -are leading a life which can only end in misery, as even the teachers of -the false and corrupt religion which you profess would tell you. If you -were systematically to lead the life you do now, it were better almost -that there were no future. You are not angry, Charles?" - -There was such a spice of truth in what Cuthbert said that it would have -made nine men in ten angry. I am pleased to record of my favourite -Charles that he was not; he kept his head bent down, and groaned. - -"Don't be hard on our boy, Cuthbert," said Densil; "he is a good boy, -though he is not like you. It has always been so in our family--one a -devotee and the other a sportsman. Let us go in, boys; it gets chill." - -Charles rose up, and, throwing his arms round his brother's neck, -boisterously gave him a kiss on the cheek; then he began laughing and -talking at the top of his voice, making the nooks and angles in the grey -old facade echo with his jubilant voice. - -Under the dark porch they found a group of three--Mackworth; a -jolly-looking, round-faced, Irish priest, by name Tiernay; and Mary. -Mackworth received Charles with a pleasant smile, and they joined in -conversation together heartily. Few men could be more agreeable than -Mackworth, and he chose to be agreeable now. Charles was insensibly -carried away by the charm of his frank, hearty manner, and for a time -forgot who was talking to him. - -Mackworth and Charles were enemies. If we reflect a moment, we shall see -that it could hardly be otherwise. - -Charles's existence, holding as he did the obnoxious religion, was an -offence to him. He had been prejudiced against him from the first; and, -children not being very slow to find out who are well disposed towards -them, or the contrary, Charles had early begun to regard the priest with -distrust and dislike. So a distant, sarcastic line of treatment, on the -one hand, and childish insolence and defiance, on the other, had grown -at last into something very like hatred on both sides. Every soul in the -house adored Charles but the priest; and, on the other hand, the -priest's authority and dignity were questioned by none but Charles. And, -all these small matters being taken into consideration, it is not -wonderful, I say, that Charles and the priest were not good friends even -before anything had occurred to bring about any open rupture. - -Charles and Mackworth seldom met of late years without a "sparring -match." On this day, however--partly owing, perhaps, to the presence of -a jolly good-humoured Irish priest--they got through dinner pretty well. -Charles was as brave as a lion, and, though by far the priest's inferior -in scientific "sparring," had a rough, strong, effective method of -fighting, which was by no means to be despised. His great strength lay -in his being always ready for battle. As he used to tell his crony -William, he would as soon fight as not; and often, when rebuked by -Cuthbert for what he called insolence to the priest, he would exclaim, -"I don't care; what did he begin at me for? If he lets me alone, I'll -let him alone." And, seeing that he had been at continual war with the -reverend gentleman for sixteen years or more, I think it speaks highly -for the courage of both parties that neither had hitherto yielded. When -Charles afterwards came to know what a terrible card the man had held in -his hand, he was struck with amazement at his self-possession in not -playing it, despite his interest. - -Mackworth was hardly so civil after dinner as he was before; but -Cuthbert was hoping that Charles and he would get on without a -battle-royal, when a slight accident brought on a general engagement, -and threw all his hopes to the ground. Densil and Mary had gone up to -the drawing-room, and Charles, having taken as much wine as he cared -for, rose from the table, and sauntered towards the door, when Cuthbert -quite innocently asked him where he was going. - -Charles said also in perfect good faith that he was going to smoke a -cigar, and talk to William. - -Cuthbert asked him, Would he get William or one of them to give the grey -colt a warm mash with some nitre in it; and Charles said he'd see it -done for him himself; when, without warning or apparent cause, Father -Mackworth said to Father Tiernay, - -"This William is one of the grooms. A renegade, I fancy! I believe the -fellow is a Protestant at heart. He and Mr. Charles Ravenshoe are very -intimate; they keep up a constant correspondence when apart, I assure -you." - -Charles faced round instantly, and confronted his enemy with a smile on -his lips; but he said not a word, trying to force Mackworth to continue. - -"Why don't you leave him alone?" said Cuthbert. - -"My dear Cuthbert," said Charles, "pray don't humiliate me by -interceding; I assure you I am greatly amused. You see he doesn't speak -to me; he addressed himself to Mr. Tiernay." - -"I wished," said Mackworth, "to call Father Tiernay's attention, as a -stranger to this part of the world, to the fact of a young gentleman's -corresponding with an illiterate groom in preference to any member of -his family." - -"The reason I do it," said Charles, speaking to Tiernay, but steadily -watching Mackworth to see if any of his shafts hit, "is to gain -information. I like to know what goes on in my absence. Cuthbert here is -buried in his books, and does not know everything." - -No signs of flinching there. Mackworth sat with a scornful smile on his -pale face, without moving a muscle. - -"He likes to get information," said Mackworth, "about his village -amours, I suppose. But, dear me, he can't know anything that the whole -parish don't know. I could have told him that that poor deluded fool of -an underkeeper was going to marry Mary Lee, after all that had happened. -He will be dowering a wife for his precious favourite some day." - -"My precious favourite, Father Tiernay," said Charles, still closely -watching Mackworth, "is my foster-brother. He used to be a great -favourite with our reverend friend; his pretty sister Ellen is so still, -I believe." - -This was as random an arrow as ever was shot, and yet it went home to -the feather. Charles saw Mackworth give a start and bite his lip, and -knew that he had smote him deep; he burst out laughing. - -"With regard to the rest, Father Tiernay, any man who says that there -was anything wrong between me and Mary Lee tells, saving your presence, -a lie. It's infernally hard if a man mayn't play at love-making with the -whole village for a confidant, and the whole matter a merry joke, but -one must be accused of all sorts of villainy. Isn't ours a pleasant -household, Mr. Tiernay?" - -Father Tiernay shook his honest sides with a wondering laugh, and said, -"Faix it is. But I hope ye'll allow me to put matters right betune you -two. Father Mackworth begun on the young man; he was going out to his -dudeen as peaceful as an honest young gentleman should. And some of the -best quality are accustomed to converse their grooms in the evening over -their cigar. I myself can instance Lord Mountdown, whose hospitality I -have partook frequent. And I'm hardly aware of any act of parliament, -brother, whereby a young man shouldn't kiss a pretty girl in the way of -fun, as I've done myself, sure. Whist now, both on ye! I'll come with -ye, ye heretic, and smoke a cigar meeself." - -"I call you to witness that he insulted me," said Mackworth, turning -round from the window. - -"I wish you had let him alone, Father," said Cuthbert, peevishly; "we -were getting on very happily till you began. Do go, Charles, and smoke -your cigar with Father Tiernay." - -"I am waiting to see if he wants any more," said Charles, with a laugh. -"Come on, Father Tiernay, and I'll show you the miscreant, and his -pretty sister, too, if you like." - -"I wish he hadn't come home," said Cuthbert, as soon as he and Mackworth -were alone together. "Why do you and he fight like cat and dog? You make -me perfectly miserable. I know he is going to the devil, in a worldly -point of view, and that his portion will be hell necessarily as a -heretic; but I don't see why you should worry him to death, and make the -house miserable to him." - -"It is for his good." - -"Nonsense," rejoined Cuthbert. "You make him hate you; and I don't think -you ought to treat a son of this house in the way you treat him, You are -under obligations to this house. Yes, you are. I won't be contradicted -now. I will have my say when I am in this temper, and you know it. The -devil is not dead yet by a long way, you see. Why do you rouse him?" - -"Go on, go on." - -"Yes, I will go on. I'm in my own house, I believe. By the eleven -thousand virgins, more or less, of the holy St. Ursula, virgin and -martyr, that brother of mine is a brave fellow. Why, he cares as much -for you as for a little dog barking at him. And you're a noble enemy for -any man. You'd better let him alone, I think; you won't get much out of -him. Adieu." - -"What queer wild blood there is in these Ravenshoes," said Mackworth to -himself, when he was alone. "A younger hand than myself would have been -surprised at Cuthbert's kicking after so much schooling. Not I. I shall -never quite tame him, though he is broken in enough for all practical -purposes. He will be on his knees to-morrow for this. I like to make him -kick; I shall do it sometimes for amusement; he is so much easier -managed after one of these tantrums. By Jove! I love the man better -every day; he is one after my own heart. As for Charles, I hate him, and -yet I like him after a sort. I like to break a pointless lance with that -boy, and let him fancy he is my equal. It amuses me. - -"I almost fancy that I could have fallen in love with that girl Ellen. I -was uncommon near it. I must be very careful. What a wild hawk she is! -What a magnificent move that was of hers, risking a prosecution for -felony on one single throw, and winning. How could she have guessed that -there was anything there? She couldn't have guessed it. It was an effort -of genius. It was a splendid move. - -"How nearly that pigheaded fool of a young nobleman has gone to upset my -calculations! His namesake the chessplayer could not have done more -mischief by his talents than his friend had by stupidity. I wish Lord -Ascot would get ruined as quickly as possible, and then my friend would -be safe out of the way. But he won't." - - - - -CHAPTER XII. - -CONTAINING A SONG BY CHARLES RAVENSHOE, AND ALSO FATHER TIERNAY'S -OPINION ABOUT THE FAMILY. - - -Charles and the good-natured Father Tiernay wandered out across the old -court-yard, towards the stables--a pile of buildings in the same style -as the house, which lay back towards the hill. The moon was full, -although obscured by clouds, and the whole court-yard was bathed in a -soft mellow light. They both paused for a moment to look at the fine old -building, standing silent for a time; and then Charles startled the -contemplative priest by breaking into a harsh scornful laugh, as unlike -his own cheery Ha! Ha! as it was possible to be. - -"What are you disturbing a gentleman's meditations in that way for?" -said the Father. "Is them your Oxford manners? Give me ye'r cigar-case, -ye haythen, if ye can't appreciate the beauties of nature and art -combined--laughing like that at the cradle of your ancestors too." - -Charles gave him the cigar-case, and trolled out in a rich bass voice-- - - "The old falcon's nest - Was built up on the crest - Of the cliff that hangs over the sea; - And the jackdaws and crows, - As every one knows, - Were confounded respectful to he, to he--e--e." - -"Howld yer impudence, ye young heretic doggrel-writer; can't I see what -ye are driving at?" - - "But the falcon grew old, - And the nest it grew cold, - And the carrion birds they grew bolder; - So the jackdaws and crows, - Underneath his own nose, - Gave both the young falcons cold shoulder." - -"Bedad," said the good-natured Irishman, "some one got hot shoulder -to-day. Aren't ye ashamed of yourself, singing such ribaldry, and all -the servants hearing ye?" - -"Capital song, Father; only one verse more. - - "The elder was quelled, - But the younger rebelled; - So he spread his white wings and fled over the sea. - Said the jackdaws and crows, - 'He'll be hanged I suppose, - But what in the deuce does that matter to we?'" - -There was something in the wild, bitter tone in which he sang the last -verse that made Father Tiernay smoke his cigar in silence as they -sauntered across the yard, till Charles began again. - -"Not a word of applause for my poor impromptu song? Hang it, I'd have -applauded anything you sang." - -"Don't be so reckless and bitter, Mr. Ravenshoe," said Tiernay, laying -his hand on his shoulder. "I can feel for you, though there is so little -in common between us. You might lead a happy peaceful life if you were -to come over to us; which you will do, if I know anything of my trade, -in the same day that the sun turns pea-green. _Allons_, as we used to -say over the water; let us continue our travels." - -"Reckless! I am not reckless. The jolly old world is very wide, and I am -young and strong. There will be a wrench when the tooth comes out; but -it will soon be over, and the toothache will be cured." - -Tiernay remained silent a moment, and then in an absent manner sang this -line, in a sweet low voice-- - - "For the girl of my heart that I'll never see more." - -"She must cast in her lot with me," said Charles. "Ay, and she will do -it, too. She will follow me to the world's end, sir. Are you a judge of -horses? What a question to ask of an Irishman! Here are the stables." - -The lads were bedding down, and all the great building was alive with -the clattering of busy feet and the neighing of horses. The great -Ravenshoe Stud was being tucked up for the night; and over that two -thousand pounds' worth of horse-flesh at least six thousand pounds' -worth of fuss was being made, under the superintendence of the stud -groom, Mr. Dickson. - -The physical appearance of Mr. Dickson was as though you had taken an -aged Newmarket jockey, and put a barrel of oysters, barrel and all, -inside his waistcoat. His face was thin; his thighs were hollow; calves -to his legs he had none. He was all stomach. Many years had elapsed -since he had been brought to the verge of dissolution by severe -training; and since then all that he had eaten, or drunk, or done, had -flown to his stomach, producing a tympanitic action in that organ, -astounding to behold. In speech he was, towards his superiors, courteous -and polite; towards his equals, dictatorial; towards his subordinates, -abusive, not to say blasphemous. To this gentleman Charles addressed -himself, inquiring if he had seen William: and he, with a lofty, though -courteous, sense of injury, inquired, in a loud tone of voice, of the -stablemen generally, if any one had seen Mr. Charles's pad-groom. - -In a dead silence which ensued, one of the lads was ill-advised enough -to say that he didn't exactly know where he was; which caused Mr. -Dickson to remark that, if that was all he had to say, he had better go -on with his work, and not make a fool of himself--which the man did, -growling out something about always putting his foot in it. - -"Your groom comes and goes pretty much as he likes, sir," said Mr. -Dickson. "I don't consider him as under my orders. Had he been so, I -should have felt it my duty to make complaint on more than one occasion; -he is a little too much of the gentleman for _my_ stable, sir." - -"Of course, my good Dickson," interrupted Charles, "the fact of his -being my favourite makes you madly jealous of him; that is not the -question now. If you don't know where he is, be so good as to hold your -tongue." - -Charles was only now and then insolent and abrupt with servants, and -they liked him the better for it. It was one of Cuthbert's rules to be -coldly, evenly polite, and, as he thought, considerate to the whole -household; and yet they did not like him half so well as Charles, who -would sometimes, when anything went wrong, "kick up," what an -intelligent young Irish footman used to call "the divvle's own shindy." -Cuthbert, they knew, had no sympathy for them, but treated them, as he -treated himself, as mere machines; while Charles had that infinite -capacity of goodwill which none are more quick to recognise than -servants and labouring people. And on this occasion, though Mr. Dickson -might have sworn a little more than usual after Charles's departure, yet -his feeling, on the whole, was that he was sorry for having vexed the -young gentleman by sneering at his favourite. - -But Charles, having rescued the enraptured Father Tiernay from the -stable, and having listened somewhat inattentively to a long description -of the Curragh of Kildare, led the worthy priest round the back of the -stables, up a short path through the wood, and knocked at the door of a -long, low keeper's lodge, which stood within a stone's throw of the -other buildings, in an open, grassy glade, through which flowed a -musical, slender stream of water. In one instant, night was hideous with -rattling chains and barking dogs, who made as though they would tear the -intruders to pieces; all except one foolish pointer pup, who was loose, -and who, instead of doing his duty by barking, came feebly up, and cast -himself on his back at their feet, as though they were the car of -Juggernaut, and he was a candidate for paradise. Finding that he was not -destroyed, he made a humiliating feint of being glad to see them, and -nearly overthrew the priest by getting between his legs. But Charles, -finding that his second summons was unanswered, lifted the latch, and -went into the house. - -The room they entered was dark, or nearly so, and at the first moment -appeared empty; but, at the second glance, they made out that a figure -was kneeling before the dying embers of the fire, and trying to kindle a -match by blowing on the coals. - -"Hullo!" said Charles. - -"William, my boy," said a voice which made the priest start, "where have -you been, lad?" - -At the same moment a match was lit, and then a candle; as the light -blazed up, it fell on the features of a grey-headed old man, who was -peering through the darkness at them, and the priest cried, "Good God! -Mr. Ravenshoe!" - -The likeness for one moment was very extraordinary; but, as the eye grew -accustomed to the light, one saw that the face was the face of a taller -man than Densil, and one, too, who wore the dress of a gamekeeper. -Charles laughed at the priest, and said-- - -"You were struck, as many have been, by the likeness. He has been so -long with my father that he has the very trick of his voice, and the -look of the eye. Where have you been to-night, James?" he added, -affectionately. "Why do you go out so late alone? If any of those mining -rascals were to be round poaching, you might be killed." - -"I can take care of myself yet, Master Charles," said the old man, -laughing; and, to do him justice, he certainly looked as if he could. - -"Where is Norah?" - -"Gone down to young James Holby's wife; she is lying-in." - -"Pretty early, too. Where's Ellen?" - -"Gone up to the house." - -"See, Father, I shall be disappointed in showing you the belle of -Ravenshoe; and now you will go back to Ireland, fancying you can compete -with us." - -Father Tiernay was beginning a story about five Miss Moriartys, who were -supposed to rival in charms and accomplishments any five young ladies in -the world, when his eye was attracted by a stuffed hare in a glass case, -of unusual size and very dark colour. - -"That, sir," said James, the keeper, in a bland, polite, explanatory -tone of voice, coming and leaning over him, "is old Mrs. Jewel, that -lived in the last cottage on the right-hand side, under the cliff. I -always thought that it had been Mrs. Simpson, but it was not. I shot -this hare on the Monday, not three hundred yards from Mrs. Jewel's -house; and on the Wednesday the neighbours noticed the shutters hadn't -been down for two days, and broke the door open; and there she was, sure -enough, dead in her bed. I had shot her as she was coming home from some -of her devilries. A quiet old soul she was, though. No, I never thought -it had been she." - -It would be totally impossible to describe the changes through which the -broad, sunny face of Father Tiernay went during the above astounding -narration; horror, astonishment, inquiry, and humour were so strangely -blended. He looked in the face of the old gamekeeper, and met the -expression of a man who had mentioned an interesting fact, and had -contributed to the scientific experience of the listener. He looked at -Charles, and met no expression whatever; but the latter said-- - -"Our witches in these parts, Father, take the form of some inferior -animal when attending their Sabbath or general meetings, which I believe -are presided over by an undoubted gentleman, who is not generally named -in polite society. In this case, the old woman was caught sneaking home -under the form of a hare, and promptly rolled over by James; and here -she is." - -Father Tiernay said, "Oh, indeed!" but looked as if he thought the more. - -"And there's another of them out now, sir," said the keeper; "and, -Master Charles, dear, if you're going to take the greyhounds out -to-morrow, do have a turn at that big black hare under Birch Tor----" - -"A black hare!" said Father Tiernay, aghast. - -"Nearly coal-black, your reverence," said James. "She's a witch, your -reverence, and who she is the blessed saints only know. I have seen her -three or four times. If the master was on terms with Squire Humby to -Hele, we might have the harriers over and run her down. But that can't -be, in course. If you take Blue-ruin and Lightning out to-morrow, Master -Charles, and turn her out of the brambles under the rocks, and leave the -Master and Miss Mary against the corner of the stone wall to turn her -down the gully, you must have her." - -The look of astonishment had gradually faded from Father Tiernay's face. -It is said that one of the great elements of power in the Roman Catholic -priesthood is that they can lend themselves to any little bit of--well, -of mild deception--which happens to be going. Father Tiernay was up to -the situation. He looked from the keeper to Charles with a bland and -stolid expression of face, and said-- - -"If she is a witch, mark my words, the dogs will never touch her. The -way would be to bite up a crooked sixpence and fire at her with that. I -shall be there to see the sport. I never hunted a witch yet." - -"Has your reverence ever seen a white polecat?" said the keeper. - -"No, never," said the priest; "I have heard of them though. My friend, -Mr. Moriarty, of Castledown (not Mountdown Castle, ye understand; that -is the sate of my Lord Mountdown, whose blessed mother was a Moriarty, -the heavens be her bed), claimed to have seen one; but, bedad, no one -else ever saw it, and he said it turned brown again as the season came -round. May the--may the saints have my sowl if I believe a word of it." - -"_I_ have one, your reverence; and it is a rarity, I allow. Stoats turn -white often in hard winters, but polecats rarely. If your reverence and -your honour will excuse me a moment, I will fetch it. It was shot by my -Lord Welter when he was staying here last winter. A fine shot is my -lord, your reverence, for so young a man." - -He left the room, and the priest and Charles were left alone together. - -"Does he believe all this rubbish about witches?" said Father Tiernay. - -"As firmly as you do the liquefaction of the blood of----" - -"There, there; we don't want all that. Do you believe in it?" - -"Of course I don't," said Charles; "but why should I tell him so?" - -"Why do you lend yourself to such humbug?" - -"Why do you?" - -"Begorra, I don't know. I am always lending. I lent a low-browed, -hang-jawed spalpeen of a Belgian priest two pound the other day, and -sorra a halfpenny of it will me mother's son ever see again. Hark!" - -There were voices approaching the lodge--the voices of two uneducated -persons quarrelling; one that of a man, and the other of a woman. They -both made so much out in a moment. Charles recognised the voices, and -would have distracted the priest's attention, and given those without -warning that there were strangers within; but, in his anxiety to catch -what was said, he was not ready enough, and they both heard this. - -The man's voice said fiercely, "You did." - -The woman's voice said, after a wild sob, "I did not." - -"You did. I saw you. You are a liar as well as----" - -"I swear I didn't. Strike me dead, Bill, if there's been anything -wrong." - -"No. If I thought there had, I'd cut his throat first and yours after." - -"If it had been _him_, Bill, you wouldn't have used me like this." - -"Never you mind that." - -"You want to drive me mad. You do. You hate me. Master Charles hates me. -Oh, I wish I was mad." - -"I'd sooner see you chained by the waist in the straw than see what I -saw to-night." Then followed an oath. - -The door was rudely opened, and there entered first of all our old -friend, Charles's groom, William, who seemed beside himself with -passion, and after him a figure which struck the good Irishman dumb with -amazement and admiration--a girl as beautiful as the summer morning, -with her bright brown hair tangled over her forehead, and an expression -of wild terror and wrath on her face, such as one may conceive the old -sculptor wished to express when he tried, and failed, to carve the face -of the Gorgon. - -She glared on them both in her magnificent beauty only one moment. Yet -that look, as of a lost soul of another world, mad, hopeless, defiant, -has never past from the memory of either of them. - -She was gone in an instant into an inner room, and William was standing -looking savagely at the priest. In another moment his eyes had wandered -to Charles, and then his face grew smooth and quiet, and he said-- - -"We've been quarrelling, sir; don't you and this good gentleman say -anything about it. Master Charles, dear, she drives me mad sometimes. -Things are not going right with her." - -Charles and the priest walked thoughtfully home together. - -"Allow me to say, Ravenshoe," said the priest, "that, as an Irishman, I -consider myself a judge of remarkable establishments. I must say -honestly that I have seldom or never met with a great house with so many -queer elements about it as yours. You are all remarkable people. And, on -my honour, I think that our friend Mackworth is the most remarkable man -of the lot." - - - - -CHAPTER XIII. - -THE BLACK HARE. - - -It was a glorious breezy November morning; the sturdy oaks alone held on -to the last brown remnants of their summer finery; all the rest of the -trees in the vast sheets of wood which clothed the lower parts of the -downs overhanging Ravenshoe had changed the bright colours of autumn for -the duller, but not less beautiful, browns and purples of winter. Below, -in the park, the deer were feeding among the yellow fern brakes, and the -rabbits were basking and hopping in the narrow patches of slanting -sunlight, which streamed through the leafless trees. Aloft, on the hill, -the valiant blackcock led out his wives and family from the -whortle-grown rocks, to flaunt his plumage in the warmest corner beneath -the Tor. - -And the Tors, too, how they hung aloft above the brown heather, which -was relieved here and there by patches of dead, brown, king-fern; hung -aloft like brilliant, clearly-defined crystals, with such mighty -breadths of light and shadow as Sir Charles Barry never could -accomplish, though he had Westminster Abbey to look at every day. - -Up past a narrow sheep-path, where the short grass faded on the one side -into feathery broom, and on the other into brown heather and grey stone, -under the shadow of the Tor which lay nearest to Ravenshoe, and overhung -those dark woods in which we saw Densil just now walking with his old -hound; there was grouped, on the morning after the day of Charles's -arrival, a happy party, every one of whom is already known to the -reader. Of which circumstance I, the writer, am most especially glad. -For I am already as tired of introducing new people to you as my lord -chamberlain must be of presenting strangers to her Majesty at a levee. - -Densil first, on a grey cob, looking very old and feeble, straining his -eyes up the glen whither Charles, and James, the old keeper, had gone -with the greyhounds. At his rein stood William, whom we knew at Oxford. -Beside the old man sat Mary on her pony, looking so radiant and happy, -that, even if there had been no glorious autumn sun overhead, one glance -at her face would have made the dullest landscape in Lancashire look -bright. Last, not least, the good Father Tiernay, who sat on his horse, -hatless, radiant, scratching his tonsure. - -"And so you're determined to back the blue dog, Miss Mary," said he. - -"I have already betted a pair of gloves with Charles, Mr. Tiernay," said -Mary, "and I will be rash enough to do so with you. Ruin is the quickest -striker we have ever bred." - -"I know it; they all say so," said the priest; "but come, I must have a -bet on the course. I will back Lightning." - -"Lightning is the quicker dog," said Densil; "but Ruin! you will see him -lie behind the other dog all the run, and strike the hare at last. -Father Mackworth, a good judge of a dog, always backs him against the -kennel." - -"Where is Father Mackworth?" - -"I don't know," said Densil. "I am surprised he is not with us; he is -very fond of coursing." - -"His reverence, sir," said William, "started up the moor about an hour -ago. I saw him going." - -"Where was he going to?" - -"I can't say, sir. He took just over past the rocks on the opposite side -of the bottom from Mr. Charles." - -"I wonder," said Father Tiernay, "whether James will find his friend, -the witch, this morning." - -"Ah," said Densil, "he was telling me about that. I am sure I hope not." - -Father Tiernay was going to laugh, but didn't. - -"Do you believe in witches, then, Mr. Ravenshoe?" - -"Why, no," said Densil, stroking his chin thoughtfully, "I suppose not. -It don't seem to me now, as an old man, a more absurd belief than this -new electro-biology and table-turning. Charles tells me that they use -magic crystals at Oxford, and even claim to have raised the devil -himself at Merton; which, at this time of day, seems rather like -reverting to first principles. But I am not sure I believe in any of it. -I only know that, if any poor old woman has sold herself to Satan, and -taken it into her head to transform herself into a black hare, my -greyhounds won't light upon her. She must have made such a deuced hard -bargain that I shouldn't like to cheat her out of any of the small space -left her between this and, and--thingamy." - -William, as a privileged servant, took the liberty of remarking that old -Mrs. Jewel didn't seem to have been anything like a match for Satan in -the way of a bargain, for she had had hard times of it seven years -before she died. From which-- - -Father Tiernay deduced the moral lesson, that that sort of thing didn't -pay; and-- - -Mary said she didn't believe a word of such rubbish, for old Mrs. Jewel -was as nice an old body as ever was seen, and had worked hard for her -living, until her strength failed, and her son went down in one of the -herring-boats. - -Densil said that his little bird was too positive. There was the witch -of Endor, for instance-- - -Father Tiernay, who had been straining his eyes and attention at the -movements of Charles and the greyhounds, and had only caught the last -word, said with remarkable emphasis and distinctness-- - - "A broomstick of the Witch of Endor, - Well shod wi' brass," - -and then looked at Densil as though he had helped him out of a -difficulty, and wanted to be thanked. Densil continued without noticing -him-- - -"There was the witch of Endor. And 'thou shalt not suffer a witch to -live.' If there weren't such things as witches, you know, St. Paul -wouldn't have said that." - -"I don't think it was St. Paul, papa, was it?" said Mary. - -"It was one of them, my love; and, for that matter, I consider St. Peter -quite as good as St. Paul, if not better. St. Peter was always in -trouble, I know; but he was the only one who struck a blow for the good -cause, all honour to him. Let me see, he married St. Veronica, didn't -he?" - -"Marry St. Veronica, virgin and martyr?" said the priest, aghast. "My -good sir, you are really talking at random." - -"Ah, well, I may be wrong; she was virgin, but she was no martyr." - -"St. Veronica," said Father Tiernay, dogmatically, and somewhat sulkily, -"was martyred under Tiberius; no less than that." - -"I bet you what you like of it," cried Densil, "she died----" - -But what was Densil's opinion about the last days of St. Veronica will -for ever remain a mystery; for at this moment there came a "See, HO!" -from Charles; in the next a noble hare had burst from a tangled mass of -brambles at his feet; in another the two dogs were on her haunches, and -Charles, carrying two little flags furled in his hand, had dashed at the -rough rocks on the bottom of the valley, had brought his horse on his -nose, recovered him, and was half way up the hill after the flying -greyhounds. - -It was but a short course. Puss raced for some broken ground under the -hill, opposite to where our party stood. She was too close pressed, and -doubled back for the open, but, meeting James, turned as a last -desperate chance back to her first point. Too late; the dogs were upon -her. There was a short scuffle, and then Charles, rising in his saddle, -unfurled his blue flag, and waved it. - -"Hurrah!" cried Mary, clapping her hands, "two pairs of gloves this -morning; where will he try now, I wonder? Here comes James; let us ask -him." - -James approached them with the dead hare, and Densil asked where he was -going to try. He said, just where they were. - -Densil asked, had he seen Father Mackworth? and he was in the act of -saying that he was gone over the down, when a shout from Charles, and a -still louder one from James, made them all start. A large _black hare_ -had burst from the thorns at Charles's feet, and was bowling down the -glen straight toward them, with the dogs close behind her. - -"The witch," shouted James, "the witch! we shall know who she is now." - -It seemed very likely indeed. Densil broke away from William, and, -spurring his pony down the sheep-path at the risk of his neck, made for -the entrance of the wood. The hare, one of such dark colour that she -looked almost black, scudded along in a parallel direction, and dashed -into the grass ride just in front of Densil; they saw her flying down -it, just under the dog's noses, and then they saw her dash into a cross -ride, one of the dogs making a strike at her as she did so; then hare -and greyhounds disappeared round the corner. - -"She's dead, sir, confound her; we shall have her now, the witch!" - -They all came round the corner pell-mell. Here stood the dogs, panting -and looking foolishly about them, while in front of them, a few yards -distant, stood Father Mackworth, looking disturbed and flushed, as -though he had been running. - -Old James stared aghast; William gave a long whistle; Mary, for a -moment, was actually terrified. Densil looked puzzled, Charles amused; -while Father Tiernay made the forest ring with peal after peal of -uproarious laughter. - -"I am afraid I have spoilt sport, Mr. Ravenshoe," said Mackworth, coming -forward; "the hare ran almost against my legs, and doubled into the -copse, puzzling the dogs. They seemed almost inclined to revenge -themselves on me for a moment." - -"Ha, ha!" cried the jolly priest, not noticing, as Charles did, how -confused the priest was. "So we've caught you sneaking home from your -appointment with your dear friend." - -"What do you mean, sir, by appointment? You are over-stepping the bounds -of decorum, sir. Mr. Ravenshoe, I beg you to forgive me for -inadvertently spoiling your sport." - -"Not at all, my dear Father," said Densil, thinking it best, from the -scared look of old James, to enter into no further explanations; "we -have killed one hare, and now I think it is time to come home to lunch." - -"Don't eat it all before I come; I must run up to the Tor; I have -dropped my whip there," said Charles. "James, ride my horse home; you -look tired. I shall be there on foot in half the time." - -He had cast the reins to James, and was gone, and they all turned -homewards together. - -Charles, fleet of foot, was up on the Tor in a few minutes, and had -picked up his missing property; then he sat him down on a stone, -thinking. - -"There is something confoundedly wrong somewhere, and I should like to -find out what it is. What had that Jack priest been up to, that made him -look so queer? And also, what was the matter between Ellen and William -last night? Whom has she been going on with? I will go down. I wish I -could find some trace of him. One thing I know, and one thing only, that -he hates me worse than poison; and that his is not likely to be a -passive hatred." - -The wood into which Charles descended was of very large extent, and -composed of the densest copse, intersected by long straight grass rides. -The day had turned dark and chilly; and a low moaning wind began to -sweep through the bare boughs, rendering still more dismal the prospect -of the long-drawn vistas of damp grass and rotting leaves. - -He passed musing on from one ride to another, and in one of them came in -sight of a low, white building, partly ruinous, which had been built in -the deepest recesses of the wood for a summer-house. Years ago Cuthbert -and Charles used to come and play there on happy summer holidays--play -at being Robinson Crusoe and what not; but there had been a fight with -the poachers there, and one of their young men had been kicked in the -head by one of the gang, and rendered idiotic; and Charles had seen the -blood on the grass next morning; and so they voted it a dismal place, -and never went near it again. Since then it had been taken possession of -by the pheasants to dust themselves in. Altogether it was a solitary, -ghostly sort of place; and, therefore, Charles was considerable -startled, on looking in at the low door, to see a female figure, sitting -unmoveable in the darkest corner. - -It was not a ghost, for it spoke. It said, "Are you come back to upbraid -me again? I know my power, and you shall never have it." And Charles -said, "Ellen!" - -She looked up, and began to cry. At first a low, moaning cry, and -afterwards a wild passionate burst of grief. - -He drew her towards him, and tried to quiet her, but she drew away. "Not -to-day," she cried, "not to-day." - -"What is the matter, pretty one? What is the matter, sister?" said -Charles. - -"Call me sister again," she said, looking up. "I like that name. Kiss -me, and call me sister, just for once." - -"Sister dear," said Charles kindly, kissing her on the forehead, "What -is the matter?" - -"I have had a disagreement with Father Mackworth, and he has called me -names. He found me here walking with Master Cuthbert." - -"With Cuthbert?" - -"Ay, why not? I might walk with you or him any time, and no harm. I must -go." - -Before Charles had time to say one word of kindness, or consolation, or -wonder, she had drawn him towards her, given him a kiss, and was gone -down the ride towards the house. He saw her dress flutter round the last -corner, and she disappeared. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV. - -LORD SALTIRE'S VISIT, AND SOME OF HIS OPINIONS. - - -There followed on the events above narrated two or three quiet months--a -time well remembered by Charles, as one of the quietest and most -peaceful in his life, in all the times which followed. Every fine day -there was a ramble with his father through the kennels and stables, and -down through the wood, or over the farm. Charles, who at Oxford thought -no day complete, after riding with the drag, or Drakes, or rowing to -Sandford; without banquier, vingt-et-un, or loo, till three oclock in -the morning, now found, greatly to his astonishment, that he got more -pleasure by leaning over a gate with his father, and looking at fat -beasts and pigs, chewing a straw the while. A noisy wine-party, where he -met the same men he had met the night before, who sang the same songs, -and told the same silly stories, was well enough; but he began to find -that supper in the oak dining-room, sitting between Mary and his father, -and talking of the merest trifles, was a great deal pleasanter. Another -noticeable fact was that Father Mackworth's sarcasms were turned off -with a good-natured laugh, and that battle was on all occasions refused -to the worthy priest. In short, Charles, away from company and -dissipation, was himself. The good, worthy fellow, whom I learnt to like -years ago. The man whose history I am proud to write. - -Lord Saltire had arrived meanwhile; he had written to Densil, to say -that he was horribly bored; that he wished, as an ethical study, to -settle, once for all, the amount of boredom a man could stand without -dying under it; that, having looked carefully about him, to select a -spot and a society where that object could be obtained, he had selected -Ravenshoe, as being the most eligible; that he should wish his room to -have a south aspect; and that his man would arrive with his things three -days after date. To this Densil had written an appropriate reply, -begging his kind old friend to come and make his house his home; and -Lord Saltire had arrived one evening, when every one was out of the way -but Mary, who received him in the hall. - -She was in some little trepidation. She had read and heard enough of -"the wild prince and Poyns," and of Lord Saltire's powers of sarcasm, to -be thoroughly frightened at her awful position. She had pictured to -herself a terrible old man, with overhanging eyebrows, and cruel -gleaming eyes beneath them. Therefore she was astonished to see a -gentleman, old it is true, but upright as a young oak, of such -remarkable personal beauty, and such a pleasant expression of -countenance, as she had never seen before. - -She was astonished, I said; but, mind you, Mary was too much of a lady -to show too much of it. She sailed towards him through the gloom of the -old hall with a frank smile, and just that amount of admiration in her -sweet eyes which paid Lord Saltire the truest compliment he had had for -many a day. - -"Mr. Ravenshoe will be sorry to have missed receiving you, my lord," she -said. - -"If Mr. Ravenshoe is sorry," he said, "I certainly am not. Mr. Ravenshoe -has done me the honour to show me the most beautiful thing in his house -first. I rather think that is a pretty compliment, Miss Corby, unless I -am getting out of practice." - -"That is a very pretty compliment, indeed," she answered, laughing. "I -most heartily thank you for it. I know nothing in life so pleasant as -being flattered. May I introduce Father Mackworth?" - -Lord Saltire would be delighted. Father Mackworth came forward, and Mary -saw them look at one another. She saw at a glance that either they had -met before, or there was some secret which both of them knew. She never -forgot Mackworth's defiant look, or Lord Saltire's calm considerate -glance, which said as plain as words, "This fellow knows it." - -This fellow knew it--had known it for years. The footman who had left -Mackworth at the lodge of the French Lycee, the nameless domestic, who -formed the last link with his former life--this man had worn Lord -Saltire's livery, and he remembered it. - -"I see," said Lord Saltire, "that Miss Corby is prepared for walking. I -guess that she is going to meet Mr. Ravenshoe, and, if my surmise is -correct, I beg to be allowed to accompany her." - -"You are wonderfully correct, my lord. Cuthbert and Charles are shooting -pheasants in the wood, and Mr. Ravenshoe is with them on his pony. If -you will walk with me, we shall meet them." - -So the grand old eagle and the pretty sweet-voiced robin passed out on -to the terrace, and stood looking together, under the dull December sky, -at the whispering surges. Right and left the misty headlands seemed to -float on the quiet grey sea, which broke in sighs at their feet, as the -long majestic ground-swell rolled in from the ocean; and these two stood -there for a minute or more without speaking. - -"The new school of men," said Lord Saltire at last, looking out to sea, -"have perhaps done wisely, in thinking more of scenery and the mere -externals of nature than we did. We lived the life of clubs and crowds, -and we are going to our places one after another. There are but few left -now. These Stephensons and Paxtons are fine men enough. _They_ are -fighting inert matter, but _we_ fought the armies of the Philistine. We -had no time for botany and that sort of thing; which was unfortunate. -You young folks shouldn't laugh at us though." - -"I laugh at you!" she said, suddenly and rapidly; "laugh at the giants -who warred with the gods. My lord, the men of our time has not shown -themselves equal to their fathers." - -Lord Saltire laughed. - -"No, not yet," she continued; "when the time comes they will. The time -has not come yet." - -"Not yet, Miss Corby. It will come,--mind the words of a very old man; -an old fellow who has seen a confounded deal of the world." - -"Are we to have any more wars, Lord Saltire?" - -"Wars such as we never dreamt of, young lady." - -"Is all this new inauguration of peace to go for nothing?" - -"Only as the inauguration of a new series of wars, more terrible than -those which have gone before." - -"France and England combined can give the law to Europe." - -Lord Saltire turned upon her and laughed. "And so you actually believe -that France and England can really combine for anything more important -than a raid against Russia. Not that they will ever fight Russia, you -know. There will be no fight. If they threaten loud enough, Russia will -yield. Nicholas knows his weakness, and will give way. If he is fool -enough to fight the Western powers, it will end in another _duel a -l'outrance_ between France and England. They will never work together -for long. If they do, Europe is enslaved, and England lost." - -"But why, Lord Saltire?" - -"Well, well; I think so. Allow me to say that I was not prepared to find -a deep-thinking, though misguided politician in such an innocent-looking -young lady. God defend the dear old land, for every fresh acre I see of -it confirms my belief that it is the first country in the world." - -They were crossing the old terraced garden towards the wood, when they -heard the guns going rapidly, and both were silent for a minute or so. -The leafless wood was before them, and the village at their feet. The -church spire rose aloft among the trees. Some fisherman patriarch had -gone to his well-earned rest that day, and the bell was tolling for him. -Mary looked at the quiet village, at the calm winter sea, and then up at -the calm stern face of the man who walked beside her, and said-- - -"Tell me one thing, Lord Saltire; you have travelled in many countries. -Is there any land, east or west, that can give us what this dear old -England does--settled order, in which each man knows his place and his -duties? It is so easy to be good in England." - -"Well, no. It is the first country in the world. A few bad harvests -would make a hell of it, though. Has Ravenshoe got many pheasants down -here?" - -And, so talking, this strange pair wandered on towards the wood, side by -side. - -Charles was not without news in his retirement, for a few friends kept -him pretty well _au fait_ with what was going on in the world. First, -there was news from Oxford; one sort of which was communicated by -Charles Marston, and another sort by one Marker of Brazenose, otherwise -known as "Bodger," though why, I know not, nor ever could get any one to -tell me. He was purveyor of fashionable intelligence, while Charles -Marston dealt more in example and advice. About this time the latter -wrote as follows:-- - -"How goes Issachar? Is the ass stronger or weaker than formerly? Has my -dearly-beloved ass profited, or otherwise, by his stay at Ranford? How -is the other ass, my Lord Welter? He is undoubtedly a fool, but I think -an honest one, so long as you keep temptation out of his way. He is -shamefully in debt; but I suppose, if their horse wins the Derby, he -will pay; otherwise I would sooner be my lord than his tradesmen. How -goes the 'grand passion,'--has Chloe relented? She is a great fool if -she does. Why, if she refuses you, she may marry Lord Welter, and he may -settle his debts on her. A word in your ear. I have an invitation to -Ranford. I must go, I suppose. The dear old woman, whose absurdities -your honour is pleased to laugh at, has been always kind to me and mine; -and I shall go. I shall pay my just tribute of flattery to the noble -honest old soul, who is struggling to save a falling house. Don't you -laugh at Lady Ascot, you impudent young rascal. I have no doubt that -she offers some prominent points for the exercise of your excellency's -wit, but she is unmeasurably superior to you, you young scapegrace. - -"Bless your dear old face; how I long to see it again! I am coming to -see it. I shall come to you at the beginning of the Christmas vacation. -I shall come to you a beaten man, Charley. I shall only get a second. -Never mind; I would sooner come to you and yours and hide my shame, than -to any one else. - -"Charles, old friend, if I get a third, I shall break my heart. Don't -show this letter to any one. I have lost the trick of Greek prose. Oh, -old Charley! believe this, that the day once lost can never, never come -back any more! They preach a future hell; but what hell could be worse -than the eternal contemplation of opportunities thrown away--of -turning-points in the affairs of a man's life, when, instead of rising, -he has fallen--not by a bold stroke, like Satan, but by laziness and -neglect?" - -Charles was very sorry, very grieved and vexed, to find his shrewd old -friend brought to this pass by over-reading, and over-anxiety about a -subject which, to a non-university man, does not seem of such vital -importance. He carried the letter to his father, in spite of the -prohibition contained in it, and he found his father alone with the -good, honest Father Tiernay; to whom, not thinking that thereby he was -serving his friend ill, he read it aloud. - -"Charley dear," said his father, half rising from his chair, "he must -come to us, my boy; he must come here to us, and stay with us till he -forgets his disappointment. He is a noble lad. He has been a good friend -to my boy; and, by George, the house is his own." - -"I don't think, dad," said Charles, looking from Densil to Father -Tiernay, "that he is at all justified in the dark view he is taking of -matters. The clever fellows used to say that he was safe of his first. -You know he is going in for mathematics as well." - -"He is a good young man, any way," said Father Tiernay; "his sentiments -do honour to him; and none the worst of them is his admiration for my -heretic young friend here, which does him most honour of all. Mr. -Ravenshoe, I'll take three to one against his double first; pity he -ain't a Catholic. What the divvle do ye Prothestants mean by absorbing -(to use no worse language) the rints and revenues left by Catholic -testators for the good of the hooly Church, for the edication of -heretics? Tell me that, now." - -The other letter from Oxford was of a very different tenor. Mr. Marker, -of Brazenose, began by remarking that-- - -"He didn't know what was come over the place; it was getting -confoundedly slow, somehow. They had had another Bloomer ball at -Abingdon, but the thing was a dead failure, sir. Jemmy Dane, of -University, had driven two of them home in a cart, by way of Nuneham. He -had passed the Pro's at Magdalen turnpike, and they never thought of -stopping him, by George. Their weak intellects were not capable of -conceiving such glorious audacity. Both the Proctors were down at -Coldharbour turnpike, stopping every man who came from Abingdon way. -Toreker, of Exeter, was coming home on George Simmond's Darius, and, -seeing the Proctors in the light of the turnpike-gate, had put his horse -at the fence (Charles would remember it, a stubbed hedge and a ditch), -and got over the back water by the White House, and so home by the -Castle. Above forty men had been rusticated over this business, and some -good fellows too." (Here followed a list of names, which I could -produce, if necessary; but seeing that some names on the list are now -rising at the bar, or in the Church, think it better not.) "Pembroke had -won the fours, very much in consequence of Exeter having gone round the -flag, and, on being made to row again, of fouling them in the gut. The -water was out heavily, and had spoilt the boating. The Christchurch -grind had been slow, but the best that year. L--n was going down, and -they said was going to take the Pychley. C--n was pretty safe of his -first--so reading men said. Martin, of Trinity, had got his testamur, at -which event astonishment, not unmixed with awe, had fallen on the -University generally. That he himself was in for his _viva voce_ two -days after date, and he wished himself out of the hands of his enemies." - -There was a postscript, which interested Charles as much as all the rest -of the letter put together. It ran thus:-- - -"By the by, Welter has muckered; you know that by this time. But, worse -than that, they say that Charles Marston's classical first is fishy. The -old cock has overworked himself, they say." - -Lord Saltire never went to bed without having Charles up into his -dressing-room for a chat. "Not having," as his lordship most truly said, -"any wig to take off, or any false teeth to come out, I cannot see why I -should deny myself the pleasure of my young friend's company at night. -Every evening, young gentleman, we are one day older, and one day wiser. -I myself have got so confoundedly wise with my many years, that I have -nothing left to learn. But it amuses me to hear your exceedingly -_naive_ remarks on things in general, and it also flatters and soothes -me to contrast my own consummate wisdom with your folly. Therefore, I -will trouble you to come up to my dressing-room every night, and give me -your crude reflections on the events of the day." - -So Charles came up one night with Mr. Marker's letter, which he read to -Lord Saltire, while his valet was brushing his hair; and then Charles, -by way of an easily-answered question, asked Lord Saltire, What did he -think of his friend's chances? - -"I must really remark," said Lord Saltire, "even if I use -unparliamentary language, which I should be very sorry to do, that that -is one of the silliest questions I ever had put to me. When I held -certain seals, I used to have some very foolish questions put to me -(which, by the way, I never answered), but I don't know that I ever had -such a foolish question put to me as that. Why, how on earth can I have -any idea of what your friend's chances are? Do be reasonable." - -"Dear Lord Saltire, don't be angry with me. Tell me, as far as your -experience can, how far a man who knows his work, by George, as well as -a man can know it, is likely to fail through nervousness. You have seen -the same thing in Parliament. You know how much mischief nervousness may -do. Now, do give me your opinion." - -"Well, you are putting your question in a slightly more reasonable form; -but it is a very silly one yet. I have seen a long sort of man, with -black hair, and a hook nose, like long Montague, for instance, who has -been devilishly nervous till he got on his legs, and then has astonished -every one, and no one more than myself, not so much by his power of -declamation as by the extraordinary logical tenacity with which he clung -to his subject. Yes, I don't know but what I have heard more telling and -logical speeches from unprepared men than I ever have from one of the -law lords. But I am a bad man to ask. I never was in the Lower House. -About your friend's chance;--well, I would not give twopence for it; in -after-life he may succeed. But from what you have told me, I should -prepare myself for a disappointment." - -Very shortly after this, good Lord Saltire had to retire for a time into -the upper chambers; he had a severe attack of gout. - -There had been no more quarrelling between Father Mackworth and Charles; -peace was proclaimed--an armed truce; and Charles was watching, watching -in silence. Never since he met her in the wood had he had an opportunity -of speaking to Ellen. She always avoided him. William, being asked -confidentially by Charles what he thought was the matter, said that -Ellen had been "carrin on" with some one, and he had been blowing her -up; which was all the explanation he offered. In the meantime, Charles -lived under the comforting assurance that there was mischief brewing, -and that Mackworth was at the bottom of it. - - - - -CHAPTER XV. - -CHARLES'S "LIDDELL AND SCOTT." - - -A growing anxiety began to take possession of Charles shortly before -Christmas, arising from the state of his father's health. Densil was -failing. His memory was getting defective, and his sense dulled. His eye -always was searching for Charles, and he was uneasy at his absence. So -it was with a vague sense of impending misfortune that he got a letter -from the Dean of his college, summoning him back after the Christmas -vacation. - -Mr. Dean said, "That Mr. Ravenshoe's case had been reconsidered, and -that at the warm, and, he thought, misguided, intercession of the -Bursar, a determination had been come to, to allow Mr. Ravenshoe to come -into residence again for the Lent term. He trusted that this would be a -warning, and that, while there was time, he would arrest himself in that -miserable career of vice and folly which could only have one -termination--utter ruin in this world and in the next." - -A college "Don," by long practice, acquires a power of hurting a young -man's feelings, utterly beyond competition, save by a police magistrate. -Charles winced under this letter; but the same day Mary, coming singing -downstairs as was her wont, was alarmed by the descent of a large opaque -body of considerable weight down the well of the staircase, which lodged -in the wood basket at the bottom, and which, on examination, she found -to be a Liddell and Scott's Lexicon. At which she rejoiced; for she -concluded that Charles had taken to reading again, though why he should -begin by throwing his books downstairs she could not well understand, -until he joined her, and explained that he had been dusting it on the -landing, and that it had slipped out of his hand. - -"What a crack it came down," added he; "I wish Father Mackworth's head -had been underneath it." - -"I have no doubt of it, young gentleman," said the priest quietly from -behind; and there he was with his hand on the library door, and in he -went and shut it behind him. - -Mary and Charles were both awfully disconcerted. Mary felt horribly -guilty; in fact, if the priest had remained quiet one moment more, he -would undoubtedly have heard one or two candid and far from -complimentary remarks about himself from that young lady, which would -have made his ears tingle. - -"Confound him," said Charles; "how he glides about! He learned that -trick, and a few others, at that precious Jesuit College of his. They -teach them that sort of thing as the old Jews teach the young -pickpockets. The old father inquisitor puts the door ajar with a bell -against it, and they all have to come in one after another. The one who -rings it gets dropped on to like blazes." - -Mary was going to ask what exact amount of personal suffering being -dropped on to like blazes involved; but Charles stopped her, and took -her hand. - -"Mary dear," he said, "do you ever think of the future?" - -"Night and day, Charles,--night and day." - -"If he dies, Mary? When he dies?" - -"Night and day, brother," she answered, taking one of his great brown -hands between her two white little palms. "I dream in my sleep of the -new regime which is to come, and I see only trouble, and again trouble." - -"And then?" - -"There is a God in heaven, Charles." - -"Ay, but Mary, what will you do?" - -"I?" and she laughed the merriest little laugh ever you heard. "Little -me? Why, go for a governess, to be sure. Charles, they shall love me so -that this life shall be a paradise. I will go into a family where there -are two beautiful girls; and, when I am old and withered, there shall be -two nurseries in which I shall be often welcome, where the children -shall come babbling to my knee, the darlings, and they shall tell me how -they love me, almost as well as their mother. There is my future. Would -you change it?" - -Charles was leaning against the oak banister; and, when he saw her there -before him, when he saw that valiant, true-hearted face, in the light -which streamed from the old window above, he was rebuked, and bent down -his head on the rail. The Dean's letter of that morning had done -something; but the sight of that brave little woman, so fearless with -all the world before her, did more. She weak, friendless, moneyless, and -so courageous! He with the strong arm, so cowardly! It taught him a -lesson indeed, a lesson he never forgot. But oh! for that terrible -word--too late! - -Ah! too late! What word is so terrible as that? You will see what I mean -soon. That is the cry which one writer puts in the mouths of the lost -spirits in hell. God's mercy is infinite, and it is yet a question -whether it were better for Charles to have fallen into the groove of -ordinary life, or to have gone through those humiliating scenes through -which we must follow him. - -"Charley dear," said Mary, laying her hand on his shoulder, "it is not -about myself I am thinking; it is about you. What are you going to do -when he has gone? are you going into the Church?" - -"Oh, no!" said Charles, "I couldn't bear the idea of that." - -"Then why are you at Oxford?" - -"To get an education, I suppose." - -"But what use will a university education be to you, Charles! Have you -no plans?" - -"I give you my word, my dear Mary, that I am as much in the dark about -the future as a five days old puppy." - -"Has he made any provision for you?" - -"Oh, yes! I am to have six thousand." - -"Do you know that the estate is involved, Charles?" - -"No." - -"I believe it is. There has been a great deal of state kept up here, and -I believe it is the case." - -"Cuthbert would soon bring that round." - -"I tremble to think of the future, Charles. Are your debts at Oxford -heavy?" - -"Pretty well. Five hundred would clear me." - -"Don't get any more in debt, that's a dear." - -"No, Mary dear, I won't. I don't care for the future. I shall have L180 -a year. That will be enough for William and me. Then I shall go to the -bar, and make a deuce of a lot of money, and marry Adelaide. Then you -will come to live with us, and we shall have such jolly times of -it.--Take that, you villain!" - -This last elegant apostrophe was addressed to William (who at that -moment had come in by the side door), and was accompanied by the -dexterous delivery of the Liddell and Scott, in the manner of a cricket -ball. Our friend William stood to catch it in a style worthy of Box, -with his knees a yard apart, and one palm over the other; but as luck -would have it, he missed it, and it alighted full on the shins of Father -Mackworth, who had selected that time for coming out of the library; and -so it lay sillily open at [Greek: lam, gem.] at his feet. - -Mackworth really thought that it was intentional, and was furious. He -went back into the library; and Charles, seeing what must come, followed -him, while Mary fled upstairs. There was no one in the room but Cuthbert -and Father Tiernay. - -"I will be protected from insult in this house," began Mackworth; "twice -to-day I have been insulted by Mr. Charles Ravenshoe, and I demand -protection." - -"What have you been doing, Charley?" said Cuthbert. "I thought you two -had given up quarrelling. You will wear my life out. Sometimes, what -with one thing and another, I wish I were dead. Oh! if the great problem -were solved! Surely my brother may avoid brawling with a priest, a man -sacred by his office, though of another faith. Surely my brother has -taste enough to see the propriety of that." - -"Your brother has no taste or sense, sir," said Father Mackworth. "He -has no decency. He has no gentlemanly feeling. Within ten minutes he has -dropped a book downstairs, and lamented, to my face, that it hadn't -fallen on my head; and just now he has thrown the same book at me, and -hit me with it." - -"I thank God, Charles," said poor weary Cuthbert, "that our father is -spared this. It would kill him. Brother, brother, why do you vex me like -this? I have always stood on your side, Charley. Don't let me be killed -with these ceaseless brawls." - -"They will soon cease, sir," said Father Mackworth; "I leave this house -to-morrow." - -"Cuthbert, hear me now. I never intended to insult him." - -"Why did you throw your book at him, Charley? It is not decorous. You -must know when you wound him you wound me. And I have fought such -battles for you, Charley." - -"Cuthbert! brother! do hear me. And let him hear me. And let Father -Tiernay hear me. Cuthbert, you know I love you. Father Tiernay, you are -a good and honest man; hear what I have to say. You, Mackworth, you are -a scoundrel. You are a double-dyed villain. What were you doing with -that girl in the wood, the day you hunted the black hare a month ago? -Cuthbert, tell me, like an honest gentleman, did you ever walk in the -wood with Ellen?" - -"I?" said Cuthbert, scared; "I never walked with Ellen there. I have -walked with Mary there, brother. Why should I not?" - -"There, look at the lie that this man has put into her mouth. She told -me that he had found you and her walking together there." - -"I am not answerable for any young woman's lies," said Father -Mackworth. "I decline to continue this discussion. It is humiliating. As -for you, you poor little moth," he said, turning to Charles, "when the -time comes, I will crush you with my thumb against the wall. My liking -for your father prevents my doing my duty as yet. In that I err. Wait." - -Charles had been in a passion before this; but, seeing danger, and real -danger, abroad, he got cool, and said-- - -"Wait." - -And they both waited, and we shall see who waited the longest. - -"I have done it now, Mary dear," said Charles, returning upstairs with -the unlucky lexicon. "It is all over now." - -"Has there been a scene?" - -"A terrible scene. I swore at him, and called him a villain." - -"Why did you do that, Charles? Why are you so violent? You are not -yourself, Charles, when you give way to your temper like that." - -"Well, I'll tell you, my robin. He is a villain." - -"I don't think so, Charles. I believe he is a high-minded man." - -"I know he is not, birdie. At least, I believe he is not." - -"I believe him to be so, Charles." - -"I know him to be otherwise; at least, I think so." - -"Are you doing him justice, Charley dear? Are you sure you are doing him -justice?" - -"I think so." - -"Why?" - -"I cannot tell you, Mary. When the end of all things comes, and you and -I are thrown abroad like two corks on the great sea, you will know. But -I cannot tell you." - -"I believe, dear, that you are so honest that you would not do injustice -even to him. But, oh! be sure that you are right. Hush! Change the -subject. What were you going to read when that unlucky book fell -downstairs?" - -"Demosthenes." - -"Let me come in and sit with you, Charley dear, and look out the words; -you don't know how clever I am. Is it the 'De Corona'?" - -Charles took her hand and kissed it; and so they two poor fools went on -with their Demosthenes. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI. - -MARSTON'S ARRIVAL. - - -The night after the terrible lexicon quarrel, which, you will observe, -arose entirely from Charles's good resolution to set to work -reading--whereby we should take warning not to be too sanguine of good -resolutions, taken late, bringing forth good fruit--the very evening, I -say, after this fracas, Charles, his father, and Mary, were sitting in -the library together. Of course Densil had heard nothing of the -disturbance, and was, good old gentleman, as happy as you please; all -his elements of pleasure were there. Father Mackworth was absent. Father -Tiernay was throwing his whole hearty soul into a splendid copy of -Bewick's birds, date 1799. Cuthbert was before the upper fireplace, -beyond the pillar, poring over goodness only knows what monkish lore; -while close to him was bird Mary sewing, and Charles reading aloud a -book, very often quoted in everyday life unconsciously. - -Charles read how Mr. Quilp begged Mr. Brass would take particular care -of himself, or he would never forgive him; how there was a dog in the -lane who had killed a boy on Tuesday, and bitten a man on Friday; how -the dog lived on the right-hand side, but generally lurked on the left, -ready for a spring; and they were laughing over Mr. Brass's horror, when -there came a noise of wheels on the gravel. - -"That is Marston, father, for a thousand pounds," said Charles. - -He hurried into the hall, as the men were undoing the door; Mary, -dropping her work, went after him; and Densil taking his stick, came -too. Cuthbert looked up from the further end of the room, and then bent -his head over his book again. Father Tiernay looked up, inquisitive and -interested, but sat still. They who followed into the hall saw this. - -Charles stood in front of the hall door, and out of the winter's -darkness came a man, with whom, as Mary once playfully said, she had -fallen in love at once. It was Marston. - -Charles went up to him quickly with both hands out, and said-- - -"We are so glad." - -"It is very kind of you. God bless you; how did you know it?" - -"We know nothing, my dear Marston, except that you are welcome. Now put -me out of my pain." - -"Why, well," said the other, "I don't know how it has happened: but I -have got my double first." - -Charles gave a wild cheer, and the others were all on him -directly--Densil, Tiernay, Cuthbert, and all. Never was such a welcome; -not one of them, save Charles, had ever seen him before, yet they -welcomed him as an old friend. - -"You have not been to Ranford, then?" said Charles. - -"Why, no. I did not feel inclined for it after so much work. I must take -it on my way back." - -Lord Saltire's gout was better to-night, and he was downstairs. He -proceeded to remark that, having been in----; well, he wouldn't shock -Miss Corby by saying where--for a day or so, he had suddenly, through no -merit of his own, got promoted back into purgatory. That, having fought -against the blue devils, and come downstairs, for the sole purpose of -making himself disagreeable, he had been rewarded, for that display of -personal energy and self-sacrifice, by most unexpectedly meeting a son -of his old friend, Jackdaw Marston. He begged to welcome his old -friend's son, and to say that, by Jove, he was proud of him. His young -friend's father had not been a brilliant scholar, as his young friend -was; but had been one of the first whist-players in England. His young -friend had turned his attention to scholastic honours, in preference to -whist, which might or might not be a mistake: though he believed he was -committing no breach of trust in saying that the position had been -thrust on his young friend from pecuniary motives. Property had an -infernal trick of deteriorating. His own property had not happened to -deteriorate (none knew why, for he had given it every chance); but the -property of his young friend's father having deteriorated in a -confounded rapid sort of way, he must say that it was exceedingly -creditable in his young friend to have made such a decided step towards -bringing matters right again as he had. - -"My father's son, my lord, thanks you for your kind remembrance of his -father. I have always desired to see and meet my father's old friends, -of whom you, Mr. Ravenshoe, were among the kindest. We have given up the -greater vices lately, my lord, but we do our best among the smaller -ones." - -There was a quiet supper, at which Lord Saltire consented to stay, -provided no one used the expression "cheese"; in which case he said he -should have to retire. There wasn't cheese on the table, but there was -more than cheese; there was scolloped cockles, and Lord Saltire ate -some. He said at the time that they would have the same effect on him as -swallowing the fire-shovel. But, to relieve your mind at once, I may -tell you that they didn't do him any harm at all, and he was as well as -ever next morning. - -Father Tiernay said grace; and, when the meal was half over, in came -Father Mackworth. Densil said, "Father Mackworth, Mr. Marston;" and -Marston said, after a moment's glance at him, "How do you do, sir?" - -Possibly a more courteous form of speaking to a new acquaintance might -have been used. But Marston had his opinions about Father Mackworth, and -had no objection that the holy father should know them. - -"We got, Mary," said Cuthbert, suddenly, "more cocks than pheasants -to-day. Charles killed five couple, and I four. I was very vexed at -being beaten by Charles, because I am so much the better shot." - -Charles looked up and met his eyes--a look he never forgot. Accompanying -the apparent petulance of the remark was a look of love and pity and -sorrow. It pleased him, above everything, during the events which were -to come, to-recall that look, and say, "Well, he liked me once." - -That evening Charles and Marston retired to Charles's study (a deal of -study had been carried on there, you may depend), and had a long talk -over future prospects. Charles began by telling him all about Madam -Adelaide, and Marston said, "Oh, indeed! what are you going to do, -Charley, boy, to keep her? She comes out of an extravagant house, you -know." - -"I must get called to the bar." - -"Hard work for nothing, for many years, you know." - -"I know. But I won't go into the Church; and what else is there?" - -"Nothing I know of, except billiard marking and steeplechase riding." - -"Then, you approve of it?" - -"I do, most heartily. The work will be good for you. You have worked -before, and can do it again. Remember how well you got on at -Shrewsbury." - -Then Charles told him about the relations between himself and Father -Mackworth, and what had happened that day. - -"You and he have had disgraceful scenes like this before, haven't you?" - -"Yes, but never so bad as this." - -"He is a very passionate man, isn't he? You took utterly wrong grounds -for what you did to-day. Don't you see that you have no earthly grounds -for what you said, except your own suspicions? The girl's own account of -the matter seems natural enough. That she was walking with your most -saint-like brother, and the priest found them, and sent them to the -right-about with fleas in their ears." - -"I believe that man to be a great villain," said Charles. - -"So may I," said the other, "but I shan't tell him so till I can prove -it. As for that quarrel between William and his sister the night you -came home, that proves nothing, except that she has been going too far -with some one. But who? What have you been doing that empowers him to -say that he will crush you like a moth?" - -"Oh, bravado, I take it! You should have seen how mad he looked when he -said it." - -"I am glad I did not. Let us talk no more about him; Is that sweet -little bird Mary Corby?" - -"You know it is." - -"Well, so I do know, but I wanted an excuse for saying the name over -again. Charles, you are a fool." - -"That is such a very novel discovery of yours," said Charles, laughing. -"What have I been a-doing on now?" - -"Why didn't you fall in love with Mary Corby instead of Madam Adelaide?" - -"I am sure I don't know. Why, I never thought of such a thing as that." - -"Then you ought to have done so. Now go to bed." - - - - -CHAPTER XVII. - -IN WHICH THERE IS ANOTHER SHIPWRECK. - - -Time jogged on very pleasantly to the party assembled at Ravenshoe that -Christmas. There were woodcocks and pheasants in the woods; there were -hares, snipes, and rabbits on the moor. In the sea there were fish; and -many a long excursion they had in the herring-boats--sometimes standing -boldly out to sea towards the distant blue island in the main, sometimes -crawling lazily along under the lofty shoreless cliffs which towered -above their heads from 200 to 1,100 feet high. - -It was three days before Christmas-day, and they were returning from -fishing along the coast, and were about ten miles or so from home. I say -returning, though in fact there was not a breath of wind, and the boat -was drifting idly along on the tide. Two handsome simple-looking young -men were lolling by the useless tiller; an old man, hale and strong as a -lion, with a courteous high-bred look about him, was splicing a rope; -and a tall, pale, black-haired man was looking steadily seaward, with -his hands in his pockets, while Charles and Marston were standing in the -bows smoking. - -"What a curious, dreamy, dosy, delicious kind of winter you have down -here," said Marston. - -"I am very fond of it," said Charles; "it keeps you in continual hope -for the spring that is coming. In the middle of frost and snow and ice -one is apt to lose one's faith in waving boughs and shady pools." - -"I have had such a quiet time with you down here, Charley. I am so -pleased with the way in which you are going on. You are quite an altered -man. I think we shall both look back to the last few quiet weeks as a -happy time." - -Here the tall dark man, who was looking out to sea, suddenly said-- - -"Rain and hail, snow and tempest, stormy wind fulfilling His word." - -"Ay, ay," said the old man; "going to blow to-night, I expect." - -"We shall go home pretty fast, may be." - -"Not us, Master Charles, dear," said the tall man. "We are going to have -it from south and by west, and so through west round to north. Before -which time there'll be souls in glory, praise be to God." - -The old man took off his hat reverently. - -"There won't be amuch surf on when we beaches she," said one of the -young men. "It won't get up afore the wind be full round west for an -hour." - -"You're a spaking like a printed buke, Jan," said the old man. - -"I'm a thinking differently, Master Evans," said the dark man. "It will -chop round very sudden, and be west before we know where we are. I speak -with humility to a man who has seen the Lord's wonders in the deep so -many years longer nor me. But I think, under God, I am right." - -"You most in general be right. They as converses with the Lord night and -day, day and night, like as you do, knows likely more of His works nor -we, as ain't your gifts." - -"The Lord has vouchsafed me nothing in the way of a vision, about this -afternoon, Master Evans." - -"Didn't 'ee dream never at all last night?" said one of the young men: -"Think 'ee now." - -"Nought to bear on wind or weather, Jan. I judges from the glass. It's a -dropping fast." - -Jan would have had more faith in one of Matthew's dreams, and didn't -seem to think much of the barometer. Meanwhile Marston had whispered -Charles-- - -"Who is Matthews? What sect is he?" - -"Oh, he's a Brianite." - -"What is that?" - -"A sort of Ranter, I believe." - -Marston looked up, and saw the two great black eyes under the lofty -forehead fixed full upon him. With the instinct of a gentleman, he said -at once-- - -"I was asking Mr. Charles what sect you were of; that was all. He tells -me you are a Brianite, and I had never heard of that sect before. I hope -you will let me talk to you about your matters of belief some day." - -Matthews took off his hat, and said--That with the Lord's will he would -speak to his honour. "Will your honour bear with a poor fisherman, -ignorant of the world's learning, but who has had matters revealed to -him by the Lord in dreams and visions of the night? Peter was only a -fisherman, your honour, and, oh, if we could only hear him speak now!" - -He paused, and looked again to seaward. Charles had gone again into the -bow, and Marston was standing among the men right aft. Suddenly Matthews -turned again upon him and said-- - -"In the beaching of this here boat to-night, your honour, there may be -danger. In such case my place will be alongside of him," pointing to -Charles. "There'd be a many kind hearts aching, if aught happened to -him. You stick close to these young men. They'll see after you, sir." - -"You keep close alongside of we, sir. You hold on of we, sir. We'll see -you all right, sir," said the two young men. - -"But, my dear good souls, I am as good a swimmer as any in England, and -as active as a cat. Pray, don't mind me." - -"You keep hold of we and run, sir," said one of the young men, "that's -all you're a'got to do, sir." - -"I shall most certainly run," said Marston, laughing, "but I decline -drowning any one but myself--" - -Charles said at this moment, "Do come here and look at this." - -It was worth looking at, indeed. They were about a mile from shore, -floating about anyhow on an oily smooth sea; for the tide had changed, -and they were making no headway. Before them one of the noblest -headlands on the coast, an abrupt cone of slate, nigh a thousand feet -high, covered almost entirely with grass, sloped suddenly into the -water; and in advance of it, but slightly on one side, a rugged mound of -black rock, nearly six hundred feet, stood out into the sea, and -contrasted its horrid jagged lines with the smooth green of the peak -behind. Round its base, dividing it from the glossy sea, ran a delicate -line of silver--the surf caused by the ground-swell; and in front the -whole promontory was dimly mirrored in the quietly heaving ocean. - -"What a noble headland," said Marston; "is that grass on the further -peak too steep to walk upon?" - -"There's some one a'walking on it now," said old Evans. "There's a woman -a'walking on it." - -None could see it but he, except Matthews, who said he couldn't tell if -it was a sheep or no. - -Charles got out his glass, and the old man was right. A woman was -walking rapidly along the peak, about the third of the way down. - -"What a curious place for a woman to be in!" he remarked. "It is almost -terrible to look at." - -"I never saw any one there before, save the shepherd," said the old man. - -"It's a sheep-path," said one of the young ones. "I have been along -there myself. It is the short way round to Coombe." - -Charles would have thought more of the solitary female figure on that -awful precipice, but that their attention was diverted by something -else. From the south-westward black flaws of wind began to creep towards -them, alternated with long irregular bands of oily calm. Soon the calm -bands disappeared, and the wind reached them. Then they had steerage, -and in a very short time were roaring out to sea close hauled, with a -brisk and ever-increasing breeze. - -They saw that they would have to fetch a very long leg, and make a great -offing, in order to reach Ravenshoe at all. The wind was freshening -every moment, changing to the west, and the sea was getting up. It took -them three hours to open Ravenshoe Bay; and, being about five miles from -the shore, they could see that already there was an ugly side-surf -sweeping in, and that the people were busy on the beach hauling up their -boats out of harm's way. - -"How beautifully these craft sail," said Marston, as they were all -hanging on by her weather gunwale, and the green sea was rushing past to -leeward, almost under their feet, in sheets of angry foam. - -"It is amazing what speed is got out of them on a wind," said Charles, -"but they are dangerous craft." - -"Why so?" - -"These lug-sails are so awkward in tacking, you will see." - -They ran considerably past Ravenshoe and about six miles to sea, when -the word was given to go about. In an instant the half deck was lumbered -with the heavy red sails; and, after five minutes of unutterable -confusion, she got about. Marston was expecting her to broach to every -moment during this long five minutes, but fortune favoured them. They -went freer on this tack, for the wind was now north of west, and the -brave little craft went nearly before it at her finest pace. The men -kept on her as much sail as she could stand, but that was very little; -fast as they went, the great seas went faster, as though determined to -be at the dreadful rendezvous before the boat. Still the waves rose -higher and the wind howled louder. They were nearing the shore rapidly. - -Now they began to see, through the mist, the people gathered in a crowd -on the shore, densest at one point, but with a few restless stragglers -right and left of that point, who kept coming and going. This spot was -where they expected to come ashore. They were apparently the last boat -out, and all the village was watching them with the deepest anxiety. - -They began to hear a sound other than the howling of the wind in the -rigging, and the rush of waters around them--a continuous thunder, -growing louder each moment as the boat swept onward. The thunder of the -surf upon the sand. And, looking forward, they could see just the top of -it as it leapt madly up. - -It was a nervous moment. They stood ready in their shirts and trousers, -for a rush, should it be necessary. And the old man was at the helm. -They saw the seas begin to curl. Then they were in the middle of them. -Then the water left them on the sand, and three brave fellows from the -shore dashed to hook on the tackles; but they were too late. Back with a -roar like a hungry lion came the sea; the poor boat broached to, and -took the whole force of the deluge on her broadside. In a moment more, -blinded and stunned, they were all in the water, trying to stand against -the backward rush which took them near midthigh. Old Master Evans was -nearest to Marston; he was tottering to fall when Marston got hold of -him, and saved him. The two young men got hold of both of them. Then -three men from the shore dashed in and got hold of Charles; and then, as -the water went down and they dared move their feet, they all ran for -their lives. Marston and his party got on to dry land on their feet, -but Charles and his assistants were tumbled over and over, and washed up -ignominiously covered with sand. Charles, however, soon recovered -himself, and, looking round to thank those who had done him this -service, found that one of them was William, who, when the gale had come -on, had, with that bland indifference to the stud-groom's personal -feelings which we have seen him exhibit before, left his work, and -dressed in a Jersey and blue trousers, and come down to lend a hand. He -had come in time to help his foster-brother out of the surf. - -"I am so very thankful to you," said Charles to the two others. "I will -never forget you. I should have been drowned but for you. William, when -I am in trouble I am sure to find you at my elbow." - -"You won't find me far off, Master Charles," said William. They didn't -say any more to one another those two. There was no need. - -The tall man, Matthews, had been cast up with a broken head, and, on the -whole, seemed rather disappointed at not finding himself in paradise. He -had stumbled in leaping out of the boat, and hurt his foot, and had had -a hard time of it, poor fellow. - -As Charles and William stood watching the poor boat breaking up, and the -men venturing their lives to get the nets out of her, a hand was laid on -Charles's shoulder, and, turning round, he faced Cuthbert. - -"Oh, Charles, Charles, I thought I had lost you! Come home and let us -dry you, and take care of you. William, you have risked your life for -one who is very dear to us. God reward you for it! Brother, you are -shivering with cold, and you have nothing but your trousers and Jersey -on, and your head and feet are bare, and your poor hair is wet and full -of sand; let me carry you up, Charles, the stones will cut your feet. -Let me carry you, Charles. I used to do it when you were little." - -There was water in Charles's eyes (the salt water out of his hair, you -understand), as he answered:-- - -"I think I can walk, Cuthbert; my feet are as hard as iron." - -"No, but I must carry you," said Cuthbert. "Get up, brother." - -Charles prepared to comply, and Cuthbert suddenly pulled off his shoes -and stockings, and made ready. - -"Oh, Cuthbert, don't do that," said Charles, "you break my heart." - -"Do let me, dear Charles. I seldom ask you a favour. If I didn't know -that it was acceptable to God, do you think I would do it?" - -Charles hesitated one moment; but he caught William's eye, and William's -eye and William's face said so plainly "do it," that Charles hesitated -no longer, but got on his brother's back. Cuthbert ordered William, who -was barefoot, to put on his discarded shoes and stockings, which William -did; and then Cuthbert went toiling up the stony path towards the hall, -with his brother on his back--glorying in his penance. - -Is this ridiculous? I cannot say I can see it in this light. I may laugh -to scorn the religion that teaches men that, by artificially producing -misery and nervous terror, and in that state flying to religion as a -comfort and refuge, we in any way glorify God, or benefit ourselves. I -can laugh, I say, at a form of religion like this; but I cannot laugh at -the men who believe in it, and act up to it. No. I may smoke my pipe, -and say that the fool Cuthbert Ravenshoe took off his shoes, and gave -them to the groom, and carried a twelve-stone brother for a quarter of a -mile barefoot, and what a fool he must be, and so forth. But the sneer -is a failure, and the laugh dies away; and I say, "Well, Cuthbert, if -you are a fool, you are a consistent and manly one at all events." - -Let us leave these three toiling up the steep rocky path, and take a -glance elsewhere. When the gale had come on, little Mary had left -Densil, and putting on her bonnet, gone down to the beach. She had asked -the elder fishermen whether there would be any danger in beaching the -boat, and they had said in chorus, "Oh, bless her sweet ladyship's -heart, no. The young men would have the tackles on her and have her up, -oh, ever so quick;" and so she had been reassured, and walked up and -down. But, as the wind came stronger and stronger, and she had seen the -last boat taken in half full of water--and as the women kept walking up -and down uneasily, with their hands under their aprons--and as she saw -many an old eagle eye, shaded by a horny hand, gazing anxiously seaward -at the two brown sails plunging about in the offing--she had lost heart -again, and had sat her down on a windlass apart, with a pale face, and a -sick heart. - -A tall gaunt brown woman came up to her and said, - -"My lady musn't fret. My lady would never do for a fisherman's wife. -Why, my dear tender flesh, there's a hundred strong arms on the beach -now, as would fetch a Ravenshoe out of anywhere a'most. 'Tis a cross -surf, Miss Mary; but, Lord love ye, they'll have the tackles on her -afore she's in it. Don't ye fret, dear, don't ye fret." - -But she had sat apart and fretted nevertheless; and, when she saw the -brown bows rushing madly through the yellow surf, she had shut her eyes -and prayed, and had opened them to see the boat on her beam ends, and a -dozen struggling figures in the pitiless water. - -Then she had stood up and wrung her hands. - -They were safe. She heard that, and she buried her face in her hands, -and murmured a prayer of thanksgiving. - -Some one stood beside her. It was Marston, bareheaded and barefooted. - -"Oh, thank God!" she said. - -"We have given you a sad fright." - -"I have been terribly frightened. But you must not stand dripping there. -Please come up, and let me attend you." - -So she got him a pair of shoes, and they went up together. The penance -procession had passed on before; and a curious circumstance is this, -that although on ordinary occasions Marston was as lively a talker as -need be, on this occasion he was an uncommonly stupid one, as he never -said one word all the way up to the hall, and then separated from her -with a formal little salutation. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII. - -MARSTON'S DISAPPOINTMENT. - - -Mary did not wonder at Marston's silence. She imagined that perhaps he -had been sobered by being cast on the shore so unceremoniously, and -thought but little more of it. Then she dressed for dinner, and went and -stood in one of the deep windows of the hall, looking out. - -The great fire which leapt and blazed in the hall chimney was fast -superseding the waning daylight outside. It was very pleasant to look at -the fire, and the fire-light on wall and ceiling, on antler and armour, -and then to get behind the curtain, and look out into the howling -winter's evening, over the darkening, raging sea, and the tossing trees, -and think how all the boats were safe in, and the men sitting round the -pleasant fires with their wives and children, and that the dogs were -warm in the kennels, and the horses in the stable; and to pity the poor -birds, and hope they had good warm nooks and corners to get to; and -then to think of the ships coming up the channel, and hope they might -keep a good offing. - -This brought her to thinking, for the first time, of her own little -self--how, so many years ago, she had been cast up like a little piece -of seaweed out of that awful ocean. She thought of the _Warren -Hastings_, and how she and Charles, on summer days, when out gathering -shells on the rocks, used to look over to where the ship lay beneath the -sea, and wonder whereabout it was. Then she had a kindly smile on her -face as she thought of Mr. Archer, the brave and good (now I am happy to -say Captain Archer), and looked over the hall to a hideous and -diabolical graven image, which he had sent the year before, among some -very valuable presents, and had begged her to be particularly careful -of, as he had risked his life in getting it; and which she and Charles -had triumphantly placed in the hall, and maintained there, too, in spite -of the sarcasms of Father Mackworth, and the pious horror of the -servants and villagers. And so she went on thinking--thinking of her -dead parents, of the silence maintained by her relations, of old -Densil's protection, and then of the future. That protection must cease -soon, and then-- - -A governess! There were many stories about governesses not being well -treated. Perhaps it was their own fault, or they were exceptional cases. -She would like the nursery best, and to keep away from the drawing-room -altogether. "Yes," she said, "I will _make_ them love me; I will be so -gentle, patient, and obliging. I am not afraid of the children--I know I -can win _them_--or of my mistress much; I believe I can win _her_. I am -most afraid of the superior servants; but, surely, kindness and -submission will win them in time. - -"My sheet-anchor is old Lady Ascot. She got very fond of me during that -six months I stayed with her; and she is very kind. Surely she will get -me a place where I shall be well treated! and, if not, why then--I shall -only be in the position of thousands of other girls. I must fight -through it. There is another life after this. - -"It will be terribly hard parting from all the old friends though! After -that, I think I shall have no heart left to suffer with. Yes; I suppose -the last details of the break-up will be harder to bear than anything -which will follow. That will tear one's heart terribly. That over, I -suppose my salary will keep me in drawing materials, and give me the -power, at every moment of leisure, of taking myself into fairy land. - -"I suppose actual destitution is impossible. I should think so. Yes, -yes; Lady Ascot would take care of that. If that were to come though? -They say a girl can always make four-pence a day by her needle. How I -would fight, and strive, and toil! And then how sweet death would be!" - -She paused, and looked out on the darkened ocean. "And yet," she thought -again, "I would follow--follow him to the world's end:-- - - "'Across the hills, and far away, - Beyond their utmost purple rim; - Beyond the night, across the day, - The happy princess followed him.'" - -A door opened into the hall, and a man's step was on the stone-floor; -she raised the curtain to see who it was. It was Marston; and he came -straight towards her, and stood beside her, looking out over the wild -stormy landscape. - -"Miss Corby," he said, "I was coming to try and find you." - -"You are very lucky in your search," she said, smiling on him. "I was -alone here with the storm; and, if I had not raised the curtain, you -would never have seen me. How it blows! I am glad you are not out in -this. This is one of your lucky days." - -"I should be glad to think so. Will you listen to me for a very few -minutes, while I tell you something?" - -"Surely," she said. "Who is there that I would sooner listen to?" - -"I fear I shall tire your patience now, though. I am a comparatively -poor man." - -"And what of that, my dear Mr. Marston? You are rich in honour, in -future prospects. You have a noble future before you." - -"Will you share it, Mary?" - -"Oh! what do you mean?" - -"Will you be my wife? I love you beyond all the riches and honours of -the world--I love you as you will never be loved again. It is due to you -and to myself to say that, although I call myself poor, I have enough to -keep you like a lady, and all my future prospects beside. Don't give me -a hasty answer, but tell me, is it possible you can become my wife?" - -"Oh, I am so sorry for this!" said poor Mary. "I never dreamt of this. -Oh, no! it is utterly and entirely impossible, Mr. Marston--utterly and -hopelessly impossible! You must forgive me, if you can; but you must -never, never think about me more." - -"Is there no hope?" said Marston. - -"No hope, no hope!" said Mary. "Please never think about me any more, -till you have forgiven me; and then, with your children on your knee, -think of me as a friend who loves you dearly." - -"I shall think of you till I die. I was afraid of this: it is just as I -thought." - -"What did you think?" - -"Nothing--nothing! Will you let me kiss your hand?" - -"Surely; and God bless you!" - -"Are we to say good-bye for ever, then?" said poor Marston. - -"I hope not. I should be sorry to think that," said poor Mary, crying. -"But you must never speak to me like this again, dear Mr. Marston. God -bless you, once more!" - -Charles was dressing while this scene was going on, and was thinking, -while brushing his hair, what there was for dinner, and whether there -would be a turbot or not, and whether the cook would send in the breast -of the venison. The doe, Charles sagely reflected, had been killed five -days before, and the weather had been warm: surely That Woman would let -them have the breast. He was a fool not to have told her of it in the -morning before he went out; but she was such an obstinate old catamaran -that she very likely wouldn't have done it. "There was no greater -mistake," this young Heliogabalus proceeded to remark, "than hanging -your breasts too long. Now your haunch, on the other hand----" but we -cannot follow him into such a vast and important field of speculation. -"There would be a couple of cocks, though--pretty high, near about the -mark----" - -The door opened, and in walked Father Mackworth. - -"Hallo, Father!" said Charles. "How are you? Did you hear of our spill -to-day? We were deuced near done for, I assure you." - -"Charles," said the priest, "your nature is frank and noble. I was in -terror to-day lest you should go to your account bearing me malice." - -"A Ravenshoe never bears malice, Father," said Charles. - -"A Ravenshoe never does, I am aware," said Father Mackworth, with such a -dead equality of emphasis, that Charles could not have sworn that he -laid any on the word "Ravenshoe." - -"But I have got an apology to make to you, Father," said Charles: "I -have to apologise to you for losing my temper with you the other day, -and breaking out into I can't say what tirade of unjust anger. I pray -you to forgive me. We don't love one another, you know. How can we? But -I behaved like a blackguard, as I always do when I am in a passion. -Will you forgive me?" - -"I had forgotten the circumstance." ("Good heaven!" said Charles to -himself, "can't this man help lying!") "But, if I have anything to -forgive, I freely do so. I have come to ask for a peace. As long as your -father lives, let there be outward peace between us, if no more." - -"I swear there shall," said Charles. "I like you to-night, sir, better -than ever I did before, for the kindness and consideration you show to -my father. When he is gone there will be peace between us, for I shall -leave this house, and trouble you no more." - -"I suppose you will," said Father Mackworth, with the same deadness of -emphasis remarked before. And so he departed. - -"That is a manly young fellow, and a gentleman," thought Father -Mackworth. "Obstinate and headstrong, without much brains; but with more -brains than the other, and more education. The other will be very -troublesome and headstrong; but I suppose I shall be able to manage -him." - -What person do you think Father Mackworth meant by the "other"? He -didn't mean Cuthbert. - -At dinner Densil was garrulous, and eager to hear of their shipwreck. He -had made a great rally the last fortnight, and was his old self again. -Lord Saltire, whose gout had fled before careful living and moderate -exercise, informed them, after the soup, that he intended to leave them -after four days' time, as he had business in another part of the -country. They were rather surprised at his abrupt departure, and he said -that he was very sorry to leave such pleasant society, in which he had -been happier than he had been for many years. - -"There is a pleasant, innocent, domestic sort of atmosphere which -radiates from you, my old friend," he said, "such as I seldom or never -get away from you or Mainwaring, grim warrior though he be (you remember -him at Ranford, Charles?). But the law of the Medes and Persians is not -amenable to change, and I go on Thursday." - -The post arrived during dinner, and there was a letter for Charles. It -was from Ranford. "Welter comes on Thursday, father--the very day Lord -Saltire goes. How annoying!" - -"I must try to bear up under the affliction!" said that nobleman, taking -snuff, and speaking very drily. - -"Where is he to go, I wonder?" mused Mary, aloud. "He must go into the -west wing, for he always smokes in his bedroom." - -Charles expected that Cuthbert would have had a sneer at Welter, whom he -cordially disliked; but Cuthbert had given up sneering lately. "Not much -more reading for you, Charles!" he said. - -"I am afraid not," said Charles. "I almost wish he wasn't coming; we -were very happy before." - -Charles was surprised to see Marston so silent at dinner. He feared he -might have offended him, but couldn't tell how. Then he wondered to see -Mary so silent, too, for she generally chirruped away like a lark; but -he didn't refer the two similar phenomena to a common cause, and so he -arrived at no conclusion. - -When Lord Saltire went to bed that night, he dismissed Charles from -attendance, and took Marston's arm; and, when they were alone together, -he thus began:-- - -"Does your shrewdness connect my abrupt departure with the arrival of -Lord Welter?" - -"I was inclined to, my lord; but I do not see how you were to have known -it." - -"I heard yesterday from Lady Ascot." - -"I am sorry he is coming," said Marston. - -"So am I. I can't stay in the house with him. The contrast of his loud, -coarse voice and stable slang to the sort of quiet conversation we have -had lately would be intolerable; besides, he is an atrocious young -ruffian, and will ruin our boy if he can." - -"Charles won't let him now, Lord Saltire." - -"Charles is young and foolish. I am glad, however, that Welter does not -go back to Oxford with him. But there will be Welter's set in their -glory, I suppose, unless some of them have got hung. I would sooner see -him at home. He is naturally quiet and domestic. I suppose he was in a -sad set up there." - -"He was in a very good set, and a very bad one. He was a favourite -everywhere." - -"He had made some acquaintances he ought to be proud of, at least," said -Lord Saltire, in a way which made honest Marston blush. "I wish he -wasn't going to Ranford." - -"Report says," said Marston, "that affairs are getting somewhat shaky -there: Welter's tradesmen can't get any money." - -Lord Saltire shook his head significantly, and then said, "Now I want to -speak to you about yourself. Did not you have a disappointment to-day?" - -"Yes, my lord." - -"Ha!" - -They both sat silent for a moment. - -"How did you guess that, Lord Saltire?" - -"I saw what was going on; and, by your manner and hers to-day, I guessed -something had taken place. Is there no hope for you?" - -"None." - -"I feared not: but what right had I to tell you so?" - -"Perhaps, my lord, I should not have believed you if you had," said -Marston, smiling. - -"What man would have? You are not angry?" - -"How could I be? The world is out of joint, that is all." - -"You are a true gentleman. I swear to you," said the old man, eagerly, -"that there is no one in fault. She has given her honest little heart -away--and what wonder!--but believe me that you are behaving as a man -should behave, in not resenting it. If you were a heathen and a -Frenchman (synonymous terms, my dear boy), you might find it your duty -to cut somebody's throat; but, being a Christian and a gentleman, you -will remain a true friend to somebody who loves you dearly, and is worth -loving in return. This sort of thing cuts a man up confoundedly. It -happened to me once; but, believe me, you will get over it." - -"I mean to do so. How kind and generous you are to me! How shall I ever -repay you?" - -"By kindness to those I love," said the old man. "I take this -opportunity of telling you that your fortunes are my particular care. I -cannot get you the wife you love, but I am rich and powerful, and can do -much. Not another word. Go to bed, sir--to bed." - -Marston, sitting on his bedside that night, said aloud to himself, "And -so that is that dicing old _roue_, Saltire, is it? Well, well; it is a -funny world. What a noble fellow he would have been if he had had a -better chance. Nay, what a noble fellow he is. I am ten years older -since this morning" (he wasn't, but he thought it). And so he said his -prayers like an honest man, and prayed for the kind old heathen who had -such a warm heart; and then, being nowise ashamed to do so, he prayed -that he might sleep well; and, for a time, he forgot all about his -disappointment, and slept like a child. - -Lord Saltire's valet was a staid and sober-minded gentleman of -sixty-four. Generally, when he was putting his lordship to bed, he used -to give him the news of the day; but to-night Lord Saltire said, "Never -mind the news, Simpson, if you please; I am thinking of something." My -lord used to wear a sort of muffler, like a footless stocking, to keep -his old knees warm in bed. He remained silent till he got one on, and -then, without taking the other from the expectant Simpson, he addressed -the fire-irons aloud: - -"This is a pretty clumsy contrivance to call a world!" he said, with -profound scorn. "Look here (to the poker), here's as fine a lad as ever -you saw, goes and falls in love with a charming girl, who cares no more -for him than the deuce. He proposes to her, and is refused. Why? because -she has given her heart away to another fine young fellow, who don't -care twopence for her, and has given _his_ heart away to the most -ambitious young Jezebel in the three kingdoms, who I don't believe cares -so very much for him. I am utterly disgusted with the whole system of -mundane affairs! Simpson, give me that muffler, if you please; and pray -don't wake me before nine. I must try to sleep off the recollection of -some of this folly." - - - - -CHAPTER XIX. - -ELLEN'S FLIGHT. - - -After all the fatigues and adventures of the day before, Charles slept -well--long pleasant dreams of roaming in sunny places on summer days -fell to his happy lot--and so he was not pleased when he found himself -shaken by the shoulder. - -It was William come to wake him. Charles was at once alarmed to see him -there, and started up, saying-- - -"Is anything the matter, Will? Is my father ill?" - -"The Master's well, I trust, Master Charles. I want to tell you -something that I want others to find out for themselves." - -"What is it?" said Charles, seriously alarmed, for he had had his -suspicions lately, though he had dreaded to give them a name. - -"Ellen is gone!" - -"My dear lad," said Charles, hurriedly, "what makes you think so? Since -when have you missed her?" - -"Since yesterday afternoon." - -"Have you been in her room?" - -"Yes. She has not been to bed, and the window is open just as it was -yesterday morning at bed-making time." - -"Hush--wait! There may be time yet. Go down and saddle two horses at -once. I will tell you what I know as we ride, but there is not time now. -Tell me only one thing, Is there any one she would be likely to go to at -Coombe?" - -"No one that I know of." - -William departed to get the horses. Charles had suddenly thought of the -solitary female figure he had seen passing along the dizzy sheep-path -the day before, and he determined to follow that till he lost sight of -it. - -"For the poor dear girl's sake--for the honour of this old house--I -wonder who is at the bottom of all this? I must tell Marston," he said, -when he was out on the landing. "George, tell them to get me some coffee -instantly. I am going out hunting." - -Marston thought as Charles did. The right thing to do would be to follow -her, see that she wanted for nothing, and leave her brother with her for -a time. "He won't quarrel with her now, you'll see. He is a good fellow, -mind you, Charles, though he did lose his temper with her that night." - -So they rode forth side by side into the wild winter's morning. The rain -had ceased for a time, but the low dark clouds were hurrying swiftly -before the blast, and eddying among the loftier tors and summits. The -wind was behind them, and their way was east, across the lofty downs. - -"William," said Charles, at last, "who is at the bottom of this?" - -"I don't know, Master Charles. If I did there would be mischief, unless -it was one of two." - -"Ay, Will, but it ain't. You don't think it is Cuthbert?" - -"No, no! He, forsooth! Father Mackworth knows, I believe, more than we -do." - -"You do not suspect him?" - -"Certainly not. I did, but I don't now. I suspect he knows, as I said, -more than we do. He has been speaking harshly to her about it." - -They had arrived at the hill round which Charles suspected he had seen -her pass the day before. It was impossible to pass round the promontory -on horseback in the best of weathers; now doubly so. They would have to -pass inland of it. They both pulled up their horses and looked. The -steep slope of turf, the top of which, close over head, was hid by -flying mists, trended suddenly downwards, and disappeared. Eight hundred -feet below was the raging sea. - -As they stood there, the same thought came across both of them. It was a -dreadful place. They neither spoke at all, but spurred on faster, till -the little grey village of Coombe, down at their feet, sheltered from -the storm by the lofty hills around, opened to their view; and they -pushed on down the steep rocky path. - -No. No one had seen her yesterday at such a time. The streets would have -been full of the miners coming from work; or, if she had come earlier, -there would have been plenty of people to see her. It was a small place, -and no stranger, they said, could ever pass through it unnoticed. - -And, though they scoured the country far and wide, and though for months -after the fishermen fished among the quiet bays beneath the cliffs in -fear, lest they should find there something which should be carried in -silent awe up the village, and laid quietly in the old churchyard, -beneath the elm; yet Ellen was gone--gone from their ken like a summer -cloud. They thought it a pious fraud to tell Densil that she was -gone--with some excuse, I forget what, but which satisfied him. In a -conclave held over the matter, Cuthbert seemed only surprised and -shocked, but evidently knew nothing of the matter. Father Mackworth said -that he expected something of the kind for some little time, and William -held his peace. The gossips in the village laid their heads together, -and shook them. There was but one opinion there. - - "Never again shall she put garland on; - Instead of it she'll wear sad cypress now, - And bitter elder broken from the bough." - -Nora--poor old Nora--took to her bed. Father Mackworth was with her -continually, but she sank and sank. Father Mackworth was called away -across the moors, one afternoon, to an outlying Catholic tenant's -family; and, during his absence, William was sent to Charles to pray him -to come, in God's name, to his mother. Charles ran across at once, but -Nora was speechless. She had something to say to Charles; but the great -Sower, which shall sow us all in the ground, and tread us down, had His -hand heavy on her, and she could not speak. In the morning, when the -gale had broken, and the white sea-birds were soaring and skimming -between the blue sky and the noble green, rolling sea, and the ships -were running up channel, and the fishing-boats were putting out gaily -from the pier, and all nature was brilliant and beautiful, old Nora lay -dead, and her secret with her. - -"Master Charles," said William, as they stood on the shore together, -"she knew something, and Ellen knows it too, I very much suspect. The -time will come, Master Charles, when we shall have to hunt her through -the world, and get the secret from her." - -"William, I would go many weary journeys to bring poor Ellen back into -the ways of peace. The fact of her being your sister would be enough to -make me do that." - - - - -CHAPTER XX. - -RANFORD AGAIN. - - -Charles, though no genius, had a certain amount of common sense, and, -indeed, more of that commodity than most people gave him credit for. -Therefore he did not pursue the subject with William. Firstly, because -he did not think he could get any more out of him (for William had a -certain amount of sturdy obstinacy in his composition); and secondly, -because he knew William was, in the main, a sensible fellow, and loved -the ground he stood on. Charles would never believe that William would -serve him falsely; and he was right. - -He told Marston of the curious words which William had used, and Marston -had said-- - -"I don't understand it. The devil is abroad. Are you coming into any -money at your father's death?" - -"I am to have L180 a year." - -"I wouldn't give L50 a year for your chance of it. What is this property -worth?" - -"L9,000 a year. The governor has lived very extravagantly. The stable -establishment is fit for a duke now; and, then, look at the servants!" - -"He is not living up to ten thousand a year now, I should say." - -"No; but it is only the other day he gave up the hounds. They cost him -two thousand a year; and, while he had them, the house was carried on -very extravagantly. The governor has a wonderful talent for muddling -away money; and, what is more, I believe he was bit with the railways. -You know, I believe, the estate is involved." - -"Bathershin. But still, Cuthbert won't marry, and his life is a bad one, -and you are a heretic, my poor little innocent." - -"And then?" - -"Heaven only knows what then. I am sure I don't. At what time does the -worthy and intellectual Welter arrive?" - -"He will be here about six." - -"Two hours more rational existence for one, then. After that a smell as -of ten thousand stables and fifty stale copies of _Bell's Life_ in one's -nose, till his lordship takes his departure. I don't like your cousin, -Charles." - -"What an astounding piece of news! He says you are a conceited prig, and -give yourself airs." - -"He never said a wiser or truer thing in his life. I am exactly that; -and he is a fifth-class steeple chaserider, with a title." - -"How you and he will fight!" - -"So I expect. That is, if he has the courage for battle, which I rather -doubt. He is terribly afraid of me." - -"I think you are hard on poor Welter," said Charles; "I do, indeed. He -is a generous, good-hearted fellow." - -"Oh! we are all generous, good-hearted fellows," said Marston, "as long -as we have plenty of money and good digestions. You are right, though, -Charley. He is what you say, as far as I know; but the reason I hate him -is this:--You are the dearest friend I have, and I am jealous of him. He -is in eternal antagonism to me. I am always trying to lead you right, -and he is equally diligent in leading you into wrong." - -"Well, he sha'n't lead me into any more, I promise you now. Do be civil -to him." - -"Of course I will, you gaby. Did you think I was going to show fight in -your house?" - -When Marston came down to dinner, there was Lord Welter, sitting beside -old Densil, and kindly amusing him with all sorts of gossip--stable and -other. - -"How do, Marston?" said he, rising and coming forward. - -"How d'ye do, Lord Welter?" said Marston. - -"I am very glad to meet you here," said Lord Welter, with a -good-humoured smile, "although I am ashamed to look you in the face. -Marston, my dear Mr. Ravenshoe, is Charles's good genius, and I am his -evil one; I am always getting Charles into mischief, and he is always -trying to keep him out of it. Hitherto, however, I have been completely -successful, and he has made a dead failure." - -Old Densil laughed. "You are doing yourself injustice, Welter," he said. -"Is he not doing himself an injustice, Mr. Marston?" - -"Not in the least, sir," said Marston. And the two young men shook hands -more cordially than they had ever done before. - -That evening Lord Welter fulfilled Mary's prophecy, that he would smoke -in his bedroom, and not only smoked there himself, but induced Charles -to come and do so also. Marston was not in the humour for the style of -conversation he knew he should have there, and so he retired to bed, and -left the other two to themselves. - -"Well, Charles," said Welter. "Oh, by the by, I have got a letter for -you from that mysterious madcap, Adelaide. She couldn't send it by post; -that would not have been mysterious and underhand enough for her. Catch -hold." - -Charles caught hold, and read his letter. Welter watched him curiously -from under the heavy eyebrows, and when he had finished, said-- - -"Come, put that away, and talk. That sort of thing is pretty much the -same in all cases, I take it. As far as my own experience goes, it is -always the same. Scold and whine and whimper; whimper, whine, and scold. -How's that old keeper of yours?" - -"He has lost his wife." - -"Poor fellow! I remember his wife--a handsome Irish woman." - -"My nurse?" - -"Ay, ay. And the pretty girl, Ellen; how is she?" - -"Poor Ellen! She has run away, Welter; gone on the bad, I fear." - -Lord Welter sat in just the same position, gazing on the fire. He then -said, in a very deliberate voice:-- - -"The deuce she is! I am very sorry to hear that. I was in hopes of -renewing our acquaintance." - -The days flew by, and, as you know, there came no news from Ellen. The -household had been much saddened by her disappearance and by Norah's -death, though not one of the number ever guessed what had passed between -Mary and Marston. They were not a very cheerful household; scarce one of -them but had some secret trouble. Father Tiernay came back after a week -or so; and, if good-natured, kindly chatter could have cheered them at -all, he would have done it. But there was a settled gloom on the party, -which nothing could overcome. Even Lord Welter, boisterous as his -spirits usually were, seemed often anxious and distraught; and, as for -poor Cuthbert, he would, at any time, within the knowledge of man, have -acted as a "damper" on the liveliest party. His affection for Charles -seemed, for some reason, to increase day by day, but it was sometimes -very hard to keep the peace between Welter and him. If there was one man -beyond another that Cuthbert hated, it was Lord Welter; and sometimes, -after dinner, such a scene as this would take place. - -You will, perhaps, have remarked that I have never yet represented -Cuthbert as speaking to Mary. The real fact is, that he never did speak -to her, or to any woman, anything beyond the merest commonplaces--a -circumstance which made Charles very much doubt the truth of Ellen's -statement--that the priest had caught them talking together in the wood. -However, Cuthbert was, in this way, fond enough of the bonny little soul -(I swear I am in love with her myself, over head and ears); and so, one -day, when she came crying in, and told him--as being the first person -she met--that her little bantam-cock had been killed by the Dorking, -Cuthbert comforted her, bottled up his wrath, till his father had gone -into the drawing-room with her after dinner, and the others were sitting -at their wine. Then he said, suddenly-- - -"Welter, did you have any cock-fighting to-day?" - -"Oh, yes, by the by, a splendid turn-up. There was a noble little bantam -in an inclosed yard challenging a great Dorking, and they both seemed so -very anxious for sport that I thought it would be a pity to baulk them; -so I just let the bantam out. I give you my word, it is my belief that -the bantam would have been the best man, but that he was too old. His -attack was splendid; but he met the fate of the brave." - -"You should not have done that, Welter," said Charles; "that was Mary's -favourite bantam." - -"I don't allow any cock-fighting at Ravenshoe, Welter," said Cuthbert. - -"You don't allow it!" said Lord Welter, scornfully. - -"No, by heaven," said Cuthbert, "I don't allow it!" - -"Don't you?" said Welter; "you are not master here, nor ever will be. No -Ravenshoe was ever master of his own house yet." - -"I am absolute master here," said Cuthbert, with a rising colour. "There -is no appeal against me here." - -"Only to the priest," said Welter. (I must do him justice to say that -neither Mackworth nor Tiernay was in the room, or he would not have said -it.) - -"You are insolent, Welter, and brutal. It is your nature to be so," said -Cuthbert, fiercely. - -Marston, who had been watching Welter all this time, saw a flash come -from his eyes, and, for one moment, a terrible savage setting of the -teeth. "Ha, ha! my friend," thought he, "I thought that stupid face was -capable of some such expression as that. I am obliged to you, my friend, -for giving me one little glimpse of the devil inside." - -"By gad, Cuthbert," said Lord Welter, "if you hadn't been at your own -table, you shouldn't have said that, cousin or no cousin, twice." - -"Stop, now," said Charles, "don't turn the place into a bear-pit. -Cuthbert, do be moderate. Welter, you shouldn't have set the cocks -fighting. Now don't begin quarrelling again, you two, for heaven's -sake!" - -And so the peace was made: but Charles was very glad when the time came -for the party to break up; and he went away to Ranford with Welter, -preparatory to his going back to Oxford. - -His father was quite his own old self again, and seemed to have rallied -amazingly; so Charles left him without much anxiety; and there were -reasons we know of why his heart should bound when he heard the word -Ranford mentioned, and why the raging speed of the Great Western Railway -express seemed all too slow for him. Lord Ascot's horses were fast, the -mail-phaeton was a good one, and Lord Welter's worst enemies could not -accuse him of driving slow; yet the way from Didcot to Ranford seemed so -interminably long that he said:-- - -"By Jove, I wish we had come by a slower train, and gone on to Twyford!" - -"Why so?" - -"I don't know. I think it is pleasanter driving through Wargrave and -Henley." - -Lord Welter laughed, and Charles wondered why. There were no visitors at -Ranford; and, when they arrived, Welter of course adjourned to the -stables, while Charles ran upstairs and knocked at Lady Ascot's door. - -He was bidden to come in by the old lady's voice. Her black-and-tan -terrier, who was now so old that his teeth and voice were alike gone, -rose from the hearth, and went through the motion and outward semblance -of barking furiously at Charles, though without producing any audible -sound. Lady Ascot rose up and welcomed him kindly. - -"I am so glad to see your honest face, my dear boy. I have been sitting -here all alone so long. Ascot is very kind, and comes and sits with me, -and I give him some advice about his horses, which he never takes. But I -am very lonely." - -"But where is Adelaide, aunt, dear?" - -"She's gone." - -"Gone! My dear aunt, where to?" - -"Gone to stay ten days with Lady Hainault." - -Here was a blow. - -"I know you are very disappointed, my poor boy, and I told Welter so -expressly to tell you in my last letter. He is so shockingly careless -and forgetful!" - -"So Welter knew of it," said Charles to himself. "And that is what made -him laugh at my hurry. It is very ungentlemanly behaviour." - -But Charles's anger was like a summer cloud. "I think, aunt," he said, -"that Welter was having a joke with me; that was all. When will she be -back?" - -"The end of next week." - -"And I shall be gone to Oxford. I shall ride over to Casterton and see -her." - -"You knew Hainault at Shrewsbury? Yes. Well, you had better do so, -child. Yes, certainly." - -"What made her go, aunt, I wonder?" - -"Lady Hainault was ill, and would have her, and I was forced to let her -go." - -Oh, Lady Ascot, Lady Ascot, you wicked old fibster! Didn't you hesitate, -stammer, and blush, when you said that? I am very much afraid you -didn't. Hadn't you had, three days before, a furious _fracas_ with -Adelaide about something, and hadn't it ended by her declaring that she -would claim the protection of Lady Hainault? Hadn't she ordered out the -pony-carriage and driven off with a solitary bandbox, and what I choose -to call a crinoline-chest? And hadn't you and Lady Hainault had a -brilliant passage of arms over her ladyship's receiving and abetting the -recalcitrant Adelaide? - -Lady Ascot was perfectly certain of one thing--that Charles would never -hear about this from Adelaide; and so she lied boldly and with -confidence. Otherwise, she must have made a dead failure, for few people -had practised that great and difficult art so little as her ladyship. - -That there had been a furious quarrel between Lady Ascot and Adelaide -about this time, I well know from the best authority. It had taken place -just as I have described it above. I do not know for certain the cause -of it, but can guess; and, as I am honestly going to tell you all I -know, you will be able to make as good a guess as I hereafter. - -Lady Ascot said, furthermore, that she was very uneasy in her mind about -Ascot's colt, which she felt certain would not stay over the Derby -course. The horse was not so well ribbed up as he should be, and had -hardly quarter enough to suit her. Talking of that, her lumbago had set -in worse than ever since the frost had come on, and her doctor had had -the impudence to tell her that her liver was deranged, whereas, she knew -it proceeded from cold in the small of her back. Talking of the frost, -she was told that there had been a very good sheet of ice on the -carp-pond, where Charles might have skated, though she did hope he would -never go on the ice till it was quite safe--as, if he were to get -drowned, it would only add to her vexation, and surely she had had -enough of that, with that audacious chit of a girl, Adelaide, who was -enough to turn one's hair grey; though for that matter it had been grey -many years, as all the world might see. - -"Has Adelaide been vexing you, aunt, dear?" interrupted Charles. - -"No, my dear boy, no," replied the old woman. "She is a little tiresome -sometimes, but I dare say it is more my fault than hers." - -"You will not be angry with her, aunt, dear? You will be long-suffering -with her, for my sake?" - -"Dear Charles," said the good old woman, weeping, "I will forgive her -till seventy times seven. Sometimes, dear, she is high-spirited, and -tries my temper. And I am very old, dear, and very cross and cruel to -her. It is all my fault, Charles, all my fault." - -Afterwards, when Charles knew the truth, he used to bless the memory of -this good old woman, recalling this conversation, and knowing on which -side the fault lay. At this time, blindly in love as he was with -Adelaide, he had sense enough left to do justice. - -"Aunt, dear," he said, "you are old, but you are neither cross nor -cruel. You are the kindest and most generous of women. You are the only -mother I ever had, aunt. I dare say Adelaide is tiresome sometimes; bear -with her for my sake. Tell me some more about the horses. God help us, -they are an important subject enough in this house now!" - -Lady Ascot said, having dried her eyes and kissed Charles, that she had -seen this a very long time: that she had warned Ascot solemnly, as it -was a mother's duty to do, to be careful of Ramoneur blood, and that -Ascot would never listen to her; that no horse of that breed had ever -been a staying horse; that she believed, if the truth could be got at, -that the Pope of Rome had been, indirectly, perhaps, but certainly, the -inventor of produce stakes, which had done more to ruin the breed of -horses, and consequently the country, than fifty reform bills. Then her -ladyship wished to know if Charles had read Lord Mount E----'s book on -the Battle of Armageddon, and on receiving a negative answer, gave a -slight abstract of that most prophetical production, till the gong -sounded, and Charles went up to dress for dinner. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI. - -CLOTHO, LACHESIS, AND ATROPOS. - - -The road from Ranford to Casterton, which is the name of Lord Hainault's -place, runs through about three miles of the most beautiful scenery. -Although it may barely come up to Cookham or Cliefden, yet it surpasses -the piece from Wargrave to Henley, and beats Pangbourne hollow. Leaving -Ranford Park, the road passes through the pretty village of Ranford. And -in the street of Ranford, which is a regular street, the principal inn -is the White Hart, kept by Mrs. Foley. - -Here, in summer, all through the long glorious days, which seem so hard -to believe in in winter time, come anglers, and live. Here they order -their meals at impossible hours, and drive the landlady mad by not -coming home to them. Here, too, they plan mad expeditions with the -fishermen, who are now in all their glory, wearing bright-patterned -shirts, scornful of half-crowns, and in a general state of obfuscation, -in consequence of being plied with strange liquors by their patrons, out -of flasks, when they are out fishing. Here, too, come artists, with -beards as long as your arm, and pass the day under white umbrellas, in -pleasant places by the waterside, painting. - -The dark old porch of the inn stands out in the street, but the back of -the house goes down to the river. At this porch there is generally a -group of idlers, or an old man sunning himself, or a man on horseback -drinking. On this present occasion there were all three of these things, -and also Lord Ascot's head-keeper, with a brace of setters. - -As Charles rode very slowly towards the group, the keeper and the groom -on horseback left off talking. Charles fancied they had been talking -about him, and I, who know everything, also know that they had. When -Charles was nearly opposite him, the keeper came forward and said-- - -"I should like to show you the first trout of the season, sir. Jim, show -Mr. Ravenshoe that trout." - -A beautiful ten-pounder was immediately laid on the stones. - -"He would have looked handsomer in another month, Jackson," said -Charles. - -"Perhaps he would, sir. My lady generally likes to get one as soon as -she can." - -At this stage the groom, who had been standing apart, came up, and, -touching his hat, put into Charles's hand a note. - -It was in Adelaide's handwriting. The groom knew it, the keeper knew it, -they all knew it, and Charles knew they knew it; but what cared he?--all -the world might know it. But they knew and had been talking of something -else before he came up, which Charles did not know. If anything is going -wrong, all the country side know it before the person principally -concerned. And all the country side knew that there had been a great and -scandalous quarrel between Adelaide and Lady Ascot--all, except Charles. - -He put the note in his pocket without opening it; he gave the groom -half-a-crown; he bade good-bye to the keeper; he touched his hat to the -loiterers; and then he rode on his way towards Casterton, down the -village street. He passed the church among the leafless walnut trees, -beneath the towering elms, now noisy with building rooks; and then, in -the broad road under the lofty chalk downs, with the elms on his left, -and glimpses of the flashing river between their stems, there he pulled -up his horse, and read his love-letter. - - "DEAR CHARLES,--Ain't you very cross at my having been away - when you came? I don't believe you are, for you are never - cross. I couldn't help it, Charles, dear. Aunt wanted me to - go. - - "Aunt is very cross and tiresome. She don't like me as well - as she used. You mustn't believe all she says, you know. It - ain't one word of it true. It is only her fancy. - - "Do come over and see me. Lord Hainault" (this I must tell - you, reader, is the son, not the husband, of Lady Ascot's - most cherished old enemy,) "is going to be married, and - there will be a great wedding. She is that long Burton - girl, whom you may remember. I have always had a great - dislike for her; but she has asked me to be bridesmaid, and - of course one can't refuse. Lady Emily Montfort is 'with - me,' as the lawyers say, and of course she will have her - mother's pearls in her ugly red hair."-- - - Charles couldn't agree as to Lady Emily's hair being red. - He had thought it the most beautiful hair he had ever seen - in his life.-- - - "_Pour moi_, I shall wear a camelia, if the gardener will - give me one. How I wish I had jewels to beat hers! She - can't wear the Cleveland diamonds as a bridesmaid; that is - a comfort. Come over and see me. I am in agony about what - aunt may have said to you. - - "ADELAIDE." - -The reader may see more in this letter than Charles did. The reader may -see a certain amount of selfishness and vanity in it: Charles did not. -He took up his reins and rode on; and, as he rode, said, "By Jove, -Cuthbert shall lend me the emeralds!" - -He hardly liked asking for them; but he could not bear the idea of Lady -Emily shining superior to Adelaide in consequence of her pearls. Had he -been a wise man (which I suppose you have, by this time, found out that -he is decidedly not. Allow me to recommend this last sentence in a -grammatical point of view), he would have seen that, with two such -glorious creatures as Adelaide and Lady Emily, no one would have seen -whether they were clothed in purple and fine linen, or in sackcloth and -ashes. But Charles was a fool. He was in love, and he was riding out to -see his love. - -The Scotchman tells us about Spey leaping out a glorious giant from -among the everlasting hills; the Irishman tells you of Shannon rambling -on past castle and mountain, gathering new beauty as he goes; the -Canadian tells you of the great river which streams over the cliff -between Erie and Ontario; and the Australian tells you of Snowy pouring -eternally from his great curtain of dolomite, seen forty miles away by -the lonely traveller on the dull grey plains; but the Englishman tells -you of the Thames, whose valley is the cradle of Freedom, and the -possessors of which are the arbiters of the world. - -And along the Thames valley rode Charles. At first the road ran along -beneath some pleasant sunny heights; but, as it gradually rose, the -ground grew more abrupt, and, on the right, a considerable down, with -patches of gorse and juniper, hung over the road; while, on the left, -the broad valley stretched away to where a distant cloud of grey smoke -showed where lay the good old town of Casterton. Now the road entered a -dark beech wood beneath lofty banks, where the squirrels, merry fellows, -ran across the road and rattled up the trees, and the air was faint with -the scent of last year's leaves. Then came a break in the wood to the -right, and a vista up a long-drawn valley, which ended in a chalk cliff. -Then a break in the wood to the left, and a glance at the flat meadows, -the gleaming river, and the dim grey distance. Then the wood again, -denser and darker than ever. Then a sound, at first faint and -indistinct, but growing gradually upon the ear until it could be plainly -heard above the horse's footfall. Then suddenly the end of the wood, and -broad open sunlight. Below, the weirs of Casterton, spouting by a -hundred channels, through the bucks and under the mills. Hard by, -Casterton town, lying, a tumbled mass of red brick and grey flint, -beneath a faint soft haze of smoke, against the vast roll in the land -called Marldown. On the right, Casterton Park, a great wooded -promontory, so steep that one can barely walk along it, clothed with -beech and oak from base to summit, save in one place, where a bold lawn -of short grass, five hundred feet high, stoops suddenly down towards the -meadows, fringed at the edges with broom and fern, and topped with three -tall pines--the landmark for ten miles along the river. - -A lodge, the white gate of which is swung open by a pretty maiden; a -dark oak wood again, with a long vista, ended by the noble precipitous -hill on which the house stands; a more open park, with groups of deer -lying about and feeding; another dark wood, the road now rising rapidly; -rabbits, and a pot-valiant cock-pheasant standing in the middle of the -way, and "carrucking," under the impression that Charles is in -possession of all his domestic arrangements, and has come to disturb -them; then the smooth gravel road, getting steeper and steeper; then the -summit; one glimpse of a glorious panorama; then the front door and -footmen. - -Charles sent his card in, and would be glad to know if Lady Hainault -could see him. While he waited for an answer, his horse rubbed its nose -against its knee, and yawned, while the footmen on the steps looked at -the rooks. They knew all about it too. (The footmen, I mean, not the -rooks; though I wouldn't swear against a rook's knowing anything, mind -you.) - -Lady Hainault would see Mr. Ravenshoe--which was lucky, because, if she -wouldn't have done so, Charles would have been obliged to ask for -Adelaide. So Charles's horse was led to the stable, and Charles was led -by the butler through the hall, and shown into a cool and empty library, -to purge himself of earthly passions, before he was admitted to The -Presence. - -Charles sat himself down in the easiest chair he could find, and got -hold of "Ruskin's Modern Painters." That is a very nice book: it is -printed on thick paper, with large print; the reading is very good, full -of the most beautiful sentiments ever you heard; and there are also -capital plates in it. Charles looked through the pictures: he didn't -look at the letterpress, I know--for, if he had, he would have been so -deeply enchained with it that he wouldn't have done what he did--get up, -and look out of the window. The window looked into the flower-garden. -There he saw a young Scotch gardener, looking after his rose-trees. His -child, a toddling bit of a thing, four years old (it must have been his -first, for he was a very young man), was holding the slips of matting -for him; and glancing up between whiles at the great facade of the -house, as though wondering what great people were inside, and whether -they were looking at him. This was a pretty sight to a good -whole-hearted fellow like Charles; but he got tired of looking at that -even, after a time; for he was anxious and not well at ease. And so, -after his watch had told him that he had waited half an hour he rang the -bell. - -The butler came almost directly. - -"Did you tell Lady Hainault that I was here?" said Charles. - -"My lady was told, sir." - -"Tell her again, will you?" said Charles, and yawned. - -Charles had time for another look at Ruskin, and another look at the -gardener and his boy, before the butler came back and said, "My lady is -disengaged, sir." - -Charles was dying to see Adelaide, and was getting very impatient; but -he was, as you have seen, a very contented sort of fellow: and, as he -had fully made up his mind not to leave the house without a good -half-hour with her, he could afford to wait. He crossed the hall behind -the butler, and then went up the great staircase, and through the -picture-gallery. Here he was struck by seeing the original of one of the -prints he had seen downstairs, in the book, hanging on the wall among -others. He stopped the butler, and asked, "What picture is that?" - -"That, sir," said the butler, hesitatingly, "that, sir--that is the -great Turner, sir. Yes, sir," he repeated, after a glance at a Francia -on the one side, and a Rembrandt on the other, "yes, sir, that _is_ the -great Turner, sir." - -Charles was shown into a boudoir on the south side of the house, where -sat Lady Hainault, an old and not singularly agreeable looking woman, -who was doing crotchet-work, and her companion, a strong-minded and -vixenish-looking old maid, who was also doing crotchet-work. They looked -so very like two of the Fates, weaving woe, that Charles looked round -for the third sister, and found her not. - -"How d'ye do, Mr. Ravenshoe?" said Lady Hainault. "I hope you haven't -been kept waiting?" - -"Not at all," said Charles; and if that was not a deliberate lie, I want -to know what is. - -If there was any one person in the world for whom Charles bore a -cherished feeling of dislike, it was this virtuous old lady. Charles -loved Lady Ascot dearly, and Lady Hainault was her bitterest enemy. That -would have been enough; but she had a horrid trick of sharpening her wit -upon young men, and saying things to them in public which gave them a -justifiable desire to knock her down and jump on her, as the Irish -reapers do to their wives; and she had exercised this talent on Charles -once at Ranford, and he hated her as much as he could hate any one, and -that was not much. Lord Saltire used to say that he must give her the -credit of being the most infernally disagreeable woman in Europe. -Charles thought, by the twitching of her long fingers over her work, -that she was going to be disagreeable now, and he was prepared. But, to -Charles's great astonishment, the old lady was singularly gracious. - -"And how," she said, "is dear Lady Ascot? I have been coming, and -coming, for a long time, but I never have gone so far this winter." - -"Lucky for aunt!" thought Charles. Then there was a pause, and a very -awkward one. - -Charles said, very quietly, "Lady Hainault, may I see Miss Summers?" - -"Surely! I wonder where she is. Miss Hicks, ring the bell." - -Charles stepped forward and rang; and Miss Hicks, as Clotho, who had -half-risen, sat down again, and wove her web grimly. - -Atropos appeared, after an interval, looking as beautiful as the dawn. -So Charles was looking too intently at her to notice the quick, eager -glances that the old woman threw at her as she came into the room. His -heart leapt up as he went forward to meet her; and he took her hand and -pressed it, and would have done so if all the furies in Pandemonium were -there to prevent him. - -It did not please her ladyship to see this; and so Charles did it once -more, and then they sat down together in a window. - -"And how am I looking?" said Adelaide, gazing at him full in the face. -"Not a single pretty compliment for me after so long? I require -compliments; I am used to them. Lady Hainault paid me some this -morning." - -Lady Hainault, as Lachesis, laughed and woved. Charles thought, "I -suppose she and Adelaide have been having a shindy. She and aunt fall -out sometimes." - -Adelaide and Charles had a good deal of quiet conversation in the -window; but what two lovers could talk with Clotho and Lachesis looking -on, weaving? I, of course, know perfectly well what they talked of, but -it is hardly worth setting down here. I find that lovers' conversations -are not always interesting to the general public. After a decent time, -Charles rose to go, and Adelaide went out by a side door. - -Charles made his adieux to Clotho and Lachesis, and departed at the -other end of the room. The door had barely closed on him, when Lady -Hainault, eagerly thrusting her face towards Miss Hicks, hissed out-- - -"Did I give her time enough? Were her eyes red? Does he suspect -anything?" - -"You gave her time enough, I should say," said Miss Hicks, deliberately. -"I didn't see that her eyes were red. But he must certainly suspect that -you and she are not on the best of terms, from what she said." - -"Do you think he knows that Hainault is at home? Did he ask for -Hainault?" - -"I don't know," said Miss Hicks. - -"She shall not stop in the house. She shall go back to Lady Ascot. I -won't have her in the house," said the old lady, furiously. - -"Why did you have her here, Lady Hainault?" - -"You know perfectly well, Hicks. You know I only had her to spite old -Ascot. But she shall stay here no longer." - -"She must stay for the wedding now," said Miss Hicks. - -"I suppose she must," said Lady Hainault; "but, after that, she shall -pack. If the Burton people only knew what was going on, the match would -be broken off." - -"I don't believe anything is going on," said Miss Hicks; "at least, not -on his side. You are putting yourself in a passion for nothing, and you -will be ill after it." - -"I am not putting myself in a passion, and I won't be ill, Hicks! And -you are impudent to me, as you always are. I tell you that she must be -got rid of, and she must marry that young booby, or we are all undone. I -say that Hainault is smitten with her." - -"I say he is not, Lady Hainault. I say that what there is is all on her -side." - -"She shall go back to Ranford after the wedding. I was a fool to have -such a beautiful vixen in the house at all." - -We shall not see much more of Lady Hainault. Her son is about to marry -the beautiful Miss Burton, and make her Lady Hainault. We shall see -something of her by and by. - -The wedding came off the next week. A few days previously Charles rode -over to Casterton and saw Adelaide. He had with him a note and -jewel-case. The note was from Cuthbert, in which he spoke of her as his -future sister, and begged her to accept the loan of "these few poor -jewels." She was graciously pleased to do so; and Charles took his leave -very soon, for the house was turned out of the windows, and the next day -but one "the long Burton girl" became Lady Hainault, and Lady Ascot's -friend became Dowager. Lady Emily did not wear pearls at the wedding. -She wore her own splendid golden hair, which hung round her lovely face -like a glory. None who saw the two could say which was the most -beautiful of these two celebrated blondes--Adelaide, the imperial, or -Lady Emily, the gentle and the winning. - -But, when Lady Ascot heard that Adelaide had appeared at the wedding -with the emeralds, she was furious. "She has gone," said that deeply -injured lady--"she, a penniless girl, has actually gone, and, without my -consent or knowledge, borrowed the Ravenshoe emeralds, and flaunted in -them at a wedding. That girl would dance over my grave, Brooks." - -"Miss Adelaide," said Brooks, "must have looked very well in them, my -lady!" for Brooks was good-natured, and wished to turn away her -ladyship's wrath. - -Lady Ascot turned upon her and withered her. She only said, "Emeralds -upon pink! Heugh!" But Brooks was withered nevertheless. - -I cannot give you any idea as to how Lady Ascot said "Heugh!" as I have -written it above. We don't know how the Greeks pronounced the amazing -interjections in the Greek plays. We can only write them down. - -"Perhaps the jewels were not remarked, my lady," said the maid, making a -second and worse shot. - -"Not remarked, you foolish woman!" said the angry old lady. "Not remark -a thousand pounds' worth of emeralds upon a girl who is very well known -to be a pensioner of mine. And I daren't speak to her, or we shall have -a scene with Charles. I am glad of one thing, though; it shows that -Charles is thoroughly in earnest. Now let me get to bed, that's a good -soul; and don't be angry with me if I am short tempered, for heaven -knows I have enough to try me! Send one of the footmen across to the -stable to know if Mahratta has had her nitre. Say that I insist on a -categorical answer. Has Lord Ascot come home?" - -"Yes, my lady." - -"He might have come and given me some news about the horse. But there, -poor boy, I can forgive him." - - - - -CHAPTER XXII. - -THE LAST GLIMPSE OF OXFORD. - - -Oxford. The front of Magdalen Hall, about which the least said the -soonest mended. On the left, further on, All Souls, which seems to have -been built by the same happy hand which built the new courts of St. -John's, Cambridge (for they are about equally bad). On the right, the -Clarendon and the Schools, blocking out the western sky. Still more to -the right, a bit of Exeter, and all Brazenose. In front, the Radcliff, -the third dome in England, and, beyond, the straight facade of St. -Mary's, gathering its lines upward ever, till tired of window and -buttress, of crocket, finial, gargoyle, and all the rest of it, it leaps -up aloft in one glorious crystal, and carries up one's heart with it -into the heaven above. - -Charles Ravenshoe and Marston. They stood side by side on the pavement, -and their eyes roamed together over the noble mass of architecture, -passing from the straight lines, and abrupt corner of the Radcliffe, on -to the steeple of St. Mary's. They stood silent for a moment, and then -Marston said-- - -"Serve him right." - -"Why?" said Charles. - -"Because he had no business to be driving tandem at all. He can't afford -it. And, besides, if he could, why should he defy the authorities by -driving tandem? Nobody would drive tandem if it wasn't forbidden." - -"Well, he is sent down, and therefore your virtue may spare him." - -"Sent down!" said Marston, testily, "he never ought to have come up. He -was only sent here to be pitchforked through the Schools, and get a -family living." - -"Well, well," said Charles; "I was very fond of him." - -"Pish!" said Marston. Whereat Charles laughed uproariously, and stood in -the gutter. His mirth was stopped by his being attacked by a toothless -black-and-tan terrier, who was so old that he could only bark in a -whisper, but whose privilege it was to follow about one of the first -divinity scholars of the day, round the sunniest spots in the town. The -dog having been appeased, Charles and Marston stood aside, and got a -kindly smile from the good old man, in recognition of their having -touched their caps to him. - -"Charley," said Marston, "I am so glad to hear of your going on so -well. Mind you, if you had stuck to your work sooner, you would have had -more than a second in Moderations. You must, and you shall, get a first, -you know. I will have it." - -"Never, my boy, never;" said Charles: "I haven't head for it." - -"Nonsense. You are a great fool; but you may get your first." - -Thereupon Charles laughed again, louder than before, and wanted to know -what his friend had been eating to upset his liver. To which Marston -answered "Bosh!" and then they went down Oriel Lane, "And so by Merton," -as the fox-hunters say, to Christ Church Meadow. - -"I am glad you are in the University eight," said Marston; "it will do -you a vast deal of good. You used to over-value that sort of thing, but -I don't think that you do so now. You can't row or ride yourself into a -place in the world, but that is no reason why you should not row or -ride. I wish I was heavy enough to row. Who steers to-day?" - -"The great Panjandrum." - -"I don't like the great Panjandrum. I think him slangy. And I don't -pardon slang in any one beyond a very young bachelor." - -"I am very fond of him," said Charles, "and you are bilious, and out of -humour with every one in heaven and earth, except apparently me. But, -seriously speaking, old man, I think you have had something to vex you, -since you came up yesterday. I haven't seen you since you were at -Ravenshoe, and you are deucedly altered, do you know?" - -"I am sure you are wrong, Charles. I have had nothing--Well, I never -lie. I have been disappointed in something, but I have fought against it -so, that I am sure you must be wrong. I cannot be altered." - -"Tell me what has gone wrong, Marston. Is it in money matters? If it is, -I know I can help you there." - -"Money. Oh! dear no;" said Marston. "Charley, you are a good fellow. You -are the best fellow I ever met, do you know? But I can't tell you what -is the matter now." - -"Have I been doing anything?" said Charles, eagerly. - -"You have been doing a great deal to make me like and respect you, -Charles; but nothing to make me unhappy. Now answer me some questions, -and let us change the subject. How is your father?" - -"Dear old dad is very well. I got a letter from him to-day." - -"And how is your brother?" - -"Well in health, but weak in mind, I fear. I am very much afraid that I -shall be heir of Ravenshoe." - -"Why? is he going mad?" - -"Not a bit of it, poor lad. He is going into a religious house, I am -afraid. At least he mentioned that sort of thing the last time he wrote -to me, as if he were trying to bring me face to face with the idea; and -be sure my dearly beloved Father Mackworth will never let the idea -rest." - -"Poor fellow! And how is Adelaide the beautiful?" - -"_She's_ all right," said Charles. "She and aunt are the best friends in -the world." - -"They always were, weren't they?" - -"Why, you see," said Charles, "sometimes aunt was cross, and Adelaide is -very high-spirited, you know. Exceedingly high-spirited." - -"Indeed?" - -"Oh, yes, very much so; she didn't take much nonsense from Lady -Hainault, I can tell you." - -"Well," said Marston, "to continue my catechising, how is William?" - -"He is very well. Is there no one else you were going to ask after?" - -"Oh, yes. Miss Corby?" - -"She is pretty well, I believe, in health, but she does not seem quite -so happy as she was," said Charles, looking at Marston, suddenly. - -He might as well have looked at the Taylor building, if he expected any -change to take place in Marston's face. He regarded him with a stony -stare, and said-- - -"Indeed. I am sorry to hear that." - -"Marston," said Charles, "I once thought that there was something -between you and her." - -"That is a remarkable instance of what silly notions get into vacant -minds," said Marston, steadily. Whereat Charles laughed again. - -At this point, being opposite the University barge, Charles was hailed -by a West-countryman of Exeter, whom we shall call Lee, who never met -with Charles without having a turn at talking Devonshire with him. He -now began at the top of his voice, to the great astonishment of the -surrounding dandies. - -"Where be gwine? Charles Ravenshoe, where be gwine?" - -"We'm gwine for a ride on the watter, Jan Lee." - -"Be gwine in the 'Varsity eight, Charles Ravenshoe?" - -"Iss, sure." - -"How do'e feel? Dont'e feel afeard?" - -"Ma dear soul, I've got such a wambling in my innards, and--" - -"We are waiting for you, Ravenshoe," said the Captain; and, a few -minutes after, the University eight rushed forth on her glorious career, -clearing her way through the crowd of boats, and their admiring rowers, -towards Iffley. - -And Marston sat on the top of the University barge, and watched her -sweeping on towards the distance, and then he said to himself-- - -"Ah! there goes the man I like best in the world, who don't care for the -woman I love best in the world, who is in love with the man before -mentioned, who is in love with a woman who don't care a hang for him. -There is a certain left-handedness in human affairs." - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII.[2] - -THE LAST GLIMPSE OF THE OLD WORLD. - - -Putney Bridge at half an hour before high tide; thirteen or fourteen -steamers; five or six thousand boats, and fifteen or twenty thousand -spectators. This is the morning of the great University race, about -which every member of the two great Universities, and a very large -section of the general public, have been fidgeting and talking for a -month or so. - -The bridge is black, the lawns are black, every balcony and window in -the town is black; the steamers are black with a swarming, eager -multitude, come to see the picked youths of the upper class try their -strength against one another. There are two friends of ours nearly -concerned in the great event of the day. Charles is rowing three in the -Oxford boat, and Marston is steering. This is a memorable day for both -of them, and more especially for poor Charles. - -Now the crowd surges to and fro, and there is a cheer. The men are -getting into their boats. The police-boats are busy clearing the -course. Now there is a cheer of admiration. Cambridge dashes out, swings -round, and takes her place at the bridge. - -Another shout. Oxford sweeps majestically out and takes her place by -Cambridge. Away go the police-galleys, away go all the London -club-boats, at ten miles an hour down the course. Now the course is -clear, and there is almost a silence. - -Then a wild hubbub; and people begin to squeeze and crush against one -another. The boats are off; the fight has begun! then the thirteen -steamers come roaring on after them, and their wake is alive once more -with boats. - -Everywhere a roar and a rushing to and fro. Frantic crowds upon the -towing-path, mad crowds on the steamers, which make them sway and rock -fearfully. Ahead Hammersmith Bridge, hanging like a black bar, covered -with people as with a swarm of bees. As an eye-piece to the picture, two -solitary flying boats, and the flashing oars, working with the rapidity -and regularity of a steam-engine. - -"Who's in front?" is asked by a thousand mouths; but who can tell? We -shall see soon. Hammersmith Bridge is stretching across the water not a -hundred yards in front of the boats. For one half-second a light shadow -crosses the Oxford boat, and then it is out into the sunlight beyond. In -another second the same shadow crosses the Cambridge boat. Oxford is -ahead. - -The men with light-blue neckties say that, "By George, Oxford can't keep -that terrible quick stroke going much longer;" and the men with -dark-blue ties say, "Can't she, by Jove?" Well, we shall know all about -it soon, for here is Barnes Bridge. Again the shadow goes over the -Oxford boat, and then one, two, three, four seconds before the Cambridge -men pass beneath it. Oxford is winning! There is a shout from the people -at Barnes, though the [Greek: polloi] don't know why. Cambridge has made -a furious rush, and drawn nearly up to Oxford; but it is useless. Oxford -leaves rowing, and Cambridge rows ten strokes before they are level. -Oxford has won! - -Five minutes after, Charles was on the wharf in front of the Ship Inn at -Mortlake, as happy as a king. He had got separated from his friends in -the crowd, and the people round him were cheering him, and passing -flattering remarks on his personal appearance, which caused Charles to -laugh, and blush, and bow, as he tried to push through his good-natured -persecutors, when he suddenly, in the midst of a burst of laughter -caused by a remark made by a drunken bargeman, felt somebody clasp his -arm, and, turning round, saw William. - -He felt such a shock that he was giddy and faint. "Will," he said, "what -is the matter?" - -"Come here, and I'll tell you." - -He forced his way to a quieter place, and then turned round to his -companion,--"Make it short, Will; that's a dear fellow. I can stand the -worst." - -"Master was took very bad two days ago, Master Charles; and Master -Cuthbert sent me off for you at once. He told me directly I got to -Paddington to ask for a telegraph message, so that you might hear the -last accounts; and here it is." - -He put what we now call a "telegram" into Charles's hand, and the burden -of it was mourning and woe. Densil Ravenshoe was sinking fast, and all -that steam and horse-flesh could do would be needed, if Charles would -see him alive. - -"Will, go and find Mr. Marston for me, and I will wait here for you. How -are we to get back to Putney?" - -"I have got a cab waiting." - -William dashed into the inn, and Charles waited. He turned and looked at -the river. - -There it was winding away past villa and park, bearing a thousand boats -upon its bosom. He looked once again upon the crowded steamers and the -busy multitude, and even in his grief felt a rush of honest pride as he -thought that he was one of the heroes of the day. And then he turned, -for William was beside him again. Marston was not to be found. - -"I should like to have seen him again," he said; "but we must fly, Will, -we must fly!" - -Had he known under what circumstances he was next to see a great -concourse of people, and under what circumstances he was next to meet -Marston, who knows but that in his ignorance and short-sightedness he -would have chosen to die where he stood in such a moment of triumph and -honour? - -In the hurry of departure he had no time to ask questions. Only when he -found himself in the express train, having chosen to go second-class -with his servant, and not be alone, did he find time to ask how it had -come about. - -There was but little to be told. Densil had been seized after breakfast, -and at first so slightly that they were not much alarmed. He had been -put to bed, and the symptoms had grown worse. Then William had been -despatched for Charles, leaving Cuthbert, Mary, and Father Mackworth at -his bedside. All had been done that could be done. He seemed to be in no -pain, and quite contented. That was all. The telegraph told the rest. -Cuthbert had promised to send horses to Crediton, and a relay forty -miles nearer home. - -The terrible excitement of the day, and the fact that he had eaten -nothing since breakfast, made Charles less able to bear up against the -news than he would otherwise have been. Strange thoughts and fears began -to shape themselves in his head, and to find voices in the monotonous -jolting of the carriage. - -Not so much the fear of his father's death. That he did not fear, -because he knew it would come; and, as to that, the bitterness of death -was past, bitter, deeply bitter, as it was; but a terror lest his father -should die without speaking to him--that he should never see those dear -lips wreathe into a smile for him any more. - -Yesterday he had been thinking of this very journey--of how, if they won -the race, he would fly down on the wings of the wind to tell them, and -how the old man would brighten up with joy at the news. Yesterday he was -a strong, brave man; and now what deadly terror was this at his heart? - -"William, what frightens me like this?" - -"The news I brought you, and the excitement of the race. And you have -been training hard for a long time, and that don't mend a man's nerves; -and you are hungry." - -"Not I." - -"What a noble race it was! I saw you above a mile off. I could tell the -shape of you that distance, and see how you was pulling your oar -through. I knew that my boy was going to be in the winning boat, Lord -bless you! before the race was rowed. And when I saw Mr. C---- come in -with that tearing, licking quick stroke of his, I sung out for old -Oxford, and pretty nearly forgot the photograph for a bit." - -"Photograph, Will? what photograph?" - -"Telegraph, I mean, It's all the same." - -Charles couldn't talk, though he tried. He felt an anxiety he had never -felt before. It was so ill-defined that he could not trace it to its -source. He had a right to feel grief, and deep anxiety to see his father -alive; but this was sheer terror, and at what? - -At Swindon, William got out and returned laden with this and with that, -and forced Charles to eat and drink. He had not tasted wine for a long -time; so he had to be careful with it; but it seemed to do him no good. -But, at last, tired nature did something for him, and he fell asleep. - -When he awoke it was night, and at first he did not remember where he -was. But rapidly his grief came upon him; and up, as it were out of a -dark gulf, came the other nameless terror and took possession of his -heart. - -There was a change at Exeter; then at Crediton they met with their first -relay of horses, and, at ten o'clock at night, after a hasty supper, -started on their midnight ride. The terror was gone the moment Charles -was on horseback. - -The road was muddy and dark, often with steep banks on each side; but a -delicious April moon was overhead, and they got on bravely. At Bow there -was a glimpse of Dartmoor towering black, and a fresh puff of westerly -wind, laden with scents of spring. At Hatherleigh, there were fresh -horses, and one of the Ravenshoe grooms waiting for them. The man had -heard nothing since yesterday; so at one o'clock they started on again. -After this, there were none but cross-country roads, and dangerous steep -lanes; so they got on slowly. Then came the morning with voice of ten -thousand birds, and all the rich perfume of awaking nature. And then -came the woods of home, and they stood on the terrace, between the old -house and the sea. - -The white surf was playing and leaping around the quiet headlands; the -sea-birds were floating merrily in the sunshine; the April clouds were -racing their purple shadows across the jubilant blue sea; but the old -house stood blank and dull. Every window was closed, and not a sound was -heard. - -For Charles had come too late. Densil Ravenshoe was dead. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV. - -THE FIRST GLIMPSE OF THE NEW WORLD. - - -In the long dark old room with the mullioned windows looking out on the -ocean, in the room that had been Charles's bedroom, study, and -play-room, since he was a boy, there sat Charles Ravenshoe, musing, -stricken down with grief, and forlorn. - -There were the fishing-rods and the guns, there were the books and the -homely pictures in which his soul had delighted. There was "The -Sanctuary and the Challenge," and Bob Coombes in his outrigger. All were -there. But Charles Ravenshoe was not there. There was another man in his -place, bearing his likeness, who sat and brooded with his head on his -hands. - -Where was the soul which was gone? Was he an infant in a new cycle of -existence? or was he still connected with the scenes and people he had -known and loved so long? Was he present? Could he tell at last the deep -love that one poor foolish heart had borne for him? Could he know now -the deep, deep grief that tore that poor silly heart, because its owner -had not been by to see the last faint smile of intelligence flutter over -features that he was to see no more? - -"Father! Father! Where are you? Don't leave me all alone, father." No -answer! only the ceaseless beating of the surf upon the shore. - -He opened the window, and looked out. The terrace, the woods, the -village, and beyond, the great unmeasurable ocean! What beyond that? - -What was this death, which suddenly made that which we loved so well, so -worthless? Could they none of them tell us? One there was who triumphed -over death and the grave, and was caught up in His earthly body. Who is -this Death that he should triumph over us? Alas, poor Charles! There are -evils worse than death. There are times when death seems to a man like -going to bed. Wait! - -There was a picture of Mary's, of which he bethought himself. One we all -know. Of a soul being carried away by angels to heaven. They call it St. -Catherine, though it had nothing particular to do with St. Catherine, -that I know of; and he thought he would go see it. But, as he turned, -there stood Mary herself before him. - -He held out his hands towards her, and she came and sat beside him, and -put her arm round his neck. He kissed her! Why not? They were as brother -and sister. - -He asked her why she had come. - -"I knew you wanted me," she said. - -Then she, still with her arm round his neck, talked to him about what -had just happened. "He asked for you soon after he was taken on the -first day, and told Father Mackworth to send off for you. Cuthbert had -sent two hours before, and he said he was glad, and hoped that Oxford -would win the race----" - -"Charles," said Mary again, "do you know that old James has had a fit, -and is not expected to live?" - -"No." - -"Yes, as soon as he heard of our dear one's death he was taken. It has -killed him." - -"Poor old James!" - -They sat there some time, hand in hand, in sorrowful communion, and then -Charles said suddenly-- - -"The future, Mary! The future, my love?" - -"We discussed that before, Charles, dear. There is only one line of life -open to me." - -"Ah!" - -"I shall write to Lady Ascot to-morrow. I heard from Adelaide the other -day, and she tells me that young Lady Hainault is going to take charge -of poor Lord Charles's children in a short time; and she will want a -nursery governess; and I will go." - -"I would sooner you were there than here, Mary. I am very glad of this. -She is a very good woman. I will go and see you there very often." - -"Are you going back to Oxford, Charles?" - -"I think not." - -"Do you owe much money there?" - -"Very little, now. He paid it almost all for me." - -"What shall you do?" - -"I have not the remotest idea. I cannot possibly conceive. I must -consult Marston." - -There passed a weary week--a week of long brooding days and sleepless -nights, while outside the darkened house the bright spring sun flooded -all earth with light and life, and the full spring wind sang pleasantly -through the musical woods, and swept away inland over heather and crag. - -Strange sounds began to reach Charles in his solitary chamber; sounds -which at first made him fancy he was dreaming, they were so mysterious -and inexplicable. The first day they assumed the forms of solitary notes -of music, some almost harsh, and some exquisitely soft and melodious. As -the day went on they began to arrange themselves into chords, and sound -slightly louder, though still a long way off. At last, near midnight, -they seemed to take form, and flow off into a wild, mournful piece of -music, the like of which Charles had never heard before; and then all -was still. - -Charles went to bed, believing either that the sounds were supernatural -or that they arose from noises in his head. He came to the latter -conclusion, and thought sleep would put an end to them; but, next -morning, when he had half opened the shutters, and let in the blessed -sunlight, there came the sound again--a wild, rich, triumphant melody, -played by some hand, whether earthly or unearthly, that knew its work -well. - -"What is that, William?" - -"Music." - -"Where does it come from?" - -"Out of the air. The pixies make such music at times. Maybe it's the -saints in glory with their golden harps, welcoming Master and Father." - -"Father!" - -"He died this morning at daybreak; not long after his old master, eh? He -was very faithful to him. He was in prison with him once, I've heard -tell. I'll be as faithful to you, Charles, when the time comes." - -And another day wore on in the darkened house, and still the angelic -music rose and fell at intervals, and moved the hearts of those that -heard it strangely. - -"Surely," said Charles to himself, "that music must sound louder in one -place than another." And then he felt himself smiling at the idea that -he half believed it to be supernatural. - -He rose and passed on through corridor and gallery, still listening as -he went. The music had ceased, and all was still. - -He went on through parts of the house he had not been in since a boy. -This part of the house was very much deserted; some of the rooms he -looked into were occupied as inferior servants' bedrooms; some were -empty, and all were dark. Here was where he, Cuthbert, and William would -play hide-and-seek on wet days; and well he remembered each nook and -lair. A window was open in one empty room, and it looked into the -court-yard. They were carrying things into the chapel, and he walked -that way. - -In the dark entrance to the dim chapel a black figure stood aside to let -him pass; he bowed, and did so, but was barely in the building when a -voice he knew said, "It is Charles," and the next moment he was clasped -by both hands, and the kind face of Father Tiernay was beaming before -him. - -"I am so glad to see you, Father Tiernay. It is so kind of you to come." - -"You look pale and worn," said the good man; "you have been fretting. I -won't have that, now that I am come. I will have you out in the air and -sunshine, my boy, along the shore----" - -The music again! Not faint and distant as heretofore, but close -overhead, crashing out into a mighty jubilate, which broke itself -against rafter and window in a thousand sweet echoes. Then, as the noble -echoes began to sink, there arose a soft flute-like note, which grew -more intense until the air was filled with passionate sound; and it -trilled and ran, and paused, and ran on, and died you knew not where. - -"I can't stand much of that, Father Tiernay," said Charles. "They have -been mending the organ, I see. That accounts for the music I have heard. -I suppose there will be music at the funeral, then." - -"My brother Murtagh," said Father Tiernay, "came over yesterday morning -from Lord Segur's. He is organist there, and he mended it. Bedad he is -a sweet musician. Hear what Sir Henry Bishop says of him." - -There came towards them, from the organ-loft, a young man, wearing a -long black coat and black bands with white edges, and having of his own -one of the sweetest, kindliest faces eye ever rested on. Father Tiernay -looked on him with pride and affection, and said-- - -"Murty, my dear brother, this is Mr. Charles Ravenshoe, me very good -friend, I hope you'll become acquaintances, for the reason that two good -fellows should know one another." - -"I am almost afraid," said the young man, with a frank smile, "that -Charles Ravenshoe has already a prejudice against me for the -disagreeable sounds I was making all day yesterday in bringing the old -organ into work again." - -"Nay, I was only wondering where such noble bursts of melody came from," -said Charles. "If you had made all the evil noises in Pandemonium, they -would have been forgiven for that last piece of music. Do you know that -I had no idea the old organ could be played on. Years ago, when we were -boys, Cuthbert and I tried to play on it; I blew for him, and he sounded -two or three notes, but it frightened us, and we ran away, and never -went near it again." - -"It is a beautiful old instrument," said young Tiernay; "will you stand -just here, and listen to it?" - -Charles stood in one of the windows, and Father Tiernay beside him. He -leant his head on his arm, and looked forth eastward and northward, over -the rolling woods, the cliffs, and the bright blue sea. - -The music began with a movement soft, low, melodious, beyond expression, -and yet strong, firm, and regular as of a thousand armed men marching to -victory. It grew into volume and power till it was irresistible, yet -still harmonious and perfect. Charles understood it. It was the life of -a just man growing towards perfection and honour. - -It wavered and fluttered, and threw itself into sparkling sprays and -eddies. It leapt and laughed with joy unutterable, yet still through all -the solemn measure went on. Love had come to gladden the perfect life, -and had adorned without disturbing it. - -Then began discords and wild sweeping storms of sound, harsh always, but -never unmelodious: fainter and fainter grew the melody, till it was -almost lost. Misfortunes had come upon the just man, and he was bending -under them. - -No. More majestic, more grand, more solemn than ever the melody -re-asserted itself: and again, as though purified by a furnace, marched -solemnly on with a clearness and sweetness greater than at first. The -just man had emerged from his sea of troubles ennobled. Charles felt a -hand on his shoulder. He thought it had been Father Tiernay. Father -Tiernay was gone. It was Cuthbert. - -"Cuthbert! I am so glad you have come to see me. I was not surprised -because you would not see me before. You didn't think I was offended, -brother, did you? I know you. I know you!" - -Charles smoothed his hair and smiled pleasantly upon him. Cuthbert stood -quite still and said nothing. - -"Cuthbert," said Charles, "you are in pain. In bodily pain I mean." - -"I am. I spent last night on these stones praying, and the cold has got -into my very bones." - -"You pray for the dead, I know," said Charles. "But why destroy the -health God has given you because a good man has gone to sleep?" - -"I was not praying for him so much as for you." - -"God knows I want it, dear Cuthbert. But can you benefit me by killing -yourself?" - -"Who knows? I may try. How long is it since we were boys together, -Charles?" - -"How long? Let me see. Why, it is nineteen years at least since I can -first remember you." - -"I have been sarcastic and distant with you sometimes, Charles, but I -have never been unkind." - -"Cuthbert! I never had an unkind word or action from you. Why do you say -this?" - -"Because----Charles, do you remember the night the _Warren Hastings_ -came ashore?" - -"Ay," said Charles, wonderingly. - -"In future, when you call me to mind, will you try to think of me as I -was then, not as I have been lately? We slept together, you remember, -through the storm, and he sat on the bed. God has tried me very hard. -Let us hope that heaven will be worth the winning. After this you will -see me no more in private. Good-bye!" - -Charles thought he knew what he meant, and had expected it. He would not -let him go for a time. - - - - -CHAPTER XXV. - -FATHER MACKWORTH BRINGS LORD SALTIRE TO BAY, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. - - -Old James was to be buried side by side with his old master in the vault -under the altar. The funeral was to be on the grandest scale, and all -the Catholic gentry of the neighbourhood, and most of the Protestant -were coming. Father Mackworth, it may be conceived, was very busy, and -seldom alone. All day he and the two Tiernays were arranging and -ordering. When thoroughly tired out, late at night, he would retire to -his room and take a frugal supper (Mackworth was no glutton), and sit -before the fire musing. - -One night, towards the middle of the week, he was sitting thus before -the fire, when the door opened, and some one came in; thinking it was -the servant, he did not look round; but, when the supposed servant came -up to the fireplace and stood still, he cast his eyes suddenly up, and -they fell upon the cadaverous face of Cuthbert. - -He looked deadly pale and wan as he stood with his face turned to the -flickering fire, and Mackworth felt deep pity for him. He held an open -letter towards Mackworth, and said-- - -"This is from Lord Saltire. He proposes to come here the night before -the funeral and go away in Lord Segur's carriage with him after it is -over. Will you kindly see after his rooms, and so on? Here is the -letter." - -"I will," said Mackworth. "My dear boy, you look deadly ill." - -"I wish I were dead." - -"So do all who hope for heaven," said Mackworth. - -"Who would not look worn and ill with such a scene hanging over their -heads?" - -"Go away and avoid it." - -"Not I. A Ravenshoe is not a coward. Besides, I want to see him again. -How cruel you have been! Why did you let him gain my heart? I have -little enough to love." - -There was a long pause--so long that a bright-eyed little mouse ran out -from the wainscot and watched. Both their eyes were bent on the fire, -and Father Mackworth listened with painful intentness for what was to -come. - -"He shall speak first," he thought. "How I wonder----" - -At last Cuthbert spoke slowly, without raising his eyes-- - -"Will nothing induce you to forego your purpose?" - -"How can I forego it, Cuthbert, with common honesty? I have foregone it -long enough." - -"Listen now," said Cuthbert, unheedingly: "I have been reckoning up what -I can afford, and I find that I can give you five thousand pounds down -for that paper, and five thousand more in bills of six, eight, and -twelve months. Will that content you?" - -Father Mackworth would have given a finger to have answered promptly -"No," but he could not. The offer was so astounding, so unexpected, that -he hesitated long enough to make Cuthbert look round, and say-- - -"Ten thousand pounds is a large sum of money, Father." - -It was, indeed; and Lord Saltire coming next week! Let us do the man -justice; he acted with a certain amount of honour. When you have read -this book to the end you will see that ten thousand pounds was only part -of what was offered to him. He gave it all up because he would not lower -himself in the eyes of Cuthbert, who had believed in him so long. - -"I paused," said he, "from astonishment, that a gentleman could have -insulted me by such a proposition." - -"Your pause," said Cuthbert, "arose from hesitation, not from -astonishment. I saw your eyes blaze when I made you the offer. Think of -ten thousand pounds. You might appear in the world as an English Roman -Catholic of fortune. Good heavens! with your talent you might aspire to -the cardinal's chair!" - -"No, no, no!" said Mackworth, fiercely. "I did hesitate, and I have lied -to you; but I hesitate no longer. I won't have the subject mentioned to -me again, sir. What sort of a gentleman are you to come to men's rooms -in the dead of night, with your father lying dead in the house, and -tempt men to felony? I will not." - -"God knows," said Cuthbert, as he passed out, "whether I have lost -heaven in trying to save him." - -Mackworth heard the door close behind him, and then looked eagerly -towards it. He heard Cuthbert's footsteps die along the corridor, and -then, rising up, he opened it and looked out. The corridor was empty. He -walked hurriedly back to the fireplace. - -"Shall I call him back?" he said. "It is not too late. Ten thousand -pounds! A greater stake than I played for; and now, when it is at my -feet, I am throwing it away. And for what? For honour, after I have -acted the----" (he could not say the word). "After I have gone so far. I -must be a gentleman. A common rogue would have jumped at the offer. By -heaven! there are some things better than money. If I were to take his -offer he would know me for a rogue. And I love the lad. No, no! let the -fool go to his prayers. I will keep the respect of one man at least. - -"What a curious jumble and puzzle it all is, to be sure. Am I any worse -than my neighbours? I have made a desperate attempt at power, for a -name, and an ambition; and then, because the ball comes suddenly at my -feet, from a quarter I did not expect, I dare not strike it because I -fear the contempt of one single pair of eyes from which I have been used -to receive nothing but love and reverence. - -"Yet he cannot trust me, as I thought he did, or he would not have made -the offer to me. And then he made it in such a confident way that he -must have thought I was going to accept it. That is strange. He has -never rebelled lately. Am I throwing away substance for shadow? I have -been bound to the Church body and soul from my boyhood, and I must go -on. I have refused a cardinal's chair this night, but who will ever know -it? - -"I must go about with my Lord Saltire. I could go at him with more -confidence if I had ten thousand pounds in the bank though, in case of -failure. I am less afraid of that terrible old heretic than I am of -those great eyes of Cuthbert's turned on me in scorn. I have lived so -long among gentlemen that I believe myself to be one. He knows, and he -shall tell. - -"And, if all fails, I have served the Church, and the Church shall serve -me. What fools the best of us are! Why did I ever allow that -straightforward idiot Tiernay into the house? He hates me, I know. I -rather like the fool. He will take the younger one's part on Monday; but -I don't think my gentleman will dare to say too much." - -After this soliloquy, the key to which will appear very shortly, Father -Mackworth took off his clothes and got into bed. - -The day before the funeral, Cuthbert sent a message to Charles, to beg -that he would be kind enough to receive Lord Saltire; and, as the old -man was expected at a certain hour, Charles, about ten minutes before -the time, went down to the bottom of the hall-steps on to the terrace, -to be ready for him when he came. - -Oh, the glorious wild freshness of the sea and sky after the darkened -house! The two old capes right and left; the mile-long stretch of sand -between them; and the short crisp waves rolling in before the westerly -wind of spring! Life and useful action in the rolling water; budding -promise in the darkening woods; young love in every bird's note! - -William stood beside him before he had observed him. Charles turned to -him, and took his arm in his. - -"Look at this," he said. - -"I am looking at it." - -"Does it make you glad and wild?" said Charles. "Does it make the last -week in the dark house look like twenty years? Are the two good souls -which are gone looking at it now, and rejoicing that earth should still -have some pleasure left for us?" - -"I hope not," said William, turning to Charles. - -"And why?" said Charles, and wondering rather what William would say. - -"I wouldn't," said William, "have neither of their hearts broke with -seeing what is to come." - -"Their hearts broke!" said Charles, turning full round on his -foster-brother. "Let them see how we behave under it, William. That will -never break their hearts, my boy." - -"Charles," said William, earnestly, "do you know what is coming?" - -"No; nor care." - -"It is something terrible for you, I fear," said William. - -"Have you any idea what it is?" said Charles. - -"Not the least. But look here. Last night, near twelve, I went down to -the chapel, thinking to say an ave before the coffin, and there lay -Master Cuthbert on the stones. So I kept quiet and said my prayer. And -of a sudden he burst out and said, 'I have risked my soul and my fortune -to save him: Lord, remember it!'" - -"Did he say that, William?" - -"The very words." - -"Then he could not have been speaking of me," said Charles. "It is -possible that by some means I may not come into the property I have been -led to expect; but that could not have referred to me. Suppose I was to -leave the house, penniless, to-morrow morning, William, should I go -alone? I am very strong, and very patient, and soon learn anything. -Cuthbert would take care of me. Would you come with me, or let me go -alone?" - -"You know. Why should I answer?" - -"We might go to Canada and settle. And then Adelaide would come over -when the house was ready; and you would marry the girl of your choice; -and our boys would grow up to be such friends as you and I are. And then -my boy should marry your girl, and----" - -Poor dreaming Charles, all unprepared for what was to come! - -A carriage drove on to the terrace at this moment, with Lord Saltire's -solemn servant on the box. - -Charles and William assisted Lord Saltire to alight. His lordship said -that he was getting devilish stiff and old, and had been confoundedly -cut up by his old friend's death, and had felt bound to come down to -show his respect to the memory of one of the best and honestest men it -had ever been his lot to meet in a tolerably large experience. And then, -standing on the steps, went on-- - -"It is very pleasant to me to be greeted by a face I like as yours, -Charles. I was gratified at seeing your name in the _Times_ as being one -of the winners of the great boat-race the other day. My man pointed it -out to me. That sort of thing is very honourable to a young fellow, if -it does not lead to a neglect of other duties, in which case it becomes -very mischievous; in yours it has not. That young man is, I believe, -your foster-brother. Will he be good enough to go and find Miss Corby, -and tell her that Lord Saltire wants her to come and walk with him on -the terrace? Give me your shoulder." William ran right willingly on his -errand. - -"Your position here, Charles," continued Lord Saltire, "will be a -difficult one." - -"It will, indeed, my lord." - -"I intend you to spend most of your time with me in future. I want some -one to take care of me. In return for boring you all day, I shall get -you the run of all the best houses, and make a man of you. Hush! not a -word now! Here comes our Robin Redbreast. I am glad I have tempted her -out into the air and the sunshine. How peaked you look, my dear! How are -you?" - -Poor Mary looked pale and wan, indeed, but brightened up at the sight of -her old friend. They three walked and talked in the fresh spring morning -an hour or more. - -That afternoon came a servant to Lord Saltire with a note from Father -Mackworth, requesting the honour of ten minutes' conversation with Lord -Saltire in private. - -"I suppose I must see the fellow," said the old man to himself. - -"My compliments to Mr. Mackworth, and I am alone in the library. The -fool," continued he, when the man had left the room, "why doesn't he let -well alone? I hate the fellow. I believe he is as treacherous as his -mother. If he broaches the subject, he shall have the whole truth." - -Meanwhile, Father Mackworth was advancing towards him through the dark -corridors, and walking slower, and yet more slow, as he neared the room -where sat the grim old man. He knew that there would be a fencing match; -and of all the men in broad England he feared his lordship most. His -determination held, however; though, up to the very last, he had almost -determined to speak only about comparatively indifferent subjects, and -not about that nearest to his heart. - -"How do you do, my good sir," said Lord Saltire, as he came in; "I have -to condole with you on the loss of our dear old friend. We shall neither -of us ever have a better one, sir." - -Mackworth uttered some commonplaces; to which Lord Saltire bowed, -without speaking, and then sat with his elbows on the arms of his chair, -making a triangle of his two fore-fingers and thumbs, staring at Father -Mackworth. - -"I am going, Lord Saltire, to trouble you with some of my early -reminiscences as a boy." - -Lord Saltire bowed, and settled himself easily in his chair, as one does -who expects a good story. Mackworth went on-- - -"One of my earliest recollections, my lord, is of being at a French -lycee." - -"The fault of those establishments," said Lord Saltire, pensively, "is -the great range of subjects which are superficially taught. I ask pardon -for interrupting you. Do you take snuff?" - -Mackworth declined, with great politeness, and continued-- - -"I was taken to that school by a footman in livery." - -"Upon my honour, then, I owe you an apology. I thought, of course, that -the butler had gone with you. But, in a large house, one never really -knows what one's people are about." - -Father Mackworth did not exactly like this. It was perfectly evident to -him, not only that Lord Saltire knew all about his birth and parentage, -but also was willing to tell. - -"Lord Saltire," he said, "I have never had a parent's care, or any name -but one I believe to be fictitious. You can give me a name--give me, -perhaps, a parent--possibly, a brother. Will you do this for me?" - -"I can do neither the one thing nor the other, my good sir. I entreat -you, for your own sake, to inquire no further." - -There was a troubled expression in the old man's face as he answered. -Mackworth thought he was gaining his point, and pressed on. - -"Lord Saltire, as you are a gentleman, tell me who my parents were;" -and, as he said this, he rose up and stood before him, folding his arms. - -"Confound the impudent, theatrical jackanapes!" thought Lord Saltire. -"His mother all over. I will gratify your curiosity sir," he said aloud, -angrily. "You are the illegitimate son of a French ballet-dancer!" - -"But who was my father, my lord? Answer me that, on your honour." - -"Who was your father? _Pardieu_, that is more than I can tell. If any -one ever knew, it must have been your mother. You are assuming a tone -with me, sir, which I don't intend to put up with. I wished to spare you -a certain amount of humiliation. I shall not trouble myself to do so -now, for many reasons. Now listen to me, sir--to the man who saved you -from the kennel, sir--and drop that theatrical attitude. Your mother was -my brother's mistress, and a clever woman in her way; and meeting her -here and there, in the green-room and where not, and going sometimes to -her house with my brother, I had a sort of acquaintance with her, and -liked her as one likes a clever, brilliant woman of that sort. My -brother died. Some time after your mother fell into poverty and disgrace -under circumstances into which I should advise you not to inquire, and -on her death-bed recommended you to my care as an old acquaintance, -praying that you might be brought up in her own religion. The request -was, under the circumstances, almost impudent; but remembering that I -had once liked the woman, and calling to mind the relation she had held -to poor dear John, I complied, and did for you what I have done. You -were a little over a twelvemonth old at the time of your mother's death, -and my brother had been dead nearly or quite five years. Your mother had -changed her protector thrice during that time. Now, sir!" - -Mackworth stood before Lord Saltire all this time as firm as a rock. He -had seen from the old man's eye that every word was terribly true, but -he had never flinched--never a nerve in his face had quivered; but he -had grown deadly pale. When Lord Saltire had finished he tried to speak, -but found his mouth as dry as dust. He smiled, and, with a bow, reaching -past Lord Saltire, took up a glass of lemonade which stood at his elbow -and drank it. Then he spoke clearly and well. - -"You see how you have upset me, my lord. In seeking this interview, I -had some hopes of having forced a confession from your lordship of my -relationship with you, and thereby serving my personal ambition. I have -failed. It now remains to me to thank you heartily and frankly for the -benefits I have received from you, and to beg you to forgive my -indiscretion." - -"You are a brave man, sir," said Lord Saltire. "I don't think you are an -honest one. But I can respect manliness." - -"You have a great affection for Charles Ravenshoe, my lord?" - -"Yes," said Lord Saltire; "I love Charles Ravenshoe more than any other -human being." - -"Perhaps the time may come, my lord, when he will need all your love and -protection." - -"Highly possible. I am in possession of the tenor of his father's will; -and those who try to set that will aside, unless they have a very strong -case, had better consider that Charles is backed up by an amount of -ready money sufficient to ruin the Ravenshoe estate in law." - -"No attempt of the kind will be made, my lord. But I very much doubt -whether your lordship will continue your protection to that young man. I -wish you good afternoon." - -"That fellow," said Lord Saltire, "has got a card to play which I don't -know of. What matter? I can adopt Charles, and he may defy them. I wish -I could give him my title; but that will be extinct. I am glad little -Mary is going to Lady Hainault. It will be the best place for her till -she marries. I wish that fool of a boy had fallen in love with her. But -he wouldn't." - -Mackworth hurried away to his room; and, as he went, he said, "I have -been a fool--a fool. I should have taken Cuthbert's offer. None but a -fool would have done otherwise. A cardinal's chair thrown to the dogs! - -"I could not do it this morning; but I can do it now. The son of a -figurante, and without a father! Perhaps he will offer it again. - -"If he does not, there is one thing certain. That young ruffian Charles -is ruined. Ah, ah! my Lord Saltire, I have you there! I should like to -see that old man's face when I play my last card. It will be a finer -sight than Charles's. You'll make him your heir, will you, my lord? Will -you make him your groom?" - -He went to his desk, took out an envelope, and looked at it. He looked -at it long, and then put it back. "It will never do to tempt him with -it. If he were to refuse his offer of this morning, I should be ruined. -Much better to wait and play out the ace boldly. I can keep my hold over -_him_: and William is mine, body and soul, if he dies." - -With which reflections, the good Father dressed for dinner. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI. - -THE GRAND CRASH. - - -The funeral was over. Charles had waited with poor weeping Mary to see -the coffin carried away under the dark grim archway of the vault, and -had tried to comfort her who would not be comforted. And, when the last -wild wail of the organ had died away, and all the dark figures but they -two had withdrawn from the chapel, there stood those two poor orphans -alone together. - -It was all over, and they began for the first time to realise it; they -began to feel what they lost. King Densil was dead, and King Cuthbert -reigned. When a prime minister dies, the world is shaken; when a county -member dies, the county is agitated, and the opposition electors, till -lately insignificant, rise suddenly into importance, and the possible -new members are suddenly great men. So, when a mere country gentleman -dies, the head of a great family dies, relations are changed entirely -between some score or two of persons. The dog of to-day is not the dog -of yesterday. Servants are agitated, and remember themselves of old -impertinences, and tremble. Farmers wonder what the new Squire's first -move will be. Perhaps even the old hound wonders whether he is to keep -his old place by the fire or no; and younger brothers bite their nails, -and wonder, too, about many things. - -Charles wondered profoundly in his own room that afternoon, whither he -had retired after having dismissed Mary at her door with a kiss. In -spite of his grief, he wondered what was coming, and tried to persuade -himself that he didn't care. From this state of mind he was aroused by -William, who told him that Lord Segur was going, and Lord Saltire with -him, and that the latter wanted to speak to him. - -Lord Saltire had his foot on the step of the carriage. "Charles, my dear -boy," he said, "the moment things are settled come to me at Segur -Castle. Lord Segur wants you to come and stay there while I am there." - -Lord Segur, from the carriage, hoped Charles would come and see them at -once. - -"And mind, you know," said Lord Saltire, "that you don't do anything -without consulting me. Let the little bird pack off to Lady Ascot's, and -help to blow up the grooms. Don't let her stay moping here. Now, -good-bye, my dear boy. I shall see you in a day or so." - -And so the old man was gone. And, as Charles watched the carriage, he -saw the sleek grey head thrust from the window, and the great white hand -waved to him. He never forgot that glimpse of the grey head and the -white hand, and he never will. - -A servant came up to him, and asked him, Would he see Mr. Ravenshoe in -the library? Charles answered Yes, but was in no hurry to go. So he -stood a little longer on the terrace, watching the bright sea, and the -gulls, and the distant island. Then he turned into the darkened house -again, and walked slowly towards the library door. - -Some one else stood in the passage--it was William, with his hand on the -handle of the door. - -"I waited for you, Master Charles," he said; "they have sent for me too. -Now you will hear something to your advantage." - -"I care not," said Charles, and they went in. - -Once, in lands far away, there was a sailor lad, a good-humoured, -good-looking, thoughtless fellow, who lived alongside of me, and with -whom I was always joking. We had a great liking for one another. I left -him at the shaft's mouth at two o'clock one summer's day, roaring with -laughter at a story I had told him; and at half-past five I was helping -to wind up the shattered corpse, which when alive had borne his name. A -flake of gravel had come down from the roof of the drive and killed him, -and his laughing and story-telling were over for ever. How terrible -these true stories are! Why do I tell this one? Because, whenever I -think of this poor lad's death, I find myself not thinking of the -ghastly thing that came swinging up out of the darkness into the summer -air, but of the poor fellow as he was the morning before. I try to think -how he looked, as leaning against the windlass with the forest behind -and the mountains beyond, and if, in word or look, he gave any sign of -his coming fate before he went gaily down into his tomb. - -So it was with Charles Ravenshoe. He remembers part of the scene that -followed perfectly well; but he tries more than all to recall how -Cuthbert looked, and how Mackworth looked before the terrible words were -spoken. After it was all over he remembers, he tells me, every trifling -incident well. But his memory is a little gone about the first few -minutes which elapsed after he and William came into the room. He says -that Cuthbert was sitting at the table very pale, with his hands clasped -on the table before him, looking steadily at him without expression on -his face; and that Mackworth leant against the chimney-piece, and looked -keenly and curiously at him. - -Charles went up silently and kissed his brother on the forehead. -Cuthbert neither moved nor spoke. Charles greeted Mackworth civilly, and -then leant against the chimney-piece by the side of him, and said what a -glorious day it was. William stood at a little distance, looking -uneasily from one to another. - -Cuthbert broke silence. "I sent for you," he said. - -"I am glad to come to you, Cuthbert, though I think you sent for me on -business, which I am not very well up to to-day." - -"On business," said Cuthbert: "business which must be gone through with -to-day, though I expect it will kill me." - -Charles, by some instinct (who knows what? it was nothing reasonable, he -says) moved rapidly towards William, and laid his hand on his shoulder. -I take it, that it arose from that curious gregarious feeling that men -have in times of terror. He could not have done better than to move -towards his truest friend, whatever it was. - -"I should like to prepare you for what is to come," continued Cuthbert, -speaking calmly, with the most curious distinctness; "but that would be -useless. The blow would be equally severe whether you expect it or not. -You two who stand there were nursed at the same breast. That groom, on -whose shoulder you have your hand now, is my real brother. You are no -relation to me; you are the son of the faithful old servant whom we -buried to-day with my father." - -Charles said, Ho! like a great sigh. William put his arm round him, and, -raising his finger, and looking into his face with his calm, honest -eyes, said with a smile-- - -"This was it then. We know it all now." - -Charles burst out into a wild laugh, and said, "Father Mackworth's ace -of trumps! He has inherited a talent for melodrama from his blessed -mother. Stop. I beg your pardon, sir, for saying that; I said it in a -hurry. It was blackguardly. Let's have the proofs of this, and all that -sort of thing, and witnesses too, if you please. Father Mackworth, there -have been such things as prosecutions for conspiracy. I have Lord -Saltire and Lord Ascot at my back. You have made a desperate cast, sir. -My astonishment is that you have allowed your hatred for me to outrun -your discretion so far. This matter will cost some money before it is -settled." - -Father Mackworth smiled, and Charles passed him, and rang the bell. Then -he went back to William and took his arm. - -"Fetch the Fathers Tiernay here immediately," said Charles to the -servant who answered the bell. - -In a few minutes the worthy priests were in the room. The group was not -altered. Father Mackworth still leant against the mantel-piece, Charles -and William stood together, and Cuthbert sat pale and calm with his -hands clasped together. - -Father Tiernay looked at the disturbed group and became uneasy. "Would -it not be better to defer the settlement of any family disagreements to -another day? On such a solemn occasion----" - -"The ice is broken, Father Tiernay," said Charles. "Cuthbert, tell him -what you have told me." - -Cuthbert, clasping his hands together, did so, in a low, quiet voice. - -"There," said Charles, turning to Father Tiernay, "what do you think of -that?" - -"I am so astounded and shocked, that I don't know what to say," said -Father Tiernay; "your mind must be abused, my dear sir. The likeness -between yourself and Mr. Charles is so great that I cannot believe it. -Mackworth, what have you to say to this?" - -"Look at William, who is standing beside Charles," said the priest, -quietly, "and tell me which of those two is most like Cuthbert." - -"Charles and William are very much alike, certainly," said Tiernay; -"but----" - -"Do you remember James Horton, Tiernay?" said Mackworth. - -"Surely." - -"Did you ever notice the likeness between him and Densil Ravenshoe?" - -"I have noticed it, certainly; especially one night. One night I went to -his cottage last autumn. Yes--well?" - -"James Horton was Densil Ravenshoe's half-brother. He was the -illegitimate son of Petre." - -"Good God." - -"And the man whom you call Charles Ravenshoe, whom I call Charles -Horton, is his son." - -Charles was looking eagerly from one to the other, bewildered. - -"Ask him, Father Tiernay," he said, "what proofs he has. Perhaps he will -tell us." - -"You hear what Mr. Charles says, Mackworth. I address you because you -have spoken last. You must surely have strong proofs for such an -astounding statement." - -"I have his mother's handwriting," said Father Mackworth. - -"My mother's, sir," said Charles, flushing up, and advancing a pace -towards him. - -"You forget who your mother was," said Mackworth. "Your mother was -Norah, James Horton's wife. She confessed to me the wicked fraud she -practised, and has committed that confession to paper. I hold it. You -have not a point of ground to stand on. Fifty Lord Saltires could not -help you one jot. You must submit. You have been living in luxury and -receiving an expensive education when you should have been cleaning out -the stable. So far from being overwhelmed at this, you should consider -how terribly the balance is against you." - -He spoke with such awful convincing calmness that Charles's heart died -away within him. He knew the man. - -"Cuthbert," he said, "you are a gentleman. Is this true?" - -"God knows how terribly true it is," said Cuthbert, quietly. Then there -was a silence, broken by Charles in a strange thick voice, the like of -which none there had heard before. - -"I want to sit down somewhere. I want some drink. Will, my own boy, take -this d----d thing from round my neck? I can't see; where is there a -chair? Oh, God!" - -He fell heavily against William, looking deadly white, without sense or -power. And Cuthbert looked up at the priest, and said, in a low voice-- - -"You have killed him." - -Little by little he came round again, and rose on his feet, looking -round him as a buck or stag looks when run to soil, and is watching to -see which dog will come, with a piteous wild look, despairing and yet -defiant. There was a dead silence. - -"Are we to be allowed to see this paper?" said Charles, at length. - -Father Mackworth immediately handed it to him, and he read it. It was -completely conclusive. He saw that there was not a loophole to creep out -of. The two Tiernays read it, and shook their heads. William read it and -turned pale. And then they all stood staring blankly at one another. - -"You see, sir," said Father Mackworth, "that there are two courses open -to you. Either, on the one hand, to acquiesce in the truth of this -paper; or, on the other, to accuse me in a court of justice of -conspiracy and fraud. If you were to be successful in the latter course, -I should be transported out of your way, and the matter would end so. -But any practical man would tell you, and you would see in your calmer -moments, that no lawyer would undertake your case. What say you, Father -Tiernay?" - -"I cannot see what case he has, poor dear," said Father Tiernay. -"Mackworth," he added, suddenly. - -Father Mackworth met his eye with a steady stare, and Tiernay saw there -was no hope of explanation there. - -"On the other hand," continued Father Mackworth, "if this new state of -things is quietly submitted to (as it must be ultimately, whether -quietly or otherwise you yourself will decide), I am authorised to say -that the very handsomest provision will be made for you, and that, to -all intents and purposes, your prospects in the world will not suffer in -the least degree. I am right in saying so, I believe, Mr. Ravenshoe?" - -"You are perfectly right, sir," said Cuthbert in a quiet, passionless -voice. "My intention is to make a provision of three hundred a year for -this gentleman, whom, till the last few days, I believed to be my -brother. Less than twenty-four hours ago, Charles, I offered Father -Mackworth ten thousand pounds for this paper, with a view to destroy it. -I would, for your sake, Charles, have committed an act of villainy which -would have entailed a life's remorse, and have robbed William, my own -brother, of his succession. You see what a poor weak rogue I am, and -what a criminal I might become with a little temptation. Father -Mackworth did his duty and refused me. I tell you this to show you that -he is, at all events, sincere enough in his conviction of the truth of -this." - -"You acted like yourself, Cuthbert. Like one who would risk body and -soul for one you loved." - -He paused; but they waited for him to speak again. And very calmly, in a -very low voice, he continued-- - -"It is time that this scene should end. No one's interest will be served -by continuing it. I want to say a very few words, and I want them to be -considered as the words, as it were, of a dying man; for no one here -present will see me again till the day when I come back to claim a right -to the name I have been bearing so long--and that day will be never." - -Another pause. He moistened his lips, which were dry and cracked, and -then went on-- - -"Here is the paper, Father Mackworth; and may the Lord of Heaven be -judge between us if that paper be not true!" - -Father Mackworth took it, and, looking him steadily in the face, -repeated his words, and Charles's heart sank lower yet as he watched -him, and felt that hope was dead. - -"May the Lord of Heaven be judge between us two, Charles, if that paper -be not true! Amen." - -"I utterly refuse," Charles continued, "the assistance which Mr. -Ravenshoe has so nobly offered. I go forth alone into the world to make -my own way, or to be forgotten. Cuthbert and William, you will be sorry -for a time, but not for long. You will think of me sometimes of dark -winter nights when the wind blows, won't you? I shall never write to -you, and shall never return here any more. Worse things than this have -happened to men, and they have not died." - -All this was said with perfect self-possession, and without a failure in -the voice. It was magnificent despair. Father Tiernay, looking at -William's face, saw there a sort of sarcastic smile, which puzzled him -amazingly. - -"I had better," said Charles, "make my will. I should like William to -ride my horse Monte. He has thrown a curb, sir, as you know" he said, -turning to William; "but he will serve you well, and I know you will be -gentle with him." - -William gave a short, dry laugh. - -"I should have liked to take my terrier away with me, but I think I had -better not. I want to have nothing with me to remind me of this place. -My greyhound and the pointers I know you will take care of. It would -please me to think that William had moved into my room, and had taken -possession of all my guns, and fishing-rods, and so on. There is a -double-barrelled gun left at Venables', in St. Aldate's, at Oxford, for -repairs. It ought to be fetched away. - -"Now, sir," he said, turning to Cuthbert, "I should like to say a few -words about money matters. I owe about L150 at Oxford. It was a great -deal more at one time, but I have been more careful lately. I have the -bills upstairs. If that could be paid----" - -"To the utmost farthing, my dear Charles," said Cuthbert; "but----" - -"Hush!" said Charles, "I have five-and-twenty pounds by me. May I keep -that?" - -"I will write you a check for five hundred. I shall move your -resolution, Charles," said Cuthbert. - -"Never, so help me God!" said Charles; "it only remains to say good-bye. -I leave this room without a hard thought towards any one in it. I am at -peace with all the world. Father Mackworth, I beg your forgiveness. I -have been often rude and brutal to you. I suppose that you always meant -kindly to me. Good-bye." - -He shook hands with Mackworth, then with the Tiernays; then he offered -his hand to William, who took it smiling; and, lastly, he went up to -Cuthbert, and kissed him on the cheek, and then walked out of the door -into the hall. - -William, as he was going, turned as though to speak to Cuthbert, but -Cuthbert had risen, and he paused a moment. - -Cuthbert had risen, and stood looking wildly about him; then he said, -"Oh, my God, he is gone!" And then he broke through them, and ran out -into the hall, crying, "Charles, Charles, come back. Only one more word, -Charles." And then they saw Charles pause, and Cuthbert kneel down -before him, calling him his own dear brother, and saying he would die -for him. And then Father Tiernay hastily shut the library door, and left -those two wild hearts out in the old hall together alone. - -Father Tiernay came back to William, and took both his hands. "What are -you going to do?" he said. - -"I am going to follow him wherever he goes," said William. "I am never -going to leave him again. If he goes to the world's end, I will be with -him." - -"Brave fellow!" said Tiernay. "If he goes from here, and is lost sight -of, we may never see him again. If you go with him, you may change his -resolution." - -"That I shall never do," said William; "I know him too well. But I'll -save him from what I am frightened to think of. I will go to him now. I -shall see you again directly; but I must go to him." - -He passed out into the hall. Cuthbert was standing alone, and Charles -was gone. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII. - -THE COUP DE GRACE. - - -In the long watches of the winter night, when one has awoke from some -evil dream, and lies sleepless and terrified with the solemn pall of -darkness around one--on one of those deadly, still dark nights, when the -window only shows a murky patch of positive gloom in contrast with the -nothingness of the walls, when the howling of a tempest round chimney -and roof would be welcomed as a boisterous companion--in such still dead -times only, lying as in the silence of the tomb, one realises that some -day we shall lie in that bed and not think at all: that the time will -come soon when we must die. - -Our preachers remind us of this often enough, but we cannot realise it -in a pew in broad daylight. You must wake in the middle of the night to -do that, and face the thought like a man, that it will come, and come to -ninety-nine in a hundred of us, not in a maddening clatter of musquetry -as the day is won; or in carrying a line to a stranded ship, or in such -like glorious times, when the soul is in mastery over the body, but in -bed, by slow degrees. It is in darkness and silence only that we realise -this; and then let us hope that we humbly remember that death has been -conquered for us, and that in spite of our unworthiness we may defy him. -And after that sometimes will come the thought, "Are there no evils -worse even than death?" - -I have made these few remarks (I have made very few in this story, for I -want to suggest thought, not to supply it ready-made) because Charles -Ravenshoe has said to me in his wild way, that he did not fear death, -for he had died once already. - -I did not say anything, but waited for him to go on. - -"For what," he continued, "do you make out death even at the worst? A -terror, then a pang, more or less severe; then a total severance of all -ties on earth, an entire and permanent loss of everything one has loved. -After that, remorse, and useless regret, and the horrible torture of -missed opportunities without number thrust continually before one. The -monotonous song of the fiends, 'Too late! too late!' I have suffered all -these things! I have known what very few men have known, and -lived--despair; but perhaps the most terrible agony for a time was the -feeling of _loss of identity_--that I was not myself; that my whole -existence from babyhood had been a lie. This at times, at times only, -mind you, washed away from me the only spar to which I could cling--the -feeling that I was a gentleman. When the deluge came, that was the only -creed I had, and I was left alone as it were on the midnight ocean, out -of sight of land, swimming with failing strength." - -I have made Charles speak for himself. In this I know that I am right. -Now we must go on with him through the gathering darkness without -flinching; in terror, perhaps, but not in despair as yet. - -It never for one moment entered into his head to doubt the truth of what -Father Mackworth had set up. If he had had doubts even to the last, he -had none after Mackworth had looked him compassionately in the face, and -said, "God judge between us if this paper be not true!" Though he -distrusted Mackworth, he felt that no man, be he never so profound an -actor, could have looked so and spoken so if he were not telling what he -believed to be the truth. And that he and Norah were mistaken he justly -felt to be an impossibility. No. He was the child of Petre Ravenshoe's -bastard son by an Irish peasant girl. He who but half an hour before had -been heir to the proud old name, to the noble old house, the pride of -the west country, to hundreds of acres of rolling woodland, to mile -beyond mile of sweeping moorland, to twenty thriving farms, deep in -happy valleys, or perched high up on the side of lofty downs, was now -just this--a peasant, an impostor. - -The tenantry, the fishermen, the servants, they would come to know all -this. Had he died (ah! how much better than this), they would have -mourned for him, but what would they say or think now? That he, the -patron, the intercessor, the condescending young prince, should be the -child of a waiting-woman and a gamekeeper. Ah! mother, mother, God -forgive you! - -Adelaide: what would she think of this? He determined that he must go -and see her, and tell her the whole miserable story. She was ambitious, -but she loved him. Oh yes, she loved him. She could wait. There were -lands beyond the sea, where a man could win a fortune in a few years, -perhaps in one. There were Canada, and Australia, and India, where a man -needed nothing but energy. He never would take one farthing from the -Ravenshoes, save the twenty pounds he had. That was a determination -nothing could alter. But why need he? There was gold to be won, and -forest to be cleared, in happier lands. - -Alas, poor Charles! He has never yet set foot out of England, and -perhaps never will. He never thought seriously about it but this once. -He never had it put before him strongly by any one. Men only emigrate -from idleness, restlessness, or necessity; with the two first of these -he was not troubled, and the last had not come yet. It would, perhaps, -have been better for him to have gone to the backwoods or the diggings; -but, as he says, the reason why he didn't was that he didn't. But at -this sad crisis of his life it gave him comfort for a little to think -about; only for a little, then thought and terror came sweeping back -again. - -Lord Saltire? He would be told of this by others. It would be Charles's -duty not to see Lord Saltire again. With his present position in -society, as a servant's son, there was nothing to prevent his asking -Lord Saltire to provide for him, except--what was it? Pride? Well, -hardly pride. He was humble enough, God knows; but he felt as if he had -gained his goodwill, as it were, by false pretences, and that duty would -forbid his presuming on that goodwill any longer. And would Lord Saltire -be the same to a lady's-maid's son, as he would to the heir presumptive -of Ravenshoe? No; there must be no humiliation before those stern grey -eyes. Now he began to see that he loved the owner of those eyes more -deeply than he had thought; and there was a gleam of pleasure in -thinking that, when Lord Saltire heard of his fighting bravely -unassisted with the world, he would say, "That lad was a brave fellow; a -gentleman after all." - -Marston? Would this terrible business, which was so new and terrible as -to be as yet only half appreciated--would it make any difference to him? -Perhaps it might. But, whether or no he would humble himself there, and -take from him just reproaches for idleness and missed opportunities, -however bitter they might be. - -And Mary? Poor little Mary! Ah! she would be safe with that good Lady -Hainault. That was all. Ah, Charles! what pale little sprite was that -outside your door now, listening, dry-eyed, terrified, till you should -move? Who saw you come up with your hands clutched in your hair, like a -madman, an hour ago, and heard you throw yourself upon the floor, and -has waited patiently ever since to see if she could comfort you, were it -never so little? Ah, Charles! Foolish fellow! - -Thinking, thinking--now with anger, now with tears, and now with -terror--till his head was hot and his hands dry, his thoughts began to -run into one channel. He saw that action was necessary, and he came to a -great and noble resolution, worthy of himself. All the world was on one -side, and he alone on the other. He would meet the world humbly and -bravely, and conquer it. He would begin at the beginning, and find his -own value in the world, and then, if he found himself worthy, would -claim once more the love and respect of those who had been his friends -hitherto. - -How he would begin he knew not, nor cared, but it must be from the -beginning. And, when he had come to this resolution, he rose up and -faced the light of day once more. - -There was a still figure sitting in his chair, watching him. It was -William. - -"William! How long have you been here?" - -"Nigh on an hour. I came in just after you, and you have been lying on -the hearthrug ever since, moaning." - -"An hour? Is it only an hour?" - -"A short hour." - -"It seemed like a year. Why, it is not dark yet. The sun still shines, -does it?" - -He went to the window and looked out. "Spring," he said, "early spring. -Fifty more of them between me and rest most likely. Do I look older, -William?" - -"You look pale and wild, but not older. I am mazed and stunned. I want -you to look like yourself and help me, Charles. We must get away -together out of this house." - -"You must stay here, William; you are heir to the name and the house. -You must stay here and learn your duty; I must go forth and dree my -weary weird alone." - -"You must go forth, I know; but I must go with you." - -"William, that is impossible." - -"To the world's end, Charles; I swear it by the holy Mother of God." - -"Hush! You don't know what you are saying. Think of your duties." - -"I know my duty. My duty is with you." - -"William, look at the matter in another point of view. Will Cuthbert let -you come with me?" - -"I don't care. I am coming." - -William was sitting where he had been in Charles's chair, and Charles -was standing beside him. If William had been looking at Charles, he -would have seen a troubled thoughtful expression on his face for one -moment, followed by a sudden look of determination. He laid his hand on -William's shoulder, and said-- - -"We must talk this over again. I _must_ go to Ranford and see Adelaide -at once, before this news gets there from other mouths. Will you meet me -at the old hotel in Covent Garden, four days from this time?" - -"Why there?" said William. "Why not at Henley?" - -"Why not at London, rather?" replied Charles. "I must go to London. I -mean to go to London. I don't want to delay about Ranford. No; say -London." - -William looked in his face for a moment, and then said,-- - -"I'd rather travel with you. You can leave me at Wargrave, which is only -just over the water from Ranford, or at Didcot, while you go on to -Ranford. You must let me do that, Charles." - -"We will do that, William, if you like." - -"Yes, yes!" said William. "It must be so. Now you must come downstairs." - -"Why?" - -"To eat. Dinner is ready. I am going to tea in the servant's hall." - -"Will Mary be at dinner, William?" - -"Of course she will." - -"Will you let me go for the last time? I should like to see the dear -little face again. Only this once." - -"Charles! Don't talk like that. All that this house contains is yours, -and will be as long as Cuthbert and I are here. Of course you must go. -This must not get out for a long while yet--we must keep up -appearances." - -So Charles went down into the drawing-room. It was nearly dark; and at -first he thought there was no one there, but, as he advanced towards the -fireplace, he made out a tall, dark figure, and saw that it was -Mackworth. - -"I am come, sir," he said, "to dinner in the old room for the last time -for ever." - -"God forbid!" said Mackworth. "Sir, you have behaved like a brave man -to-day, and I earnestly hope that, as long as I stay in this house, you -will be its honoured guest. It would be simply nonsensical to make any -excuses to you for the part I have taken. Even if you had not -systematically opposed your interest to mine in this house, I had no -other course open. You must see that." - -"I believe I owe you my thanks for your forbearance so long," said -Charles; "though that was for the sake of my father more than myself. -Will you tell me, sir, now we are alone, how long have you known this?" - -"Nearly eighteen months," said Father Mackworth, promptly. - -Mackworth was not an ill-natured man when he was not opposed, and, being -a brave man himself, could well appreciate bravery in others. He had -knowledge enough of men to know that the revelation of to-day had been -as bitter a blow to a passionate, sensitive man like Charles, as he -could well endure and live. And he knew that Charles distrusted him, and -that all out-of-the-way expressions of condolence would be thrown away; -and so, departing from his usual rule of conduct, he spoke for once in a -way naturally and sincerely, and said: "I am very, very sorry. I would -have done much to avoid this." - -Then Mary came in and the Tiernays. Cuthbert did not come down. There -was a long, dull dinner, at which Charles forced himself to eat, having -a resolution before him. Mary sat scared at the head of the table, and -scarcely spoke a word, and, when she rose to go into the drawing-room -again, Charles followed her. - -She saw that he was coming, and waited for him in the hall. When he shut -the dining-room door after him she ran back, and putting her two hands -on his shoulders, said-- - -"Charles! Charles! what is the matter?" - -"Nothing, dear; only I have lost my fortune; I am penniless." - -"Is it all gone, Charles?" - -"All. You will hear how, soon. I just come out to wish my bird good-bye. -I am going to London to-morrow." - -"Can't you come and talk to me, Charles, a little?" - -"No; not to-night. Not to-night." - -"You will come to see me at Lady Hainault's in town, Charles?" - -"Yes, my love; yes." - -"Won't you tell me any more, Charles?" - -"No more, my robin. It is good-bye. You will hear all about it soon -enough." - -"Good-bye." - -A kiss, and he was gone up the old staircase towards his own room. When -he gained the first landing he turned and looked at her once more, -standing alone in the centre of the old hall in the light of a solitary -lamp. A lonely, beautiful little figure, with her arms drooping at her -sides, and the quiet, dark eyes turned towards him, so lovingly! And -there, in his ruin and desolation, he began to see, for the first time, -what others, keener-eyed, had seen long ago. Something that might have -been, but could not be now! And so, saying, "I must not see her again," -he went up to his own room, and shut the door on his misery. - -Once again he was seen that night. William invaded the still-room, and -got some coffee, which he carried up to him. He found him packing his -portmanteau, and he asked William to see to this and to that for him, if -he should sleep too long. William made him sit down and take coffee and -smoke a cigar, and sat on the footstool at his feet, before the fire, -complaining of cold. They sat an hour or two, smoking, talking of old -times, of horses and dogs, and birds and trout, as lads do, till Charles -said he would go to bed, and William left him. - -He had hardly got to the end of the passage, when Charles called him -back, and he came. - -"I want to look at you again," said Charles; and he put his two hands on -William's shoulders, and looked at him again. Then he said, "Good -night," and went in. - -William went slowly away, and, passing to a lower storey, came to the -door of a room immediately over the main entrance, above the hall. This -room was in the turret above the porch. It was Cuthbert's room. - -He knocked softly, and there was no answer; again, and louder. A voice -cried querulously, "Come in," and he opened the door. - -Cuthbert was sitting before the fire with a lamp beside him and a book -on his knee. He looked up and saw a groom before him, and said, -angrily-- - -"I can give no orders to-night. I will not be disturbed to-night." - -"It is me, sir," said William. - -Cuthbert rose at once. "Come here, brother," he said, "and let me look -at you. They told me just now that you were with our brother Charles." - -"I stayed with him till he went to bed, and then I came to you." - -"How is he?" - -"Very quiet--too quiet." - -"Is he going away?" - -"He is going in the morning." - -"You must go with him, William," said Cuthbert, eagerly. - -"I came to tell you that I must go with him, and to ask you for some -money." - -"God bless you. Don't leave him. Write to me every day. Watch and see -what he is inclined to settle to, and then let me know. You must get -some education too. You will get it with him as well as anywhere. He -must be our first care." - -William said yes. He must be their first care. He had suffered a -terrible wrong. - -"We must get to be as brothers to one another, William," said Cuthbert. -"That will come in time. We have one great object in common--Charles; -and that will bring us together. The time was, when I was a fool, that I -thought of being a saint, without human affections. I am wiser now. -People near death see many things which are hidden in health and youth." - -"Near death, Cuthbert!" said William, calling him so for the first time. -"I shall live, please God, to take your children on my knee." - -"It is right that you should know, brother, that in a few short years -you will be master of Ravenshoe. My heart is gone. I have had an attack -to-night." - -"But people who are ill don't always die," said William. "Holy Virgin! -you must not go and leave me all abroad in the world like a lost sheep." - -"I like to hear you speak like that, William. Two days ago, I was moving -heaven and earth to rob you of your just inheritance." - -"I like you the better for that. Never think of that again. Does -Mackworth know of your illness?" - -"He knows everything." - -"If Charles had been a Catholic, would he have concealed this?" - -"No; I think not. I offered him ten thousand pounds to hush it up." - -"I wish he had taken it. I don't want to be a great man. I should have -been far happier as it was. I was half a gentleman, and had everything I -wanted. Shall you oppose my marrying when Charles is settled?" - -"You must marry, brother. I can never marry, and would not if I could. -You must marry, certainly. The estate is a little involved; but we can -soon bring it right. Till you marry, you must be contented with four -hundred a year." - -William laughed. "I will be content and obedient enough, I warrant you. -But, when I speak of marrying, I mean marrying my present sweetheart." - -Cuthbert looked up suddenly. "I did not think of that. Who is she?" - -"Master Evans's daughter, Jane." - -"A fisherman's daughter," said Cuthbert. "William, the mistress of -Ravenshoe ought to be a lady." - -"The master of Ravenshoe ought to be a gentleman," was William's reply. -"And, after your death (which I don't believe in, mind you), he won't -be. The master of Ravenshoe then will be only a groom; and what sort of -a fine lady would he buy with his money, think you? A woman who would -despise him and be ashamed of him. No, by St. George and the dragon, I -will marry my old sweetheart or be single!" - -"Perhaps you are right, William," said Cuthbert; "and, if you are not, I -am not one who has a right to speak about it. Let us in future be honest -and straightforward, and have no more miserable _esclandres_, in God's -name. What sort of a girl is she?" - -"She is handsome enough for a duchess, and she is very quiet and shy." - -"All the better. I shall offer not the slightest opposition. She had -better know what is in store for her." - -"She shall; and the blessing of all the holy saints be on you! I must go -now. I must be up at dawn." - -"Don't go yet, William. Think of the long night that is before me. Sit -with me, and let me get used to your voice. Tell me about the horses, or -anything--only don't leave me alone yet." - -William sat down with him. They sat long and late. When at last William -rose to go, Cuthbert said-- - -"You will make a good landlord, William. You have been always a patient, -faithful servant, and you will make a good master. Our people will get -to love you better than ever they would have loved me. Cling to the old -faith. It has served us well so many hundred years. It seems as if God -willed that Ravenshoe should not pass from the hands of the faithful. -And now, one thing more; I must see Charles before he goes. When you go -to wake him in the morning, call me, and I will go with you. Good -night!" - -In the morning they went up together to wake him. His window was open, -and the fresh spring air was blowing in. His books, his clothes, his -guns and rods, were piled about in their usual confusion. His dog was -lying on the hearthrug, and stretched himself as he came to greet them. -The dog had a glove at his feet, and they wondered at it. The curtains -of his bed were drawn close. Cuthbert went softly to them and drew them -aside. He was not there. The bed was smooth. - -"Gone! gone!" cried Cuthbert. "I half feared it. Fly, William, for God's -sake, to Lord Ascot's, to Ranford; catch him there, and never leave him -again. Come, and get some money, and begone. You may be in time. If we -should lose him after all--after all!" - -William needed no second bidding. In an hour he was at Stonnington. Mr. -Charles Ravenshoe had arrived there at daybreak, and had gone on in the -coach which started at eight. William posted to Exeter, and at eleven -o'clock in the evening saw Lady Ascot at Ranford. Charles Ravenshoe had -been there that afternoon, but was gone. And then Lady Ascot, weeping -wildly, told him such news as made him break from the room with an oath, -and dash through the scared servants in the hall and out into the -darkness, to try to overtake the carriage he had discharged, and reach -London. - -The morning before, Adelaide had eloped with Lord Welter. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVIII. - -FLIGHT. - - -When William left Charles in his room at Ravenshoe, the latter sat down -in his chair and began thinking. - -The smart of the blow, which had fallen so heavily at first, had become -less painful. He knew by intuition that it would be worse on the morrow, -and on many morrows; but at present it was alleviated. He began to dread -sleeping, for fear of the waking. - -He dreaded the night and dreams; and, more than all, the morrow and the -departure. He felt that he ought to see Cuthbert again, and he dreaded -that. He dreaded the servants seeing him go. He had a horror of parting -from all he had known so long, formally. It was natural. It would be so -much pain to all concerned; were it not better avoided? He thought of -all these things, and tried to persuade himself that these were the -reasons which made him do what he had as good as determined to do an -hour or two before, what he had in his mind when he called William back -in the corridor--to go away alone, and hide and mope like a wounded stag -for a little time. - -It was his instinct to do so. Perhaps it would have been the best thing -for him. At all events, he determined on it, and packed up a portmanteau -and carpet-bag, and then sat down again, waiting. - -"Yes," he said to himself, "it will be better to do this. I must get -away from William, poor lad. He must not follow my fortunes, for many -reasons." - -His dog had been watching him, looking, with his bright loving eyes, -first at him and then at his baggage, wondering what journey they were -going on now. When Charles had done packing, and had sat down again in -his chair, before the fire, the dog leapt up in his lap unbidden, and -laid his head upon his breast. - -"Grip, Grip!" said Charles, "I am going away to leave you for ever, -Grip. Dogs don't live so long as men, my boy; you will be quietly under -the turf and at rest, when I shall have forty long years more to go -through with." - -The dog wagged his tail, and pawed his waistcoat. He wanted some -biscuit. Charles got him some, and then went on talking. - -"I am going to London, old dog. I am going to see what the world is -like. I sha'n't come back before you are dead, Grip, I expect. I have -got to win money and a name for the sake of one who is worth winning it -for. Very likely I shall go abroad, to the land where the stuff comes -from they make sovereigns of, and try my luck at getting some of the -yellow rubbish. And she will wait in the old house at Ranford." - -He paused here. The thought came upon him, "Would it not be more -honourable to absolve Adelaide from her engagement? Was he acting -generously in demanding of her to waste the best part of her life in -waiting till a ruined man had won fortune and means?" - -The answer came. "She loves me. If I can wait, why not she?" - -"I have wronged her by such a thought, Grip. Haven't I, my boy?"--and -so on. I needn't continue telling you the nonsense Charles talked to his -dog. Men will talk nonsense to their dogs and friends when they are in -love; and such nonsense is but poor reading at any time. To us who know -what had happened, and how worthless and false Adelaide was, it would be -merely painful and humiliating to hear any more of it. I only gave you -so much to show you how completely Charles was in the dark, poor fool, -with regard to Adelaide's character, and to render less surprising the -folly of his behaviour after he heard the news at Ranford. - -Charles judged every one by his own standard. She had told him that she -loved him; and perhaps she did, for a time. He believed her. As for -vanity, selfishness, fickleness, calculation, coming in and conquering -love, he knew it was impossible in his own case, and so he conceived it -impossible in hers. I think I have been very careful to impress on you -that Charles was not wise. At all events, if I have softened matters so -far hitherto as to leave you in doubt, his actions, which we shall have -to chronicle immediately, will leave not the slightest doubt of it. I -love the man. I love his very faults in a way. He is a reality to me, -though I may not have the art to make him so to you. His mad, impulsive -way of forming a resolution, and his honourable obstinacy in sticking to -that resolution afterwards, even to the death, are very great faults; -but they are, more or less, the faults of men who have made a very great -figure in the world, or I have read history wrong. Men with Charles -Ravenshoe's character, and power of patience and application superadded, -turn out very brilliant characters for the most part. Charles had not -been drilled into habits of application early enough. Densil's -unthinking indulgence had done him much harm, and he was just the sort -of boy to be spoilt at school--a favourite among the masters and the -boys; always just up to his work and no more. It is possible that Eton -in one way, or Rugby in another, might have done for him what Shrewsbury -certainly did not. At Eton, thrown at once into a great, free republic, -he might have been forced to fight his way up to his proper place, -which, I believe, would not have been a low one. At Rugby he would have -had his place to win all the same; but to help him he would have had all -the traditionary school policy which a great man has left behind him as -an immortal legacy. It was not to be. He was sent to a good and manly -school enough, but one where there was for him too little of -competition. Shrewsbury is, in most respects, the third of the _old_ -schools in England; but it was, unluckily, not the school for him. He -was too great a man there. - -At Oxford, too, he hardly had a fair chance. Lord Welter was there -before him, and had got just such a set about him as one would expect -from that young gentleman's character and bringing up. These men were -Charles's first and only acquaintances at the University. What chance -was there among them for correcting and disciplining himself? None. The -wonder was, that he came out from among them without being greatly -deteriorated. The only friend Charles ever had who could guide him on -the way to being a man was John Marston. But John Marston, to say the -truth, was sometimes too hard and didactic, and very often roused -Charles's obstinacy through want of tact. Marston loved Charles, and -thought him better than the ninety and nine who need no repentance; but -it did not fall to Marston's lot to make a man of Charles. Some one took -that in hand who never fails. - -This is the place for my poor apology for Charles's folly. If I had -inserted it before, you would not have attended to it, or would have -forgotten it. If I have done my work right, it is merely a statement of -the very conclusion you must have come to. In the humiliating scenes -which are to follow, I only beg you to remember that Charles Horton was -Charles Ravenshoe once; and that, while he was a gentleman, the people -loved him well. - -Once, about twelve o'clock, he left his room, and passed through the -house to see if all was quiet. He heard the grooms and footmen talking -in the servants' hall. He stole back again to his room, and sat before -the fire. - -In half an hour he rose again, and put his portmanteau and carpet-bag -outside his room door. Then he took his hat, and rose to go. - -One more look round the old room! The last for ever! The present -overmastered the past, and he looked round almost without recognition. I -doubt whether at great crises men have much time for recollecting old -associations. I looked once into a room, which had been my home, ever -since I was six years old, for five-and-twenty years, knowing I should -never see it again. But it was to see that I had left nothing behind me. -The coach was at the door, and they were calling for me. Now I could -draw you a correct map of all the blotches and cracks in the ceiling, as -I used to see them when I lay in bed of a morning. But then, I only shut -the door and ran down the passage, without even saying "good-bye, old -bedroom." Charles Ravenshoe looked round the room thoughtlessly, and -then blew out the candle, went out, and shut the door. - -The dog whined and scratched to come after him; so he went back again. -The old room bathed in a flood of moonlight, and, seen through the open -window, the busy chafing sea, calling to him to hasten. - -He took a glove from the table, and, laying it on the hearthrug, told -the dog to mind it. The dog looked wistfully at him, and lay down. The -next moment he was outside the door again. - -Through long moonlit corridors, down the moonlit hall, through dark -passages, which led among the sleeping household, to the door in the -priest's tower. The household slept, old men and young men, maids and -matrons, quietly, and dreamt of this and of that. And he, who was -yesterday nigh master of all, passed out from among them, and stood -alone in the world, outside the dark old house, which he had called his -home. - -Then he felt the deed was done. Was it only the night-wind from the -north that laid such a chill hand on his heart? Busy waves upon the -shore talking eternally--"We have come in from the Atlantic, bearing -messages; we have come over foundered ships and the bones of drowned -sailors, and we tell our messages and die upon the shore." - -Shadows that came sweeping from the sea, over lawn and flower-bed, and -wrapped the old mansion like a pall for one moment, and then left it -shining again in the moonlight, clear, pitiless. Within, warm rooms, -warm beds, and the bated breath of sleepers, lying secure in the lap of -wealth and order. Without, hard, cold stone. The great world around -awaiting to devour one more atom. The bright unsympathising stars, and -the sea, babbling of the men it had rolled over, whose names should -never be known. - -Now the park, with herds of ghostly startled deer, and the sweet scent -of growing fern; then the rush of the brook, the bridge, and the vista -of woodland above; and then the sleeping village. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIX. - -CHARLES'S RETREAT UPON LONDON. - - -Passing out of the park, Charles set down his burden at the door of a -small farm-house at the further end of the village, and knocked. For -some time he stood waiting for an answer, and heard no sound save the -cows and horses moving about in the warm straw-yard. The beasts were in -their home. No terrible new morrow for them. He was without in the -street; his home irrevocable miles behind him; still not a thought of -flinching or turning back. He knocked again. - -The door was unbarred. An old man looked out, and recognised him with -wild astonishment. - -"Mr. Charles! Good lord-a-mercy! My dear tender heart, what be doing out -at this time a-night? With his portmantle, too, and his carpet-bag! Come -in, my dear soul, come in. An' so pale and wild! Why, you'm overlooked, -Master Charles." - -"No, Master Lee, I ain't overlooked. At least not that I know of----" - -The old man shook his head, and reserved his opinion. - -"----But I want your gig to go to Stonnington." - -"To-night?" - -"Ay, to-night. The coach goes at eight in the morning; I want to be -there before that." - -"Why do'ee start so soon? They'll be all abed in the Chichester Arms." - -"I know. I shall get into the stable. I don't know where I shall get. I -must go. There is trouble at the Hall." - -"Ay! ay! I thought as much, and you'm going away into the world?" - -"Yes." - -The old man said, "Ay! ay!" again, and turned to go upstairs. Then he -held his candle over his head, and looked at Charles; and then went -upstairs muttering to himself. - -Presently was aroused from sleep a young Devonshire giant, half -Hercules, half Antinous, who lumbered down the stairs, and into the -room, and made his obeisance to Charles with an air of wonder in his -great sleepy black eyes, and departed to get the gig. - -Of course his first point was Ranford. He got there in the afternoon. He -had in his mind at this time, he thinks (for he does not remember it all -very distinctly), the idea of going to Australia. He had an idea, too, -of being eminently practical and business-like; and so he did a thing -which may appear to be trifling, but which was important--one cannot say -how much so. He asked for Lord Ascot instead of Lady Ascot. - -Lord Ascot was in the library. Charles was shown in to him. He was -sitting before the fire, reading a novel. He looked very worn and -anxious, and jumped up nervously when Charles was announced. He dropped -his book on the floor, and came forward to him, holding out his right -hand. - -"Charles," he said, "you will forgive me any participation in this. I -swear to you----" - -Charles thought that by some means the news of what had happened at -Ravenshoe had come before him, and that Lord Ascot knew all about Father -Mackworth's discovery. Lord Ascot was thinking about Adelaide's flight; -so they were at cross purposes. - -"Dear Lord Ascot," said Charles, "how could I think of blaming you, my -kind old friend?" - -"It is devilish gentlemanly of you to speak so, Charles," said Lord -Ascot. "I am worn to death about that horse, Haphazard, and other -things; and this has finished me. I have been reading a novel to -distract my mind. I must win the Derby, you know; by Gad, I must." - -"Whom have you got, Lord Ascot?" - -"Wells." - -"You couldn't do better, I suppose?" - -"I suppose not. You don't know--I'd rather not talk any more about it, -Charles." - -"Lord Ascot, this is, as you may well guess, the last time I shall ever -see you. I want you to do me a favour." - -"I will do it, my dear Charles, with the greatest pleasure. Any -reparation----" - -"Hush, my lord! I only want a certificate. Will you read this which I -have written in pencil, and, if you conscientiously can, copy in your -own hand, and sign it. Also, if I send to you a reference, will you -confirm it?" - -Lord Ascot read what Charles had written, and said-- - -"Yes, certainly. You are going to change your name then?" - -"I must bear that name, now; I am going abroad." - -Lord Ascot wrote-- - - "The undermentioned Charles Horton I have known ever since - he was a boy. His character is beyond praise in every way. - He is a singularly bold and dexterous rider, and is - thoroughly up to the management of horses. - -"ASCOT." - -"You have improved upon my text, Lord Ascot," said Charles. "It is like -your kindheartedness. The mouse may offer to help the lion, my lord; -and, although the lion may know how little likely it is that he should -require help, yet he may take it as a sign of goodwill on the part of -the poor mouse. Now good-bye, my lord; I must see Lady Ascot, and then -be off." - -Lord Ascot wished him kindly good-bye, and took up his novel again. -Charles went alone up to Lady Ascot's room. - -He knocked at the door, and received no answer; so he went in. Lady -Ascot was there, although she had not answered him. She was sitting -upright by the fire, staring at the door, with her hands folded on her -lap. A fine brave-looking old lady at all times, but just now, Charles -thought, with that sweet look of pity showing itself principally about -the corners of the gentle old mouth, more noble-looking than ever! - -"May I come in, Lady Ascot?" said Charles. - -"My dearest own boy! You must come in and sit down. You must be very -quiet over it. Try not to make a scene, my dear. I am not strong enough. -It has shaken me so terribly. I heard you had come, and were with Ascot. -And I have been trembling in every limb. Not from terror so much of you -in your anger, as because my conscience is not clear. I may have hidden -things from you, Charles, which you ought to have known." And Lady Ascot -began crying silently. - -Charles felt the blood going from his cheeks to his heart. His interview -with Lord Ascot had made him suspect something further was wrong than -what he knew of, and his suspicions were getting stronger every moment. -He sat down quite quietly, looking at Lady Ascot, and spoke not one -word. Lady Ascot, wiping her eyes, went on; and Charles's heart began to -beat with a dull heavy pulsation, like the feet of those who carry a -coffin. - -"I ought to have told you what was going on between them before she went -to old Lady Hainault. I ought to have told you of what went on before -Lord Hainault was married. I can never forgive myself, Charles. You may -upbraid me, and I will sit here and make not one excuse. But I must say -that I never for one moment thought that she was anything more than -light-headed. I,--oh Lord! I never dreamt it would have come to this." - -"Are you speaking of Adelaide, Lady Ascot?" said Charles. - -"Of course I am," she said, almost peevishly. "If I had ever----" - -"Lady Ascot," said Charles, quietly, "you are evidently speaking of -something of which I have not heard. What has Adelaide done?" - -The old lady clasped her hands above her head. "Oh, weary, weary day! -And I thought that he had heard it all, and that the blow was broken. -The cowards! they have left it to a poor old woman to tell him at last." - -"Dear Lady Ascot, you evidently have not heard of what a terrible fate -has befallen me. I am a ruined man, and I am very patient. I had one -hope left in the world, and I fear that you are going to cut it away -from me. I am very quiet, and will make no scene; only tell me what has -happened." - -"Adelaide!--be proud, Charles, be angry, furious--you Ravenshoes -can!--be a man, but don't look like that. Adelaide, dead to honour and -good fame, has gone off with Welter!" - -Charles walked towards the door. - -"That is enough. Please let me go. I can't stand any more at present. -You have been very kind to me and to her, and I thank you and bless you -for it. The son of a bastard blesses you for it. Let me go--let me go!" - -Lady Ascot had stepped actively to the door, and had laid one hand on -the door, and one on his breast. "You shall not go," she said, "till you -have told me what you mean!" - -"How? I cannot stand any more at present." - -"What do you mean by being the son of a bastard?" - -"I am the son of James, Mr. Ravenshoe's keeper. He was the illegitimate -son of Mr. Petre Ravenshoe." - -"Who told you this?" said Lady Ascot. - -"Cuthbert." - -"How did he know it!" - -Charles told her all. - -"So the priest has found that out, eh?" said Lady Ascot. "It seems -true;" and, as she said so, she moved back from the door. "Go to your -old bedroom, Charles. It will always be ready for you while this house -is a house. And come down to me presently. Where is Lord Saltire?" - -"At Lord Segur's." - -Charles went out of the room, and out of the house, and was seen no -more. Lady Ascot sat down by the fire again. - -"The one blow has softened the other," she said. "I will never keep -another secret after this. It was for Alicia's sake and for Petre's that -I did it, and now see what has become of it. I shall send for Lord -Saltire. The boy must have his rights, and shall, too." - -So the brave old woman sat down and wrote to Lord Saltire. We shall see -what she wrote to him in the proper place--not now. She sat calmly and -methodically writing, with her kind old face wreathing into a smile as -she went on. And Charles, the madman, left the house, and posted off to -London, only intent on seeking to lose himself among the sordid crowd, -so that no man he had ever called a friend should set eyes on him -again. - - - - -CHAPTER XXX. - -MR. SLOANE. - - -Charles Ravenshoe had committed suicide--committed suicide as -deliberately as any maddened wretch had done that day in all the wide -miserable world. He knew it very well, and was determined to go on with -it. He had not hung himself, or drowned himself, but he had committed -deliberate suicide, and he knew--knew well--that his obstinacy would -carry him through to the end. - -What is suicide, nine cases out of ten? Any one can tell you. It is the -act of a mad, proud coward, who flies, by his own deed, not from -humiliation or disgrace, but, as he fancies, from feeling the -consequences of them--who flies to unknown, doubtful evils, sooner than -bear positive, present, undoubted ones. All this had Charles done, -buoying him up with this excuse and that excuse, and fancying that he -was behaving, the cur, like Bayard, or Lieutenant Willoughby--a greater -than Bayard--all the time. - -The above is Charles's idea of the matter himself, put in the third -person for form's sake. I don't agree with all he says about himself. I -don't deny that he did a very foolish thing, but I incline to believe -that there was something noble and self-reliant in his doing it. Think a -moment. He had only two courses open to him--the one (I put it coarsely) -to eat humble-pie, to go back to Cuthbert and Mackworth, and accept -their offers; the other to do as he had done--to go alone into the -world, and stand by himself. He did the latter, as we shall see. He -could not face Ravenshoe, or any connected with it, again. It had been -proved that he was an unwilling impostor, of base, low blood; and his -sister--ah! one more pang, poor heart!--his sister Ellen, what was she? - -Little doubt--little doubt! Better for both of them if they had never -been born! He was going to London, and, perhaps, might meet her there! -All the vice and misery of the country got thrown into that cesspool. -When anything had got too foul for the pure country air, men said, Away -with it; throw it into the great dunghill, and let it rot there. Was he -not going there himself? It was fit she should be there before him! They -would meet for certain! - -How would they meet? Would she be in silks and satins, or in rags? -flaunting in her carriage, or shivering in an archway? What matter? was -not shame the heritage of the "lower orders"? The pleasures of the rich -must be ministered to by the "lower orders," or what was the use of -money or rank? He was one of the lower orders now. He must learn his -lesson; learn to cringe and whine like the rest of them. It would be -hard, but it must be learnt. The dogs rose against it sometimes, but it -never paid. - -The devil was pretty busy with poor Charles in his despair, you see. -This was all he had left after three and twenty years of careless -idleness and luxury. His creed had been, "I am a Ravenshoe," and lo! one -morning, he was a Ravenshoe no longer. A poor crow, that had been -fancying himself an eagle. A crow! "by heavens," he thought, "he was not -even that." A nonentity, turned into the world to find his own value! -What were honour, honesty, virtue to him? Why, nothing--words! He must -truckle and pander for his living. Why not go back and truckle to Father -Mackworth? There was time yet. - -No! - -Why not? Was it pride only? We have no right to say what it was. If it -was only pride, it was better than nothing. Better to have that straw -only to cling to, than to be all alone in the great sea with nothing. We -have seen that he has done nothing good, with circumstances all in his -favour; let us see if he can in any way hold his own, with circumstances -all against him. - -"America?" he thought once. "They are all gentlemen there. If I could -only find her, and tear her jewels off, we would go there together. But -she must be found--she must be found. I will never leave England till -she goes with me. We shall be brought together. We shall see one -another. I love her as I never loved her before. What a sweet, gentle -little love she was! My darling! And, when I have kissed her, I never -dreamed she was my sister. My pretty love! Ellen, Ellen, I am coming to -you. Where are you, my love?" - -He was alone, in a railway carriage, leaning out to catch the fresh -wind, as he said this. He said it once again, this time aloud. "Where -are you, my sister?" - -Where was she? Could he have only seen! We may be allowed to see, though -_he_ could not. Come forward into the great Babylon with me, while he is -speeding on towards it; we will rejoin him in an instant. - -In a small luxuriously furnished hall, there stands a beautiful woman, -dressed modestly in the garb of a servant. She is standing with her arms -folded, and a cold, stern, curious look on her face. She is looking -towards the hall-door, which is held open by a footman. She is waiting -for some one who is coming in; and two travellers enter, a man and a -woman. She goes up to the woman, and says, quietly, "I bid you welcome, -madam." Who are these people? Is that waiting-woman Ellen? and these -travellers, are they Lord Welter and Adelaide? Let us get back to poor -Charles; better be with him than here! - -We must follow him closely. We must see why, in his despair, he took the -extraordinary resolution that he did. Not that I shall take any -particular pains to follow the exact process of his mind in arriving at -his determination. If the story has hitherto been told well it will -appear nothing extraordinary, and, if otherwise, an intelligent reader -would very soon detect any attempt at bolstering up ill-told facts by -elaborate, soul-analysing theories. - -He could have wished the train would have run on for ever; but he was -aroused by the lights growing thicker and more brilliant, and he felt -that they were nearing London, and that the time for action was come. - -The great plunge was taken, and he was alone in the cold street--alone, -save for the man who carried his baggage. He stood for a moment or so, -confused with the rush of carriages of all sorts which were taking the -people from the train, till he was aroused by the man asking him where -he was to go to. - -Charles said, without thinking, "The Warwick Hotel," and thither they -went. For a moment he regretted that he had said so, but the next moment -he said aloud, "Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die!" - -The man turned round and begged his pardon. Charles did not answer him; -and the man went on, wondering what sort of a young gentleman he had got -hold of. - -The good landlord was glad to see him. Would he have dinner?--a bit of -fish and a lamb chop, for instance? Then it suddenly struck Charles that -he was hungry--ravenous. He laughed aloud at the idea; and the landlord -laughed too, and rubbed his hands. Should it be whiting or smelts now? -he asked. - -"Anything," said Charles, "so long as you feed me quick. And give me -wine, will you, of some sort; I want to drink. Give me sherry, will you? -And I say, let me taste some now, and then I can see if I like it. I am -very particular about my wine, you must know." - -In a few minutes a waiter brought in a glass of wine, and waited to know -how Charles liked it. He told the man he could go, and he would tell -him at dinner-time. When the man was gone, he looked at the wine with a -smile. Then he took it up, and poured it into the coal-scuttle. - -"Not yet," he said, "not yet! I'll try something else before I try to -drink my troubles away." And then he plunged into the _Times_. - -He had no sooner convinced himself that Lord Aberdeen was tampering with -the honour of the country by not declaring war, than he found himself -profoundly considering what had caused that great statesman to elope -with Adelaide, and whether, in case of a Russian war, Lady Ascot would -possibly convict Father Mackworth of having caused it. Then Lady Ascot -came into the room with a large bottle of medicine and a testament, -announcing that she was going to attend a sick gun-boat. And then, just -as he began to see that he was getting sleepy, to sleep he went, fast as -a top. - -Half an hour's sleep restored him, and dinner made things look -different. "After all," he said, as he sipped his wine, "here is only -the world on the one side and I on the other. I am utterly reckless, and -can sink no further. I will get all the pleasure out of life that I can, -honestly; for I am an honest man still, and mean to be. I love you -Madame Adelaide, and you have used me worse than a hound, and made me -desperate. If he marries you, I will come forward some day, and disgrace -you. If you had only waited till you knew everything, I could have -forgiven you. I'll get a place as a footman, and talk about you in the -servant's hall. All London shall know you were engaged to me." - -"Poor dear, pretty Adelaide: as if I would ever hurt a hair of your -head, my sweet love! Silly----" - -The landlord came in. There was most excellent company in the -smoking-room. Would he condescend to join them? - -Company and tobacco! Charles would certainly join them; so he had his -wine carried in. - -There was a fat gentleman, with a snub nose, who was a Conservative. -There was a tall gentleman, with a long nose, who was Liberal. There was -a short gentleman, with no particular kind of nose, who was Radical. -There was a handsome gentleman, with big whiskers, who was commercial; -and there was a gentleman with bandy legs, who was horsy. - -I strongly object to using a slang adjective, if any other can be got to -supply its place; but by doing so sometimes one avoids a periphrasis, -and does not spoil one's period. Thus, I know of no predicate for a -gentleman with a particular sort of hair, complexion, dress, whiskers, -and legs, except the one I have used above, and so it must stand. - -As Providence would have it, Charles sat down between the landlord and -the horsy man, away from the others. He smoked his cigar, and listened -to the conversation. - -The Conservative gentleman coalesced with the Liberal gentleman on the -subject of Lord Aberdeen's having sold the country to the Russians; the -Radical gentleman also come over to them on that subject; and for a time -the Opposition seemed to hold an overwhelming majority, and to be merely -allowing Aberdeen's Government to hold place longer, that they might -commit themselves deeper. In fact, things seemed to be going all one -way, as is often the case in coalition ministries just before a grand -crash, when the Radical gentleman caused a violent split in the cabinet, -by saying that the whole complication had been brought about by the -machinations of the aristocracy--which assertion caused the Conservative -gentleman to retort in unmeasured language; and then the Liberal -gentleman, trying to trim, found himself distrusted and despised by both -parties. Charles listened to them, amused for the time to hear them -quoting, quite unconsciously, whole sentences out of their respective -leading papers, and then was distracted by the horsy man saying to him-- - -"Darn politics. What horse will win the Derby, sir?" - -"Haphazard," said Charles, promptly. This, please to remember, was Lord -Ascot's horse, which we have seen before. - -The landlord immediately drew closer up. - -The horsy man looked at Charles, and said, "H'm; and what has made my -lord scratch him for the Two Thousand, sir?" - -And so on. We have something to do with Haphazard's winning the Derby, -as we shall see; and we have still more to do with the result of -Charles's conversation with the "horsy man." But we have certainly -nothing to do with a wordy discussion about the various horses which -stood well for the great race (wicked, lovely darlings, how many souls -of heroes have they sent to Hades!), and so we will spare the reader. -The conclusion of their conversation was the only important part of it. - -Charles said to the horsy man on the stairs, "Now you know everything. I -am penniless, friendless, and nameless. Can you put me in the way of -earning my living honestly?" - -And he said, "I can, and I will. This gentleman is a fast man, but he is -rich. You'll have your own way. Maybe, you'll see some queer things, but -what odds?" - -"None to me," said Charles; "I can always leave him." - -"And go back to your friends, like a wise young gentleman, eh?" said the -other, kindly. - -"I am not a gentleman," said Charles. "I told you so before. I am a -gamekeeper's son; I swear to you I am. I have been petted and pampered -till I look like one, but I am not." - -"You are a deuced good imitation," said the other. "Good night; come to -me at nine, mind." - - * * * * * - -At this time, Lady Ascot had despatched her letter to Lord Saltire, and -had asked for Charles. The groom of the chambers said that Mr. Ravenshoe -had left the house immediately after his interview with her ladyship, -three hours before. - -She started up--"Gone!--Whither?" - -"To Twyford, my lady." - -"Send after him, you idiot! Send the grooms after him on all my lord's -horses. Send a lad on Haphazard, and let him race the train to London. -Send the police! He has stolen my purse, with ten thousand gold guineas -in it!--I swear he has. Have him bound hand and foot, and bring him -back, on your life. If you stay there I will kill you!" - -The violent old animal nature, dammed up so long by creeds and formulas, -had broken out at last. The decorous Lady Ascot was transformed in one -instant into a terrible, grey-headed, magnificent old Alecto, hurling -her awful words abroad in a sharp, snarling voice, that made the hair of -him that heard it to creep upon his head. The man fled, and shut Lady -Ascot in alone. - -She walked across the room, and beat her withered old hands against the -wall. "Oh, miserable, wicked old woman!" she cried aloud. "How surely -have your sins found you out! After concealing a crime for so many -years, to find the judgment fall on such an innocent and beloved head! -Alicia, Alicia, I did this for your sake. Charles, Charles, come back to -the old woman before she dies, and tell her you forgive her." - - - - -CHAPTER XXXI. - -LIEUTENANT HORNBY. - - -Charles had always been passionately fond of horses and of riding. He -was a consummate horseman, and was so perfectly accomplished in -everything relating to horses, that I really believe that in time he -might actually have risen to the dizzy height of being stud-groom to a -great gentleman or nobleman. He had been brought up in a great -horse-riding house, and had actually gained so much experience, and had -so much to say on matters of this kind, that once, at Oxford, a -promising young nobleman cast, so to speak, an adverse opinion of -Charles's into George Simmond's own face. Mr. Simmonds looked round on -the offender mildly and compassionately, and said, "If any undergraduate -_could_ know, my lord, that undergraduate's name would be Ravenshoe of -Paul's. But he is young, my lord; and, in consequence, ignorant." His -lordship didn't say anything after that. - -I have kept this fact in the background rather, hitherto, because it has -not been of any very great consequence. It becomes of some consequence -now, for the first time. I enlarged a little on Charles being a rowing -man, because rowing and training had, for good or for evil, a certain -effect on his character. (Whether for good or for evil, you must -determine for yourselves.) And I now mention the fact of his being a -consummate horseman, because a considerable part of the incidents which -follow arise from the fact. - -Don't think for one moment that you are going to be bored by -stable-talk. You will have simply none of it. It only amounts to -this--that Charles, being fond of horses, took up with a certain line of -life, and in that line of life met with certain adventures which have -made his history worth relating. - -When he met the "horsy" man next morning, he was not dressed like a -gentleman. In his store he had some old clothes, which he used to wear -at Ravenshoe, in the merry old days when he would be up with daylight to -exercise the horses on the moor--cord trousers, and so on--which, being -now old and worn, made him look uncommonly like a groom out of place. -And what contributed to the delusion was, that for the first time in his -life he wore no shirt collar, but allowed his blue-spotted neckcloth to -border on his honest red face, without one single quarter of an inch of -linen. And, if it ever pleases your lordship's noble excellence to look -like a blackguard for any reason, allow me to recommend you to wear a -dark necktie and no collar. Your success will be beyond your utmost -hopes. - -Charles met his new friend in the bar, and touched his hat to him. His -friend laughed, and said, that would do, but asked how long he thought -he could keep that sort of thing going. Charles said, as long as was -necessary; and they went out together. - -They walked as far as a street leading out of one of the largest and -best squares (I mean B--lg--e Sq--e, but I don't like to write it at -full length), and stopped at the door of a handsome shop. Charles knew -enough of London to surmise that the first floor was let to a man of -some wealth; and he was right. - -The door was opened, and his friend was shown up stairs, while he was -told to wait in the hall. Now Charles began to perceive, with -considerable amusement, that he was acting a part--that he was playing, -so to speak, at being something other than what he really was, and that -he was, perhaps, overdoing it. In this house, which yesterday he would -have entered as an equal, he was now playing at being a servant. It was -immensely amusing. He wiped his shoes very clean, and sat down on a -bench in the hall, with his hat between his knees, as he had seen grooms -do. It is no use wondering; one never finds out anything by that. But I -do wonder, nevertheless, whether Charles, had he only known in what -relation the master of that house stood to himself, would or would not -have set the house on fire, or cut its owner's throat. When he did find -out, he did neither the one thing nor the other; but he had been a good -deal tamed by that time. - -Presently a servant came down, and, eyeing Charles curiously as a -prospective fellow-servant, told him civilly to walk up stairs. He went -up. The room was one of a handsome suite, and overlooked the street. -Charles saw at a glance that it was the room of a great dandy. A dandy, -if not of the first water, most assuredly high up in the second. Two -things only jurred on his eye in his hurried glance round the room. -There was too much bric-a-brac, and too many flowers. "I wonder if he is -a gentleman," thought Charles. His friend of the night before was -standing in a respectful attitude, leaning on the back of a chair, and -Charles looked round for the master of the house, eagerly. He had to -cast his eyes downward to see him, for he was lying back on an easy -chair, half hidden by the breakfast table. - -There he was--Charles's master: the man who was going to buy him. -Charles cast one intensely eager glance at him, and was satisfied. "He -will do at a pinch," said he to himself. - -There were a great many handsome and splendid things in that room, but -the owner of them was by far the handsomest and most splendid thing -there. - -He was a young man, with very pale and delicate features, and a -singularly amiable cast of face, who wore a moustache, with the long -whiskers which were just then coming into fashion; and he was dressed -in a splendid uniform of blue, gold, and scarlet, for he had been on -duty that morning, and had just come in. His sabre was cast upon the -floor before him, and his shako was on the table. As Charles looked at -him, he passed his hand over his hair. There was one ring on it, but -_such_ a ring! "That's a high-bred hand enough," said Charles to -himself. "And he hasn't got too much jewellery on him. I wonder who the -deuce he is?" - -"This is the young man, sir," said Charles's new friend. - -Lieutenant Hornby was looking at Charles, and after a pause, said-- - -"I take him on your recommendation, Sloane. I have no doubt he will do. -He seems a good fellow. You are a good fellow, ain't you?" he continued, -addressing Charles personally, with that happy graceful insolence which -is the peculiar property of prosperous and entirely amiable young men, -and which charms one in spite of oneself. - -Charles replied, "I am quarrelsome sometimes among my equals, but I am -always good-tempered among horses." - -"That will do very well. You may punch the other two lads' heads as much -as you like. They don't mind me; perhaps they may you. You will be over -them. You will have the management of everything. You will have -unlimited opportunities of robbing and plundering me, with an entire -absence of all chance of detection. But you won't do it. It isn't your -line, I saw at once. Let me look at your hand." - -Charles gave him the great ribbed paw which served him in that capacity. -And Hornby said-- - -"Ha! Gentleman's hand. No business of mine. Don't wear that ring, will -you? A groom mustn't wear such rings as that. Any character?" - -Charles showed him the letter Lord Ascot had written. - -"Lord Ascot, eh? I know Lord Welter, slightly." - -"The deuce you do," thought Charles. - -"Were you in Lord Ascot's stables?" - -"No, sir. I am the son of Squire Ravenshoe's gamekeeper. The Ravenshoes -and my Lord Ascot's family are connected by marriage. Ravenshoe is in -the west country, sir. Lord Ascot knows me by repute, sir, and has a -good opinion of me." - -"It is perfectly satisfactory. Sloane, will you put him in the way of -his duties? Make the other lads understand that he is master, will you? -You may go." - - - - -CHAPTER XXXII. - -SOME OF THE HUMOURS OF A LONDON MEWS. - - -So pursuing the course of our story, we have brought ourselves to the -present extraordinary position. That Charles Ravenshoe, of Ravenshoe, in -the county Devonshire, Esquire, and some time of St. Paul's College, -Oxford, has hired himself out as groom to Lieutenant Hornby, of the -140th Hussars, and that also the above-named Charles Ravenshoe was not, -and never had been Charles Ravenshoe at all, but somebody else all the -time, to wit, Charles Horton, a gamekeeper's son, if indeed he was even -this, having been christened under a false name. - -The situation is so extraordinary and so sad, that having taken the -tragical view of it in the previous chapter, we must of necessity begin -to look on the brighter side of it now. And this is the better art, -because it is exactly what Charles began to do himself. One blow -succeeded the other so rapidly, the utter bouleversement of all that he -cared about in the world. Father, friends, position, mistress, all lost -in one day, had brought on a kind of light-hearted desperation, which -had the effect of making him seek company, and talk boisterously and -loud all day. It was not unnatural in so young and vigorous a man. But -if he woke in the night, there was the cold claw grasping his heart. -Well, I said we would have none of this at present, and we won't. - -Patient old earth, intent only on doing her duty in her set courses, and -unmindful of the mites which had been set to make love or war on her -bosom, and the least of whom was worth her whole well-organised mass, -had rolled on, and on, until by bringing that portion of her which -contains the island of Britain, gradually in greater proximity to the -sun, she had produced that state of things on that particular part of -her which is known among mortals as spring. Now, I am very anxious to -please all parties. Some people like a little circumlocution, and for -them the above paragraph was written; others do not, and for them, I -state that it was the latter end of May, and beg them not to read the -above flight of fancy, but to consider it as never having been written. - -It was spring. On the sea-coast, the watchers at the lighthouses and the -preventive stations began to walk about in their shirt-sleeves, and trim -up their patches of spray-beaten garden, hedged with tree-mallow and -tamarisk, and to thank God that the long howling winter nights were -past for a time. The fishermen shouted merrily one to another as they -put off from the shore, no longer dreading a twelve hours' purgatory of -sleet and freezing mist and snow; saying to one another how green the -land looked, and how pleasant mackerel time was after all. Their wives, -light-hearted at the thought that the wild winter was past, and that -they were not widows, brought their work out to the doors, and gossiped -pleasantly in the sun, while some of the bolder boys began to paddle -about in the surf, and try to believe that the Gulf Stream had come in, -and that it was summer again, and not only spring. - -In inland country places the barley was all in and springing, the -meadows were all bush-harrowed, rolled, and laid up for hay; nay, in -early places, brimful of grass, spangled with purple orchises, and in -moist rich places golden with marsh marigold, over which the south-west -wind passed pleasantly, bringing a sweet perfume of growing vegetation, -which gave those who smelt it a tendency to lean against gates, and -stiles, and such places, and think what a delicious season it was, and -wish it were to last for ever. The young men began to slip away from -work somewhat early of an evening, not (as now) to the parade ground, or -the butts, but to take their turn at the wicket on the green, where Sir -John (our young landlord) was to be found in a scarlet flannel shirt, -bowling away like a catapult, at all comers, till the second bell began -to ring, and he had to dash off and dress. Now lovers walking by -moonlight in deep banked lanes began to notice how dark and broad the -shadows grew, and to wait at the lane's end by the river, to listen to -the nightingale, with his breast against the thorn, ranging on from -height to height of melodious passion, petulant at his want of art, till -he broke into one wild jubilant burst, and ceased, leaving night silent, -save for the whispering of new-born insects, and the creeping sound of -reviving vegetation. - -Spring. The great renewal of the lease. The time when nature-worshippers -made good resolutions, to be very often broken before the leaves fall. -The time the country becomes once more habitable and agreeable. Does it -make any difference in the hundred miles of brick and mortar called -London, save, in so far as it makes every reasonable Christian pack up -his portmanteau and fly to the green fields, and lover's lanes -before-mentioned (though it takes two people for the latter sort of -business)? Why, yes; it makes a difference to London certainly, by -bringing somewhere about 10,000 people, who have got sick of shooting -and hunting through the winter months, swarming into the west end of -it, and making it what is called full. - -I don't know that they are wrong after all, for London is a mighty -pleasant place in the season (we don't call it spring on the -paving-stones). At this time the windows of the great houses in the -squares begin to be brilliant with flowers; and, under the awnings of -the balconies, one sees women moving about in the shadow. Now, all -through the short night, one hears the ceaseless low rolling thunder of -beautiful carriages, and in the daytime also the noise ceases not. All -through the west end of the town there is a smell of flowers, of -fresh-watered roads, and Macassar oil; while at Covent Garden, the scent -of the peaches and pine-apples begins to prevail over that of rotten -cabbage-stalks. The fiddlers are all fiddling away at concert pitch for -their lives, the actors are all acting their very hardest, and the men -who look after the horses have never a minute to call their own, day or -night. - -It is neither to dukes nor duchesses, to actors nor fiddlers, that we -must turn our attention just now, but to a man who was sitting in a -wheelbarrow, watching a tame jackdaw. - -The place was a London mews, behind one of the great squares--the time -was afternoon. The weather was warm and sunny. All the proprietors of -the horses were out riding or driving, and so the stables were empty, -and the mews were quiet. - -This was about a week after Charles's degradation, almost the first hour -he had to himself in the daytime, and so he sat pondering on his unhappy -lot. - -Lord Ballyroundtower's coachman's wife was hanging out the clothes. She -was an Irishwoman off the estate (his lordship's Irish residences, I -see, on referring to the peerage, are, "The Grove," Blarney, and -"Swatewathers," near Avoca). When I say that she was hanging out the -clothes, I am hardly correct, for she was only fixing the lines up to do -so, and being of short stature, and having to reach was naturally -showing her heels, and the jackdaw, perceiving this, began to hop -stealthily across the yard. Charles saw what was coming, and became -deeply interested. He would not have spoken for his life. The jackdaw -sidled up to her, and began digging into her tendon Achilles with his -hard bill with a force and rapidity which showed that he was fully aware -of the fact, that the amusement, like most pleasant things, could not -last long, and must therefore be made the most of. Some women would have -screamed and faced round at the first assault. Not so our Irish friend. -She endured the anguish until she had succeeded in fastening the -clothes-line round the post, and then she turned round on the jackdaw, -who had fluttered away to a safe distance, and denounced him. - -"Bad cess to ye, ye impident divvle, sure it's Sathan's own sister's -son, ye are, ye dirty prothestant, pecking at the hales of an honest -woman, daughter of my lord's own man, Corny O'Brine, as was a dale -bether nor them as sits on whalebarrows, and sets ye on too't--" (this -was levelled at Charles, so he politely took off his cap, and bowed). - -"Though, God forgive me, there's some sitting on whalebarrows as should -be sitting in drawing-rooms, may be (here the jackdaw raised one foot, -and said 'Jark'). Get out, ye baste; don't ye hear me blessed lady's own -bird swearing at ye, like a gentleman's bird as he is. A pretty dear." - -This was strictly true. Lord Ballyroundtower's brother, the Honourable -Frederick Mulligan, was a lieutenant in the navy. A short time before -this, being on the Australian station, and wishing to make his -sister-in-law a handsome present, he had commissioned a Sydney Jew -bird-dealer to get him a sulphur-crested cockatoo, price no object, but -the best talker in the colony. The Jew faithfully performed his behest; -he got him the best talking cockatoo in the colony, and the Hon. Fred -brought it home in triumph to his sister-in-law's drawing-room in -Belgrave Square. - -The bird was a beautiful talker. There was no doubt about that. It had -such an amazingly distinct enunciation. But then the bird was not always -discreet. Nay, to go further, the bird never _was_ discreet. He had been -educated by a convict bullock-driver, and finished off by the sailors on -board H.M.S. _Actaeon_; and really, you know, sometimes he did say things -he ought not to have said. It was all very well pretending that you -couldn't hear him, but it rendered conversation impossible. You were -always in agony at what was to come next. One afternoon, a great many -people were there, calling. Old Lady Hainault was there. The bird was -worse than ever. Everybody tried to avoid a silence, but it came -inexorably. That awful old woman, Lady Hainault, broke it by saying that -she thought Fred Mulligan must have been giving the bird private lessons -himself. After that, you know, it wouldn't do. Fred might be angry, but -the bird must go to the mews. - -So there the bird was, swearing dreadfully at the jackdaw. At last, her -ladyship's pug-dog, who was staying with the coachman for medical -treatment, got excited, bundled out of the house, and attacked the -jackdaw. The jackdaw formed square to resist cavalry, and sent the dog -howling into the house again quicker than he came out. After which the -bird barked, and came and sat on the dunghill by Charles. - -The mews itself, as I said, was very quiet, with a smell of stable, -subdued by a fresh scent of sprinkled water; but at the upper end it -joined a street leading from Belgrave Square towards the Park, which was -by no means quiet, and which smelt of geraniums and heliotropes. -Carriage after carriage went blazing past the end of the mews, along -this street, like figures across the disk of a magic lanthorn. Some had -scarlet breeches, and some blue; and there were pink bonnets, and yellow -bonnets, and Magenta bonnets; and Charles sat on the wheelbarrow by the -dunghill, and looked at it all, perfectly contented. - -A stray dog lounged in out of the street. It was a cur dog--that any one -might see. It was a dog which had bit its rope and run away, for the -rope was round its neck now; and it was a thirsty dog, for it went up to -the pump and licked the stones. Charles went and pumped for it, and it -drank. Then, evidently considering that Charles, by his act of good -nature, had acquired authority over its person, and having tried to do -without a master already, and having found it wouldn't do, it sat down -beside Charles, and declined to proceed any further. - -There was a public-house at the corner of the mews, where it joined the -street; and on the other side of the street you could see one house, No. -16. The footman of No. 16 was in the area, looking through the railings. -A thirsty man came to the public-house on horseback, and drank a pot of -beer at a draught, turning the pot upside down. It was too much for the -footman, who disappeared. - -Next came a butcher with a tray of meat, who turned into the area of No. -16, and left the gate open. After him came a blind man, led by a dog. -The dog, instead of going straight on, turned down the area steps after -the butcher. The blind man thought he was going round the corner. -Charles saw what would happen; but, before he had time to cry out, the -blind man had plunged headlong down the area steps and disappeared, -while from the bottom, as from the pit, arose the curses of the butcher. - -Charles and others assisted the blind man up, gave him some beer, and -sent him on his way. Charles watched him. After he had gone a little -way, he began striking spitefully at where he thought his dog was, with -his stick. The dog was evidently used to this amusement, and dexterously -avoided the blows. Finding vertical blows of no avail, the blind man -tried horizontal ones, and caught an old gentleman across the shins, -making him drop his umbrella and catch up his leg. The blind man -promptly asked an alms from him, and, not getting one, turned the -corner; and Charles saw him no more. - -The hot street and, beyond, the square, the dusty lilacs and laburnums, -and the crimson hawthorns. What a day for a bathe! outside the gentle -surf, with the sunny headlands right and left, and the moor sleeping -quietly in the afternoon sunlight, and Lundy, like a faint blue cloud on -the Atlantic horizon, and the old house----He was away at Ravenshoe on a -May afternoon. - -They say poets are never sane; but are they ever mad? Never. Even old -Cowper saved himself from actual madness by using his imagination. -Charles was no poet; but he was a good day-dreamer, and so now, instead -of maddening himself in his squalid brick prison, he was away in the old -bay, bathing and fishing, and wandering up the old stream, breast high -among king-fern under the shadowy oaks. - -Bricks and mortar, carriages and footmen, wheelbarrows and dunghills, -all came back in one moment, and settled on his outward senses with a -jar. For there was a rattle of horse's feet on the stones, and the clank -of a sabre, and Lieutenant Hornby, of the 140th Hussars (Prince Arthur's -Own), came branking into the yard, with two hundred pounds' worth of -trappings on him, looking out for his servant. He was certainly a -splendid fellow, and Charles looked at him with a certain kind of pride, -as on something that he had a share in. - -"Come round to the front door, Horton, and take my horse up to the -barracks" (the Queen had been to the station that morning, and his guard -was over). - -Charles walked beside him round into Grosvenor Place. He could not avoid -stealing a glance up at the magnificent apparition beside him; and, as -he did so, he met a pair of kind grey eyes looking down on him. - -"You mustn't sit and mope there, Horton," said the lieutenant; "it never -does to mope. I know it is infernally hard to help it, and of course you -can't associate with servants, and that sort of thing, at first; but you -will get used to it. If you think I don't know you are a gentleman, you -are mistaken. I don't know who you are, and shall not try to find out. -I'll lend you books or anything of that sort; but you mustn't brood over -it. I can't stand seeing my fellows wretched, more especially a fellow -like you." - -If it had been to save his life, Charles couldn't say a word. He looked -up at the lieutenant and nodded his head. The lieutenant understood him -well enough, and said to himself-- - -"Poor fellow!" - -So there arose between these two a feeling which lightened Charles's -servitude, and which, before the end came, had grown into a liking. -Charles's vengeance was not for Hornby, for the injury did not come from -him. His vengeance was reserved for another, and we shall see how he -took it. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIII. - -A GLIMPSE OF SOME OLD FRIENDS. - - -Hitherto I have been able to follow Charles right on without leaving him -for one instant: now, however, that he is reduced to sitting on a -wheelbarrow in a stable-yard, we must see a little less of him. He is, -of course, our principal object; but he has removed himself from the -immediate sphere of all our other acquaintances, and so we must look up -some of them, and see how far they, though absent, are acting on his -destiny--nay, we must look up every one of them sooner or later, for -there is not one who is not in some way concerned in his adventures past -and future. - -By reason of her age, her sex, and her rank, my Lady Ascot claims our -attention first. We left the dear old woman in a terrible taking on -finding that Charles had suddenly left the house and disappeared. Her -wrath gave way to tears, and her tears to memory. Bitterly she blamed -herself now for what seemed, years ago, such a harmless deceit. It was -not too late. Charles might be found; would come back, surely--would -come back to his poor old aunt! He would never--hush! it won't do to -think of that! - -Lady Ascot thought of a brilliant plan, and put it into immediate -execution. She communicated with Mr. Scotland Yard, the eminent -ex-detective officer, forwarding a close description of Charles, and a -request that he might be found, alive or dead, immediately. Her efforts -were crowned with immediate and unlooked-for success. In a week's time -the detective had discovered, not one Charles Ravenshoe, but three, from -which her ladyship might take her choice. But the worst of it was that -neither of the three was Charles Ravenshoe. There was a remarkable point -of similarity between Charles and them, certainly; and that point was -that they were all three young gentlemen under a cloud, and had all -three dark hair and prominent features. Here the similarity ended. - -The first of the cases placed so promptly before her ladyship by -Inspector Yard presented some startling features of similarity with that -of Charles. The young gentleman was from the West of England, had been -at college somewhere, had been extravagant ("God bless him, poor dear! -when lived a Ravenshoe that wasn't?" thought Lady Ascot), had been -crossed in love, the inspector believed (Lady Ascot thought she had got -her fish), and was now in the Coldbath Fields Prison, doing two years' -hard labour for swindling, of which two months were yet to run. The -inspector would let her ladyship know the day of his release. - -This could not be Charles: and the next young gentleman offered to her -notice was a worse shot than the other. He also was dark-haired; but -here at once all resemblance ceased. This one had started in life with -an ensigncy in the line. He had embezzled the mess funds, had been to -California, had enlisted, deserted, and sold his kit, been a -billiard-marker, had come into some property, had spent it, had enlisted -again, had been imprisoned for a year and discharged--here Lady Ascot -would read no more, but laid down the letter, saying, "Pish!" - -But the inspector's cup was not yet full. The unhappy man was acting -from uncertain information, he says. He affirmed, throughout all the -long and acrimonious discussion which followed, that his only -instructions were to find a young gentleman with dark hair and a hook -nose. If this be the case, he may possibly be excused for catching a -curly-headed little Jew of sixteen, who was drinking himself to death in -a public-house off Regent Street, and producing him as Charles -Ravenshoe. His name was Cohen, and he had stolen some money from his -father and gone to the races. This was so utterly the wrong article, -that Lady Ascot wrote a violent letter to the ex-inspector, of such an -extreme character, that he replied by informing her ladyship that he had -sent her letter to his lawyer. A very pretty quarrel followed, which I -have not time to describe. - -No tidings of Charles. He had hidden himself too effectually. So the old -woman wept and watched--watched for her darling who came not, and for -the ruin that she saw settling down upon her house like a dark cloud, -that grew evermore darker. - -And little Mary had packed up her boxes and passed out of the old house, -with the hard, bitter world before her. Father Mackworth had met her in -the hall, and had shaken hands with her in silence. He loved her, in -his way, so much, that he cared not to say anything. Cuthbert was -outside, waiting to hand her to her carriage. When she was seated he -said, "I shall write to you, Mary, for I can't say all I would." And -then he opened the door and kissed her affectionately; then the carriage -went on, and before it entered the wood she had a glimpse of the grey -old house, and Cuthbert on the steps before the porch, bareheaded, -waving his hand; then it was among the trees, and she had seen the last -of him for ever; then she buried her face in her hands, and knew, for -the first time, perhaps, how well she had loved him. - -She was going, as we know, to be nursery-governess to the orphan -children of Lord Hainault's brother. She went straight to London to -assume her charge. It was very late when she got to Paddington. One of -Lord Hainault's carriages was waiting for her, and she was whirled -through "the season" to Grosvenor Square. Then she had to walk alone -into the great lighted hall, with the servants standing right and left, -and looking at nothing, as well-bred servants are bound to do. She -wished for a moment that the poor little governess had been allowed to -come in a cab. - -The groom of the chambers informed her that her ladyship had gone out, -and would not be home till late; that his lordship was dressing; and -that dinner was ready in Miss Corby's room whenever she pleased. - -So she went up. She did not eat much dinner; the steward's-room boy in -attendance had his foolish heart moved to pity by seeing how poor an -appetite she had, when he thought what he could have done in that line -too. - -Presently she asked the lad where was the nursery. The second door to -the right. When all was quiet, she opened her door, and thought she -would go and see the children asleep. At that moment the nursery-door -opened, and a tall, handsome, quiet-looking man came out. It was Lord -Hainault; she had seen him before. - -"I like this," said she, as she drew back. "It was kind of him to go and -see his brother's children before he went out;" and so she went into the -nursery. - -An old nurse was sitting by the fire sewing. The two elder children were -asleep; but the youngest, an audacious young sinner of three, had -refused to do anything of the kind until the cat came to bed with him. -The nursery cat being at that time out a-walking on the leads, the -nurserymaid had been despatched to borrow one from the kitchen. At this -state of affairs Mary entered. The nurse rose and curtsied, and the -rebel clambered on her knee, and took her into his confidence. He told -her that that day, while walking in the square, he had seen a -chimney-sweep; that he had called to Gus and Flora to come and look; -that Gus had been in time and seen him go round the corner, but that -Flora had come too late, and cried, and so Gus had lent her his hoop, -and she had left off, &c., &c. After a time he requested to be allowed -to say his prayers to her: to which the nurse objected on the -theological ground that he had said them twice already that evening, -which was once more than was usually allowed. Soon after this the little -head lay heavy on Mary's arm, and the little hand loosed its hold on -hers, and the child was asleep. - -She left the nursery with a lightened heart; but, nevertheless, she -cried herself to sleep. "I wonder, shall I like Lady Hainault; Charles -used to. But she is very proud, I believe. I cannot remember much of -her.--How those carriages growl and roll, almost like the sea at dear -old Ravenshoe." Then, after a time, she slept. - -There was a light in her eyes, not of dawn, which woke her. A tall, -handsome woman, in silk and jewels, came and knelt beside her and kissed -her; and said that, now her old home was broken up, she must make one -there, and be a sister to her, and many other kind words of the same -sort. It was Lady Hainault (the long Burton girl, as Madam Adelaide -called her) come home from her last party; and in such kind keeping I -think we may leave little Mary for the present. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIV. - -IN WHICH FRESH MISCHIEF IS BREWED. - - -Charles's duties were light enough; he often wished they had been -heavier. There were such long idle periods left for thinking and -brooding. He rather wondered at first why he was not more employed. He -never was in attendance on the lieutenant, save in the daytime. One of -the young men under him drove the brougham, and was out all night and in -bed all day; and the other was a mere stable-lad from the country. -Charles's duty consisted almost entirely in dressing himself about two -o'clock, and loitering about town after his master; and, after he had -been at this work about a fortnight, it seemed to him as if he had been -at it a year or more. - -Charles soon found out all he cared to know about the lieutenant. He was -the only son and heir of an eminent solicitor, lately deceased, who had -put him into the splendid regiment to which he belonged in order to get -him into good society. The young fellow had done well enough in that -way. He was amazingly rich, amazingly handsome, and passionately fond of -his profession, at which he really worked hard; but he was terribly -fast. Charles soon found that out; and the first object which he placed -before himself, when he began to awaken from the first dead torpor which -came on him after his fall, was to gain influence with him and save him -from ruin. - -"He is burning the candle at both ends," said Charles. "He is too good -to go to the deuce. In time, if I am careful, he may listen to me." - -And, indeed, it seemed probable. From the very first, Hornby had treated -Charles with great respect and consideration. Hornby knew he was a -gentleman. One morning, before Charles had been many days with him, the -brougham had not come into the mews till seven o'clock; and Charles, -going to his lodgings at eight, had found him in uniform, bolting a cup -of coffee before going on duty. There was a great pile of money, -sovereigns and notes, on the dressing-table, and he caught Charles -looking at it. - -Hornby laughed. "What are you looking at with that solemn face of -yours?" said he. - -"Nothing, sir," said Charles. - -"You are looking at that money," said Hornby; "and you are thinking that -it would be as well if I didn't stay out all night playing--eh?" - -"I might have thought so, sir," said Charles. "I did think so." - -"Quite right, too. Some day I will leave off, perhaps." - -And then he rattled out of the room, and Charles watched him riding down -the street, all blue, and scarlet, and gold, a brave figure, with the -world at his feet. - -"There is time yet," said Charles. - -The first time Charles made his appearance in livery in the street he -felt horribly guilty. He was in continual terror lest he should meet -some one he knew; but, after a time, when he found that day after day he -could walk about and see never a familiar face, he grew bolder. He -wished sometimes he could see some one he knew from a distance, so as -not to be recognised--it was so terrible lonely. - -Day after day he saw the crowds pass him in the street, and recognised -no one. In old times, when he used to come to London on a raid from -Oxford, he fancied he used to recognise an acquaintance at every step; -but now, day after day went on, and he saw no one he knew. The world had -become to him like a long uneasy dream of strange faces. - -After a very few days of his new life, there began to grow on him a -desire to hear of those he had left so abruptly; a desire which was at -first mere curiosity, but which soon developed into a yearning regret. -At first, after a week or so, he began idly wondering where they all -were, and what they thought of his disappearance; and at this time, -perhaps, he may have felt a little conceited in thinking how he occupied -their thoughts, and of what importance he had made himself by his sudden -disappearance. But his curiosity and vanity soon wore away, and were -succeeded by a deep gnawing desire to hear something of them all--to -catch hold of some little thread, however thin, which should connect him -with his past life, and with those he had loved so well. He would have -died in his obstinacy sooner than move one inch towards his object; but -every day, as he rode about the town, dressed in the livery of -servitude, which he tried to think was his heritage, and yet of which he -was ashamed, he stared hither and thither at the passing faces, trying -to find one, were it only that of the meanest servant, which should -connect him with the past. - -At last, and before long, he saw some one. - -One afternoon he was under orders to attend his master on horseback, as -usual. After lunch, Hornby came out, beautifully dressed, handsome and -happy, and rode up Grosvenor Place into the park. At the entrance to -Rotten Row he joined an old gentleman and his two daughters, and they -rode together, chatting pleasantly. Charles rode behind with the other -groom, who talked to him about the coming Derby, and would have betted -against Haphazard at the current odds. They rode up and down the Row -twice, and then Hornby, calling Charles, gave him his horse and walked -about by the Serpentine, talking to every one, and getting a kindly -welcome from great and small, for the son of a great attorney, with -wealth, manners, and person, may get into very good society, if he is -worth it; or, quite possibly, if he isn't. - -Then Hornby and Charles left the park, and, coming down Grosvenor Place, -passed into Pall Mall. Here Hornby went into a club, and left Charles -waiting in the street with his horse half an hour or more. - -Then he mounted again, and rode up St. James's Street, into Piccadilly. -He turned to the left; and, at the bottom of the hill, not far from -Half-moon Street, he went into a private house, and, giving Charles his -reins, told him to wait for him; and so Charles waited there, in the -afternoon sun, watching what went by. - -It was a sleepy afternoon, and the horses stood quiet, and Charles was a -contented fellow, and he rather liked dozing there and watching the -world go by. There is plenty to see in Piccadilly on an afternoon in the -season, even for a passer-by; but, sitting on a quiet horse, with -nothing to do or think about, one can see it all better. And Charles had -some humour in him, and so he was amused at what he saw, and would have -sat there an hour or more without impatience. - -Opposite to him was a great bonnet-shop, and in front of it was an -orange-woman. A grand carriage dashed up to the bonnet-shop, so that he -had to move his horses, and the orange-woman had to get out of the way. -Two young ladies got out of the carriage, went in, and (as he believes) -bought bonnets, leaving a third, and older one, sitting in a back seat, -who nursed a pug dog, with a blue riband. Neither the coachman nor -footman belonging to the carriage seemed to mind this lady. The footman -thought he would like some oranges; so he went to the orange-woman. The -orange-woman was Irish, for her speech bewrayed her, and the footman was -from the county Clare; so those two instantly began comparing notes -about those delectable regions, to such purpose, that the two ladies, -having, let us hope, suited themselves in the bonnet way, had to open -their own carriage-door and get in, before the footman was recalled to a -sense of his duties--after which he shut the door, and they drove away. - -Then there came by a blind man. It was not the same blind man that -Charles saw fall down the area, because that blind man's dog was a brown -one, with a curly tail, and this one's dog was black with no tail at -all. Moreover, the present dog carried a basket, which the other one did -not. Otherwise they were so much alike (all blind men are), that Charles -might have mistaken one for the other. This blind man met with no such -serious accident as the other, either. Only, turning into the -public-house at the corner, opposite Mr. Hope's, the dog lagged behind, -and, the swing-doors closing between him and his master, Charles saw him -pulled through by his chain, and nearly throttled. - -Next there came by Lord Palmerston, with his umbrella on his shoulder, -walking airily arm-in-arm with Lord John Russell. They were talking -together; and, as they passed, Charles heard Lord Palmerston say that it -was much warmer on this side of the street than on the other. With -which proposition Lord John Russell appeared to agree; and so they -passed on westward. - -After this there came by three prize fighters, arm-in-arm; each of them -had a white hat and a cigar; two had white bull-dogs, and one a -black-and-tan terrier. They made a left wheel, and looked at Charles and -his horses, and then they made a right wheel, and looked into the -bonnet-shop; after which they went into the public-house into which the -blind man had gone before; and, from the noise which immediately arose -from inside, Charles came to the conclusion that the two white bull-dogs -and the black-and-tan terrier had set upon the blind man's dog, and -touzled him. - -After the prize-fighters came Mr. Gladstone, walking very fast. A large -Newfoundland dog with a walking-stick in his mouth blundered up against -him, and nearly threw him down. Before he got under way again, the Irish -orange-woman bore down on him, and faced him with three oranges in each -hand, offering them for sale. Did she know, with the sagacity of her -nation, that he was then on his way to the house, to make a Great -Statement, and that he would want oranges? I cannot say. He probably got -his oranges at Bellamy's for he bought none of her. After him came a -quantity of indifferent people; and then Charles's heart beat high--for -here was some one coming whom he knew with a vengeance. - -Lord Welter, walking calmly down the street, with his big chest thrown -out, and his broad, stupid face in moody repose. He was thinking. He -came so close to Charles that, stepping aside to avoid a passer-by, he -whitened the shoulder of his coat against the pipe-clay on Charles's -knee; then he stood stock still within six inches of him, but looking -the other way towards the houses. - -He pulled off one of his gloves and bit his nails. Though his back was -towards Charles, still Charles knew well what expression was on his face -as he did that. The old cruel lowering of the eyebrows, and pinching in -of the lips was there, he knew. The same expression as that which -Marston remarked the time he quarrelled with Cuthbert once at -Ravenshoe--mischief! - -He went into the house where Charles's master, Hornby, was; and Charles -sat and wondered. - -Presently there came out on to the balcony above, six or seven -well-dressed young men, who lounged with their elbows on the red -cushions which were fixed to the railing, and talked, looking at the -people in the street. - -Lord Welter and Lieutenant Hornby were together at the end. There was no -scowl on Welter's face now; he was making himself agreeable. Charles -watched him and Hornby; the conversation between them got eager, and -they seemed to make an appointment. After that they parted, and Hornby -came down stairs and got on his horse. - -They rode very slowly home. Hornby bowed right and left to the people he -knew but seemed absent. When Charles took his horse at the door, he said -suddenly to Charles-- - -"I have been talking to a man who knows something of you, I -believe--Lord Welter." - -"Did you mention me to him, sir?" - -"No; I didn't think of it." - -"You would do me a great kindness if you would not do so, sir." - -"Why," said Hornby, looking suddenly up. - -"I am sorry I cannot enter into particulars, sir; but, if I thought he -would know where I was, I should at once quit your service and try to -lose myself once more." - -"Lose yourself?" - -"Yes, sir." - -"H'm!" said Hornby, thoughtfully. "Well, I know there is something about -you which I don't understand. I ain't sure it is any business of mine -though. I will say nothing. You are not a man to chatter about anything -you see. Mind you don't. You see how I trust you." And so he went in, -and Charles went round to the stable. - -"Is the brougham going out to night?" he asked of his fellow-servant. - -"Ordered at ten," said the man. "Night-work again, I expect, I wanted to -get out too. Consume the darned card-playing. Was you going anywhere -to-night?" - -"Nowhere," said Charles. - -"It's a beautiful evening," said the man. "If you should by chance -saunter up towards Grosvenor Square, and could leave a note for me, I -should thank you very much; upon my soul I should." - -I don't think Charles ever hesitated at doing a good-natured action in -his life. A request to him was like a command. It came as natural to him -now to take a dirty, scrawled love-letter from a groom to a -scullery-maid as in old times it did to lend a man fifty pounds. He said -at once he would go with great pleasure. - -The man (a surly fellow enough at ordinary times) thanked him heartily; -and, when Charles had got the letter, he sauntered away in that -direction slowly, thinking of many things. - -"By Jove," he said to himself, "my scheme of hiding does not seem to be -very successful. Little more than a fortnight gone, and I am thrown -against Welter. What a strange thing!" - -It was still early in the afternoon--seven o'clock, or thereabouts--and -he was opposite Tattersall's. A mail phaeton, with a pair of splendid -horses, attracted his attention and diverted his thoughts. He turned -down. Two eminent men on the turf walked past him up the nearly empty -yard, and he heard one say to the other-- - -"Ascot will run to win; that I know. He _must_. If Haphazard can stay, -he is safe." - -To which the other said, "Pish!" and they passed on. - -"There they are again," said Charles, as he turned back. "The very birds -of the air are talking about them. It gets interesting, though--if -anything could ever be interesting again." - -St. George's Hospital. At the door was a gaudily-dressed, handsome young -woman, who was asking the porter could she see some one inside. No. The -visiting hours were over. She stood for a few minutes on the steps, -impatiently biting her nails, and then fluttered down the street. - -What made him think of his sister Ellen? She must be found. That was the -only object in the world, so to speak. There was nothing to be done, -only to wait and watch. - -"I shall find her some day, in God's good time." - -The world had just found out that it was hungry, and was beginning to -tear about in wheeled vehicles to its neighbours' houses to dinner. As -the carriages passed Charles, he could catch glimpses of handsome girls, -all a mass of white muslin, swan's-down fans, and fal-lals, going to -begin their night's work; of stiff dandies, in white ties, yawning -already; of old ladies in jewels, and old gentlemen buttoned up across -the chest, going, as one might say, to see fair play among the young -people. And then our philosophical Charles pleased himself by picturing -how, in two months more, the old gentlemen would be among their turnips, -the old ladies among their flowers and poor folks, the dandies creeping, -creeping, weary hours through the heather, till the last maddening -moment when the big stag was full in view, sixty yards off; and -(prettiest thought of all), how the girls, with their thick shoes on, -would be gossiping with old Goody Blake and Harry Gill, or romping with -the village school-children on the lawn. Right, old Charles, with all -but the dandies! For now the apotheosis of dandies was approaching. The -time was coming when so many of them should disappear into that black -thunder-cloud to the south, and be seen no more in park or club, in -heather or stubble. - -But, in that same year, the London season went on much as usual; only -folks talked of war, and the French were more popular than they are now. -And through the din and hubbub poor Charles passed on like a lost sheep, -and left his fellow-servant's note at an area in Grosvenor Square. - -"And which," said he to the man who took it, with promises of instant -delivery, "is my Lord Hainault's house, now, for instance?" - -Lord Hainault's house was the other side of the square; number -something. Charles thanked the man, and went across. When he had made it -out he leant his back against the railings of the square, and watched -it. - -The carriage was at the door. The coachman, seeing a handsomely-dressed -groom leaning against the rails, called to him to come over and alter -some strap or another. Charles ran over and helped him. Charles supposed -her ladyship was going out to dinner. Yes, her ladyship was now coming -out. And, almost before Charles had time to move out of the way, out she -came, with her head in the air, more beautiful than ever, and drove -away. - -He went back to his post from mere idleness. He wondered whether Mary -had come there yet or not. He had half a mind to inquire, but was afraid -of being seen. He still leant against the railings of the gate, as I -said, in mere idleness, when he heard the sound of children's voices in -the square behind. - -"That woman," said a child's voice, "was a gipsy-woman. I looked through -the rails, and I said, 'Hallo, ma'am, what are you doing there?' And she -asked me for a penny. And I said I couldn't give her anything, for I had -given three halfpence to the Punch and Judy, and I shouldn't have any -more money till next Saturday, which was quite true, Flora, as you -know." - -"But, Gus," said another child's voice, "if she had been a gipsy-woman -she would have tried to steal you, and make you beg in the streets; or -else she would have told your fortune in coffee-grounds. I don't think -she was a real gipsy." - -"I should like to have my fortune told in the coffee-grounds," said Gus; -"but, if she had tried to steal me, I should have kicked her in the -stomach. There is a groom outside there; let us ask him. Grooms go to -the races, and see heaps of gipsies! I say, sir." - -Charles turned. A child's voice was always music to him. He had such a -look on his face as he turned to them, that the children had his -confidence in an instant. The gipsy question was laid before him -instantly, by both Gus and Flora, with immense volubility, and he was -just going to give an oracular opinion through the railings, when a -voice--a low, gentle voice, which made him start--came from close by. - -"Gus and Flora, my dears, the dew is falling. Let us go in." - -"There is Miss Corby," said Gus. "Let us run to her." - -They raced to Mary. Soon after the three came to the gate, laughing, and -passed close to him. The children were clinging to her skirt and talking -merrily. They formed a pretty little group as they went across the -street, and Mary's merry little laugh comforted him. "She is happy -there," he said; "best as it is!" - -Once, when half-way across the street, she turned and looked towards -him, before he had time to turn away. He saw that she did not dream of -his being there, and went on. And so Charles sauntered home through the -pleasant summer evening, saying to himself, "I think she is happy; I am -glad she laughed." - -"Three meetings in one day! I shall be found out, if I don't mind. I -must be very careful." - - - - -CHAPTER XXXV. - -IN WHICH AN ENTIRELY NEW, AND, AS WILL BE SEEN HEREAFTER, A MOST -IMPORTANT CHARACTER IS INTRODUCED. - - -The servants, I mean the stable servants, who lived in the mews where -Charles did, had a club; and, a night or two after he had seen Mary in -the square, he was elected a member of it. The duke's coachman, a wiry, -grey, stern-looking, elderly man, waited upon him and informed him of -the fact. He said that such a course was very unusual--in fact, without -precedent. Men, he said, were seldom elected to the club until they were -known to have been in good service for some years; but he (coachman) had -the ear of the club pretty much, and had brought him in triumphant. He -added that he could see through a brick wall as well as most men, and -that when he see a _gentleman_ dressed in a livery, moping and brooding -about the mews, he had said to himself that he wanted a little company, -such as it was, to cheer him up, and so he had requested the club, &c.; -and the club had done as he told them. - -"Now this is confoundedly kind of you," said Charles; "but I am not a -gentleman; I am a gamekeeper's son." - -"I suppose you can read Greek, now, can't you?" said the coachman. - -Charles was obliged to confess he could. - -"Of course," said the coachman; "all gamekeepers' sons is forced to -learn Greek, in order as they may slang the poachers in an unknown -tongue. Fiddle-dedee! I know all about it; least-wise, guess. Come along -with me; why, I've got sons as old as you. Come along." - -"Are they in service?" said Charles, by way of something to say. - -"Two of 'em are, but one's in the army." - -"Indeed!" said Charles, with more interest. - -"Ay; he is in your governor's regiment." - -"Does he like it?" said Charles. "I should like to know him." - -"Like it?--don't he?" said the coachman. "See what society he gets into. -I suppose there ain't no gentlemen's sons troopers in that regiment, eh? -Oh dear no. Don't for a moment suppose it, young man. Not at all." - -Charles was very much interested by this news. He made up his mind there -and then that he would enlist immediately. But he didn't; he only -thought about it. - -Charles found that the club was composed of about a dozen coachmen and -superior pad-grooms. They were very civil to him, and to one another. -There was nothing to laugh at. There was nothing that could be tortured -into ridicule. They talked about their horses and their business quite -naturally. There was an air of kindly fellowship, and a desire for -mutual assistance among them, which, at times, Charles had not noticed -at the university. One man sang a song, and sang it very prettily, too, -about stag-hunting. He had got as far as-- - - "As every breath with sobs he drew, - The labouring buck strained full in view," - -when the door opened, and an oldish groom came in. - -The song was not much attended to now. When the singer had finished, the -others applauded him, but impatiently; and then there was a general -exclamation of "Well?" - -"I've just come down from the Corner. There has been a regular run -against Haphazard, and no one knows why. Something wrong with the horse, -I suppose, because there's been no run on any other in particular, only -against him." - -"Was Lord Ascot there?" said some one. - -"Ah, that he was. Wouldn't bet though, even at the long odds. Said he'd -got every sixpence he was worth on the horse, and would stand where he -was; and that's true, they say. And master says, likewise, that Lord -Welter would have taken 'em, but that his father stopped him." - -"That looks queerish," said some one else. - -"Ay, and wasn't there a jolly row, too?" - -"Who with?" asked several. - -"Lord Welter and Lord Hainault. It happened outside, close to me. Lord -Hainault was walking across the yard, and Lord Welter came up to him and -said, 'How d'ye do, Hainault?' and Lord Hainault turned round and said, -quite quiet, 'Welter, you are a scoundrel!' And Lord Welter said, -'Hainault, you are out of your senses;' but he turned pale, too, and he -looked--Lord! I shouldn't like to have been before him--and Lord -Hainault says, 'You know what I mean;' and Lord Welter says, 'No, I -don't; but, by Gad, you shall tell me;' and then the other says, as -steady as a rock, 'I'll tell you. You are a man that one daren't leave a -woman alone with. Where's that Casterton girl? Where's Adelaide Summers? -Neither a friend's house, nor your own father's house, is any protection -for a woman against you.' 'Gad,' says Lord Welter, 'you were pretty -sweet on the last-named yourself, once on a time.'" - -"Well!" said some one, "and what did Lord Hainault say?" - -"He said, 'you are a liar and a scoundrel, Welter.' And then Lord Welter -came at him; but Lord Ascot came between them, shaking like anything, -and says he, 'Hainault, go away, for God's sake; you don't know what you -are saying.--Welter, be silent.' But they made no more of he than----" -(here our friend was at a loss for a simile). - -"But how did it end?" asked Charles. - -"Well," said the speaker, "General Mainwaring came up, and laid his hand -on Lord Welter's shoulder, and took him off pretty quiet. And that's all -I know about it." - -It was clearly all. Charles rose to go, and walked by himself from -street to street, thinking. - -Suppose he _was_ to be thrown against Lord Welter, how should he act? -what should he say? Truly it was a puzzling question. The anomaly of his -position was never put before him more strikingly than now. What could -he say? what could he do? - -After the first shock, the thought of Adelaide's unfaithfulness was not -so terrible as on the first day or two; many little unamiable traits of -character, vanity, selfishness, and so on, unnoticed before, began to -come forth in somewhat startling relief. Anger, indignation, and love, -all three jumbled up together, each one by turns in the ascendant, were -the frames of mind in which Charles found himself when he began thinking -about her. One moment he was saying to himself, "How beautiful she was!" -and the next, "She was as treacherous as a tiger; she never could have -cared for me." But, when he came to think of Welter, his anger -overmastered everything, and he would clench his teeth as he walked -along, and for a few moments feel the blood rushing to his head and -singing in his ears. Let us hope that Lord Welter will not come across -him while he is in that mood, or there will be mischief. - -But his anger was soon over. He had just had one of these fits of anger -as he walked along; and he was, like a good fellow, trying to conquer -it, by thinking of Lord Welter as he was as a boy, and before he was a -villain, when he came before St. Peter's Church, in Eaton Square, and -stopped to look at some fine horses which were coming out of Salter's. - -At the east end of St. Peter's Church there is a piece of bare white -wall in a corner, and in front of the wall was a little shoeblack. - -He was not one of the regular brigade, with a red shirt, but an "Arab" -of the first water. He might have been seven or eight years old, but was -small. His whole dress consisted of two garments; a ragged shirt, with -no buttons, and half of one sleeve gone, and a ragged pair of trousers, -which, small as he was, were too small for him, and barely reached below -his knees. His feet and head were bare; and under a wild, tangled shock -of hair looked a pretty, dirty, roguish face, with a pair of grey, -twinkling eyes, which was amazingly comical. Charles stopped, watching -him, and, as he did so, felt what we have most of us felt, I dare -say--that, at certain times of vexation and anger, the company and -conversation of children is the best thing for us. - -The little man was playing at fives against the bare wall, with such -tremendous energy, that he did not notice that Charles had stopped, and -was looking at him. Every nerve in his wiry, lean little body was braced -up to the game; his heart and soul were as deeply enlisted in it, as -though he were captain of the eleven, or stroke of the eight. - -He had no ball to play with, but he played with a brass button. The -button flew hither and thither, being so irregular in shape, and the boy -dashed after it like lightning. At last, after he had kept up -five-and-twenty or so, the button flew over his head, and lighted at -Charles's feet. - -As the boy turned to get it, his eyes met Charles's, and he stopped, -parting the long hair from his forehead, and gazing on him, till the -beautiful little face--beautiful through dirt and ignorance and -neglect--lit up with a smile, as Charles looked at him, with the kind, -honest old expression. And so began their acquaintance, almost comically -at first. - -Charles don't care to talk much about that boy now. If he ever does, it -is to recall his comical, humorous sayings and doings in the first part -of their strange friendship. He never speaks of the end, even to me. - -The boy stood smiling at him, as I said, holding his long hair out of -his eyes; and Charles looked on him and laughed, and forgot all about -Welter and the rest of them at once. - -"I want my boots cleaned," he said. - -The boy said, "I can't clean they dratted top-boots. I cleaned a groom's -boots a Toosday, and he punched my block because I blacked the tops. -Where did that button go?" - -And Charles said, "You can clean the lower part of my boots, and do no -harm. Your button is here against the lamp-post." - -The boy picked it up, and got his apparatus ready. But, before he began, -he looked up in Charles's face, as if he was going to speak; then he -began vigorously, but in half a minute looked up again, and stopped. - -Charles saw that the boy liked him, and wanted to talk to him; so he -began, severely-- - -"How came you to be playing fives with a brass button, eh?" - -The boy struck work at once, and answered, "I ain't got no ball." - -"If you begin knocking stamped pieces of metal about in the street," -continued Charles, "you will come to chuck-farthing, and from -chuck-farthing to the gallows is a very short step indeed, I can assure -you." - -The boy did not seem to know whether Charles was joking or not. He cast -a quick glance up at his face; but, seeing no sign of a smile there, he -spat on one of his brushes, and said-- - -"Not if you don't cheat, it aint." - -Charles suffered the penalty, which usually follows on talking nonsense, -of finding himself in a dilemma; so he said imperiously-- - -"I shall buy you a ball to-morrow; I am not going to have you knocking -buttons about against people's walls in broad daylight, like that." - -It was the first time that the boy had ever heard nonsense talked in his -life. It was a new sensation. He gave a sharp look up into Charles's -face again, and then went on with his work. - -"Where do you live, my little manikin?" said Charles directly, in that -quiet pleasant voice I know so well. - -The boy did not look up this time. It was not very often, possibly, that -he got spoken to so kindly by his patrons; he worked away, and answered -that he lived in Marquis Court, in Southwark. - -"Why do you come so far, then?" asked Charles. - -The boy told him why he plodded so wearily, day after day, over here in -the West-end. It was for family reasons, into which I must not go too -closely. Somebody, it appeared, still came home, now and then, just once -in a way, to see her mother, and to visit the den where she was bred; -and there was still left one who would wait for her, week after -week--still one pair of childish feet, bare and dirty, that would patter -back beside her--still one childish voice that would prattle with her, -on her way to her hideous home, and call her sister. - -"Have you any brothers?" - -Five altogether. Jim was gone for a sojer, it appeared, and Nipper was -sent over the water. Harry was on the cross-- - -"On the cross?" said Charles. - -"Ah!" the boy said, "he goes out cly-faking, and such. He's a prig, and -a smart one, too. He's fly, is Harry." - -"But what is cly-faking?" said Charles. - -"Why a-prigging of wipes, and sneeze-boxes, and ridicules, and such." - -Charles was not so ignorant of slang as not to understand what his -little friend meant now. He said-- - -"But _you_ are not a thief, are you?" - -The boy looked up at him frankly and honestly, and said-- - -"Lord bless you, no! I shouldn't make no hand of that. I ain't brave -enough for that!" - -He gave the boy twopence, and gave orders that one penny was to be spent -in a ball. And then he sauntered listlessly away--every day more -listless, and not three weeks gone yet. - -His mind returned to this child very often. He found himself thinking -more about the little rogue than he could explain. The strange babble of -the child, prattling so innocently, and, as he thought, so prettily, -about vice, and crime, and misery; about one brother transported, one a -thief--and you see he could love his sister even to the very end of it -all. Strange babble indeed from a child's lips. - -He thought of it again and again, and then, dressing himself plainly, -he went up to Grosvenor Square, where Mary would be walking with Lord -Charles Herries's children. He wanted to hear _them_ talk. - -He was right in his calculations; the children were there. All three of -them this time; and Mary was there too. They were close to the rails, -and he leant his back on them, and heard every word. - -"Miss Corby," said Gus, "if Lady Ascot is such a good woman, she will go -to heaven when she dies?" - -"Yes, indeed, my dear," said Mary. - -"And, when grandma dies, will she go to heaven, too?" said the artful -Gus, knowing as well as possible that old Lady Hainault and Lady Ascot -were deadly enemies. - -"I hope so, my dear," said Mary. - -"But does Lady Ascot hope so? Do you think grandma would be happy -if----" - -It became high time to stop master Gus, who was getting on too fast. -Mary having bowled him out, Miss Flora had an innings. - -"When I grow up," said Flora, "I shall wear knee-breeches and top-boots, -and a white bull-dog, and a long clay pipe, and I shall drive into -Henley on a market-day and put up at the Catherine Wheel." - -Mary had breath enough left to ask why. - -"Because Farmer Thompson at Casterton dresses like that, and he is such -a dear old darling. He gives us strawberries and cream; and in his -garden are gooseberries and peacocks; and the peacock's wives don't -spread out their tails like their husbands do--the foolish things. Now, -when I am married----" - -Gus was rude enough to interrupt her here. He remarked-- - -"When Archy goes to heaven, he'll want the cat to come to bed with him; -and, if he can't get her, there'll be a pretty noise." - -"My dears," said Mary, "you must not talk anymore nonsense; I can't -permit it." - -"But, my dear Miss Corby," said Flora, "we haven't been talking -nonsense, have we? I told you the truth about Farmer Thompson." - -"I know what she means," said Gus; "we have been saying what came into -our heads, and it vexes her. It is all nonsense, you know, about your -wearing breeches and spreading out your tail like a peacock; we mustn't -vex her." - -Flora didn't answer Gus, but answered Mary by climbing on her knee and -kissing her. "Tell us a story, dear," said Gus. - -"What shall I tell?" said Mary. - -"Tell us about Ravenshoe," said Flora; "tell us about the fishermen, and -the priest that walked about like a ghost in the dark passages; and -about Cuthbert Ravenshoe, who was always saying his prayers; and about -the other one who won the boat race." - -"Which one?" said silly Mary. - -"Why, the other; the one you like best. What was his name?" - -"Charles!" - -How quietly and softly she said it! The word left her lips like a deep -sigh. One who heard it was a gentleman still. He had heard enough, -perhaps too much, and walked away towards the stable and the -public-house, leaving her in the gathering gloom of the summer's evening -under the red hawthorns, and laburnums, among the children. And, as he -walked away, he thought of the night he left Ravenshoe, when the little -figure was standing in the hall all alone. "She might have loved me, and -I her," he said, "if the world were not out of joint; God grant it may -not be so!" And although he said, "God grant that she may not," he -really wished it had been so; and from this very time Mary began to take -Adelaide's place in his heart. - -Not that he was capable of falling in love with any woman at this time. -He says he was crazy, and I believe him to a certain extent. It was a -remarkably lucky thing for him that he had so diligently neglected his -education. If he had not, and had found himself in his present position, -with three or four times more of intellectual cravings to be satisfied, -he would have gone mad, or taken to drinking. I, who write, have seen -the thing happen. - -But, before the crash came, I have seen Charles patiently spending the -morning cutting gun-wads from an old hat, in preference to going to his -books. It was this interest in trifles which saved him just now. He -could think at times, and had had education enough to think logically; -but his brain was not so active but that he could cut gun-wads for an -hour or so; though his friend William could cut one-third more gun-wads -out of an old hat than he. - -He was thinking now, in his way, about these children--about Gus and -Flora on the one hand, and the little shoeblack on the other. Both so -innocent and pretty, and yet so different. He had taken himself from the -one world and thrown himself into the other. There were two worlds and -two standards--gentlemen and non-gentlemen. The "lower orders" did not -seem to be so particular about the character of their immediate -relations as the upper. That was well, for he belonged to the former -now, and had a sister. If one of Lord Charles Herries's children had -gone wrong, Gus and Flora would never have talked of him or her to a -stranger. He must learn the secret of this armour which made the poor so -invulnerable. He must go and talk to the little shoeblack. - -He thought that was the reason why he went to look after the little -rogue next day; but that was not the real reason. The reason was, that -he had found a friend in a lower grade than himself, who would admire -him and look up to him. The first friend of that sort he had made since -his fall. What that friend accidentally saved him from, we shall see. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVI. - -THE DERBY. - - -Hornby was lying on his back on the sofa in the window and looking out. -He had sent for Charles, and Charles was standing beside him; but he had -not noticed him yet. In a minute Charles said, "You sent for me, sir." - -Hornby turned sharply round. "By Jove, yes," he said, looking straight -at him; "Lord Welter is married." - -Charles did not move a muscle, and Hornby looked disappointed. Charles -only said-- - -"May I ask who she is, sir?" - -"She is a Miss Summers. Do you know anything of her?" - -Charles knew Miss Summers quite well by sight--had attended her while -riding, in fact. A statement which, though strictly true, misled Hornby -more than fifty lies. - -"Handsome?" - -"Remarkably so. Probably the handsomest (he was going to say 'girl,' but -said 'lady') I ever saw in my life." - -"H'm!" and he sat silent a moment, and gave Charles time to think. "I am -glad he has married her, and before to-morrow, too." - -"Well," said Hornby again, "we shall go down in the drag to-morrow. -Ferrers will drive, he says. I suppose he had better; he drives better -than I. Make the other two lads come in livery, but come in black -trousers yourself. Wear your red waistcoat; you can button your coat -over it, if it is necessary." - -"Shall I wear my cockade, sir?" - -"Yes; that won't matter. Can you fight?" - -Charles said to himself, "I suppose we shall be in Queer Street -to-morrow, then;" but he rather liked the idea. "I used to like it," -said he aloud. "I don't think I care about it now. Last year, at Oxford, -I and three other University men, three Pauls and a Brazenose, had a -noble stramash on Folly-bridge. That is the last fighting I have seen." - -"What College were you at?" said Hornby, looking out at the window; -"Brazenose?" - -"Paul's," said Charles without thinking. - -"Then you are the man Welter was telling me about--Charles Ravenshoe." - -Charles saw it was no good to fence, and said, "Yes." - -"By Jove," said Hornby, "yours is a sad story. You must have ridden out -with Lady Welter more than once, I take it." - -"Are you going to say anything to Lord Welter, sir?" - -"Not I. I like you too well to lose you. You will stick by me, won't -you?" - -"I will," said Charles, "to the death. But oh, Hornby, for any sake mind -those d----d bones!" - -"I will. But don't be an ass: I don't play half as much as you think." - -"You are playing with Welter now, sir; are you not?" - -"You are a pretty dutiful sort of a groom, I don't think," said Hornby, -looking round and laughing good-naturedly. "What the dickens do you mean -by cross-questioning me like that? Yes, I am. There--and for a noble -purpose too." - -Charles said no more, but was well pleased enough. If Hornby had only -given him a little more of his confidence! - -"I suppose," said Hornby, "if Haphazard don't win to-morrow, Lord Ascot -will be a beggar." - -"They say," said Charles, "that he has backed his own horse through -thick and thin, sir. It is inconceivable folly; but things could not be -worse at Ranford, and he stands to win some sum on the horse, as they -say, which would put everything right; and the horse is a favourite." - -"Favourites never win," said Hornby; "and I don't think that Lord Ascot -has so much on him as they say." - -So the next day they went to the Derby. Sir Robert Ferrer, of the Guards -drove (this is Inkerman Bob, and he has got a patent cork leg now, and -a Victoria Cross, and goes a-shooting on a grey cob); and there was Red -Maclean, on furlough from India; and there was Lord Swansea, youngest of -existing Guardsmen, who blew a horn, and didn't blow it at all well; and -there were two of Lieutenant Hornby's brother-officers, besides the -Lieutenant: and behind, with Hornby's two grooms and our own Charles, -dressed in sober black, was little Dick Ferrers, of the Home Office, who -carried a peashooter, and pea-shot the noses of the leading horses of a -dragful of Plungers, which followed them--which thing, had he been in -the army, he wouldn't have dared to do. And the Plungers swore, and the -dust flew, and the wind blew, and Sir Robert drove, and Charles laughed, -and Lord Swansea gave them a little music, and away they went to the -Derby. - -When they came on the course, Charles and his fellow-servants had enough -to do to get the horses out and see after them. After nearly an hour's -absence he got back to the drag, and began to look about him. - -The Plungers had drawn up behind them, and were lolling about. Before -them was a family party--a fine elderly gentleman, a noble elderly lady, -and two uncommonly pretty girls; and they were enjoying themselves. They -were too well bred to make a noise; but there was a subdued babbling -sound of laughter in that carriage, which was better music than that of -a little impish German who, catching Charles's eye, played the accordion -and waltzed before him, as did Salome before Herod, but with a different -effect. - -The carriage beyond that was a very handsome one, and in it sat a lady -most beautifully dressed, alone. By the step of the carriage were a -crowd of men--Hornby, Hornby's brother-officers, Sir Robert Ferrers, and -even little Dick Ferrers. Nay, there was a Plunger there; and they were -all talking and laughing at the top of their voices. - -Charles, goose as he was, used to be very fond of Dickens's novels. He -used to say that almost everywhere in those novels you came across a -sketch, may be unconnected with the story, as bold and true and -beautiful as those chalk sketches of Raphael in the Taylor--scratches -which, when once seen, you could never forget any more. And, as he -looked at that lady in the carriage, he was reminded of one of Dickens's -master-pieces in that way, out of the "Old Curiosity Shop"--of a lady -sitting in a carriage all alone at the races, who bought Nell's poor -flowers, and bade her go home and stay there, for God's sake. - -Her back was towards him, of course; yet he guessed she was beautiful. -"She is a fast woman, God help her!" said he; and he determined to go -and look at her. - -He sauntered past the carriage, and turned to look at her. It was -Adelaide. - -As faultlessly beautiful as ever, but ah--how changed! The winning -petulance, so charming in other days, was gone from that face for ever. -Hard, stern, proud, defiant, she sat there upright, alone. Fallen from -the society of all women of her own rank, she knew--who better?--that -not one of those men chattering around her would have borne to see her -in the company of his sister, viscountess though she were, countess and -mother of earls as she would be. They laughed, and lounged, and joked -before her; and she tolerated them, and cast her gibes hither and -thither among them, bitterly and contemptuously. It was her first -appearance in the world. She had been married three days. - -Not a woman would speak to her: Lord Welter had coarsely told her so -that morning; and bitterness and hatred were in her heart. It was for -this she had bartered honour and good fame. She had got her title, flung -to her as a bone to a dog by Welter; but her social power, for which she -had sold herself, was lower, far lower, than when she was poor Adelaide -Summers. - -It is right that it should be so, as a rule; in her case it was doubly -right. - -Charles knew all this well enough. And at the first glance at her face -he knew that "the iron had entered into her soul" (I know no better -expression), and he was revenged. He had ceased to love her, but revenge -is sweet--to some. - -Not to him. When he looked at her, he would have given his life that she -might smile again, though she was no more to him what she had been. He -turned, for fear of being seen, saying to himself,-- - -"Poor girl! Poor dear Adelaide! She must lie on the bed she has made. -God help her!" - -Haphazard was the first favourite--_facile princeps_. He was at two and -a half to one. Bill Sykes, at three and a half, was a very dangerous -horse. Then came Carnarvon, Lablache, Lick-pitcher, Ivanhoe, Ben Caunt, -Bath-bun, Hamlet, Allfours, and Colonel Sibthorp. The last of these was -at twenty to one. Ben Caunt was to make the running for Haphazard, so -they said; and Colonel Sibthorp for Bill Sykes. - -So he heard the men talking round Lady Welter's carriage. Hornby's voice -was as loud as any one's, and a pleasant voice it was; but they none of -them talked very low. Charles could hear every word. - -"I am afraid Lady Welter will never forgive me," said Hornby, "but I -have bet against the favourite." - -"I beg your pardon," said Adelaide. - -"I have bet against your horse, Lady Welter." - -"My horse?" said Adelaide, coolly and scornfully. "My horses are all -post-horses, hired for the day to bring me here. I hope none of them are -engaged in the races, as I shall have to go home with a pair only, and -then I shall be disgraced for ever." - -"I mean Haphazard." - -"Oh, that horse?" said Adelaide; "that is Lord Ascot's horse, not mine. -I hope you may win. You ought to win something, oughtn't you? Welter has -won a great deal from you, I believe." - -The facts were the other way. But Hornby said no more to her. She was -glad of this, though she liked him well enough, for she hoped that she -had offended him by her insolent manner. But they were at -cross-purposes. - -Presently Lord Welter came swinging in among them; he looked terribly -savage and wild, and Charles thought he had been drinking. Knowing what -he was in this mood, and knowing also the mood Adelaide was in, he -dreaded some scene. "But they cannot quarrel so soon," he thought. - -"How d'ye do?" said Lord Welter to the knot of men round his wife's -carriage. "Lady Welter, have your people got any champagne, or anything -of that sort?" - -"I suppose so; you had better ask them." - -She had not forgotten what he had said to her that morning so brutally. -She saw he was madly angry, and would have liked to make him commit -himself before these men. She had fawned, and wheedled, and flattered -for a month; but now she was Lady Welter, and he should feel it. - -Lord Welter looked still more savage, but said nothing. A man brought -him some wine; and, as he gave it to him, Adelaide said, as quietly as -though she were telling him that there was some dust on his coat-- - -"You had better not take too much of it; you seem to have had enough -already. Sir Robert Ferrers here is very taciturn in his cups, I am -told; but you make such a terrible to-do when you are drunk." - -They should feel her tongue, these fellows! They might come and dangle -about her carriage-door, and joke to one another, and look on her beauty -as if she were a doll; but they should feel her tongue; Charles's heart -sank within him as he heard her. Only a month gone, and she desperate. - -But of all the mischievous things done on that race-course that day--and -they were many--the most mischievous and uncalled-for was Adelaide's -attack upon Sir Robert Ferrers, who, though very young, was as sober, -clever, and discreet a young man as any in the Guards, or in England. -But Adelaide had heard a story about him. To wit, that, going to dinner -at Greenwich with a number of friends, and having taken two glasses or -so of wine at his dinner, he got it into his head that he was getting -tipsy; and refused to speak another word all the evening for fear of -committing himself. - -The other men laughed at Ferrers. And Lord Welter chose to laugh too; he -was determined that his wife should not make a fool of him. But now -every one began to draw off and take their places for the race. Little -Dick Ferrers, whose whole life was one long effort of good nature, -stayed by Lady Welter, though horribly afraid of her, because he did not -like to see her left alone. Charles forced himself into a front position -against the rails, with his friend Mr. Sloane, and held on thereby, -intensely interested. He was passionately fond of horse-racing; and he -forgot everything, even his poor, kind old friend Lord Ascot, in -scrutinising every horse as it came by from the Warren, and guessing -which was to win. - -Haphazard was the horse, there could be no doubt. A cheer ran all along -the line, as he came walking majestically down, as though he knew he was -the hero of the day. Bill Sykes and Carnarvon were as good as good could -be; but Haphazard was better. Charles remembered Lady Ascot's tearful -warning about his not being able to stay; but he laughed it to scorn. -The horse had furnished so since then! Here he came, flying past them -like a whirlwind, shaking the earth, and making men's ears tingle with -the glorious music of his feet on the turf. Haphazard, ridden by Wells, -must win! Hurrah for Wells! - -As the horse came slowly past again, he looked up to see the calm stern -face; but it was not there. There were Lord Ascot's colours, dark blue -and white sash; but where was Wells? The jockey was a smooth-faced young -man, with very white teeth, who kept grinning and touching his cap at -every other word Lord Ascot said to him. Charles hurriedly borrowed -Sloane's card, and read, - -"Lord Ascot's Haphazard----J. Brooks." - -Who, in the name of confusion, was J. Brooks? All of a sudden he -remembered. It was one of Lord Ascot's own lads. It was the very lad -that rode Haphazard on the day that Adelaide and he rode out to the -Downs, at Ranford, to see the horse gallop. Lord Ascot must be mad. - -"But Wells was to have ridden Haphazard, Mr. Sloane," said Charles. - -"He wouldn't," said Sloane, and laughed sardonically. But there was no -time for Charles to ask why he laughed, for the horses were off. - -Those who saw the race were rather surprised that Ben Caunt had not -showed more to the front at first to force the running; but there was -not much time to think of such things. As they came round the corner, -Haphazard, who was lying sixth, walked through his horses and laid -himself alongside of Bill Sykes. A hundred yards from the post, Bill -Sykes made a push, and drew a neck a-head; in a second or so more -Haphazard had passed him, winning the Derby by a clear length; and poor -Lord Ascot fell headlong down in a fit, like a dead man. - -Little Dicky Ferrers, in the excitement of the race, had climbed into -the rumble of Adelaide's carriage, peashooter and all; and, having -cheered rather noisily as the favourite came in winner, he was beginning -to wonder whether he hadn't made a fool of himself, and what Lady Welter -would say when she found where he had got to, when Lord Welter broke -through the crowd, and came up to his wife, looking like death. - -"Get home, Adelaide! You see what has happened, and know what to do. -Lady Welter, if I get hold of that boy Brooks, to-night, in a safe -place, I'll murder him, by----!" - -"I believe you will, Welter. Keep away from him, unless you are a -madman. If you anger the boy it will all come out. Where is Lord Ascot?" - -"Dead, they say, or dying. He is in a fit." - -"I ought to go to him, Welter, in common decency." - -"Go home, I tell you. Get the things you know of packed, and taken to -one of the hotels at London Bridge. Any name will do. Be at home -to-night, dressed, in a state of jubilation; and keep a couple of -hundred pounds in the house. Here, you fellows! her ladyship's -horses--look sharp!" - -Poor little Dicky Ferrers had heard more than he intended; but Lord -Welter, in his madness, had not noticed him. He didn't use his -peashooter going home, and spoke very little. There was a party of all -of them in Hornby's rooms that night, and Dicky was so dull at first, -that his brother made some excuse to get him by himself, and say a few -eager, affectionate words to him. - -"Dick, my child, you have lost some money. How much? You shall have it -to-morrow." - -"Not half a halfpenny, Bob; but I was with Lady Welter just after the -race, and I heard more than I ought to have heard." - -"You couldn't help it, I hope." - -"I ought to have helped it; but it was so sudden, I couldn't help it. -And now I can't ease my mind by telling anybody." - -"I suppose it was some rascality of Welter's," said Sir Robert, -laughing. "It don't much matter; only don't tell any one, you know." And -then they went in again, and Dicky never told any one till every one -knew. - -For it came out soon that Lord Ascot had been madly betting, by -commission, against his own horse, and that forty years' rents of his -estates wouldn't set my lord on his legs again. With his usual -irresolution, he had changed his policy--partly owing, I fear, to our -dear old friend Lady Ascot's perpetual croaking about "Ramoneur blood," -and its staying qualities. So, after betting such a sum on his own horse -as gave the betting world confidence, and excusing himself by pleading -his well-known poverty from going further, he had hedged, by commission; -and, could his horse have lost, he would have won enough to have set -matters right at Ranford. He dared not ask a great jockey to ride for -him under such circumstances, and so he puffed one of his own lads to -the world, and broke with Wells. The lad had sold him like a sheep. -Meanwhile, thinking himself a man of honour, poor fool, he had raised -every farthing possible on his estate to meet his engagements on the -turf in case of failure--in case of his horse winning by some mischance, -if such a thing could be. And so it came about that the men of the turf -were all honourably paid, and he and his tradesmen were ruined. The -estates were entailed; but for thirty years Ranford must be in the hands -of strangers. Lord Welter, too, had raised money, and lost fearfully by -the same speculation. - -There are some men who are always in the right place when they are -wanted--always ready to do good and kind actions--and who are generally -found "to the fore" in times of trouble. Such a man was General -Mainwaring. When Lord Ascot fell down in a fit, he was beside him, and, -having seen him doing well, and having heard from him, as he recovered, -the fearful extent of the disaster, he had posted across country to -Ranford and told Lady Ascot. - -She took it very quietly. - -"Win or lose," she said, "it is all one to this unhappy house. Tell them -to get out my horses, dear general, and let me go to my poor darling -Ascot. You have heard nothing of Charles Ravenshoe, general?" - -"Nothing, my dear lady." - -Charles had brushed his sleeve in the crowd that day, and had longed to -take the dear old brown hand in his again, but dared not. Poor Charles! -If he had only done so! - -So the general and Lady Ascot went off together, and nursed Lord Ascot; -and Adelaide, pale as death, but beautiful as ever, was driven home -through the dust and turmoil, clenching her hands impatiently together -at every stoppage on the road. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVII. - -LORD WELTER'S MENAGE. - - -There was a time, a time we have seen, when Lord Welter was a merry, -humorous, thoughtless boy. A boy, one would have said, with as little -real mischief in him as might be. He might have made a decent member of -society, who knows? But to do him justice, he had had everything against -him from his earliest childhood. He had never known what a mother was, -or a sister. His earliest companions were grooms and gamekeepers; and -his religious instruction was got mostly from his grandmother, whose -old-fashioned Sunday-morning lectures and collect learnings, so rigidly -pursued that he dreaded Sunday of all days in the week, were succeeded -by cock-fighting in the Croft with his father in the afternoon, and -lounging away the evening among the stable-boys. As Lord Saltire once -said, in the former part of this story, "Ranford was what the young men -of the day called an uncommon fast house." - -Fast enough, in truth. "All downhill and no drag on." Welter soon defied -his grandmother. For his father he cared nothing. Lord Ascot was so -foolishly fond of the boy that he never contradicted him in anything, -and used even to laugh when he was impudent to his grandmother, whom, to -do Lord Ascot justice, he respected more than any living woman. Tutors -were tried, of whom Welter, by a happy combination of obstinacy and -recklessness, managed to vanquish three, in as many months. It was -hopeless. Lord Ascot would not hear of his going to school. He was his -only boy, his darling. He could not part with him; and, when Lady Ascot -pressed the matter, he grew obstinate, as he could at times, and said he -would not. The boy would do well enough; he had been just like him at -his age, and look at him now! - -Lord Ascot was mistaken. He had not been quite like Lord Welter at his -age. He had been a very quiet sort of boy indeed. Lord Ascot was a great -stickler for blood in horses, and understood such things. I wonder he -could not have seen the difference between the sweet, loving face of his -mother, capable of violent, furious passion though it was, and that of -his coarse, stupid, handsome, gipsy-looking wife, and judged -accordingly. He had engrafted a new strain of blood on the old Staunton -stock, and was to reap the consequences. - -What was to become of Lord Welter was a great problem, still unsolved; -when, one night, shortly before Charles paid his first visit to Ranford, -vice Cuthbert, disapproved of, Lord Ascot came up, as his custom was, -into his mother's dressing-room, to have half-an-hour's chat with her -before she went to bed. - -"I wonder, mother dear," he said, "whether I ought to ask old Saltire -again, or not? He wouldn't come last time you know. If I thought he -wouldn't come, I'd ask him." - -"You must ask him," said Lady Ascot, brushing her grey hair, "and he -will come." - -"_Very_ well," said Lord Ascot. "It's a bore; but you must have some one -to flirt with, I suppose." - -Lady Ascot laughed. In fact, she had written before, and told him that -he _must_ come, for she wanted him; and come he did. - -"Now, Maria," said Lord Saltire, on the first night, as soon as he and -Lady Ascot were seated together on a quiet sofa, "what is it? Why have -you brought me down to meet this mob of jockeys and gamekeepers? A -fortnight here, and not a soul to speak to, but Mainwaring and yourself. -After I was here last time, dear old Lady Hainault croaked out in a -large crowd that some one smelt of the stable." - -"Dear old soul," said Lady Ascot. "What a charming, delicate wit she -has. You will have to come here again, though. Every year, mind." - -"Kismet," said Lord Saltire. "But what is the matter?" - -"What do you think of Ascot's boy?" - -"Oh, Lord!" said Lord Saltire. "So I have been brought all this way to -be consulted about a schoolboy. Well, I think he looks an atrocious -young cub, as like his dear mamma as he can be. I always used to expect -that she would call me a pretty gentleman, and want to tell my fortune." - -Lady Ascot smiled: _she_ knew her man. She knew he would have died for -her and hers. - -"He is getting very troublesome," said Lady Ascot. "What would you -reco----" - -"Send him to Eton," said Lord Saltire. - -"But he is very high-spirited, James, and----" - -"_Send him to Eton._ Do you hear, Maria?" - -"But Ascot won't let him go," said Lady Ascot. - -"Oh, he won't, won't he?" said Lord Saltire. "Now, let us hear no more -of the cub, but have our picquet in peace." - -The next morning Lord Saltire had an interview with Lord Ascot, and two -hours afterwards it was known that Lord Welter was to go to Eton at -once. - -And so, when Lord Welter met Charles at Twyford, he told him of it. - -At Eton, he had rapidly found other boys brought up with the same tastes -as himself, and with these he consorted. A rapid interchange of -experiences went on among these young gentlemen; which ended in Lord -Welter, at all events, being irreclaimably vicious. - -Lord Welter had fallen in love with Charles, as boys do, and their -friendship had lasted on, waning as it went, till they permanently met -again at Oxford. There, though their intimacy was as close as ever, the -old love died out, for a time, amidst riot and debauchery. Charles had -some sort of a creed about women; Lord Welter had none. Charles drew a -line at a certain point, low down it might be, which he never passed; -Welter set no bounds anywhere. What Lord Hainault said of him at -Tattersall's was true. One day, when they had been arguing on this point -rather sharply, Charles said-- - -"If you mean what you say, you are not fit to come into a gentleman's -house. But you don't mean it, old cock; so don't be an ass." - -He did mean it, and Charles was right. Alas! that ever he should have -come to Ravenshoe! - -Lord Welter had lived so long in the house with Adelaide that he never -thought of making love to her. They used to quarrel, like Benedict and -Beatrice. What happened was her fault. She was worthless. Worthless. Let -us have done with it. I can expand over Lord Saltire and Lady Ascot, and -such good people, but I cannot over her, more than is necessary. - -Two things Lord Welter was very fond of--brawling and dicing. He was an -arrant bully, very strong, and perfect in the use of his fists, and of -such courage and tenacity that, having once began a brawl, no one had -ever made him leave it, save as an unqualified victor. This was getting -well known now. Since he had left Oxford and had been living in London, -he had been engaged in two or three personal encounters in the terribly -fast society to which he had betaken himself, and men were getting -afraid of him. Another thing was, that, drink as he would, he never -played the worse for it. He was a lucky player. Sometimes, after winning -money of a man, he would ask him home to have his revenge. That man -generally went again and again to Lord Welter's house, in St. John's -Wood, and did not find himself any the richer. It was the most beautiful -little gambling den in London, and it was presided over by one of the -most beautiful, witty, fascinating women ever seen. A woman with whom -all the men fell in love; so staid, so respectable, and charmingly -behaved. Lord Welter always used to call her Lady Welter; so they all -called her Lady Welter too, and treated her as though she were. - -But this Lady Welter was soon to be dethroned to make room for Adelaide. -A day or two before they went off together, this poor woman got a note -from Welter to tell her to prepare for a new mistress. It was no blow to -her. He had prepared her for it for some time. There might have been -tears, wild tears, in private; but what cared he for the tears of such -an one? When Lord Welter and Adelaide came home, and Adelaide came with -him into the hall, she advanced towards her, dressed as a waiting-woman, -and said quietly, - -"You are welcome home, madam." - -It was Ellen, and Lord Welter was the delinquent, as you have guessed -already. When she fled from Ravenshoe, she was flying from the anger of -her supposed brother William; for he thought he knew all about it; and, -when Charles Marston saw her passing round the cliff, she was making her -weary way on foot towards Exeter to join him in London. After she was -missed, William had written to Lord Welter, earnestly begging him to -tell him if he had heard of her. And Welter had written back to him that -he knew nothing, on his honour. Alas for Welter's honour, and William's -folly in believing him! - -Poor Ellen! Lord Welter had thought that she would have left the house, -and had good reason for thinking so. But, when he got home, there she -was. All her finery cast away, dressed plainly and quietly. And there -she stayed, waiting on Adelaide, demure and quiet as a waiting-woman -should be. Adelaide had never been to Ravenshoe, and did not know her. -Lord Welter had calculated on her going; but she stayed on. Why? - -You must bear with me, indeed you must, at such times as these. I touch -as lightly as I can; but I have undertaken to tell a story, and I must -tell it. These things are going on about us, and we try to ignore them, -till they are thrust rudely upon us, as they are twenty times a year. No -English story about young men could be complete without bringing in -subjects which some may think best left alone. Let us comfort ourselves -with one great, undeniable fact--the immense improvement in morals which -has taken place in the last ten years. The very outcry which is now -raised against such relations shows plainly one thing at least--that -undeniable facts are being winked at no longer, and that some reform is -coming. Every younger son who can command L200 a year ought to be -allowed to marry in his own rank in life, whatever that may be. They -will be uncomfortable, and have to save and push; and a very good thing -for them. They won't lose caste. There are some things worse than mere -discomfort. Let us look at bare facts, which no one dare deny. There is -in the great world, and the upper middle-class world too, a crowd of -cadets; younger sons, clerks, officers in the army, and so on; -non-marrying men, as the slang goes, who are asked out to dine and dance -with girls who are their equals in rank, and who have every opportunity -of falling in love with them. And yet if one of this numerous crowd were -to dare to fall in love with, and to propose to, one of these girls, he -would be denied the house. It is the fathers and mothers who are to -blame, to a great extent, for the very connexions they denounce so -loudly. But yet the very outcry they are raising against these -connexions is a hopeful sign. - -Lieutenant Hornby, walking up and down the earth to see what mischief he -could get into, had done a smart stroke of business in that way, by -making the acquaintance of Lord Welter at a gambling-house. Hornby was a -very good fellow. He had two great pleasures in life. One, I am happy to -say, was soldiering, at which he worked like a horse, and the other, I -am very sorry to say, was gambling, at which he worked a great deal -harder than he should. He was a marked man among professional players. -Every one knew how awfully rich he was, and every one in succession had -a "shy" at him. He was not at all particular. He would accept a battle -with any one. Gaming men did all sorts of dirty things to get introduced -to him, and play with him. The greater number of them had their wicked -will; but the worst of it was that he always won. Sometimes, at a game -of chance, he might lose enough to encourage his enemies to go on; but -at games of skill no one could touch him. His billiard playing was -simply masterly. And Dick Ferrers will tell you, that he and Hornby, -being once, I am very sorry to say, together at G--n--ch F--r, were -accosted in the park by a skittle-sharper, and that Hornby (who would, -like Faust, have played chess with Old Gooseberry) allowed himself to be -taken into a skittle-ground, from which he came out in half an hour -victorious over the skittle-sharper, beating him easily. - -In the heyday of his fame, Lord Welter was told of him, and saying, -"Give me the daggers," got introduced to him. They had a tournament at -_ecarte_, or billiards, or something or another of that sort, it don't -matter; and Lord Welter asked him up to St. John's Wood, where he saw -Ellen. - -He lost that night liberally, as he could afford to; and, with very -little persuasion, was induced to come there the next. He lost liberally -again. He had fallen in love with Ellen. - -Lord Welter saw it, and made use of it as a bait to draw on Hornby to -play. Ellen's presence was, of course, a great attraction to him, and he -came and played; but unluckily for Lord Welter, after a few nights his -luck changed, or he took more care, and he began to win again; so much -so that, about the time when Adelaide came home, my Lord Welter had had -nearly enough of Lieutenant Hornby, and was in hopes that he should have -got rid of Ellen and him together; for his lordship was no fool about -some things, and saw plainly this--that Hornby was passionately fond of -Ellen, and, moreover, that poor Ellen had fallen deeply in love with -Hornby. - -So, when he came home, he was surprised and angry to find her there. She -would not go. She would stay and wait on Adelaide. She had been asked to -go; but had refused sharply the man she loved. Poor girl, she had her -reasons; and we shall see what they were. Now you know what I meant when -I wondered whether or no Charles would have burnt Hornby's house down if -he had known all. But you will be rather inclined to forgive Hornby -presently, as Charles did when he came to know everything. - -But the consequence of Ellen's staying on as servant to Adelaide brought -this with it, that Hornby determined that he would have the _entree_ of -the house at St. John's Wood, at any price. Lord Welter guessed this, -and guessed that Hornby would be inclined to lose a little money in -order to gain it. When he brushed Charles's knee in Piccadilly he was -deliberating whether or no he should ask him back there again. As he -stood unconsciously, almost touching Charles, he came to the -determination that he would try what bargain he could make with the -honour of Charles's sister, whom he had so shamefully injured already. -And Charles saw them make the appointment together in the balcony. How -little he guessed for what! - -Lord Hainault was right. Welter was a scoundrel. But Hornby was not, as -we shall see. - -Hornby loved play for play's sake. And, extravagant dandy though he was, -the attorney blood of his father came out sometimes so strong in him -that, although he would have paid any price to be near, and speak to -Ellen, yet he could not help winning, to Lord Welter's great disgust, -and his own great amusement. Their game, I believe, was generally -_picquet_ or _ecarte_, and at both these he was Lord Welter's master. -What with his luck and his superior play, it was very hard to lose -decently sometimes; and sometimes, as I said, he would cast his plans to -the winds and win terribly. But he always repented when he saw Lord -Welter get savage, and lost dutifully, though at times he could barely -keep his countenance. Nevertheless the balance he allowed to Lord Welter -made a very important item in that gentleman's somewhat precarious -income. - -But, in spite of all his sacrifices, he but rarely got even a glimpse of -Ellen. And, to complicate matters, Adelaide, who sat by and watched the -play, and saw Hornby purposely losing at times, got it into her silly -head that he was in love with her. She liked the man--who did not? But -she had honour enough left to be rude to him. Hornby saw all this, and -was amused. I often think that it must have been a fine spectacle, to -see the honourable man playing with the scoundrel, and give him just as -much line as he chose. And, when I call Hornby an honourable man, I mean -what I say, as you will see. - -This was the state of things when the Derby crash came. At half-past -five on that day, the Viscountess Welter dashed up to her elegant -residence in St. John's Wood, in a splendid barouche, drawn by four -horses, and, when "her people" came and opened the door and let down the -steps, lazily descended, and followed by her footman bearing her -fal-lals, lounged up the steps as if life were really too _ennuyant_ to -be borne any longer. Three hours afterwards, a fierce, eager woman, -plainly dressed, with a dark veil, was taking apartments in the Bridge -Hotel, London Bridge, for Mr. and Mrs. Staunton, who were going abroad -in a few days; and was overseeing, with her confidential servant, a -staid man in black, the safe stowage of numerous hasped oak boxes, the -most remarkable thing about which was their great weight. The lady was -Lady Welter, and the man was Lord Welter's confidential scoundrel. The -landlord thought they had robbed Hunt and Roskell's, and were off with -the plunder, till he overheard the man say, "I think that is all, my -lady;" after which he was quite satisfied. The fact was, that all the -Ascot race plate, gold salvers and epergnes, silver cups rough with -designs of the chase, and possibly also some of the Ascot family jewels, -were so disgusted with the state of things in England, that they were -thinking of going for a little trip on the Continent. What should a -dutiful wife do but see to their safe stowage? If any enterprising -burglar had taken it into his head to "crack" that particular "crib" -known as the Bridge Hotel, and got clear off with the "swag," he might -have retired on the hard-earned fruits of a well-spent life into happier -lands--might have been "run" for M.L.C., or possibly for Congress in a -year or two. Who can tell? - -And, also, if Lord Welter's confidential scoundrel had taken it into his -head to waylay and rob his lordship's noble consort on her way -home--which he was quite capable of doing--and if he also had got clear -off, he would have found himself a better man by seven hundred and -ninety-four pounds, three half-crowns, and a threepenny-piece; that is, -if he had done it before her ladyship had paid the cabman. But both the -burglars and the valet missed the tide, and the latter regrets it to -this day. - -At eleven o'clock that night, Lady Welter was lolling leisurely on her -drawing-room sofa, quite bored to death. When Lord Welter, and Hornby, -and Sir Robert Ferrers, and some Dragoons came in, she was yawning, as -if life was really too much of a plague to be endured. Would she play -loo? Oh, yes; anything after such a wretched, lonely evening. That was -the game where you had three cards, wasn't it, and you needn't go on -unless you liked. Would Welter or some one lend her some money. She had -got a threepenny-piece and a shilling somewhere or another, but that -would not be enough, she supposed. Where was Sir Robert's little -brother! Gone to bed? How tiresome; she had fallen in love with him, and -had set her heart on seeing him to-night. And so on. - -Lord Welter gave her a key, and told her there was some money in his -dressing-case. As she left the room, Hornby, who was watching them, saw -a quick look of intelligence pass between them, and laughed in his -sleeve. - -I have been given to understand that guinea unlimited loo is a charming -pursuit, soothing to the feelings, and highly improving to the moral -tone. I speak from hearsay, as circumstances over which I have no -control have prevented my ever trying it. But this I know--that, if Lord -Welter's valet had robbed his master and mistress, when they went to bed -that night, instead of netting seven hundred and ninety-four, seven, -nine, he would have netted eleven hundred and forty-six, eight, six; -leaving out the threepenny-piece. But he didn't do it; and Lord and Lady -Welter slept that sleep which is the peculiar reward of a quiet -conscience undisturbed. - -But, next morning, when Charles waited on Hornby, in his dressing-room, -the latter said-- - -"I shall want you to-night, lad. I thought I might have last night; but, -seeing the other fellows went, I left you at home. Be ready at half-past -six. I lost a hundred and twenty pounds last night. I don't mean to -afford it any longer. I shall stop it." - -"Where are we to go to, sir?" - -"To St. John's Wood. We shall be up late. Leave the servant's hall, and -come up and lie in the hall, as if you were asleep. Don't let yourself -be seen. No one will notice you." - -Charles little thought where he was going. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVIII. - -THE HOUSE FULL OF GHOSTS. - - -Charles had really no idea where he was going. Although he knew that -Hornby had been playing with Lord Welter, yet he thought, from what -Hornby had said, that he would not bring him into collision with him; -and indeed he did not--only taking Charles with him as a reserve in case -of accidents, for he thoroughly distrusted his lordship. - -At half-past six in the evening Hornby rode slowly away, followed by -Charles. He had told Charles that he should dine in St. John's Wood at -seven, and should ride there, and Charles was to wait with the horses. -But it was nearly seven, and yet Hornby loitered, and seemed -undetermined. It was a wild, gusty evening, threatening rain. There were -very few people abroad, and those who were rode or walked rapidly. And -yet Hornby dawdled irresolutely, as though his determination were hardly -strong enough yet. - -At first he rode quite away from his destination, but by degrees his -horse's head got changed into the right direction; then he made another -detour, but a shorter one; at last he put spurs to his horse, and rode -resolutely up the short carriage-drive before the door, and giving the -reins to Charles, walked firmly in. - -Charles put up the horses and went into the servants' hall, or the room -which answered that end in the rather small house of Lord Welter. No -one was there. All the servants were busy with the dinner and Charles -was left unnoticed. - -By-and-by a page, noticing a strange servant in passing the door, -brought him some beer, and a volume of the Newgate Calendar. This young -gentleman called his attention to the print of a lady cutting up the -body of her husband with a chopper, assisted by a young Jew, who was -depicted "walking off with a leg," like one of the Fans (the use of -which seems to be, to cool the warm imagination of other travellers into -proper limits), while the woman was preparing for another effort. After -having recommended Charles to read the letterpress thereof, as he would -find it tolerably spicy, he departed, and left him alone. - -The dinner was got over in time; and after a time there was silence in -the house--a silence so great that Charles rose and left the room. He -soon found his way to another; but all was dark and silent, though it -was not more than half-past nine. - -He stood in the dark passage, wondering where to go, and determined to -turn back to the room from which he had come. There was a light there, -at all events. - -There was a light, and the Newgate Calendar. The wild wind, that had -eddied and whirled the dust at the street corners, and swept across the -park all day, had gone down, and the rain had come on. He could hear it -drip, drip, outside; it was very melancholy. Confound the Newgate -Calendar! - -He was in a very queer house, he knew. What did Hornby mean by asking -him the night before whether or no he could fight, and whether he would -stick to him? Drip, drip; otherwise a dead silence. Charles's heart -began to beat a little faster. - -Where were all the servants? He had heard plenty of them half an hour -ago. He had heard a French cook swearing at English kitchen-girls, and -had heard plenty of other voices; and now--the silence of the grave. Or -of Christie and Manson's on Saturday evening; or of the Southern Indian -Ocean in a calm at midnight; or of anything else you like; similes are -cheap. - -He remembered now that Hornby had said, "Come and lie in the hall as if -asleep; no one will notice you." He determined to do so. But where was -it? His candle was flickering in its socket, and as he tried to move it, -it went out. - -He could scarcely keep from muttering on oath, but he did. His situation -was very uncomfortable. He did not know in what house he was--only that -he was in a quarter of the town in which there were not a few uncommonly -queer houses. He determined to grope his way to the light. - -He felt his way out of the room and along a passage. The darkness was -intense, and the silence perfect. Suddenly a dull red light gleamed in -his eyes, and made him start. It was the light of the kitchen fire. A -cricket would have been company, but there was none. - -He continued to advance cautiously. Soon a ghostly square of very dim -grey light on his left showed him where was a long narrow window. It was -barred with iron bars. He was just thinking of this, and how very queer -it was, when he uttered a loud oath, and came crashing down. He had -fallen upstairs. - -He had made noise enough to waken the seven sleepers; but those -gentlemen did not seem to be in the neighbourhood, or, at all events, if -awakened gave no sign of it. Dead silence. He sat on the bottom stair -and rubbed his shins, and in spite of a strong suspicion that he had got -into a scrape, laughed to himself at the absurdity of his position. - -"Would it be worth while, I wonder," he said to himself, "to go back to -the kitchen and get the poker? I'd better not, I suppose. It would be so -deuced awkward to be caught in the dark with a poker in your hand. Being -on the premises for the purpose of committing a felony--that is what -they would say; and then they would be sure to say that you were the -companion of thieves, and had been convicted before. No. Under this -staircase, in the nature of things, is the housemaid's cupboard. What -should I find there as a weapon of defence? A dust-pan. A great deal -might be done with a dust-pan, mind you, at close quarters. How would it -do to arrange all her paraphernalia on the stairs, and cry fire, so that -mine enemies, rushing forth, might stumble and fall, and be taken -unawares? But that would be acting on the offensive, and I have no safe -grounds for pitching into any one yet." - -Though Charles tried to comfort himself by talking nonsense, he was very -uncomfortable. Staying where he was, was intolerable; and he hardly -dared to ascend into the upper regions unbidden. Besides, he had fully -persuaded himself that a disturbance was imminent, and, though a brave -man, did not like to precipitate it. He had mistaken the character of -the house he was in. At last, taking heart, he turned and felt his way -upstairs. He came before a door through the keyhole of which the light -streamed strongly; he was deliberating whether to open it or not, when a -shadow crossed it, though he heard no noise, but a minute after the -distant sound of a closing door. He could stand it no longer. He opened -the door, and advanced into a blaze of light. - -He entered a beautiful flagged hall, frescoed and gilded. There were -vases of flowers round the walls, and strips of Indian matting on the -pavement. It was lit by a single chandelier, which was reflected in four -great pier-glasses reaching to the ground, in which Charles's top-boots -and brown face were re-duplicated most startlingly. The _tout ensemble_ -was very beautiful; but what struck Charles was the bad taste of having -an entrance-hall decorated like a drawing-room. "That is just the sort -of thing they do in these places," he thought. - -There were only two hats on the entrance table; one of which he was -rejoiced to recognise as that of his most respected master. "May the -deuce take his silly noddle for bringing me to such a place!" thought -Charles. - -This was evidently the front hall spoken of by Hornby; and he remembered -his advice to pretend to go to sleep. So he lay down on three -hall-chairs, and put his hat over his eyes. - -Hall-chairs are hard; and, although Charles had just been laughing at -the proprietor of the house for being so lavish in his decorations, he -now wished that he had carried out his system a little further, and had -cushions to his chairs. But no; the chairs were _de rigueur_, with -crests on the back of them. Charles did not notice whose. - -If a man pretends to go to sleep, and, like the Marchioness with her -orange-peel and water, "makes believe very much," he may sometimes -succeed in going to sleep in good earnest. Charles imitated the thing so -well, that in five minutes he was as fast off as a top. - -Till a night or two before this, Charles had never dreamt of Ravenshoe -since he had left it. When the first sharp sting of his trouble was in -his soul, his mind had refused to go back further than to the events of -a day or so before. He had dreamt long silly dreams of his master, or -his fellow-servants, or his horses, but always, all through the night, -with a dread on him of waking in the dark. But, as his mind began to -settle and his pain got dulled, he began to dream about Ravenshoe, and -Oxford, and Shrewsbury again; and he no longer dreaded the waking as he -did, for the reality of his life was no longer hideous to him. With the -fatal "plasticity" of his nature, he had lowered himself, body and soul, -to the level of it. - -But to-night, as he slept on these chairs, he dreamt of Ravenshoe, and -of Cuthbert, and of Ellen. And he woke, and she was standing within ten -feet of him, under the chandelier. - -He was awake in an instant, but he lay as still as a mouse, staring at -her. She had not noticed him, but was standing in profound thought. -Found, and so soon! His sister! How lovely she was, standing, dressed in -light pearl grey, like some beautiful ghost, with her speaking eyes -fixed on nothing. She moved now, but so lightly that her footfall was -barely heard upon the matting. Then she turned and noticed him. She did -not seem surprised at seeing a groom stretched out asleep on the -chairs--she was used to that sort of thing, probably--but she turned -away, gliding through a door at the further end of the hall, and was -gone. - -Charles's heart was leaping and beating madly, but he heard another door -open, and lay still. - -Adelaide came out of a door opposite to the one into which Ellen had -passed. Charles was not surprised. He was beyond surprise. But, when he -saw her and Ellen in the same house, in one instant, with the quickness -of lightning, he understood it all. It was Welter had tempted Ellen from -Ravenshoe! Fool! fool! he might have prevented it once if he had only -guessed. - -If he had any doubt as to where he was now, it was soon dispelled. Lord -Welter came rapidly out of the door after Adelaide, and called her in a -whisper, "Adelaide." - -"Well," she said, turning round sharply. - -"Come back, do you hear?" said Lord Welter. "Where the deuce are you -going?" - -"To my own room." - -"Come back, I tell you," said Lord Welter, savagely, in a low voice. -"You are going to spoil everything with your confounded airs." - -"I shall not come back. I am not going to act as a decoy-duck to that -man, or any other man. Let me go, Welter." - -Lord Welter was very near having to let her go with a vengeance. Charles -was ready for a spring, but watched, and waited his time. Lord Welter -had only caught her firmly by the wrist to detain her. He was not -hurting her. - -"Look you here, my Lady Welter," he said slowly and distinctly. "Listen -to what I've got to say, and don't try the shadow of a tantrum with me, -for I won't have it for one moment. I don't mind your chaff and nonsense -in public; it blinds people, it is racy and attracts people; but in -private I am master, do you hear? Master. You know you are afraid of me, -and have good cause to be, by Jove. You are shaking now. Go back to that -room." - -"I won't, I won't, I won't. Not without you, Welter. How can you use me -so cruelly, Welter? Oh, Welter, how can you be such a villain?" - -"You conceited fool," said Lord Welter, contemptuously. "Do you think he -wants to make love to you?" - -"You know he does, Welter; you know it," said Adelaide, passionately. - -Lord Welter laughed good-naturedly. (He could be good-natured.) He drew -her towards him and kissed her. "My poor little girl," he said, "if I -thought that, I would break his neck. But it is utterly wide of the -truth. Look here, Adelaide; you are as safe from insult as my wife as -you were at Ranford. What you are not safe from is my own temper. Let us -be friends in private and not squabble so much, eh? You are a good, -shrewd, clever wife to me. Do keep your tongue quiet. Come in and mark -what follows." - -They had not noticed Charles, though he had been so sure that they -would, that he had got his face down on the chair, covered with his -arms, feigning sleep. When they went into the room again, Charles caught -hold of a coat which was on the back of a chair, and, curling himself -up, put it over him. He would listen, listen, listen for every word. He -had a right to listen now. - -In a minute a bell rang twice. Almost at the same moment some one came -out of the door through which Lord Welter had passed, and stood silent. -In about two minutes another door opened, and some one else came into -the hall. - -A woman's voice--Ellen's--said, "Oh, are you come again?" - -A man's voice--Lieutenant Hornby's--said in answer, "You see I am. I got -Lady Welter to ring her bell twice for you, and then to stay in that -room, so that I might have an interview with you." - -"I am obliged to her ladyship. She must have been surprised that I was -the object of attraction. She fancied herself so." - -"She was surprised. And she was more so, when I told her what my real -object was." - -"Indeed," said Ellen, bitterly. "But her ladyship's surprise does not -appear to have prevented her from assisting you." - -"On the contrary," said Hornby, "she wished me God speed--her own -words." - -"Sir, you are a gentleman. Don't disgrace yourself and me--if I can be -disgraced--by quoting that woman's blasphemy before me. Sir, you have -had your answer. I shall go." - -"Ellen, you must stay. I have got this interview with you to-night, to -ask you to be my wife. I love you as I believe woman was never loved -before, and I ask you to be my wife." - -"You madman! you madman!" - -"I am no madman. I was a madman when I spoke to you before; I pray your -forgiveness for that. You must forget that. I say that I love you as a -woman was never loved before. Shall I say something more, Ellen?" - -"Say on." - -"You love me." - -"I love you as man was never loved before; and I swear to you that I -hope I may lie stiff and cold in my unhonoured coffin, before I'll ruin -the man I love by tying him to such a wretch as myself." - -"Ellen, Ellen, don't say that. Don't take such vows, which you will not -dare to break afterwards. Think, you may regain all that you have lost, -and marry a man who loves you--ah, so dearly!--and whom you love too." - -"Ay; there's the rub. If I did not love you, I would marry you -to-morrow. Regain all I have lost, say you? Bring my mother to life -again, for instance, or walk among other women again as an honest one? -You talk nonsense, Mr. Hornby--nonsense. I am going." - -"Ellen! Ellen! Why do you stay in this house? Think once again." - -"I shall never leave thinking; but my determination is the same. I tell -you, as a desperate woman like me dare tell you, that I love you far too -well to ruin your prospects, and I love my own soul too well ever to -make another false step. I stayed in this house because I loved to see -you now and then, and hear your voice; but now I shall leave it." - -"See me once more, Ellen--only once more!" - -"I will see you once more. I will tear my heart once more, if you wish -it. You have deserved all I can do for you, God knows. Come here the day -after to-morrow; but come without hope, mind. A woman who has been -through what I have can trust herself. Do you know that I am a -Catholic?" - -"No." - -"I am. Would you turn Catholic if I were to marry you?" - -God forgive poor Hornby! He said, "Yes." What will not men say at such -times? - -"Did I not say you were a madman? Do you think I would ruin you in the -next world, as well as in this? Go away, sir; and, when your children -are round you, humbly bless God's mercy for saving you, body and soul, -this night." - -"I shall see you again?" - -"Come here the day after to-morrow; but come without hope." - -She passed through the door, and left him standing alone. Charles rose -from his lair, and, coming up to him, laid his hand on his shoulder. - -"You have heard all this," said poor Hornby. - -"Every word," said Charles. "I had a right to listen, you know. She is -my sister." - -"Your sister?" - -Then Charles told him all. Hornby had heard enough from Lord Welter to -understand it. - -"Your sister! Can you help me, Horton? Surely she will hear reason from -you. Will you persuade her to listen to me?" - -"No," said Charles. "She was right. You are mad. I will not help you do -an act which you would bitterly repent all your life. You must forget -her. She and I are disgraced, and must get away somewhere, and hide our -shame together." - -What Hornby would have answered, no man can tell; for at this moment -Adelaide came out of the room, and passed quickly across the hall, -saying good night to him as she passed. She did not recognise Charles, -or seem surprised at seeing Hornby talking to his groom. Nobody who had -lived in Lord Welter's house a day or two was surprised at anything. - -But Charles, speaking to Hornby more as if he were master than servant, -said, "Wait here;" and, stepping quickly from him, went into the room -where Lord Welter sat alone, and shut the door. Hornby heard it locked -behind him, and waited in the hall, listening intensely, for what was to -follow. - -"There'll be a row directly," said Hornby to himself; "and that -chivalrous fool, Charles, has locked himself in. I wish Welter did not -send all his servants out of the house at night. There'll be murder done -here some day." - -He listened and heard voices, low as yet--so low that he could hear the -dripping of the rain outside. Drip--drip! The suspense was intolerable. -When would they be at one another's throats? - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIX. - -CHARLES'S EXPLANATION WITH LORD WELTER. - - -There is a particular kind of Ghost, or Devil, which is represented by -an isosceles triangle (more or less correctly drawn) for the body; -straight lines turned up at the ends for legs; straight lines divided -into five at the ends for arms; a round O, with arbitrary dots for the -features, for a head; with a hat, an umbrella, and a pipe. Drawn like -this, it is a sufficiently terrible object. But, if you take an ace of -clubs, make the club represent the head, add horns, and fill in the body -and limbs as above, in deep black, with the feather end of the pen, it -becomes simply appalling, and will strike terror into the stoutest -heart. - -Is this the place, say you, for talking such nonsense as this; If you -must give us balderdash of this sort, could not you do so in a chapter -with a less terrible heading than this one has? And I answer, Why not -let me tell my story my own way? Something depends even on this nonsense -of making devils out of the ace of clubs. - -It was rather a favourite amusement of Charles's and Lord Welter's, in -old times at Ranford. They used, on rainy afternoon's, to collect all -the old aces of clubs (and there were always plenty of them to be had in -that house, God help it), and make devils out of them, each one worse -than the first. And now, when Charles had locked the door, and advanced -softly up to Welter, he saw, over his shoulder, that he had got an ace -of clubs, and the pen and ink, and was making a devil. - -It was a trifling circumstance enough, perhaps; but there was enough of -old times in it to alter the tone in which Charles said, "Welter," as he -laid his hand on his shoulder. - -Lord Welter was a bully; but he was as brave as a lion, with nerves of -steel. He neither left off his drawing, nor looked up; he only -said--"Charley, boy, come and sit down till I have finished this fellow. -Get an ace of clubs and try your own hand. I am out of practice." - -Perhaps even Lord Welter might have started when he heard Charles's -voice, and felt his hand on his shoulder; but he had had one -instant--only one instant--of preparation. When he heard the key turn in -the door, he had looked in a pier-glass opposite to him, and seen who -and what was coming, and then gone on with his employment. Even allowing -for this moment's preparation, we must give him credit for the nerve of -one man in ten thousand; for the apparition of Charles Ravenshoe was as -unlooked-for as that of any one of Charles Ravenshoe's remote ancestors. - -You see, I call him Charles Ravenshoe still. It is a trick. You must -excuse it. - -Charles did not sit down and draw devils; he said, in a quiet, mournful -tone, - -"Welter, Welter, why have you been such a villain?" - -Lord Welter found that a difficult question to answer. He let it alone, -and said nothing. - -"I say nothing about Adelaide. You did not use me well there; for, when -you persuaded her to go off with you, you had not heard of my ruin." - -"On my soul, Charles, there was not much persuasion wanted there." - -"Very likely. I do not want to speak about that, but about Ellen, my -sister. Was anything ever done more shamefully than that?" - -Charles expected some furious outbreak when he said that. None came. -What was good in Lord Welter came to the surface, when he saw his old -friend and playmate there before him, sunk so far below him in all that -this world considers worth having, but rising so far above him in his -fearless honour and manliness. He was humbled, sorry, and ashamed. -Bitter as Charles's words were, he felt they were true, and had manhood -enough left not to resent them. To the sensation of fear, as I have said -before, Lord Welter was a total stranger, or he might have been nervous -at being locked up in a room alone, with a desperate man, physically his -equal, whom he had so shamefully wronged. He rose and leant against the -chimney-piece, looking at Charles. - -"I did not know she was your sister, Charles. You must do me that -justice." - -"Of course you did not. If----" - -"I know what you are going to say--that I should not have dared. On my -soul, Charles, I don't know; I believe I dare do anything. But I tell -you one thing--of all the men who walk this earth, you are the last I -would willingly wrong. When I went off with Adelaide, I knew she did not -care sixpence for you. I knew she would have made you wretched. I knew -better than you, because I never was in love with her, and you were, -what a heartless ambitious jade it was! She sold herself to me for the -title I gave her, as she had tried to sell herself to that solemn prig -Hainault, before. And I bought her, because a handsome, witty, clever -wife is a valuable chattel to a man like me, who has to live by his -wits." - -"Ellen was as handsome and as clever as she. Why did not you marry her?" -said Charles, bitterly. - -"If you will have the real truth, Ellen would have been Lady Welter now, -but----" - -Lord Welter hesitated. He was a great rascal, and he had a brazen front, -but he found a difficulty in going on. It must be, I should fancy, very -hard work to tell all the little ins and outs of a piece of villainy one -has been engaged in, and to tell, as Lord Welter did on this occasion, -the exact truth. - -"I am waiting," said Charles, "to hear you tell me why she was not made -Lady Welter." - -"What, you will have it, then? Well, she was too scrupulous. She was too -honourable a woman for this line of business. She wouldn't play, or -learn to play--d--n it, sir, you have got the whole truth now, if that -will content you." - -"I believe what you say, my lord. Do you know that Lieutenant Hornby -made her an offer of marriage to-night?" - -"I supposed he would," said Lord Welter. - -"And that she has refused him?" - -"I guessed that she would. She is your own sister. Shall you try to -persuade her?" - -"I would see her in her coffin first." - -"So I suppose." - -"She must come away from here, Lord Welter. I must keep her and do what -I can for her. We must pull through it together, somehow." - -"She had better go from here. She is too good for this hole. I must make -provision for her to live with you." - -"Not one halfpenny, my lord. She has lived too long in dependence and -disgrace already. We will pull through together alone." - -Lord Welter said nothing, but he determined that Charles should not have -his way in this respect. - -Charles continued, "When I came into this room to-night I came to -quarrel with you. You have not allowed me to do so, and I thank you for -it." Here he paused, and then went on in a lower voice, "I think you are -sorry, Welter; are you not? I am sure you are sorry. I am sure you -wouldn't have done it if you had foreseen the consequences, eh?" - -Lord Welter's coarse under-lip shook for half a second, and his big -chest heaved once; but he said nothing. - -"Only think another time; that is all. Now do me a favour; make me a -promise." - -"I have made it." - -"Don't tell any human soul you have seen me. If you do, you will only -entail a new disguise and a new hiding on me. You have promised." - -"On my honour." - -"If you keep your promise I can stay where I am. How is--Lady Ascot?" - -"Well. Nursing my father." - -"Is he ill?" - -"Had a fit the day before yesterday. I heard this morning from them. He -is much better, and will get over it." - -"Have you heard anything from Ravenshoe?" - -"Not a word. Lord Saltire and General Mainwaring are both with my -father, in London. Grandma won't see either me or Adelaide. Do you know -that she has been moving heaven and earth to find you?" - -"Good soul! I won't be found, though. Now, good-night!" - -And he went. If any one had told him three months before that he would -have been locked in the same room with a man who had done him such -irreparable injury, and have left it at the end of half an hour with a -quiet "good-night," he would most likely have beaten that man there and -then. But he was getting tamed very fast. Ay, he was already getting -more than tamed; he was in a fair way to get broken-hearted. - -"I will not see her to-night, sir," he said to Hornby, whom he found -with his head resting on the table; "I will come to-morrow, and prepare -her for leaving this house. You are to see her the day after to-morrow; -but without hope, remember." - -He roused a groom from above the stable to help him to saddle the -horses. "Will it soon be morning?" he asked. - -"Morning," said the lad; "it's not twelve o'clock yet. It's a dark -night, mate, and no moon. But the nights are short now. The dawn will be -on us before we have time to turn in our beds." - -He rode slowly home after Hornby. "The night is dark, but the dawn will -be upon us before we can turn in our beds!" Only the idle words of a -sleepy groom, yet they echoed in his ears all the way home. The night is -dark indeed; but it will be darker yet before the dawn, Charles -Ravenshoe. - - - - -CHAPTER XL. - -A DINNER PARTY AMONG SOME OLD FRIENDS. - - -Lady Hainault (_nee_ Burton, not the Dowager) had asked some one to -dinner, and the question had been whom to ask to meet him. Mary had been -called into consultation, as she generally was on most occasions, and -she and Lady Hainault had made up a list together. Every one had -accepted, and was coming; and here were Mary and Lady Hainault dressed -for dinner, alone in the drawing-room with the children. - -"We could not have done better for him, Mary, I think. You must go in to -dinner with him." - -"Is Mary going to stop down to dinner?" said the youngest boy; "what a -shame! I sha'n't say my prayers to-night if she don't come up." - -The straightforward Gus let his brother know what would be the -consequences of such neglect hereafter, in a plain-spoken way peculiarly -his own. - -"Gus! Gus! don't say such things," said Lady Hainault. - -"The hymn-book says so, aunt," said Gus, triumphantly; and he quoted a -charming little verse of Dr. Watts's, beginning, "There is a dreadful -Hell." - -Lady Hainault might have been puzzled what to say, and Mary would not -have helped her, for they had had an argument about that same hymn-book -(Mary contending that one or two of the hymns were as well left alone at -first), when Flora struck in and saved her aunt, by remarking. - -"I shall save up my money and buy some jewels for Mary like aunt's, so -that when she stays down to dinner some of the men may fall in love with -her, and marry her." - -"Pooh! you silly goose," said Gus, "those jewels cost sixty million -thousand pounds a-piece. I don't want her to be married till I grow up, -and then I shall marry her myself. Till then, I shall buy her a yellow -wig, like grandma Hainault's, and then nobody will want to marry her." - -"Be quiet, Gus," said Lady Hainault. - -It was one thing to say "be quiet Gus," and it was another thing to make -him hold his tongue. But, to do Gus justice, he was a good fellow, and -never acted "_enfant terrible_" but to the most select and private -audience. Now he had begun: "I wish some one would marry grandma," when -the door was thrown open, the first guest was announced, and Gus was -dumb. - -"General Mainwaring." The general sat down between Lady Hainault and -Mary, and, while talking to them, reached out his broad brown hand and -lifted the youngest boy on his knee, who played with his ribands, and -cried out that he would have the orange and blue one, if he pleased; -while Gus and Flora came and stood at his knee. - -He talked to them both sadly in a low voice about the ruin which had -come on Lord Ascot. There was worse than mere ruin, he feared. He feared -there was disgrace. He had been with him that morning. He was a wreck. -One side of his face was sadly pulled down, and he stammered in his -speech. He would get over it. He was only three-and-forty. But he would -not show again in society, he feared. Here was somebody else; they would -change the subject. - -Lord Saltire. They were so glad to see him. Every one's face had a kind -smile on it as the old man came and sat down among them. His own smile -was not the least pleasant of the lot, I warrant you. - -"So you are talking about poor Ascot, eh?" he said. "I don't know -whether you were or not; but, if you were, let us talk about something -else. You see, my dear Miss Corby, that my prophecy to you on the -terrace at Ravenshoe is falsified. I said they would not fight, and lo, -they are as good as at it." - -They talked about the coming war, and Lord Hainault came in and joined -them. Soon after, another guest was announced. - -Lady Ascot. She was dressed in dark grey silk, with her white hair -simply parted under a plain lace cap. She looked so calm, so brave, so -kind, so beautiful, as she came with firm strong step in at the door, -that they one and all rose and came towards her. She had always been -loved by them all; how much more deeply was she loved now, when her -bitter troubles had made her doubly sacred! - -Lord Saltire gave her his arm, and she came and sat down among them with -her hands calmly folded before her. "I was determined to come and see -you to-night, my dear," she said. "I should break down if I couldn't see -some that I loved. And to-night, in particular" (she looked earnestly at -Lord Saltire). "Is he come yet?" - -"Not yet, dear grandma," said Mary. - -"No one is coming besides, I suppose?" asked Lady Ascot. - -"No one; we are waiting for him." - -The door was opened once more, and they all looked curiously round. This -time the servant announced, perhaps in a somewhat louder tone than -usual, as if he were aware that they were more interested, - -"Mr. Ravenshoe." - -A well-dressed, gentlemanly-looking man came into the room, bearing such -a wonderful likeness to Charles Ravenshoe, that Lady Hainault and -General Mainwaring, the only two who had never seen him before, started, -and thought they saw Charles himself. It was not Charles, though; it was -our old friend whilom pad-groom to Charles Ravenshoe, Esquire, now -himself William Ravenshoe, Esquire, of Ravenshoe. - -He was the guest of the evening. He would be heir to Ravenshoe himself -some day; for they had made up their minds that Cuthbert would never -marry. Ravenshoe, as Cuthbert was managing it now, would be worth ten or -twelve thousand a year, and, if these new tin lodes came to anything, -perhaps twenty. He had been a stable-helper, said old Lady -Hainault--the companion of the drunken riots of his foster-brother -impostor, and that quiet gentlemanly creature Welter. If he entered the -house, she left it. To which young Lady Hainault had replied that some -one must ask him to dinner in common decency, if it was only for the -sake of that dear Charles, who had been loved by every one who knew him. -That she intended to ask him to dinner, and that, if her dear -mother-in-law objected to meet him, why the remedy lay with herself. -Somebody must introduce him to some sort of society; and Lord Hainault -and herself had made up their minds to do it, so that further argument -on the subject would be wasted breath. To which the Dowager replied that -she really wished, after all, that Hainault had married that pretty chit -of a thing, Adelaide Summers, as he was thinking of doing; as she, the -Dowager, could not have been treated with greater insolence even by her, -bold as she was. With which Parthian piece of spite she had departed to -Casterton with Miss Hicks, and had so goaded and snapped at that -unfortunate reduced gentlewoman by the way, that at last Hicks, as her -wont was, had turned upon her and given her as good as she brought. If -the Dowager could have heard Lady Hainault telling her lord the whole -business that night, and joking with him about his alleged _penchant_ -for Adelaide, and heard the jolly laugh that those two good souls had -about it, her ladyship would have been more spiteful still. - -But, nevertheless, Lady Hainault was very nervous about William. When -Mary was consulted, she promptly went bail for his good behaviour, and -pled his case so warmly, that the tears stood in her eyes. Her old -friend William! What innocent plots she and he had hatched together -against the priest in the old times. What a bond there was between them -in their mutual love for him who was lost to them. - -But Lady Hainault would be on the safe side; and so only the party named -above were asked. All old friends of the family. - -Before dinner was announced, they were all at their ease about him. He -was shy, certainly, but not awkward. He evidently knew that he was asked -there on trial, and he accepted his position. But he was so handsome -(handsomer than poor Charles), he was so gentle and modest, -and--perhaps, too, not least--had such a well-modulated voice, that, -before the evening was over, he had won every one in the room. If he -knew anything of a subject, he helped the conversation quietly, as well -as he could; if he had to confess ignorance (which was seldom, for he -was among well-bred people), he did so frankly, but unobtrusively. He -was a great success. - -One thing puzzled him, and pleased him. He knew that he was a person of -importance, and that he was the guest of the evening. But he soon found -that there was another cause for his being interesting to them all, more -powerful than his curious position, or his prospective wealth; and that -was his connection with Charles Ravenshoe, now Horton. _He_ was the hero -of the evening. Half William's light was borrowed from him. He quickly -became aware of it, and it made him happy. - -How strange it is that some men have the power of winning such love from -all they meet. I knew one, gone from us now by a glorious death, who had -that faculty. Only a few knew his great worth and goodness; and yet, as -his biographer most truly says, those who once saw his face never forgot -it. Charles Ravenshoe had that faculty also, though, alas! his value, -both in worth and utility, was far inferior to that of the man to whom I -have alluded above.[3] But he had the same infinite kindness towards -everything created; which is part of the secret. - -The first hint that William had, as to how deeply important a person -Charles was among the present company, was given him at dinner. Various -subjects had been talked of indifferently, and William had listened, -till Lord Hainault said to William-- - -"What a strange price people are giving for cobs! I saw one sold to-day -at Tattersall's for ninety guineas." - -William answered, "Good cobs are very hard to get, Lord Hainault. I -could get you ten good horses, over fifteen, for one good cob." - -Lord Saltire said, "My cob is the best I ever had; and a sweet-tempered -creature. Our dear boy broke it for me at Ravenshoe." - -"Dear Charles," said Lady Ascot. "What a splendid rider he was! Dear -boy! He got Ascot to write him a certificate about that sort of thing, -before he went away. Ah, dear!" - -"I never thought," said Lord Saltire, quietly, "that I ever should have -cared half as much for anybody as I do for that lad. Do you remember, -Mainwaring," he continued, speaking still lower, while they all sat -hushed, "the first night I ever saw him, when he marked for you and me -at billiards, at Ranford? I don't know why, but I loved the boy from the -first moment I saw him. Both there and ever afterwards, he reminded me -so strongly of Barkham. He had just the same gentle, winning way with -him that Barkham had. Barkham was a little taller, though, I fancy," he -went on, looking straight at Lady Ascot, and taking snuff. "Don't you -think so, Maria?" - -No one spoke for a moment. - -Lord Barkham had been Lord Saltire's only son. He had been killed in a -duel at nineteen, as I have mentioned before. Lord Saltire very rarely -spoke of him, and, when he did, generally in a cynical manner. But -General Mainwaring and Lady Ascot knew that the memory of that poor boy -was as fresh in the true old heart, after forty years, as it was on the -morning when he came out from his dressing-room, and met them carrying -his corpse upstairs. - -"He was a good fellow," said Lord Hainault, alluding to Charles. "He was -a very good fellow." - -"This great disappointment which I have had about him," said Lord -Saltire, in his own dry tone, "is a just judgment on me for doing a -good-natured and virtuous action many years ago. When his poor father -Densil was in prison, I went to see him, and reconciled him with his -family. Poor Densil was so grateful for this act of folly on my part, -that I grew personally attached to him; and hence all this misery. -Disinterested actions are great mistakes, Maria, depend upon it." - -When the ladies were gone upstairs, William found Lord Saltire beside -him. He talked to him a little time, and then finished by saying-- - -"You are modest and gentlemanly, and the love you bear for your -foster-brother is very pleasing to me indeed. I am going to put it to -the test. You must come and see me to-morrow morning. I have a great -deal to say to you." - -"About him, my lord? Have you heard of him?" - -"Not a word. I fear he has gone to America or Australia. He told Lord -Ascot he should do so." - -"I'll hunt him to the world's end, my lord," said true William. "And -Cuthbert shall pray for me the while. I fear you are right. But we shall -find him soon." - -When they went up into the drawing-room, Mary was sitting on a sofa by -herself. She looked up to William, and he went and sat down by her. They -were quite away from the rest, together. - -"Dear William," said Mary, looking frankly at him, and laying her hand -on his. - -"I am so glad," said William, "to see your sweet face again. I was down -at Ravenshoe last week. How they love you there! An idea prevails among -old and young that dear Cuthbert is to die, and that I am to marry you, -and that we are to rule Ravenshoe triumphantly. It was useless to -represent to them that Cuthbert would not die, and that you and I most -certainly never would marry one another. My dearest Jane Evans was -treated as a thing of nought. You were elected mistress of Ravenshoe -unanimously." - -"How is Jane?" - -"Pining, poor dear, at her school. She don't like it." - -"I should think not," said Mary. "Give my dear love to her. She will -make you a good wife. How is Cuthbert?" - -"Very well in health. No more signs of his heart complaint, which never -existed. But he is peaking at getting no tidings from Charles. Ah, how -he loved him! May I call you 'Mary'?" - -"You must not dare to call me anything else. No tidings of him yet?" - -"None. I feel sure he is gone to America. We will get him back, Mary. -Never fear." - -They talked till she was cheerful, and at last she said-- - -"William, you were always so well-mannered; but how--how--have you got -to be so gentlemanly in so short a time?" - -"By playing at it," said William, laughing. "The stud-groom at Ravenshoe -used always to say I was too much of a gentleman for him. In twenty -years' time I shall pass muster in a crowd. Good-night." - -And Charles was playing at being something other than a gentleman all -the time. We shall see who did best in the end. - - - - -CHAPTER XLI. - -CHARLES'S SECOND EXPEDITION TO ST. JOHN'S WOOD. - - -What a happy place a man's bed is--probably the best place in which he -ever finds himself. Very few people will like to deny that, I think; -that is to say, as a general rule. After a long day's shooting in cold -weather, for instance; or half a night on deck among the ice, when the -fog has lifted, and the ghastly cold walls are safe in sight; or after a -fifty mile ride in the bush, under a pouring rain; or after a pleasant -ball, when you have to pull down the blind, that the impudent sun may -not roast you awake in two hours; for in all these cases, and a hundred -more, bed is very pleasant; but you know as well as I do, that there -are times when you would sooner be on a frozen deck, or in the wildest -bush in the worst weather, or waltzing in the hall of Eblis with -Vathek's mama, or almost in your very grave, than in bed and awake. - -Oh, the weary watches! when the soul, which in sleep would leave the -tortured body to rest and ramble off in dreams, holds on by a mere -thread, yet a thread strong enough to keep every nerve in tense agony. -When one's waking dreams of the past are as vivid as those of sleep, and -there is always present, through all, the dreadful lurking thought that -one is awake, and that it is all real. When, looking back, every kindly -impulsive action, every heartily spoken word, makes you fancy that you -have only earned contempt where you merit kindness. When the past looks -like a hell of missed opportunities, and the future like another black -hopeless hell of uncertainty and imminent misfortune of all kinds! Oh, -weary watches! Let us be at such times on the bleakest hill-side, in the -coldest night that ever blew, rather than in the warmest bed that money -will buy. - -When you are going to have a night of this kind, you seldom know it -beforehand, for certain. Sometimes, if you have had much experience in -the sort of thing--if you have lost money, or gone in debt, or if your -sweetheart has cut you very often--you may at least guess, before you -get your boots off, that you are going to have a night of it; in which -case, read yourself to sleep _in bed_. Never mind burning the house down -(that would be rather desirable as a distraction from thought); but -don't read till you are sleepy with your clothes on, and then undress, -because, if you do, you will find, by the time you have undressed -yourself, that you are terribly wide awake, and, when the candle is -blown out, you will be all ready for a regular Walpurgis night. - -Charles, poor lad, had not as yet had much experience of Walpurgis -nights. Before his catastrophe he had never had one. He had been used to -tumble tired into his bed, and sleep a heavy dreamless sleep till an -hour before waking. Then, indeed, he might begin to dream of his horses, -and his dogs, and so on, and then gradually wake into a state more sweet -than the sweetest dream--that state in which sense is awake to all -outward objects, but in which the soul is taking its few last airy -flutters round its home, before coming to rest for the day. But, even -since then, he had not had experience enough to make him dread the -night. The night he came home from St. John's Wood, he thought he would -go to bed and sleep it off. Poor fellow! - -A fellow-servant slept in the same room with him--the younger and better -tempered of the two (though Charles had no complaint against either of -them). The lad was asleep; and, before Charles put out the light, he -looked at him. His cheek was laid on his arm, and he seemed so calm and -happy that Charles knew that he was not there, but far away. He was -right. As he looked the lad smiled, and babbled out something in his -dream. Strange! the soul had still sufficient connection with the body -to make it smile. - -"I wonder if Miss Martineau or Mr. Atkinson ever watched the face of one -who slept and dreamt," said Charles, rambling on as soon as he had got -into bed. "Pish! why that fellow's body is the mere tool of his soul. -His soul is out a-walking, and his body is only a log. Hey, that won't -do; that's as bad as Miss Martineau. I should have said that his body is -only a fine piece of clockwork. But clockwork don't smile of itself. My -dear Madam, and Mr. Atkinson, I am going to leave my body behind, and be -off to Ravenshoe in five minutes. That is to say, I am going to sleep." - -He was, was he? Why no, not just at present. If he had meant to do so, -he had, perhaps, better not have bothered himself about "Letters on the -laws of man's nature"; for, when he had done his profound cogitations -about them, as above, he thought he had got a----well, say a pulex in -his bed. There was no more a pulex than there was a scorpion; but he had -an exciting chase after an imaginary one, like our old friend Mr. Sponge -after an imaginary fox at Laverick Wells. After this, he had an -irritation where he couldn't reach, that is to say, in the middle of his -back: then he had the same complaint where he could reach, and used a -certain remedy (which is a pretty way of saying that he scratched -himself); then he had the cramp in his right leg; then he had the cramp -in his left leg; then he grew hot all over, and threw the clothes off; -then he grew cold all over, and pulled them on again; then he had the -cramp in his left leg again; then he had another flea hunt, cramp, -irritation in back, heat, cold, and so on, all over; and then, after -half an hour, finding himself in a state of feverish despondency, he -fell into a cheerful train of thought, and was quite inclined to look at -his already pleasant prospects from a hopeful point of view. - -Poor dear fellow! You may say that it is heartless to make fun of him -just now, when everything is going so terribly wrong. But really my -story is so very sad, that we must try to make a little feeble fun where -we can, or it would be unreadable. - -He tried to face the future, manfully. But lo! there was no future to -face--it was all such a dead, hopeless blank. Ellen must come away from -that house, and he must support her; but how? It would be dishonourable -for him to come upon the Ravenshoes for a farthing; and it would be -dishonourable for her to marry that foolish Hornby. And these two -courses, being dishonourable, were impossible. And there he was brought -up short. - -But would either course be dishonourable? Yes, yes, was the answer each -weary time he put the question to himself; and there the matter ended. -Was there one soul in the wide world he could consult? Not one. All -alone in the weary world, he and she. Not one friend for either of them. -They had made their beds, and must lie on them. When would the end of it -all come? What would the end be? - -There was a noise in the street. A noise of a woman scolding, whose -voice got louder and louder, till it rose into a scream. A noise of a -man cursing and abusing her; then a louder scream, and a sound of blows. -One, two, then a heavy fall, and silence. A drunken, homeless couple had -fallen out in the street, and the man had knocked the woman down. That -was all. It was very common. Probably the woman was not much hurt. That -sort of woman got used to it. The police would come and take them to the -station. There they were. The man and woman were being taken off by two -constables, scolding and swearing. Well, well! - -Was it to come to that? There were bridges in London, and under them -runs the river. Charles had come over one once, after midnight. He -wished he had never seen the cursed place. He remembered a fluttering -figure which had come and begged a halfpenny of him to pay the toll and -get home. He had given her money, and then, by a sudden impulse, -followed her till she was safe off the bridge. Ugly thoughts, Charles! -ugly thoughts! Will the dawn never come? Why, the night is not half over -yet. - -God in His mercy sets a limit to human misery in many ways. I do not -believe that the condemned man, waiting through the weary night for the -gallows, thinks all night through of his fate. We read generally in -those accounts of the terrible last night (which are so rightly -published in the newspapers--they are the most terrifying part of the -punishment), that they conversed cheerfully, or slept, or did something, -showing that they half forgot for a time what was coming. And so, before -the little window grew to a lighter grey, poor Charles had found some -relief from his misery. He was between sleep and waking, and he had -fulfilled his challenge to Miss Martineau, though later than he -intended. He had gone to Ravenshoe. - -There it was, all before him. The dawn behind the eastern headland had -flooded the amphitheatre of hills, till the crags behind the house had -turned from grey to gold, and the vane upon the priest's tower shone -like a star. The sea had changed from black to purple, and the -fishing-boats were stealing lazily homewards, over the gentle rolling -ground-swell. The surf was whispering to the sand of their coming. As -window after window blazed out before the sun, and as woodland and -hill-side, stream and park, village and lonely farm in the distant -valley, waked before the coming day, Charles watched, in his mind's eye, -the dark old porch, till there came out a figure in black, and stood -solitary in the terrace gazing seawards. And as he said, "Cuthbert," he -fell into a dreamless, happy sleep. - -He determined that he would not go to see Ellen till the afternoon. -Hornby was on duty in the morning, and never saw Charles all day; he -avoided him as though on purpose. Charles, on his part, did not want to -meet him till he had made some definite arrangement, and so was glad of -it. But, towards two o'clock, it came across his mind that he would -saunter round to St. Peter's Church, and see the comical little imp of a -boy who was generally to be found there, and beguile a quarter of an -hour by listening to his prattle. - -He had given up reading. He had hardly opened a book since his -misfortune. This may seem an odd thing to have to record about a -gentleman, and to a certain extent a scholar; but so it was. He wanted -to lower himself, and he was beginning to succeed. There was an -essential honesty in him, which made him hate to appear what he was not; -and this feeling, carried to an absurd extent, prevented his taking -refuge in the most obvious remedy for all troubles except hunger--books. -He did not know, as I do, that determined reading--reading of anything, -even the advertisements in a newspaper--will stop all cravings except -those of the stomach, and will even soften them; but he guessed it, -nevertheless. "Why should I read?" said he. "I must learn to do as the -rest of them." And so he did as the rest of them, and "rather loafed -away his time than otherwise." - -And he was more inclined to "loaf" than usual this day, because he very -much dreaded what was to come. And so he dawdled round to St. Peter's -Church, and came upon his young friend, playing at fives with the ball -he had given him, as energetically as he had before played with the -brass button. Shoeblacks are compelled to a great deal of unavoidable -"loafing;" but certainly this one loafed rather energetically, for he -was hot and frantic in his play. - -He was very glad to see Charles. He parted his matted hair from his -face, and looked at him admiringly with a pleasant smile; then he -suddenly said-- - -"You was drunk last night, worn't you?" - -Charles said, No--that he never got drunk. - -"Worn't you really, though?" said the boy; "you look as tho' you had a -been. You looks wild about the eyes;" and then he hazarded another -theory to account for Charles's appearance, which Charles also negatived -emphatically. - -"I gave a halpenny for this one," said the boy, showing him the ball, -"and I spent the other halpenny." Here he paused, expecting a rebuke, -apparently; but Charles nodded kindly at him, and he was encouraged to -go on, and to communicate a piece of intelligence with the air of one -who assumes that his hearer is _au fait_ with all the movements of the -great world, and will be interested. - -"Old Biddy Flanigan's dead." - -"No! is she?" said Charles, who, of course, had not the wildest idea who -she was, but guessed her to be an aged, and probably a dissipated -Irishwoman. - -"Ah! I believe you," said the boy. "And they was a-waking on her last -night, down in our court (he said, "daone in aour cawt"). -They waked me sharp enough; but, as for she! she's fast." - -"What did she die of?" asked Charles. - -"Well, she died mostly along of Mr. Malone's bumble foot, I fancy. Him -and old Biddy was both drunk a-fighting on the stairs, and she was a -step below he; and he being drunk, and bumble-footed too, lost his -balance, and down they come together, and the back of her head come -against the door scraper, and there she was. Wake she!" he added with -scorn, "not if all the Irish and Rooshans in France was to put stones in -their stockings, and howl a week on end, they wouldn't wake her." - -"Did they put stones in their stockings?" asked Charles, thinking that -it was some papist form of penance. - -"Miss Ophelia Flanigan, she put half a brick in her stocking end, so she -did, and come at Mr. Malone for to break his head with it, and there -were a hole in the stocking, and the brick flew out, and hit old Denny -Moriarty in the jaw, and broke it. And he worn't a doing nothink, he -worn't; but was sitting in a corner decent and quiet, blind drunk, a -singing to his self; and they took he to Guy's orspital. And the pleece -come in, and got gallus well kicked about the head, and then they took -they to Guy's orspital; and then Miss Flanigan fell out of winder into -the airy, and then they took she to Guy's orspital; and there they is, -the whole bilin of 'em in bed together, with their heads broke, a-eating -of jelly and a-drinking of sherry wind; and then in comes a mob from -Rosemary Lane, and then they all begins to get a bit noisy and want to -fight, and so I hooked it." - -"Then there are a good many Irish in your court?" said Charles. - -"Irish! ah! I believe you. They're all Irish there except we and Billy -Jones's lot. The Emperor of Rooshar is a nigger; but his lot is mostly -Irish, but another bilin of Irish from Mr. Malone's lot. And one on 'em -plays the bagpipes, with a bellus, against the water-butt of a Sunday -evening, when they're off the lay. And Mr. Malone's lot heaves crockery -and broken vegetables at him out of winder, by reason of their being -costermongers, and having such things handy; so there's mostly a shine -of a Sunday evening." - -"But who are Mr. Malone, and Billy Jones, and the Emperor of Russia?" - -"They keeps lodging houses," said the boy. "Miss Ophelia Flanigan is -married on Mr. Malone, but she keeps her own name, because her family's -a better one nor his'n, and she's ashamed of him. They gets on very well -when they're sober, but since they've been a making money they mostly -gets drunk in bed of a morning, so they ain't so happy together as they -was." - -"Does she often attack him with a brick in the foot of a stocking?" -asked Charles. - -"No," said the boy, "she said her papa had taught her that little game. -She used to fist hold of the poker, but he got up to that, and spouted -it. So now they pokes the fire with a mop-stick, which ain't so handy to -hit with, and softer." - -Charles walked away northward, and thought what a charming sort of -person Miss Ophelia Flanigan must be, and how he would rather like to -know her for curiosity's sake. The picture he drew of her in his mind -was not exactly like the original, as we shall see. - -It was very pleasant summer weather--weather in which an idle man would -be inclined to dawdle, under any circumstances; and Charles was the more -inclined to dawdle, because he very much disliked the errand on which he -went. He could loiter at street corners now with the best of them, and -talk to any one who happened to be loitering there too. He was getting -on. - -So he loitered at street corners and talked. And he found out something -to-day for the first time. He had been so absorbed in his own troubles -that all rumours had been to him like the buzzing of bees; but to-day he -began to appreciate that this rumour of war was no longer a mere rumour, -but likely to grow into an awful reality. - -If he were only free, he said to himself. If he could only provide for -poor Ellen. "Gad, if they could get up a regiment of fellows in the same -state of mind as I am!" - -He went into a public-house, and drank a glass of ale. They were talking -of it there. "Sir Charles Napier is to have the fleet," said one man, -"and if he don't bring Cronstadt about their ears in two hours, I am a -Dutchman. As for Odessa----" - -A man in seedy black, who (let us hope) had seen better days, suggested -Sebastopol. - -The first man had not heard of Sebastopol. It could not be a place of -much importance, or he must have heard of it. Talk to him about -Petersburg and Moscow, and he would listen to you. - -This sort of talk, heard everywhere on his slow walk, excited Charles; -and thinking over it, he came to the door of Lord Welter's house, and -rang. - -The door was barely opened, when he saw Lord Welter himself in the hall, -who called to him by his Christian name, and bade him come in. Charles -followed Lord Welter into a room, and, when the latter turned round, -Charles saw that he was disturbed and anxious. - -"Charles," he said, "Ellen is gone!" - -Charles said "Where?" for he hardly understood him. - -"Where? God knows! She must have left the house soon after you saw her -last night. She left this note for me. Take it and read it. You see I am -free from blame in this matter." - -Charles took it and read it. - - "MY LORD, - - "I should have consented to accept the shelter of your roof - for a longer period, were it not that, by doing so, I - should be continually tempted to the commission of a - dishonourable action--an action which would bring speedy - punishment on myself, by ruining too surely the man whom, - of all others in the world, I love and respect. - - "Lieutenant Hornby has proposed marriage to me. Your - lordship's fine sense of honour will show you at once how - impossible it is for me to consent to ruin his prospects by - a union with such a one as myself. Distrusting my own - resolution, I have fled, and henceforth I am dead to him - and to you. - - "Ah! Welter, Welter! you yourself might have been loved as - he is, once; but that time is gone by for ever. I should - have made you a better wife than Adelaide. I might have - loved you myself once, but I fell more through anger and - vanity than through love. - - "My brother, he whom we call Charles Ravenshoe, is in this - weary world somewhere. I have an idea that you will meet - him. You used to love one another. Don't let him quarrel - with you for such a worthless straw as I am. Tell him I - always loved him as a brother. It is better that we should - not meet yet. Tell him that he must make his own place in - the world before we meet, and then I have something to say - to him. - - "Mary, the Mother of God, and the blessed saints before the - throne, bless you and him, here and hereafter!" - -Charles had nothing to say to Lord Welter, not one word. He saw that the -letter was genuine. He understood that Welter had had no time to tell -her of his coming, and that she was gone; neither Welter nor he knew -where, or were likely to know; that was all. He only bid him good-bye, -and walked home again. - -When you know the whole story, you will think that Charles's run of ill -luck at this time is almost incredible; but I shall call you to witness -that it is not so. This was the first stroke of real ill luck that he -had had. All his other misfortunes came from his mad determination of -alienating himself from all his friends. If he had even left Lord Welter -free to have mentioned that he had been seen, all might have gone well, -but he made him promise secrecy; and now, after having, so to speak, -made ill luck for himself, and lamented over it, here was a real stroke -of it with a vengeance, and he did not know it. He was not anxious about -Ellen's future; he felt sure at once that she was going into some Roman -Catholic refuge, where she would be quiet and happy. In fact, with a new -fancy he had in his head, he was almost content to have missed her. And -Ellen, meanwhile, never dreamt either of his position or state of mind, -or she would have searched him out at the end of the world. She thought -he was just as he always had been, or, perhaps, turning his attention to -some useful career with Cuthbert's assistance; and she thought she would -wait, and wait she did; and they went apart, not to meet till the valley -of the shadow of death had been passed, and life was not so well worth -having as it had been. - -But as for our old friend Father Mackworth. As I said once before, "It's -no use wondering, but I do wonder," whether Father Mackworth, had he -known how near Ellen and Charles had been to meeting the night before, -would not have whistled "Lillibulero," as Uncle Toby did in times of -dismay; that is, if he had known the tune. - - - - -CHAPTER XLII. - -RAVENSHOE HALL, DURING ALL THIS. - - -The villagers at Ravenshoe, who loved Charles, were very much puzzled -and put out by his sudden disappearance. Although they had little or no -idea of the real cause of his absence, yet it was understood to be a -truth, not to be gainsayed, that it was permanent. And as it was a -heavily-felt misfortune to them, and as they really had no idea why he -was gone, or where he was gone to, it became necessary that they should -comfort themselves by a formula. At which time Master Lee up to Slarrow, -erected the theory, that Master Charles was gone to the Indies--which -was found to be a doctrine so comfortable to the souls of those that -adopted it, as being hazy and vague, and as leaving his return an open -question, that it was unanimously adopted; and those who ventured to -doubt it, were treated as heretics and heathens. - -It was an additional puzzle to them to find that William had turned out -to be a gentleman, and a Ravenshoe, a fact which could not, of course, -be concealed from them, though the other facts of the case were -carefully hushed up--not a very difficult matter in a simple feudal -village, like Ravenshoe. But, when William appeared, after a short -absence, he suffered greatly in popularity, from the belief that he had -allowed Charles to go to the Indies by himself. Old Master James Lee of -Tor Head, old Master James Lee of Withycombe Barton, and old Master -James Lee up to Slarrow, the three great quidnuncs of the village, were -sunning themselves one day under the wall which divides part of the -village from the shore, when by there came, talking earnestly together, -William and John Marston. - -The three old men raised their hats, courteously. They were in no -distinguishable relation to one another, but, from similarity of name -and age, always hunted in a leash. (Sporting men will notice a confusion -here about the word "leash," but let it pass.) When no one was by, I -have heard them fall out and squabble together about dates, or such -like; but, when others were present, they would, so to speak, trump one -another's tricks to any amount. And if, on these occasions, any one of -the three took up an untenable position, the other two would lie him out -of it like Jesuits, and only fall foul of him when they were alone -together--which, to say the least of it, was neighbourly and decent. - -"God save you, gentlemen," said old Master Lee up to Slarrow, who was -allowed to commit himself by the other two, who were waiting to be "down -on him" in private. "Any news from the Indies lately?" - -William and Marston stopped, and William said-- - -"No, Master Lee, we have not heard from Captain Archer for seven months, -or more." - -"I ask your pardon," said Lee up to Slarrow; "I warn't a speaking of he. -I was speaking of our own darling boy, Master Charles. When be he -a-coming back to see we?" - -"When, indeed!" said William. "I wish I knew, Master Lee." - -"They Indies," said the old man, "is well enough; but what's he there no -more than any other gentleman? Why don't he come home to his own. Who's -a-keeping on him away?" - -William and John Marston walked on without answering. And then the two -other Master Lees fell on to Master Lee up to Slarrow, and verbally -ill-treated him--partly because he had got no information out of -William, and partly because, having both sat quiet and given him plenty -of rope, he had not hanged himself. Master Lee up to Slarrow had evil -times of it that blessed spring afternoon, and ended by "dratting" both -his companions, for a couple of old fools. After which, they adjourned -to the public-house and hard cider, sent them to drink for their sins. - -"They'll never make a scholar of me, Marston," said William; "I will go -on at it for a year, but no more, I shall away soon to hunt up Charles. -Is there any police in America?" - -Marston answered absently, "Yes; he believed so;" but was evidently -thinking of something else. - -They had gone sauntering out for a walk together. Marston had come down -from Oxford the day before (after an examination for an Exeter -fellowship, I believe) for change of air; and he thought he would like -to walk with William up to the top of the lofty promontory, which -bounded Ravenshoe Bay on the west, and catch the pleasant summer breeze -coming in from the Atlantic. - -On the loftiest point of all, with the whispering blue sea on three -sides of them, four hundred feet below, there they sat down on the short -sheep-eaten turf, and looked westward. - -Cape after cape stretched away under the afternoon sun, till the last -seemed only a dark cloud floating on the sea. Beyond that cape there was -nothing but water for three thousand weary miles. The scene was -beautiful enough, but very melancholy; a long coastline trending away -into dim distance, on a quiet sunny afternoon, is very melancholy. -Indeed, far more melancholy than the same place in a howling gale: when -the nearest promontory only is dimly visible, a black wall, echoing the -thunder of bursting waves, and when sea, air, and sky, like the three -furies, are rushing on with mad, destructive unanimity. - -They lay, these two, on the short turf, looking westward; and, after a -time, John Marston broke silence. He spoke very low and quietly, and -without looking at William. - -"I have something very heavy on my mind, William. I am not a fool, with -a morbid conscience, but I have been very wrong. I have done what I -never can undo. I loved that fellow, William!" - -William said "Ay." - -"I know what you would say. You would say, that every one who ever knew -Charles loved him; and you are right. He was so utterly unselfish, so -entirely given up to trying to win others, that every one loved him, and -could not help it. The cleverest man in England, with all his -cleverness, could not gain so many friends as Charles." - -William seemed to think this such a self-evident proposition, that he -did not think it worth while to say anything. - -"And Charles was not clever. And what makes me mad with myself is this. -I had influence over him, and I abused it. I was not gentle enough with -him. I used to make fun of him, and be flippant, and priggish, and -dictatorial, with him. God help me! And now he has taken some desperate -step, and, in fear of my ridicule, has not told me of it. I felt sure he -would come to me, but I have lost hope now. May God forgive me--God -forgive me!" - -In a few moments, William said, "If you pause to think, Marston, you -will see how unjust you are to yourself. He could not be afraid of me, -and yet he has never come near me." - -"Of course not," said Marston. "You seem hardly to know him so well as -I. He fears that you would make him take money, and that he would be a -burthen on you. I never expected that he would come back to you. He -knows that you would never leave him. He knows, as well as you know -yourself, that you would sacrifice all your time and your opportunities -of education to him. And, by being dependent on you, he would be -dependent on Father Mackworth--the only man in the world he dislikes and -distrusts." - -William uttered a form of speech concerning the good father, which is -considered by foreigners to be merely a harmless national _facon de -parler_--sometimes, perhaps, intensive, when the participle is used, but -in general no more than expletive. In this case, the speaker was, I -fear, in earnest, and meant what he said most heartily. - -Marston never swore, but he certainly did not correct William for -swearing, in this case, as he should have done. There was a silence for -a time. After a little, William laid his hand on Marston's shoulder, and -said-- - -"He never had a truer friend than you. Don't you blame yourself?" - -"I do; and shall, until I find him." - -"Marston," said William, "what _has_ he done with himself? Where the -deuce is he gone?" - -"Lord Saltire and I were over the same problem for two hours the other -night, and we could make nothing of it, but that he was gone to America -or Australia. He hardly took money enough with him to keep him till now. -I can make nothing of it. Do _you_ think he would be likely to seek out -Welter?" - -"If he were going to do so, he would have done so by now, and we must -have heard of it. No," said William. - -"He was capable of doing very odd things," said Marston. "Do you -remember that Easter vacation, when he and Lord Welter and Mowbray went -away together?" - -"Remember!" said William. "Why I was with them; and glorious fun it was. -Rather fast fun though--too fast by half. We went up and lived on the -Severn and Avon Canal, among the bargeman, dressing accordingly. Charles -had nothing to do with that folly, beyond joining in it, and spending -the day in laughing. That was Lord Welter's doing. The bargees nicknamed -Lord Welter 'the sweep,' and said he was a good fellow, but a terrible -blackguard. And so he was--for that time, at all events." - -Marston laughed, and, after a time, said, "Did he ever seem to care -about soldiering? Do you think he was likely to enlist?" - -"It is possible," said William; "it is quite possible. Yes, he has often -talked to me about soldiering. I mind--I remember, I should say--that he -once was hot about going into the army, but he gave it up because it -would have taken him away from Mr. Ravenshoe too much." - -They turned and walked homewards, without speaking a word all the way. -On the bridge they paused and leant upon the coping, looking into the -stream. All of a sudden, William laid his hand on Marston's arm, and -looking in his face, said-- - -"Every day we lose, I feel he is getting farther from us. I don't know -what may happen. I shall go and seek him. I will get educated at my -leisure. Only think of what may be happening now! I was a fool to have -given it up so soon, and to have tried waiting till he came to us. He -will never come. I must go and fetch him. Here is Cuthbert, too, good -fellow, fretting himself to death about it. Let us go and talk to him." - -And John Marston said, "Right, true heart; let us go." - -Of all their acquaintances, there was only one who could have given them -any information--Lord Welter; and he, of all others, was the very last -they dreamt of going to. You begin to see, I dare say, that, when -Charles is found, my story will nearly be at an end. But my story is not -near finished yet, I assure you. - -Standing where they were on the bridge, they could look along the -village street. It was as neat a street as one ever sees in a fishing -village; that is to say, rather an untidy one, for of all human -employments, fishing involves more lumber and mess than any other. -Everything past use was "hit," as they say in Berkshire, out into the -street; and of the inorganic part of this refuse, that is to say, tiles, -bricks, potsherds, and so on, the children built themselves shops and -bazaars, and sold one another the organic orts, that is to say, -cabbage-stalks, fish-bones, and orange-peel, which were paid for in -mussel-shells. And, as Marston and William looked along this street, as -one may say, at high market time, they saw Cuthbert come slowly riding -along among the children, and the dogs, and the pigs, and the -herring-bones, and brickbats. - -He was riding a noble horse, and was dressed with his usual faultless -neatness and good taste, as clean as a new pin from top to toe. As he -came along, picking his way gently among the children, the fishermen and -their wives came out right and left from their doors, and greeted him -kindly. In olden times they would not have done this, but it had got -about that he was pining for the loss of his brother, and their hearts -had warmed to him. It did not take much to make their hearts warm to a -Ravenshoe; though they were sturdy, independent rogues enough at times. -I am a very great admirer of the old feudal feeling, when it is not -abused by either party. In parts of Australia, where it, or something -near akin to it, is very strong indeed, I have seen it act on high and -low most beneficially; giving to the one side a sense of responsibility, -and to the other a feeling of trust and reliance. "Here's 'Captain -Dash,' or 'Colonel Blank,' or 'Mr. So-and-So,' and he won't see me -wronged, I know. I have served him and his father for forty year, and -he's a _gentleman_, and so were his father before him." That is a sort -of thing you will hear often enough in Australia. And even on the -diggings, with all the leaven of Americanism and European Radicalism one -finds there, it is much easier for a warden to get on with the diggers -if he comes of a known colonial family, than if he is an unknown man. -The old colonial diggers, the people of the greatest real weight, talk -of them, and the others listen and mark. All people, prate as they may, -like a guarantee for respectability. In the colonies, such a guarantee -is given by a man's being tolerably well off, and "come of decent -people." In England, it is given, in cases, by a man and a man's -forefathers having been good landlords and honest men. Such a guarantee -is given by such people as the Ravenshoes, but that is not the whole -secret of _their_ influence. That comes more from association--a feeling -strong enough, as one sees, to make educated and clever men use their -talents and eloquence towards keeping a school in a crowded unhealthy -neighbourhood, instead of moving it into the country; merely because, as -far as one can gather from their speeches, they were educated at it -themselves, twenty years ago. Hereby visiting the sins of the fathers on -the children with a vengeance! - -"Somewhat too much of this." It would be stretching a point to say that -Cuthbert was a handsome man, though he was very near being so, indeed. -He was tall, but not too slender, for he had developed in chest somewhat -since we first knew him. His face was rather pale, but his complexion -perfectly clear; save that he had a black mark round his eyes. His -features were decidedly marked, but not so strongly as Charles's; and -there was an air of stately repose about him, showing itself in his way -of carrying his head perfectly upright, and the firm, but not harsh, -settling of his mouth, with the lower lip slightly pouting, which was -very attractive. He was a consummate horseman, too, and, as I said, -perfectly dressed; and, as he came towards them, looking apparently at -nothing, both William and Marston thought they had never seen a finer -specimen of a gentleman. - -He had strangely altered in two months. As great a change had come over -him as comes over a rustic when the drill-sergeant gets him and makes a -soldier of him. There is the same body, the same features, the same hair -and eyes. Bill Jones is Bill Jones, if you are to believe his mother. -But Bill Jones the soldier is not Bill Jones the ploughboy. He is quite -a different person. So, since the night when Charles departed, Cuthbert -had not been the Cuthbert of former times. He was no longer wayward and -irritable; he was as silent as ever, but he had grown so staid, so -studiously courteous to every one, so exceedingly humble-minded and -patient with every one, that all save one or two wondered at the change -in him. - -He had been passionately fond of Charles, though he had seldom shown it, -and was terribly cut up at his loss. He had greatly humiliated himself -to himself by what was certainly his felonious offer to Father -Mackworth; and he had found the estate somewhat involved, and had -determined to set to work and bring it to rights. These three causes had -made Cuthbert Ravenshoe a humbler and better man than he had ever been -before. - -"William," he said, smiling kindly on him, "I have been seeing after -your estate for you. It does me good to have some one to work for. You -will die a rich man." - -William said nothing. One of Cuthbert's fixed notions was, that he would -die young and childless. He claimed to have a heart-complaint, though it -really appeared without any foundation. It was a fancy which William had -combated at first, but now acquiesced in, because he found it useless to -do otherwise. - -He dismounted and walked with him. "Cuthbert," said William, "we have -been thinking about Charles." - -"I am always thinking about him," said Cuthbert; "is there no way of -finding him?" - -"I am going. I want you to give me some money and let me go." - -"You had better go at once, William. You had better try if the police -can help you. We are pretty sure that he has gone to America, unless he -has enlisted. In either case, it is very possible we may find him. Aunt -Ascot would have succeeded, if she had not lost her temper. Don't you -think I am right, my dear Marston?" - -"I do, indeed, Ravenshoe," said Marston. "Don't you think now, Mr. -Mackworth, that, if a real push is made, and with judgment, we may find -Charles again?" - -They had reached the terrace, and Father Mackworth was standing in front -of the porch. He said he believed it was perfectly possible. "Nay," he -said, "possible! I am as sure of seeing Charles Horton back here again -as I am that I shall eat my dinner to-day." - -"And I," said Cuthbert, "am equally sure that we shall see poor Ellen -back some day. Poor girl! she shall have a warm welcome." - -Father Mackworth said he hoped it might be so. And the lie did not choke -him. - -"We are going to send William away again to look after him, Father," -said Cuthbert. - -"He had much better stay at home and mind his education," said -Mackworth. - -William had his back towards them, and was looking out to sea, -whistling. When the priest spoke he turned round sharply, and said-- - -"Hey? what's that?" - -The priest repeated it. - -"I suppose," said William, "that that is more my business than yours, is -it not? I don't intend to go to school again, certainly not to you." - -Cuthbert looked from one to the other of them, and said nothing. A few -days before this William and the priest had fallen out; and Mackworth, -appealing, had been told with the greatest kindness and politeness by -Cuthbert that he could not interfere. That William was heir to -Ravenshoe, and that he really had no power over him whatever. Mackworth -had said nothing then, but now he had followed Cuthbert into the -library, and, when they were alone, said-- - -"Cuthbert, I did not expect this from you. You have let him insult me -twice, and have not corrected him." - -Cuthbert put his back against the door, and said-- - -"Now you don't leave this room till you apologise for these wicked -words. My dear old fellow, what a goose you are! Have not you and he -always squabbled? Do fight it out with him, and don't try and force me -to take a side. I ain't going to do it, you know, and so I tell you -plainly. Give it to him. Who can do it so well as you? Remember what an -altered position he is in. How can you expect me to take your part -against him?" - -Father Mackworth cleared his brow, and said, laughing, "You are right, -Cuthbert. I'll go about with the rogue. He is inclined to kick over the -traces, but I'll whip him in a little. I have had the whip-hand of every -Ravenshoe I have had to deal with yet, yourself included, and it's hard -if I am to be beat by this new whipper-snapper." - -Cuthbert said affectionately to him, "I think you love me, Mackworth. -Don't quarrel with him more than you can help. I know you love me." And -so Cuthbert went to seek John Marston. - -Love him! Ay, that he did. John Mackworth could be cruel, hard, false, -vindictive. He could cheat, and he could lie, if need were. He was -heartless and ambitious. But he loved Cuthbert. It was a love which had -taken a long time growing, but there it was, and he was half ashamed of -it. Even to himself he would try to make out that it was mere -selfishness and ambition--that he was gentle with Cuthbert, because he -must keep his place at Ravenshoe. Even now he would try to persuade -himself that such was the case--perhaps the more strongly because he -began to see now that there was a soft spot in his heart, and that -Cuthbert was master of it. Since the night when Cuthbert had offered him -ten thousand pounds, and he had refused it, Cuthbert had never been the -same to him. And Mackworth, expecting to find his influence increased, -found to his astonishment that from that moment it was _gone_. -Cuthbert's intensely sensitive and proud nature revolted from the -domination of a man before whom he had so lowered himself; and firmly, -though humbly now, for he was altered by seeing how nearly he had been a -villain, he let him see that he would walk in future in his own -strength. Father Mackworth saw soon that Ravenshoe was a comfortable -home for him, but that his power was gone. Unless! - -And yet he knew he could exercise a power little dreamt of. It is in the -power, possibly, of a condemned man to burn the prison down, and -possibly his interest; but he has compunctions. Mackworth tried to -persuade himself that the reason he did not use his power was that it -would not be advisable. He was a cipher in the house, and knew by -instinct that he would never be more. But in reality, I believe, he let -his power sleep for Cuthbert's sake. - -"Who could have thought," he said, "that the very thing which clenched -my power, as I thought, should have destroyed it? Are not those people -fools who lay down rules for human action? Why, no. They are possibly -right five times out of ten. But as for the other five! Bah! - -"No, I won't allow that. It was my own fault. I should have known his -character better. But there, I could not have helped it, for he did it -himself. I was passive." - -And Cuthbert followed Marston into the hall, and said, "You are not -going away because William goes, Marston?" - -"Do you want me?" said Marston. - -"Yes," said Cuthbert. "You must stay with me. My time is short, and I -must know as much of this world as I may. I have much to do; you must -help me. I will be like a little child in your hands. I will die in the -old faith; but I will learn something new." - -And so Marston stayed with him, and they two grew fast friends. Cuthbert -had nothing to learn in this management of his estate; there he was -Marston's master; but all that a shrewd young man of the world could -teach a bookworm, so much Cuthbert got from Marston. - -Marston one day met the village doctor, the very man whom we saw at the -beginning of the book, putting out William (whom we then supposed to be -Charles) to nurse. Marston asked him, "Was there any reality in this -heart-complaint of Cuthbert's?" - -"Not the very faintest shadow of a reality," said the doctor. "It is the -most tiresome whimsy I ever knew. He has persuaded himself of it, -though. He used to be very hypochondriac. He is as likely to live till -eighty as you are." - - - - -CHAPTER XLIII. - -THE MEETING. - - -There was ruin in the Ascot family, we know. And Lord Ascot, crippled -with paralysis at six-and-forty, was lying in South Audley Street, -nursed by Lady Ascot. The boxes, which we saw packed ready for their -foreign tour at the London Bridge Hotel, were still there--not gone -abroad yet, for the simple reason that Herodias had won the Oaks, and -that Lord Welter had won, some said seven, others said seventy thousand -pounds. (He had really won nine). So the boxes might stay where they -were a few days, and he might pursue his usual avocations in peace, all -his debts of honour being satisfied. - -He had barely saved himself from being posted. Fortunately for him, he -had, on the Derby, betted chiefly with a few friends, one of whom was -Hornby; and they waited and said nothing till after the Oaks, when they -were paid, and Welter could hold up his head again. He was indebted to -the generosity of Hornby and Sir Charles Ferrars for his honour--the -very men whom he would have swindled. But he laughed and ate his -dinner, and said they were good fellows, and thought no more of it. - -The bailiffs were at Ranford. The servants were gone, and the horses -were advertised at Tattersall's already. It was reported in the county -that an aged Jew, being in possession, and prowling about the premises, -had come into the poultry-yard, and had surreptitiously slain, cooked, -and essayed to eat, the famous cock "Sampson," the champion bird of -England, since his match with "Young Countryman." On being informed by -the old keeper that my lord had refused sixty guineas for him a few -weeks before, he had (so said the county) fled out of the house, tearing -his hair, and knocked old Lady Hainault, who had also come prowling over -in her pony-carriage, down the steps, flat on her back. Miss Hicks, who -was behind with her shawls, had picked her up, they said, and "caught -it." - -If Adelaide was beautiful everywhere, surely she was more beautiful on -horseback than anywhere else, and no one knew it better than herself. -She was one of the few who appeared in the park in a low-crowned hat--a -"wide-awake." They are not _de rigueur_ even yet, I believe; but -Adelaide was never very particular, so long as she could look well. She -had found out how splendid her perfect mask looked under the careless, -irregular curves of such a head-dress, and how bright her banded hair -shone in contrast with a black ostrich feather which drooped on her -shoulder. And so she had taken to wear one since she had been Lady -Welter, and had appeared in the park in it twice. - -Lord Welter bethought himself once in these times--that is, just after -the Oaks--that he would like to take his handsome wife out, and show her -in the park. His Hornby speculation had turned out ill; in fact, Hornby -had altogether made rather a handsome sum out of him, and he must look -for some one else. The some one else, a young Austrian, Pscechenyi by -name, a young fellow of wealth, had received his advances somewhat -coldly, and it became necessary to hang out Adelaide as a lure. - -Lord Welter was aware that, if he had asked Adelaide to come and ride -with him, on the ground of giving her an afternoon's amusement, and -tried to persuade her to it by fair-spoken commonplaces, she would -probably not have come; and so he did nothing of the kind. He and his -wife thoroughly understood one another. There was perfect confidence -between them in everything. Towards one another they were perfectly -sincere; and this very sincerity begot a feeling of trust between them, -which ultimately ripened into something better. They began life together -without any professions of affection; but out of use, and a similarity -of character, there grew a liking in the end. She knew everything about -Lord Welter, save one thing, which she was to know immediately, and -which was of no importance; and she was always ready to help him, -provided, as she told him, "he didn't humbug," which his lordship, as we -know, was not inclined to do, without her caution. - -Lord Welter went into her dressing-room, in the morning, and said-- - -"Here's a note from Pscechenyi. He won't come to-night." - -"Indeed!" said Adelaide, brushing her hair. "I did not give him credit -for so much sense. Really, you know, he can't be such a fool as he -looks." - -"We must have him," said Lord Welter. - -"Of course we must," said Adelaide. "I really cannot allow such a fat -goose to run about with a knife and fork in him any longer. Heigh ho! -Let's see. He affects Lady Brittlejug, don't he? I am going to her party -to-night, and I'll capture him for you, and bring him home to you from -under her very nose. Now, do try and make a better hand of him than you -did of Hornby, or we shall all be in the workhouse together." - -"I'll do my best," said Lord Welter, laughing. "But look here. I don't -think you'll catch him so, you know. She looks as well as you by -candlelight; but she can't ride a hang. Come out in the park this -afternoon. He will be there." - -"Very well," said Adelaide; "I suppose you know best. I shall be glad of -a ride. Half-past two, then." - -So, at the time appointed, these two innocent lambkins rode forth to -take the air. Lord Welter, big, burly, red-faced, good-humoured, -perfectly dressed, and sitting on his horse as few others could sit, the -model of a frank English nobleman. Adelaide, beautiful and fragile -beyond description, perfect in dress and carriage, riding trustingly and -lovingly in the shadow of her lord, the happy, timid bride all over. -They had no groom. What should a poor simple couple like them want with -a groom? It was a beautiful sight, and many turned to look at them. - -But Lord Saltire, who was looking out of the drawing-room window of Lord -Ascot's house in South Audley Street, as they passed, turned to Marston, -and said very emphatically-- - -"Now, I do really wonder what infernal mischief those two are after. -There is an air of pastoral simplicity about their whole get-up, which -forebodes some very great--very great"--here he paused, took snuff, and -looked Marston straight in the face--"obliquity of moral purpose." - -Meanwhile the unconscious innocents sauntered on into the park, under -the Marble Arch, and down towards Rotten Row. When they got into the -Row, they had a canter. There was Pscechenyi riding with Hornby and Miss -Buckjumper, but they gave them the "go by," and went sortly on towards -Kensington Gate. "Who is the woman in the hat and feathers?" said -everybody who didn't know. "Lady Welter" said everybody who did; and, -whatever else they said of her, they all agreed that she was wonderfully -beautiful, and rode divinely. When they came slowly back, they found -Hornby and the Austrian were standing against the rail, talking to some -ladies. They drew close up, and entered into conversation; and Adelaide -found herself beside Miss Buckjumper, now Lady Handlycross. - -Adelaide was somewhat pleased to find herself at the side of this famous -horsewoman and beauty. She was so sure that comparisons would be -favourable to herself. And they were. If ever an exquisitely-formed nose -was, so to speak put out of joint, that nose was in the middle of Miss -Buckjumper's face that day. Nevertheless, she did not show anything. She -had rather a respect for Adelaide, as being a successful woman. Was not -she herself cantering for a coronet? There was very soon a group round -them, and Lord Welter's hoarse, jolly laugh was heard continually. -People, who were walking in the park to see the great people, paused -outside the circle to look at her, and repassed again. Mr. Pelagius J. -Bottom, of New York, whose father emigrated to Athens, and made a great -fortune at the weaving business in the time of King Theseus, got on a -bench, and looked at her through a double-barrelled opera-glass. There -never was such a success. The Austrian thought no more of Hornby's -cautions, thought no more of Miss Buckjumper or Lady Brittlejug. He was -desperately in love, and was dying for some excuse to withdraw his -refusal of this morning. Pelagius Jas. Bottom would have come, and -mortgaged the paternal weaving business at the dice, but unfortunately -his letters of introduction, being all addressed to respectable people, -did not include one to Lord and Lady Welter. All the young fellows would -have come and played all night, till church-time next morning, for her -sake. As Lord Welter candidly told her that night, she was the best -investment he had ever made. - -They did not want all the young fellows though. Too many cooks spoil the -broth. They only wanted the young Austrian, and so Lord Welter said, -after a time, "I was in hopes of seeing you at my house last night." -That was quite enough. Fifty Hornbys would not have stopped him now. - -Still they stood there talking. Adelaide was almost happy. Which of -these staid women had such power as she? There was a look of pride and -admiration even on Lord Welter's stupid face. Yes, it was a great -success. Suddenly all people began to look one way and come towards the -rails, and a buzz arose, "The Queen--the Queen!" - -Adelaide turned just as the outriders were opposite to her. She saw the -dark claret-coloured carriage, fifty yards off, and she knew that Lady -Emily Montford, who had been her sister bridesmaid at Lady Hainault's -wedding, was in waiting that day. Hornby declares the whole thing was -done on purpose. Let us be more charitable, and suppose that her horse -was startled at the scarlet coats of the outriders; however it was, the -brute took fright, stood on its hind legs, and bolted straight towards -the royal carriage. She reined it up within ten feet of the carriage -step, plunging furiously. Raising her whip hand to push her hat more -firmly on, she knocked it off, and sat there bareheaded, with one loop -of her hair fallen down, a sight which no man who saw it ever forgot. -She saw a look of amazed admiration in the Queen's face. She saw Lady -Emily's look of gentle pity. She saw her Majesty lean forward, and ask -who it was. She saw her name pass Lady Emily's lips, and then she saw -the Queen turn with a frown, and look steadily the other way. - -Wrath and rage were in her heart, and showed themselves one instant in -her face. A groom had run out and picked up her hat. She bent down to -take it from him, and saw that it was Charles Ravenshoe. - -Her face grew soft again directly. Poor thing! she must have had a kind -heart after all, crusted over as it was with vanity, pride, and -selfishness. Now, in her anger and shame, she could have cried to see -her old love so degraded. There was no time for crying, or for saying -more than a few sharp words, for they were coming towards her. - -"What nonsense is this, Charles?" she said. "What is this masquerade? -Are you come to double my shame? Go home and take that dress off and -burn it. Is your pride dead, that you disgrace yourself like this in -public? If you are desperate, as you seem, why are you not at the war? -They want desperate men there. Oh! if I was a man!" - -They parted then! no one but Lord Welter and Hornby knew who Charles -was. The former saw that Adelaide had recognised him, and, as they rode -simply home together, said-- - -"I knew poor Charles was a groom. He saw his sister the other night at -our house. I didn't tell you; I hardly know why. I really believe, do -you know, that the truth of the matter is, Adelaide, that I did not want -to vex you. Now!" - -He looked at her as if he thought she would disbelieve him, but she -said-- - -"Nay, I do believe you, Welter. You are not an ill-natured man, but you -are selfish and unprincipled. So am I, perhaps to a greater extent than -you. At what time is that fool of a German coming?" - -"At half-past eleven." - -"I must go to that woman Brittlejug's party. I must show there, to keep -friends with her. She has such a terrible tongue, I will be back by -twelve or so." - -"I wish you could stay at home." - -"I really dare not, my dear Welter. I must go. I will be back in good -time." - -"Of course you will please yourself about it," said Lord Welter, a -thought sulkily. And, when he was by himself he said-- - -"She is going to see Charles Ravenshoe. Well, perhaps she ought. She -treated him d----d bad! And so did I." - - - - -CHAPTER XLIV. - -ANOTHER MEETING. - - -Lord Ascot had been moved into South Audley Street, his town house, and -Lady Ascot was there nursing him. General Mainwaring was off for Varna. -But Lord Saltire had been a constant visitor, bringing with him very -often Marston, who was, you will remember, an old friend of Lady Ascot. - -It was not at all an unpleasant house to be in. Lord Ascot was -crippled--he had been seized with paralysis at Epsom; and he was ruined. -But every one knew the worst, and felt relieved by thinking that things -could get no worse than worst, and so must get better. - -In fact, every one admitted to the family party about that time -remembered it as a very happy and quiet time indeed. Lord Ascot was -their first object, of course; and a more gentle and biddable invalid -than the poor fellow made can hardly be conceived. He was passionately -fond of reading novels (a most reprehensible practice), and so was -easily amused. Lord Saltire and he would play picquet: and every evening -there would be three hours of whist, until the doctor looked in the -last thing, and Lord Ascot was helped to bed. - -Marston was always set to play with Lord Ascot, because Lord Saltire and -Lady Ascot would not play against one another. Lord Saltire, was, of -course, one of the best players in Europe; and I really believe that -Lady Ascot was not the worst by any means. I can see the party now. I -can see Lady Ascot laying down a card, and looking at the same time at -her partner, to call his attention to her lead. And I can see Lord -Saltire take out his snuff-box threat, as if he were puzzled, but not -alarmed. William would come sometimes and sit quietly behind Marston, or -Lord Saltire, watching the game. In short, they were a very quiet -pleasant party indeed. - -One night--it was the very night on which Adelaide had lost her hat in -the Park--there was no whist. Marston had gone down to Oxford suddenly, -and William came in to tell them so. Lady Ascot was rather glad, she -said, for she had a friend coming to tea, who did not play whist; so -Lord Saltire and Lord Ascot sat down to picquet, and William talked to -his aunt. - -"Who is your friend, Maria?" asked Lord Saltire. - -"A Mr. Bidder, a minister. He has written a book on the Revelations, -which you really ought to read, James; it would suit you." - -They both laughed. - -"About the seven seals, hey?" said Lord Saltire; "'_septem phocae_,' as I -remember Machynleth translated it at Eton once. We called him 'Vitulina' -ever after. The name stuck to him through life with some of us. A -capital name for him, too! His fussy blundering in this war-business is -just like his old headlong way of looking out words in his dictionary. -He is an ass, Maria; and I will bet fifty pounds that your friend, the -minister, is another." - -"How can you know? at all events, the man he brings with him is none." - -"Another minister?" - -"Yes, a Moravian missionary from Australia." - -"Then certainly another ass, or he would have gone as missionary to a -less abominably detestable hole. They were all burnt into the sea there -the other day. Immediately after which the river rose seventy feet, and -drowned the rest of them." - -Soon after were announced Mr. Bidder and Mr. Smith. Mr. Bidder was an -entirely unremarkable man; but Mr. Smith was one of the most remarkable -men I have ever seen, or rather heard--for externally there was nothing -remarkable about him, except a fine forehead, and a large expressive -grey eye, which, when he spoke to you, seemed to come back from a long -distance, and fix itself upon yours. In manners he was perfect. He was -rather taciturn, though always delighted to communicate information -about his travels, in a perfectly natural way. If one man wanted -information on botany, or what not, he was there to give it. If another -wanted to hear about missionary work, he was ready for him. He never -spoke or acted untruthfully for one instant. He never acted the free and -easy man of the world as some religious gentlemen of all sects feel it -necessary to do sometimes, imitating the real thing as well as Paul -Bedford would imitate Fanny Ellsler. What made him remarkable was his -terrible earnestness, and the feeling you had, that his curious language -was natural, and meant something; something very important indeed. - -He has something to do with the story. The straws in the gutter have to -do with the history of a man like Charles, a man who leaves all things -to chance. And this man Smith is very worthy of notice, and so I have -said thus much about him, and am going to say more. - -Mr. Bidder was very strong on the Russian war, which he illustrated by -the Revelations. He was a good fellow, and well-bred enough to see that -his friend Smith was an object of greater interest to Lady Ascot than -himself; so he "retired into" a book of prints, and left the field -clear. - -Mr. Smith sat by Lady Ascot, and William drew close up. Lady Ascot began -by a commonplace, of course. - -"You have suffered great hardships among those savages, Mr. Smith, have -you not?" - -"Hardships! Oh, dear no, my dear lady. Our station was one of the -pleasantest places in the whole earth I believe; and we had a peaceful -time. When the old man is strong in me I wish I was back there." - -"You did not make much progress with them, I believe?" - -"None whatever. We found out after a year or two that it was hopeless to -make them understand the existence of a God; and after that we stayed on -to see if we could bring them to some knowledge of agriculture, and save -them from their inevitable extermination, as the New Zealanders have -been saved." - -"And to no purpose?" - -"None. For instance, we taught them to plant our potatoes for us. They -did it beautifully, but in the night they dug them up and ate them. And -in due season we waited that our potatoes should grow, and they grew -not. Then they came to Brother Hillyar, my coadjutor, an old man, now -ruling ten cities for his Master, and promised for rewards of flour to -tell him why the potatoes did not grow. And he, loving them, gave them -what they desired. And they told him that they dug them up while we -slept. And for two days I went about my business, laughing in secret -places, for which he tried to rebuke me, but could not, laughing -himself. The Lord kept him waiting long, for he was seventy-four; but, -doubtless, his reward is the greater." - -William said, "You brought home a collection of zoological specimens, I -think. They are in the Museum." - -"Yes. But what I could not bring over were my live pets. I and my wife -had a menagerie of our own--a great number of beasts----" - -Mr. Bidder looking up from his book, catching the last sentence only, -said the number of the beast was 666; and, then turning round, held -himself ready to strike into the conversation, thinking that the time -was come when he should hide his light no longer. - -"The natives are very low savages, are they not, Mr. Smith?" said -William. "I have heard that they cannot count above ten." - -"Not so far as that," said Mr. Smith. "The tribe we were most among used -to express all large unknown quantities by 'eighty-four;'[4] it was as -_x_ and _y_ to them. That seems curious at first, does it not?" - -William said it did seem curious, their choosing that particular number. -But Mr. Bidder, dying to mount his hobby-horse, and not caring how, said -it was not at all curious. If you multiplied the twelve tribes of Israel -into the seven cities of refuge, there you were at once. - -Mr. Smith said he thought he had made a little mistake. The number, he -fancied, was ninety-four. - -Lord Saltire, from the card-table, said that that made the matter -clearer than before, For if you placed the Ten Commandments to the -previous result you arrived at ninety-four, which was the number wanted. -And his lordship, who had lost, and was consequently possibly cross, -added that, if you divided the whole by the five foolish virgins, and -pitched Tobit's dog, neck and heels into the result, you would find -yourself much about where you started. - -Mr. Bidder, who, as I said, was a good fellow, laughed, and Mr. Smith -resumed the conversation once more; Lord Saltire seemed interested in -what he said, and did not interfere with him. - -"You buried poor Mrs. Smith out there," said Lady Ascot. "I remember her -well. She was very beautiful as a girl." - -"Very beautiful," said the missionary. "Yes; she never lost her beauty, -do you know. That climate is very deadly to those who go there with the -seeds of consumption in them. She had done a hard day's work before she -went to sleep, though she was young. Don't you think so, Lady Ascot?" - -"A hard day's work; a good day's work, indeed. Who knows better than I?" -said Lady Ascot. "What an awakening it must be from such a sleep as -hers!" - -"Beyond the power of human tongue to tell," said the missionary, looking -dreamily as at something far away. "Show me the poet that can describe -in his finest language the joy of one's soul when one wakes on a -summer's morning. Who, then, can conceive or tell the unutterable -happiness of the purified soul, waking face to face with the King of -Glory?" - -Lord Saltire looked at him curiously, and said to himself, "This fellow -is in earnest. I have seen this sort of thing before. But seldom! Yes, -but seldom!" - -"I should not have alluded to my wife's death," continued the -missionary, in a low voice, "but that her ladyship introduced the -subject. And no one has a better right to hear of her than her kind old -friend. She fell asleep on the Sabbath evening after prayers. We moved -her bed into the verandah, Lady Ascot, that she might see the sunlight -fade out on the tops of the highest trees--a sight she always loved. And -from the verandah we could see through the tree stems Mount Joorma, laid -out in endless folds of woodland, all purple and gold. And I thought she -was looking at the mountain, but she was looking far beyond that, for -she said, 'I shall have to wait thirty years for you, James, but I shall -be very happy and very busy. The time will go quick enough for me, but -it will be a slow, weary time for you, my darling. Go home from here, my -love, into the great towns, and see what is to be done there.' And so -she went to sleep. - -"I rebelled for three days. I went away into the bush, with Satan at my -elbow all the time, through dry places, through the forest, down by -lonely creeksides, up among bald volcanic downs, where there are slopes -of slippery turf, leading down to treacherous precipices of slag; and -then through the quartz ranges, and the reedy swamps, where the black -swans float, and the spur-winged plover hovers and cackles; all about I -went among the beasts and the birds. But on the third day the Lord -wearied of me, and took me back, and I lay on His bosom again like a -child. He will always take you home, my lord, if you come. After three -days, after thrice twenty years, my lord. Time is nothing to Him." - -Lord Saltire was looking on him with kindly admiration. - -"There is something in it, my lord. Depend upon it that it is not all a -dream. Would not you give all your amazing wealth, all your honours, -everything, to change places with me?" - -"I certainly would," said Lord Saltire. "I have always been of opinion -that there was something in it. I remember," he continued, turning to -William, "expressing the same opinion to your father in the Fleet Prison -once, when he had quarrelled with the priests for expressing some -opinions which he had got from me. But you must take up with that sort -of thing very early in life if you mean it to have any reality at all. I -am too old now!"[5] - -Lord Saltire said this in a different tone from his usual one. In a tone -that we have never heard him use before. There was something about the -man Smith which, in spite of his quaint language, softened every one who -heard him speak. Lady Ascot says it was the grace of God. I entirely -agree with her ladyship. - -"I came home," concluded the missionary, "to try some city work. My -wife's nephew, John Marston, whom I expected to see here to-night, is -going to assist me in this work. There seems plenty to do. We are at -work in Southwark, at present." - -Possibly it was well that the company, more particularly Lady Ascot, -were in a softened and forgiving mood. For, before any one had resumed -the conversation, Lord Ascot's valet stood in the door, and, looking at -Lady Ascot with a face which said as plain as words, "It is a terrible -business, my lady, but I am innocent," announced-- - -"Lady Welter." - -Lord Saltire put his snuff-box into his right-hand trousers' pocket, and -his pocket handkerchief into his left, and kept his hands there, leaning -back in his chair, with his legs stretched out, and a smile of infinite -wicked amusement on his face. Lord Ascot and William stared like a -couple of gabies. Lady Ascot had no time to make the slightest change, -either in feature or position, before Adelaide, dressed for the evening -in a cloud of white and pink, with her bare arms loaded with bracelets, -a swansdown fan hanging from her left wrist, sailed swiftly into the -room, with outstretched hands, bore down on Lady Ascot, and began -kissing her, as though the old lady were a fruit of some sort, and she -were a dove pecking at it. - -"Dearest grandma!"--peck. "So glad to see you!"--peck. "Couldn't help -calling in on you as I went to Lady Brittlejug's--and how well you are -looking!"--peck, peck. "I can spare ten minutes--do tell me all the -news, since I saw you. My dear Lord Ascot, I was so sorry to hear of -your illness, but you look better than I expected. And how do _you_ do, -my dear Lord Saltire?" - -Lord Saltire was pretty well, and was delighted to see Lady Welter -apparently in the enjoyment of such health and spirits, and so on, -aloud. But, secretly, Lord Saltire was wondering what on earth could -have brought her here. Perhaps she only wanted to take Lady Ascot by -surprise, and force her into a recognition of her as Lady Welter. No. My -lord saw there was something more than that. She was restless and absent -with Lady Ascot. Her eye kept wandering in the middle of all her -rattling talk; but, wherever it wandered, it always came back to -William, of whom she had hitherto taken no notice whatever. - -"She has come after him. For what?" thought my lord. "I wonder if the -jade knows anything of Charles." - -Lady Ascot had steeled herself against this meeting. She had determined, -firstly, that no mortal power should ever induce her to set eyes on -Adelaide again; and, secondly, that she, Lady Ascot, would give her, -Adelaide, a piece of her mind, which she should never forget to her -dying day. The first of these rather contradictory determinations had -been disposed of by Adelaide's audacity; and as for the second--why, the -piece of Lady Ascot's mind which was to be given to Adelaide was somehow -not ready; but, instead of it, only silent tears, and withered, -trembling fingers, which wandered lovingly over the beautiful young -hand, and made the gaudy bracelets on the wrist click one against the -other. - -"What could I say, Brooks? what could I do?" said Lady Ascot to her maid -that night, "when I saw her own self come back, with her own old way? I -love the girl more than ever, Brooks, I believe. She beat me. She took -me by surprise. I could not resist her. If she had proposed to put me in -a wheelbarrow, and wheel me into the middle of that disgraceful, that -detestable woman Brittlejug's drawing-room, there and then, I should -have let her do it, I believe. I might have begged for time to put on my -bonnet; but I should have gone." - -She sat there ten minutes or more, talking. Then she said that it was -time to go, but that she should come and see Lady Ascot on the morrow. -Then she turned to William, to whom she had not been introduced, and -asked, would he see her to her carriage? Lord Saltire was next the bell, -and looking her steadily in the face, raised his hand slowly to pull it. -Adelaide begged him eagerly not to trouble himself; he, with a smile, -promptly dropped his hand, and out she sailed on William's arm, Lord -Saltire holding the door open, and shutting it after her, with somewhat -singular rapidity. - -"I hope none of those fools of servants will come blundering upstairs -before she has said her say," he remarked, aloud. "Give us some of your -South African experiences, Mr. Smith. Did you ever see a woman beautiful -enough to go clip a lion's claws singlehanded, eh?" - -William, convoying Adelaide downstairs, had got no farther than the -first step, when he felt her hand drawn from his arm; he had got one -foot on the step below, when he turned to see the cause of this. -Adelaide was standing on the step above him, with her glorious face bent -sternly, almost fiercely, down on his, and the hand from which the fan -hung pointed towards him. It was as beautiful a sight as he had ever -seen, and he calmly wondered what it meant. The perfect mouth was curved -in scorn, and from it came sharp ringing words, decisive, hard, clear, -like the sound of a hammer on an anvil. - -"Are you a party to this shameful business, sir? you, who have taken his -name, and his place, and his prospects in society. You, who professed, -as I hear, to love him like another life, dearer than your own. You, who -lay on the same breast with him--tell me, in God's name, that you are -sinning in ignorance." - -William, as I have remarked before, had a certain amount of shrewdness. -He determined to let her go on. He only said, "You are speaking of -Charles Ravenshoe." - -"Ay," she said, sharply; "of Charles Ravenshoe, sir--ex-stable-boy. I -came here to-night to beard them all; to ask them did they know, and did -they dare to suffer it. If they had not given me an answer, I would have -said such things to them as would have made them stop their ears. Lord -Saltire has a biting tongue, has he? Let him hear what mine is. But when -I saw you among them, I determined to save a scene, and speak to you -alone. Shameful----" - -William looked quietly at her. "Will your ladyship remark that I, that -all of us, have been moving heaven and earth to find Charles Ravenshoe, -and that we have been utterly unable to find him? If you have any -information about him, would it not be as well to consider that the -desperation caused by your treatment of him was the principal cause of -his extraordinary resolution of hiding himself? And, instead of scolding -me and others, who are doing all we can, to give us all the information -in your power?" - -"Well, well," she said, "perhaps you are right. Consider me rebuked, -will you have the goodness? I saw Charles Ravenshoe to-day." - -"To-day!" - -"Ay, and talked to him." - -"How did he look? was he pale? was he thin? Did he seem to want money? -Did he ask after me? Did he send any message? Can you take me to where -he is? Did he seem much broken down? Does he know we have been seeking -him? Lady Welter, for God's sake, do something to repair the wrong you -did him, and take me to where he is." - -"I don't know where he is, I tell you. I saw him for just one moment. He -picked up my hat in the Park. He was dressed like a groom. He came from -I know not where, like a ghost from the grave. He did not speak to me. -He gave me my hat, and was gone. I do not know whose groom he is, but I -think Welter knows. He will tell me to-night. I dared not ask him -to-day, lest he should think I was going to see him. When I tell him -where I have been, and describe what has passed here, he will tell me. -Come to me to-morrow morning, and he shall tell you; that will be -better. You have sense enough to see why." - -"I see." - -"Another thing. He has seen his sister Ellen. And yet another thing. -When I ran away with Lord Welter, I had no idea of what had happened to -him--of this miserable _esclandre_. But you must have known that before, -if you were inclined to do me justice. Come to-morrow morning. I must go -now." - -And so she went to her carriage by herself after all. And William stood -still on the stairs, triumphant. Charles was as good as found. - -The two clergymen passed him on their way downstairs, and bade him -good-night. Then he returned to the drawing-room, and said-- - -"My lord, Lady Welter has seen Charles to-day, and spoken to him. With -God's help, I will have him here with us to-morrow night." - -It was half-past eleven. What Charles, in his headlong folly and -stupidity, had contrived to do before this time, must be told in -another chapter--no, I have not patience to wait. My patience is -exhausted. One act of folly following another so fast would exhaust the -patience of Job. If one did not love him so well, one would not be so -angry with him. I will tell it here and have done with it. When he had -left Adelaide, he had gone home with Hornby. He had taken the horses to -the stable; he had written a note to Hornby. Then he had packed up a -bundle of clothes, and walked quietly off. - -Round by St. Peter's Church--he had no particular reason for going -there, except, perhaps, that his poor foolish heart yearned that evening -to see some one who cared for him, though it were only a shoeblack. -There was still one pair of eyes which would throw a light for one -instant into the thick darkness which was gathering fast around him. - -His little friend was there. Charles and he talked for a while, and at -last he said-- - -"You will not see me again. I am going to the war. I am going to Windsor -to enlist in the Hussars, to-night." - -"They will kill you," said the boy. - -"Most likely," said Charles. "So we must say good-bye. Mind, now, you go -to the school at night, and say that prayer I gave you on the paper. We -must say good-bye. We had better be quick about it." - -The boy looked at him steadily. Then he began to draw his breath in long -sighs--longer, longer yet, till his chest seemed bursting. Then out it -all came in a furious hurricane of tears, and he leant his head against -the wall, and beat the bricks with his clenched hand. - -"And I am never to see you no more! no more! no more!" - -"No more," said Charles. But he thought he might soften the poor boy's -grief; and he did think, too, at the moment, that he would go and see -the house where his kind old aunt lived, before he went away for ever; -so he said-- - -"I shall be in South Audley Street, 167, to-morrow at noon. Now, you -must not cry, my dear. You must say good-bye." - -And so he left him, thinking to see him no more. Once more, Charles, -only once more, and then God help you! - -He went off that night to Windsor, and enlisted in the 140th Hussars. - - - - -CHAPTER XLV. - -HALF A MILLION. - - -And so you see here we are all at sixes and sevens once more. Apparently -as near the end of the story as when I wrote the adventures of Alured -Ravenshoe at the Court of Henry the Eighth in the very first chapter. If -Charles had had a little of that worthy's impudence, instead of being -the shy, sensitive fellow he was, why, the story would have been over -long ago. In point of fact, I don't know that it would ever have been -written at all. So it is best as it is for all parties. - -Although Charles had enlisted in Hornby's own regiment he had craftily -calculated that there was not the slightest chance of Hornby's finding -it out for some time. Hornby's troop was at the Regent's Park. The -head-quarters were at Windsor, and the only officer likely to recognise -him was Hornby's captain. And so he went to work at his new duties with -an easy mind, rather amused than otherwise, and wondering where and when -it would all end. - -From sheer unadulterated ignorance, I cannot follow him during the first -week or so of his career. I have a suspicion almost amounting to a -certainty, that, if I could, I should not. I do not believe that the -readers of Ravenshoe would care to hear about sword-exercise, -riding-school, stable-guard, and so on. I can, however, tell you thus -much, that Charles learnt his duties in a wonderfully short space of -time, and was a great favourite with high and low. - -When William went to see Adelaide by appointment the morning after his -interview with her, he had an interview with Lord Welter, who told him -in answer to his inquiries, that Charles was groom to Lieutenant Hornby. - -"I promised that I would say nothing about it," he continued, "but I -think I ought; and Lady Welter has been persuading me to do so, if any -inquiries were made, only this morning. I am deuced glad, Ravenshoe, -that none of you have forgotten him. It would be a great shame if you -had. He is a good fellow, and has been infernally used by some of us--by -me, for instance." - -William, in his gladness, said, "Never mind, my lord; let bygones be -bygones. We shall all be to one another as we were before, please God. I -have found Charles, at all events; so there is no gap in the old circle, -except my father's. I had a message for Lady Welter." - -"She is not down; she is really not well this morning, or she could have -seen you." - -"It is only this. Lady Ascot begs that she will come over to lunch. My -aunt wished she would have stopped longer last night." - -"Your aunt?" - -"My aunt, Lady Ascot." - -"Ah! I beg pardon; I am not quite used to the new state of affairs. Was -Lady Welter with Lady Ascot last night?" - -William was obliged to say yes, but felt as if he had committed an -indiscretion by having said anything about it. - -"The deuce she was!" said Lord Welter. "I thought she was somewhere -else. Tell my father that I will come and see him to-day, if he don't -think it would be too much for him." - -"Ah, Lord Welter! you would have come before, if you had known----" - -"I know--I know. You must know that I had my reasons for not coming. -Well, I hope that you and I will be better acquainted in our new -positions; we were intimate enough in our old." - -When William was gone, Lord Welter went up to his wife's dressing-room -and said-- - -"Lady Welter, you are a jewel. If you go on like this, you will be -recognised, and we shall die at Ranford--you and I--a rich and -respectable couple. If 'ifs and ands were pots and pans,' Lady Welter, -we should do surprisingly well. If, for instance, Lord Saltire could be -got to like me something better than a mad dog, he would leave my father -the whole of his landed estate, and cut Charles Horton, whilom -Ravenshoe, off with the comparatively insignificant sum of eighty -thousand pounds, the amount of his funded property. Eh! Lady Welter?" - -Adelaide actually bounded from her chair. - -"Are you drunk, Welter?" she said. - -"Seeing that it is but the third hour of the day, I am not, Lady Welter. -Neither am I a fool. Lord Saltire would clear my father now, if he did -not know that it would be more for my benefit than his. I believe he -would sooner leave his money to a hospital than see me get one farthing -of it." - -"Welter," said Adelaide, eagerly, "if Charles gets hold of Lord Saltire -again, he will have the whole; the old man adores him. I know it; I see -it all now; why did I never think of it before. He thinks he is like -Lord Barkham, his son. There is time yet. If that man William Ravenshoe -comes this morning, you must know nothing of Charles. Mind that. -Nothing. They must not meet. He may forget him. Mind, Welter, no -answer!" - -She was walking up and down the room rapidly now, and Lord Welter was -looking at her with a satirical smile on his face. - -"Lady Welter," he said, "the man William Ravenshoe has been here and got -his answer. By this time, Charles is receiving his lordship's blessing." - -"Fool!" was all that Adelaide could say. - -"Well, hardly that," said Lord Welter. "At least, _you_ should hardly -call me so. I understood the position of affairs long before you. I was -a reckless young cub not to have paid Lord Saltire more court in old -times; but I never knew the state of our affairs till very shortly -before the crash came, or I might have done so. In the present case, I -have not been such a fool. Charles is restored to Lord Saltire through -my instrumentality. A very good basis of operations, Lady Welter." - -"At the risk of about half a million of money," remarked Adelaide. - -"There was no risk in the other course, certainly," said Lord Welter, -"for we should never have seen a farthing of it. And besides, Lady -Welter----" - -"Well!" - -"I have your attention. Good. It may seem strange to you, who care about -no one in heaven or earth, but I love this fellow, this Charles Horton. -I always did. He is worth all the men I ever met put together. I am glad -to have been able to give him a lift this morning. Even if I had not -been helping myself, I should have done it all the same. That is -comical, is it not? For Lord Saltire's landed property I shall fight. -The campaign begins at lunch to-day, Lady Welter; so, if you will be so -good as to put on your full war-paint and feathers, we will dig up the -tomahawk, and be off on the war-trail in your ladyship's brougham. -Good-bye for the present." - -Adelaide was beaten. She was getting afraid of her husband--afraid of -his strong masculine cunning, of his reckless courage, and of the -strange apparition of a great brutal _heart_ at the bottom of it all. -What were all her fine-spun female cobwebs worth against such a huge, -blundering, thieving hornet as he? - - - - -CHAPTER XLVI. - -TO LUNCH WITH LORD ASCOT. - - -That same day, Lord Saltire and Lady Ascot were sitting in the -drawing-room window, in South Audley Street, alone. He had come in, as -his custom was, about eleven, and found her reading her great old Bible; -he had taken up the paper and read away for a time, saying that he would -not interrupt her; she, too, had seemed glad to avoid a _tete-a-tete_ -conversation, and had continued; but, after a few minutes, he had -dropped the paper, and cried-- - -"The deuce!" - -"My dear James," said she, "what is the matter?" - -"Matter! why, we have lost a war-steamer, almost without a shot fired. -The Russians have got the _Tiger_, crew and all. It is unbearable, -Maria; if they are going to blunder like this at the beginning, where -will it end?" - -Lord Saltire was disgusted with the war from the very beginning, in -consequence of the French alliance, and so the present accident was as -fuel for his wrath. Lady Ascot, as loyal a soul as lived, was possibly -rather glad that something had taken up Lord Saltire's attention just -then, for she was rather afraid of him this morning. She knew his great -dislike for Lord Welter, and expected to be scolded for her weakness -with regard to Adelaide the night before. Moreover, she had the guilty -consciousness that she had asked Adelaide to come to lunch that morning, -of which he did not yet know. So she was rather glad to have a subject -to talk of, not personal. - -"And when did it happen, my dear James?" she asked. - -"On the twelfth of last month, Lady Ascot. Come and sit here in the -window, and give an account of yourself, will you have the goodness?" - -Now that she saw it must come, she was as cool and as careless as need -be. He could not be hard on her. Charles was to come home to them that -day. She drew her chair up, and laid her withered old hand on his, and -the two grey heads were bent together. Grey heads but green hearts. - -"Look at old Daventry," said Lord Saltire, "on the other side of the -way. Don't you see him, Maria, listening to that organ? He is two years -older than I am. He looks younger." - -"I don't know that he does. He ought to look older. She led him a -terrible life. Have you been to see him lately?" - -"What business is that of yours? So you are going to take Welter's wife -back into your good graces, eh, my lady?" - -"Yes, James." - -"'Yes, James!' I have no patience with you. You are weaker than water. -Well, well, we must forgive her, I suppose. She has behaved generous -enough about Charles, has she not? I rather admire her scolding poor -William Ravenshoe. I must renew our acquaintance." - -"She is coming to lunch to-day." - -"I thought you looked guilty. Is Welter coming?" - -Lady Ascot made no reply. Neither at that moment would Lord Saltire have -heard her if she had. He was totally absorbed in the proceedings of his -old friend Lord Daventry, before mentioned. That venerable dandy had -listened to the organ until the man had played all his tunes twice -through, when he had given him half-a-crown, and the man had departed. -Immediately afterwards, a Punch and Judy had come, which Punch and Judy -was evidently an acquaintance of his; for, on descrying him, it had -hurried on with its attendant crowd, and breathlessly pitched itself in -front of him, let down its green curtains, and plunged at once _in -medias res_. The back of the show was towards Lord Saltire; but, just as -he saw Punch look round the corner, to see which way the Devil was gone, -he saw two pickpockets advance on Lord Daventry from different quarters, -with fell intentions. They met at his tail-coat pocket, quarrelled, and -fought. A policeman bore down on them; Lord Daventry was still -unconscious, staring his eyes out of his head. The affair was becoming -exciting, when Lord Saltire felt a warm tear drop on his hand. - -"James," said Lady Ascot, "don't be hard on Welter. I love Welter. There -is good in him; there is, indeed. I know how shamefully he has behaved; -but don't be hard on him, James." - -"My dearest Maria," said Lord Saltire, "I would not give you one -moment's uneasiness for the world. I do not like Welter. I dislike him. -But I will treat him for your sake and Ascot's as though I loved -him--there. Now about Charles. He will be with us to-day, thank God. -What the deuce are we to do?" - -"I cannot conceive," said Lady Ascot; "it is such a terrible puzzle. One -does not like to move, and yet it seems such a sin to stand still." - -"No answer to your advertisement, of course?" said Lord Saltire. - -"None whatever. It seems strange, too, with such a reward as we have -offered; but it was worded so cautiously, you see." - -Lord Saltire laughed. "Cautiously, indeed. No one could possibly guess -what it was about. It was a miracle of obscurity; but it won't do to go -any further yet." After a pause, he said--"You are perfectly certain of -your facts, Maria, for the fiftieth time." - -"Perfectly certain. I committed a great crime, James. I did it for -Alicia's sake. Think what my bringing up had been, how young I was, and -forgive me if you can; excuse me if you cannot." - -"Nonsense about a great crime, Maria. It was a great mistake, certainly. -If you had only had the courage to have asked Petre one simple question! -Alicia never guessed the fact, of course?" - -"Never." - -"Do you think, Maria, that by any wild possibility James or Nora knew?" - -"How could they possibly? What a foolish question." - -"I don't know. These Roman Catholics do strange things," said Lord -Saltire, staring out of window at the crowd. - -"If she knew, why did she change the child?" - -"Eh?" said Lord Saltire, turning round. - -"You have not been attending," said Lady Ascot. - -"No, I have not," said Lord Saltire; "I was looking at Daventry." - -"Do you still," said Lord Saltire, "since all our researches and -failures, stick to the belief that the place was in Hampshire?" - -"I do indeed, and in the north of Hampshire too." - -"I wonder," said Lord Saltire, turning round suddenly, "whether -Mackworth knows?" - -"Of course he does," said Lady Ascot, quietly. - -"Hum," said Lord Saltire, "I had a hold over that man once; but I threw -it away as being worthless. I wish I had made a bargain for my -information. But what nonsense; how can he know?" - -"Know?" said Lady Ascot, scornfully; "what is there a confessor don't -know? Don't tell me that all Mackworth's power came from finding out -poor Densil's _faux pas_. The man had a sense of power other than that." - -"Then he never used it," said Lord Saltire. "Densil, dear soul, never -knew." - -"I said a _sense_ of power," said Lady Ascot, "which gave him his -consummate impudence. Densil never dreamt of it." - -At this point the policeman had succeeded in capturing the two -pickpockets, and was charging them before Lord Daventry. Lord Daventry -audibly offered them ten shillings a-piece to say nothing about it; at -which the crowd cheered. - -"Would it be any use to offer money to the priest--say ten thousand -pounds or so?" said Lord Saltire. "You are a religious woman, Maria, and -as such are a better judge of a priest's conscience than I. What do you -think?" - -"I don't know," said Lady Ascot. "I don't know but what the man is -high-minded, in his heathenish way. You know Cuthbert's story of his -having refused ten thousand pounds to hush up the matter about Charles. -His information would be a blow to the Popish Church in the West. He -would lose position by accepting your offer. I don't know what his -position may be worth. You can try him, if all else fails; not -otherwise, I should say. We must have a closer search." - -"When you come to think, Maria, he can't know. If Densil did not know, -how could he?" - -"Old Clifford might have known, and told him." - -"If we are successful, and if Adelaide has no children--two improbable -things--" said Lord Saltire, "why then----" - -"Why then----" said Lady Ascot. "But at the worst you are going to make -Charles a rich man. Shall you tell William?" - -"Not yet. Cuthbert should never be told, I say; but that is Charles's -business. I have prepared William." - -"Cuthbert will not live," said Lady Ascot. - -"Not a chance of it, I believe. Marston says his heart-complaint does -not exist, but I think differently." - -At this moment, Lord Daventry's offer of money having been refused, the -whole crowd moved off in procession towards the police-station. First -came three little girls with big bonnets and babies, who, trying to do -two things at once--to wit, head the procession by superior speed, -and at the same time look round at Lord Daventry and the -pickpockets--succeeded in neither, but only brought the three babies' -heads in violent collision every other step. Next came Lord Daventry, -resigned. Next the policeman, with a pickpocket in each hand, who were -giving explanations. Next the boys; after them, the Punch and Judy, -which had unfortunately seen the attempt made, and must to the station -as a witness, to the detriment of business. Bringing up the rear were -the British public, who played practical jokes with one another. The -dogs kept a parallel course in the gutter, and barked. In turning the -first corner, the procession was cut into, and for a time thrown into -confusion, by a light-hearted costermonger, who, returning from a -successful market with an empty barrow, drove it in among them with -considerable velocity. After which, they disappeared like the baseless -fabric of a dream, only to be heard of again in the police reports. - -"Lord and Lady Welter." - -Lord Saltire had seen them drive up to the door; so he was quite -prepared. He had been laughing intensely; but quite silently, at poor -Lord Daventry's adventures, and so, when he turned round, he had a smile -on his face. Adelaide had done kissing Lady Ascot, and was still holding -both her hands with a look of intense mournful affection. Lord Saltire -was so much amused by Adelaide's acting, and her simplicity in -performing before himself, that, when he advanced to Lord Welter, he was -perfectly radiant. - -"Well, my dear scapegrace, and how do _you_ do?" he said, giving his -hand to Lord Welter; "a more ill-mannered fellow I never saw in my life. -To go away and hide yourself with that lovely young wife of yours, and -leave all us oldsters to bore one another to death. What the deuce do -you mean by it, eh, sir?" - -Lord Welter did not reply in the same strain. He said-- - -"It is very kind of you to receive me like this. I did not expect it. -Allow me to tell you, that I think your manner towards me would not be -quite so cordial if you knew everything; there is a great deal that you -don't know, and which I don't mean to tell you." - -It is sometimes quite impossible, even for a writer of fiction, a man -with _carte blanche_ in the way of invention, to give the cause, for a -man's actions. I have thought and thought, and I cannot for the life of -me tell you why Lord Welter answered Lord Saltire like that, whether it -was from deep cunning or merely from recklessness. If it was cunning, it -was cunning of a high order. It was genius. The mixture of respect and -kindness towards the person, and of carelessness about his favour -was--well--very creditable. Lord Saltire did not think he was acting, -and his opinion is of some value, I believe. But then, we must remember -that he was prepared to think the best of Lord Welter that day, and must -make allowances. I am not prepared with an opinion; let every man form -his own. I only know that Lord Saltire tapped his teeth with his -snuff-box and remained silent. Lord Welter, whether consciously or no, -was nearer the half of a million of money than he had ever been before. - -But Adelaide's finer sense was offended at her husband's method of -proceeding. For one instant, when she heard him say what he did, she -could have killed him. "Reckless, brutal, selfish," she said fiercely -to herself, "throwing a duke's fortune to the winds by sheer obstinacy." -(At this time she had picked up Lady Ascot's spectacles, and was -playfully placing them on her venerable nose.) "I wish I had never seen -him. He is maddening. If he only had some brains, where might not we -be?" But the conversation of that morning came to her mind with a jar, -and the suspicion with it, that he had more brains of a sort than she; -that, though they were on a par in morality, there was a strength about -him, against which her finesse was worthless. She knew she could never -deceive Lord Saltire, and there was Lord Saltire tapping him on the knee -with his snuff-box, and talking earnestly and confidentially to him. She -was beginning to respect her husband. _He_ dared face that terrible old -man with his hundreds of thousands; _she_ trembled in his presence. - -Let us leave her, fooling our dear old friend to the top of her bent, -and hear what the men were saying. - -"I know you have been, as they say now, 'very fast,'" said Lord Saltire, -drawing nearer to him. "I don't want to ask any questions which don't -concern me. You have sense enough to know that it is worth your while to -stand well with me. Will you answer me a few questions which do concern -me?" - -"I can make no promises, Lord Saltire. Let me hear what they are, will -you?" - -"Why," said Lord Saltire, "about Charles Ravenshoe." - -"About Charles!" said Lord Welter, looking up at Lord Saltire. "Oh, yes; -any number. I have nothing to conceal there. Of course you will know -everything. I had sooner you knew it from me than another." - -"I don't mean about Adelaide; let that go by. Perhaps I am glad that -that is as it is. But have you known where Charles was lately? Your wife -told William to come to her this morning; that is why I ask." - -"I have known a very short time. When William Ravenshoe came this -morning, I gave him every information. Charles will be with you to-day." - -"I am satisfied." - -"I don't care to justify myself, but if it had not been for me you would -never have seen him. And more. I am not the first man, Lord Saltire, who -has done what I have done." - -"No, of course not," said Lord Saltire. "I can't fling the first stone -at you; God forgive me." - -"But you must see, Lord Saltire, that I could not have guessed that -Ellen was his sister." - -"Hey?" said Lord Saltire. "Say that again." - -"I say that, when I took Ellen Horton away from Ravenshoe, I did not -know that she was Charles's sister." - -Lord Saltire fell back in his chair, and said-- - -"Good God!" - -"It is very terrible, looked at one way, Lord Saltire. If you come to -look at it another, it amounts to this, that she was only, as far as I -knew, a gamekeeper's daughter. Do you remember what you said to Charles -and me when we were rusticated?" - -"Yes. I said that one vice was considered more venial than another vice -nowadays; and I say so still. I had sooner that you had died of delirium -tremens in a ditch than done this." - -"So had not I, Lord Saltire. When I became involved with Adelaide, I -thought Ellen was provided for; I, even then, had not heard this -_esclandre_ about Charles. She refused a splendid offer of marriage -before she left me." - -"We thought she was dead. Where is she gone?" - -"I have no idea. She refused everything. She stayed on as Adelaide's -maid, and left us suddenly. We have lost all trace of her." - -"What a miserable, dreadful business!" said Lord Saltire. - -"Very so," said Lord Welter. "Hadn't we better change the subject, my -lord?" he added, drily. "I am not at all sure that I shall submit to -much more cross-questioning. You must not push me too far, or I shall -get savage." - -"I won't," said Lord Saltire. "But, Welter, for God's sake, answer me -two more questions. Not offensive ones, on my honour." - -"Fifty, if you will; only consider my rascally temper." - -"Yes, yes! When Ellen was with you, did she ever hint that she was in -possession of any information about the Ravenshoes?" - -"Yes; or rather, when she went, she left a letter, and in it she said -that she had something to tell Charles." - -"Good, good!" said Lord Saltire. "She may know. We must find her. Now, -Charles is coming here to-day. Had you better meet him, Welter?" - -"We have met before. All that is past is forgiven between us." - -"Met!" said Lord Saltire, eagerly. "And what did he say to you? Was -there a scene, Welter?" - -Lord Welter paused before he answered, and Lord Saltire, the wise, -looked out of the window. Once Lord Welter seemed going to speak, but -there was a catch in his breath. The second attempt was more fortunate. -He said, in a low voice-- - -"Why, I'll tell you, my lord. Charles Ravenshoe is broken-hearted." - -"Lord and Lady Hainault." - -And Miss Corby, and Gus, and Flora, and Archy, the footman might have -added, but was probably afraid of spoiling his period. - -It was rather awkward. They were totally unexpected, and Lord Hainault -and Lord Welter had not met since Lord Hainault had denounced Lord -Welter at Tattersall's. It was so terribly awkward that Lord Saltire -recovered his spirits, and looked at the two young men with a smile. The -young men disappointed him, however, for Lord Hainault said, "How d'ye -do, Welter?" and Lord Welter said, "How do, Hainault?" and the matter -was settled, at all events for the present. - -When all salutations had been exchanged among the ladies, and Archy had -hoisted himself up into Mary's lap, and Lady Hainault had imperially -settled herself in a chair, with Flora at her knee, exactly opposite -Adelaide, there was a silence for a moment, during which it became -apparent that Gus had a question to ask of Lady Ascot. Mary trembled, -but the others were not quite sorry to have the silence broken. Gus, -having obtained leave of the house, wished to know whether or not Satan, -should he repent of his sins, would have a chance of regaining his -former position? - -"That silly Scotch nursemaid has been reading Burns's poems to him, I -suppose," said Lady Hainault; "unless Mary herself has been doing so. -Mary prefers anything to Watts's hymns, Lady Ascot." - -"You must not believe one word Lady Hainault says, Lady Ascot," said -Mary. "She has been shamefully worsted in an argument, and she is -resorting to all sorts of unfair means to turn the scales. I never read -a word of Burns's poems in my life." - -"You will be pleased not to believe a single word Miss Corby says, Lady -Ascot," said Lady Hainault. "She has convicted herself. She sings, 'The -banks and braes of bonny Doon'--very badly, I will allow, but still she -sings it." - -There was a laugh at this. Anything was better than the silence which -had gone before. It became evident that Lady Hainault would not speak to -Adelaide. It was very uncomfortable. Dear Mary would have got up another -friendly passage of arms with Lady Hainault, but she was too nervous. -She would have even drawn out Gus, but she saw that Gus, dear fellow, -was not in a humour to be trusted that morning. He evidently was aware -that the dogs of war were loose, and was champing the bit like a -war-horse. Lady Ascot was as nervous as Mary, dying to say something, -but unable. Lady Hainault was calmly inexorable, Adelaide sublimely -indifferent. If you will also consider that Lady Ascot was awaiting news -of Charles--nay, possibly Charles himself--and that, in asking Adelaide -to lunch, she had overlooked the probability that William would bring -him back with him--that Lord Welter had come without invitation, and -that the Hainaults wore totally unexpected--you will think that the dear -old lady was in about as uncomfortable a position as she could be, and -that any event, even the house catching fire, must change matters for -the better. - -Not at all. They say that, when things come to the worst, they must -mend. That is undeniable. But when are they at the worst? Who can tell -that? Lady Ascot thought they were at the worst now, and was taking -comfort. And then the footman threw open the door, and announced-- - -"Lady Hainault and Miss Hicks." - -At this point Lady Ascot lost her temper, and exclaimed aloud, "This is -too much!" They thought old Lady Hainault did not hear her; but she did, -and so did Hicks. They heard it fast enough, and remembered it too. - -In great social catastrophes, minor differences are forgotten. In the -Indian mutiny, people spoke to one another, and made friends, who were -at bitterest variance before. There are crises so terrible that people -of all creeds and shades of political opinion must combine against a -common enemy. This was one. When this dreadful old woman made her -totally unexpected entrance, and when Lady Ascot showed herself so -entirely without discretion as to exclaim aloud in the way she did, -young Lady Hainault and Adelaide were so horrified, so suddenly -quickened to a sense of impending danger, that they began talking loudly -and somewhat affectionately to one another. And young Lady Hainault, -whose self-possession was scattered to the four winds by this last -misfortune, began asking Adelaide all about Lady Brittlejug's drum, in -full hearing of her mamma-in-law, who treasured up every word she said. -And, just as she became conscious of saying wildly that she was so sorry -she could not have been there--as if Lady Brittlejug would ever have had -the impudence to ask her--she saw Lord Saltire, across the room, looking -quietly at her, with the expression on his face of one of the idols at -Abou Simbel. - -Turn Lady Ascot once fairly to bay, you would (if you can forgive slang) -get very little change out of her. She came of valiant blood. No -Headstall was ever yet known to refuse his fence. Even her poor brother, -showing as he did traces of worn-out blood (the men always go a -generation or two before the women), had been a desperate rider, -offered to kick Fouquier Tinville at his trial, and had kept Simon -waiting on the guillotine while he pared his nails. Her ladyship rose -and accepted battle; she advanced towards old Lady Hainault, and, -leaning on her crutched stick, began-- - -"And how do you do, my dear Lady Hainault?" - -She thought Lady Hainault would say something very disagreeable, as she -usually did. She looked at her, and was surprised to see how altered she -was. There was something about her looks that Lady Ascot did not like. - -"My dear Lady Ascot," said old Lady Hainault, "I thank you. I am a very -old woman. I never forget my friends, I assure you. Hicks, is Lord -Hainault here?--I am very blind, you will be glad to hear, Lady Ascot. -Hicks, I want Lord Hainault, instantly. Fetch him to me, you stupid -woman. Hainault! Hainault!" - -Our Lady Hainault rose suddenly, and put her arm round her waist. -"Mamma," she said, "what do you want!" - -"I want Hainault, you foolish girl. Is that him? Hainault, I have made -the will, my dear boy. The rogue came to me, and I told him that the -will was made, and that Britten and Sloane had witnessed it. Did I do -right or not, eh? Ha! ha! I followed you here to tell you. Don't let -that woman Ascot insult me, Hainault. She has committed a felony, that -woman. I'll have her prosecuted. And all to get that chit Alicia married -to that pale-faced papist, Petre Ravenshoe. She thinks I didn't know it, -does she? I knew she knew it well enough, and I knew it too, and I have -committed a felony too, in holding my tongue, and we'll both go to -Bridewell, and----" - -Lord Saltire here came up, and quietly offered her his arm. She took it -and departed, muttering to herself. - -I must mention here, that the circumstance mentioned by old Lady -Hainault, of having made a will, had nothing to do with the story. A -will had existed to the detriment of Lady Hainault and Miss Hicks, and -she had most honourably made another in their favour. - -Lady Ascot would have given worlds to unsay many things she had -heretofore said to her. It was evident that poor old Lady Hainault's -mind was failing. Lady Ascot would have prayed her forgiveness on her -knees, but it was too late. Lady Hainault never appeared in public -again. She died a short time after this, and, as I mentioned before, -left poor Miss Hicks a rich woman. Very few people knew how much good -there was in the poor old soul. Let the Casterton tenantry testify. - -On this occasion her appearance had, as we have seen, the effect of -reconciling Lady Hainault and Adelaide. A very few minutes after her -departure William entered the room, followed by Hornby, whom none of -them had ever seen before. - -They saw from William's face that something fresh was the matter. He -introduced Hornby, who seemed concerned, and then gave an open note to -Lord Saltire. He read it over, and then said-- - -"This unhappy boy has disappeared again. Apparently his interview with -you determined him, my dear Lady Welter. Can you give us any clue? This -is his letter:" - - "DEAR LIEUTENANT,--I must say good-bye even to you, my last - friend. I was recognised in your service to-day by Lady - Welter, and it will not do for me to stay in it any longer. - It was a piece of madness ever taking to such a line of - life." - - [Here there were three lines carefully erased. Lord Saltire - mentioned it, and Hornby quietly said, "I erased those - lines previous to showing the letter to any one; they - referred to exceedingly private matters." Lord Saltire - bowed and continued.] "A hundred thanks for your kindness; - you have been to me more like a brother than a master. We - shall meet again, when you little expect it. Pray don't - assist in any search after me; it will be quite useless. - - CHARLES HORTON." - -Adelaide came forward as pale as death. "I believe I am the cause of -this. I did not dream it would have made him alter his resolution so -suddenly. When I saw him yesterday he was in a groom's livery. I told -him he was disgracing himself, and told him, if he was desperate, to go -to the war." - -They looked at one another in silence. - -"Then," Lady Ascot said, "he has enlisted, I suppose. I wonder in what -regiment?--could it be in yours, Mr. Hornby?" - -"The very last in which he would, I should say," said Hornby, "if he -wants to conceal himself. He must know that I should find him at once." - -So Lady Ascot was greatly pooh-poohed by the other wiseacres, she being -right all the time. - -"I think," said Lord Saltire to Lady Ascot, "that perhaps we had better -take Mr. Hornby into our confidence." She agreed, and, after the -Hainaults and Welters were gone, Hornby remained behind with them, and -heard things which rather surprised him. - -"Inquiries at the depots of various regiments would be as good a plan as -any. Meanwhile I will give any assistance in my power. Pray, would it -not be a good plan to advertise for him, and state all the circumstances -of the case?" - -"Why, no," said Lord Saltire, "we do not wish to make known all the -circumstances yet. Other interests have to be consulted, and our -information is not yet complete. Complete! we have nothing to go on but -mere surmise." - -"You will think me inquisitive," said Hornby. "But you little know what -a right (I had almost said) I have to ask these questions. Does the -present Mr. Ravenshoe know of all this?" - -"Not one word." - -And so Hornby departed with William, and said nothing at all about -Ellen. As they left the door a little shoeblack looked inquisitively at -them, and seemed as though he would speak. They did not notice the -child. He could have told them what they wanted to know, but how were -they to guess that? - -Impossible. Actually, according to the sagacious Welter, half a million -pounds, and other things, going a-begging, and a dirty little shoeblack -the only human being who knew where the heir was! A pig is an obstinate -animal, likewise a sheep; but what pig or sheep was ever so provoking in -its obstinacy as Charles in his good-natured, well-meaning, blundering -stupidity? In a very short time you will read an advertisement put into -_The Times_ by Lady Ascot's solicitor, which will show the reason for -some of the great anxiety which she and others felt to have him on the -spot. At first Lady Ascot and Lord Saltire lamented his absence, from -the hearty goodwill they bore him; but, as time wore on, they began to -get deeply solicitous for his return for other reasons. Lady Ascot's -hands were tied. She was in a quandary, and, when the intelligence came -of his having enlisted, and there seemed nearly a certainty of his being -shipped off to foreign parts, and killed before she could get at him, -she was in a still greater quandary. Suppose, before being killed, he -was to marry some one? "Good heavens, my dear James, was ever an -unfortunate wretch punished so before for keeping a secret?" - -"I should say not, Maria," said Lord Saltire, coolly. "I declare I love -the lad the better the more trouble he gives one. There never was such a -dear obstinate dog. Welter has been making his court, and has made it -well--with an air of ruffian-like simplicity, which was charming, -because novel. I, even I, can hardly tell whether it was real or not. He -has ten times the brains of his shallow-pated little wife, whose -manoeuvres, my dear Maria, I should have thought even you, not -ordinarily a sagacious person, might have seen through." - -"I believe the girl loves me; and don't be rude, James." - -"I believe she don't care twopence for you; and I shall be as rude as I -please, Maria." - -Poor Lord Ascot had a laugh at this little battle between his mother and -her old friend. So Lord Saltire turned to him and said-- - -"At half-past one to-morrow morning you will be awakened by three -ruffians in crape masks, with pistols, who will take you out of bed with -horrid threats, and walk you upstairs and down in your shirt, until you -have placed all your money and valuables into their hands. They will -effect an entrance by removing a pane of glass, and introducing a small -boy, disguised as a shoeblack, who will give them admittance." - -"Good Gad!" said Lord Ascot, "what are you talking about?" - -"Don't you see that shoeblack over the way?" said Lord Saltire. "He has -been watching the house for two hours; the burglars are going to put him -in at the back-kitchen window. There comes Daventry back from the -police-station. I bet you a sovereign he has his boots cleaned." - -Poor Lord Ascot jumped at the bet like an old war-horse. "I'd have given -you three to one if you had waited." - -Lord Daventry had indeed re-appeared on the scene; his sole attendant -was one of the little girls with a big bonnet and a baby, before -mentioned, who had evidently followed him to the police-station, watched -him in, and then accompanied him home, staring at him as at a man of -dark experiences, a man not to be lost sight of on any account, lest -some new and exciting thing should befall him meanwhile. This young -lady, having absented herself some two hours on this errand, and having -thereby deprived the baby of its natural nourishment, was now suddenly -encountered by an angry mother, and, knowing what she had to expect, was -forced to "dodge" her infuriated parent round and round Lord Daventry, -in a way which made that venerable nobleman giddy, and caused him to -stop, shut his eyes, and feebly offer them money not to do it any more. -Ultimately the young lady was caught and cuffed, the baby was refreshed, -and his lordship free. - -Lord Saltire won his pound, to his great delight. Such an event as a -shoeblack in South Audley Street was not to be passed by. Lord Daventry -entered into conversation with our little friend, asked him if he went -to school? if he could say the Lord's Prayer? how much he made in the -day? whether his parents were alive? and ultimately had his boots -cleaned, and gave the boy half-a-crown. After which he disappeared from -the scene, and, like many of our large staff of supernumeraries, from -this history for evermore--he has served his turn with us. Let us -dismiss the kind-hearted old dandy with our best wishes. - -Lord Saltire saw him give the boy the half-crown. He saw the boy pocket -it as though it were a halfpenny: and afterwards continue to watch the -house, as before. He was more sure than ever that the boy meant no good. -If he had known that he was waiting for one chance of seeing Charles -again, perhaps he would have given him half-a-crown himself. What a -difference one word from that boy would have made in our story! - -When they came back from dinner, there was the boy still lying on the -pavement, leaning against his box. The little girl who had had her ears -boxed came and talked to him for a time, and went on. After a time she -came back with a quartern loaf in her hand, the crumbs of which she -picked as she went along, after the manner of children sent on an errand -to the baker's. When she had gone by, he rose and leant against the -railings, as though lingering, loth to go. - -Once more, later, Lord Saltire looked out, and the boy was still there. -"I wonder what the poor little rogue wants?" said Lord Saltire; "I have -half a mind to go and ask him." But he did not. It was not to be, my -lord. You might have been with Charles the next morning at Windsor. You -might have been in time if you had; you will have a different sort of -meeting with him than that, if you meet him at all. Beyond the grave, my -lord, that meeting must be. Possibly a happier one, who knows? who dare -say? - -The summer night closed in, but the boy lingered yet, to see, if -perchance he might, the only friend he ever had; to hear, if he might, -the only voice which had ever spoken gently and kindly to him of higher -things: the only voice which had told him that strange, wild tale, -scarce believed as yet, of a glorious immortality. - -The streets began to get empty. The people passed him-- - - "Ones and twos, - And groups; the latest said the night grew chill, - And hastened; but he loitered; whilst the dews - Fell fast, he loitered still." - - - - -CHAPTER XLVII. - -LADY HAINAULT'S BLOTTING-BOOK. - - -In the natural course of events, I ought now to follow Charles in his -military career, step by step. But the fact is that I know no more about -the details of horse-soldiering than a marine, and therefore I cannot. -It is within the bounds of possibility that the reader may congratulate -himself on my ignorance, and it may also be possible that he has good -reason for so doing. - -Within a fortnight after Hornby's introduction to Lord Saltire and Lady -Ascot, he was off with the head-quarters of his regiment to Varna. The -depot was at Windsor, and there, unknown to Hornby, was Charles, -drilling and drilling. Two more troops were to follow the head-quarters -in a short time, and so well had Charles stuck to his duty that he was -considered fit to take his place in one of them. Before his moustaches -were properly grown, he found himself a soldier in good earnest. - -In all his troubles this was the happiest time he had, for he had got -rid of the feeling that he was a disgraced man. If he must wear a -livery, he would wear the Queen's; there was no disgrace in that. He was -a soldier, and he would be a hero. Sometimes, perhaps, he thought for a -moment that he, with his two thousand pounds' worth of education, might -have been better employed than in littering a horse, and -swash-bucklering about among the Windsor taverns; but he did not think -long about it. If there were any disgrace in the matter, there was a -time coming soon, by all accounts, when the disgrace would be wiped out -in fire and blood. On Sunday, when he saw the Eton lads streaming up to -the terrace, the old Shrewsbury days, and the past generally, used to -come back to him rather unpleasantly; but the bugle put it all out of -his head again in a moment. Were there not the three most famous armies -in the world gathering, gathering, for a feast of ravens? Was not the -world looking on in silence and awe, to see England, France, and Russia -locked in a death-grip? Was not he to make one at the merry meeting? Who -could think at such a time as this? - -The time was getting short now. In five days they were to start for -Southampton, to follow the head-quarters to Constantinople, to Varna, -and so into the dark thunder-cloud beyond. He felt as certain that he -would never come back again, as that the sun would rise on the morrow. - -He made the last energetic effort that he made at all. It was like the -last struggle of a drowning man. He says that the way it happened was -this. And I believe him, for it was one of his own mad impulses, and, -like all his other impulses, it came too late. They came branking into -some pot-house, half a dozen of them, and talked aloud about this and -that, and one young lad among them said, that "he would give a thousand -pounds, if he had it, to see his sister before he went away, for fear -she should think that he had gone off without thinking of her." - -Charles left them, and walked up the street. As he walked, his purpose -grew. He went straight to the quarters of a certain cornet, son to the -major of the regiment, and asked to speak to him. - -The cornet, a quiet, smooth-faced boy, listened patiently to what he had -to say, but shook his head and told him he feared it was impossible. -But, he said, after a pause, he would help him all he could. The next -morning he took him to the major while he was alone at breakfast, and -Charles laid his case before him so well, that the kind old man gave him -leave to go to London at four o'clock, and come back by the last train -that same evening. - -The Duchess of Cheshire's ball was the last and greatest which was given -that season. It was, they say, in some sort like the Duchess of -Richmond's ball before Waterloo. The story I have heard is, that Lord -George Barty persuaded his mother to give it, because he was sure that -it would be the last ball he should ever dance at. At all events it was -given, and he was right; for he sailed in the same ship with Charles -four days after, and was killed at Balaclava. However, we have nothing -to do with that. All we have to do with is the fact, that it was a very -great ball indeed, and that Lady Hainault was going to it. - -Some traditions and customs grow by degrees into laws, ay, and into laws -less frequently broken than those made and provided by Parliament. Allow -people to walk across the corner of one of your fields for twenty years, -and there is a right of way, and they may walk across that field till -the crack of doom. Allow a man to build a hut on your property, and live -in it for twenty years, and you can't get rid of him. He gains a right -there. (I never was annoyed in either of these ways myself, for reasons -which I decline to mention; but it is the law, I believe.) There is no -law to make the young men fire off guns at one's gate on the 6th of -November, but they never miss doing it. (I found some of the men using -their rifles for this purpose last year, and had to fulminate about -it.) To follow out the argument, there was no rule in Lord Hainault's -house that the children should always come in and see their aunt dress -for a ball. But they always did; and Lady Hainault herself, though she -could be perfectly determined, never dared to question their right. - -They behaved very well. Flora brought in a broken picture-broom, which, -stuck into an old straw hat of Archy's, served her for feathers. She -also made unto herself a newspaper fan. Gus had an old twelfth-cake -ornament on his breast for a star, and a tape round his neck for a -garter. In this guise they represented the Duke and Duchess of Cheshire, -and received their company in a corner, as good as gold. As for Archy, -he nursed his cat, sucked his thumb, and looked at his aunt. - -Mary was "by way of" helping Lady Hainault's maid, but she was very -clumsy about it, and her hands shook a good deal. Lady Hainault, at last -looking up, saw that she was deadly pale, and crying. So, instead of -taking any notice, she dismissed the children as soon as she could, as a -first step towards being left alone with Mary. - -Gus and Flora, finding that they must go, changed the game, and made -believe that they were at court, and that their aunt was the Queen. So -they dexterously backed to the door, and bowed themselves out. Archy was -lord chamberlain, or gold stick, or what not, and had to follow them in -the same way. He was less successful, for he had to walk backwards, -sucking his thumb, and nursing his cat upside down (she was a patient -cat, and was as much accustomed to be nursed that way as any other). He -got on very well till he came to the door, when he fell on the back of -his head, crushing his cat and biting his thumb to the bone. Gus and -Flora picked him up, saying that lord chamberlains never cried when they -fell on the backs of their heads. But Archy, poor dear, was obliged to -cry a little, the more so as the dear cat had bolted upstairs, with her -tail as big as a fox's, and Archy was afraid she was angry with him, -which seemed quite possible. So Mary had to go out and take him to the -nursery. He would stop his crying, he said, if she would tell him the -story of Ivedy Avedy. So she told it him quite to the end, where the -baffled old sorcerer, Gongolo, gets into the plate-warmer, with his -three-farthings and the brass soup-ladle, shuts the door after him, and -disappears for ever. After which she went down to Lady Hainault's room -again. - -Lady Hainault was alone now. She was sitting before her dressing-table, -with her hands folded, apparently looking at herself in the glass. She -took no notice of what she had seen; though, now they were alone -together, she determined that Mary should tell her what was the -matter--for, in truth, she was very anxious to know. She never looked at -Mary when she came in; she only said-- - -"Mary, my love, how do I look?" - -"I never saw you look so beautiful before," said Mary. - -"I am glad of that. Hainault is so ridiculously proud of me, that I -really delight in looking my best. Now, Mary, let me have the necklace; -that is all, I believe, unless you would like me to put on a little -rouge." - -Mary tried to laugh, but could not. Her hands were shaking so that the -jewels were clicking together as she held them. Lady Hainault saw that -she must help her to speak, but she had no occasion; the necklace helped -her. - -It was a very singular necklace, a Hainault heirloom, which Lady -Hainault always wore on grand occasions to please her husband. There was -no other necklace like it anywhere, though some folks who did not own it -said it was old-fashioned, and should be reset. It was a collar of nine -points, the ends of brilliants, running upwards as the points broadened -into larger rose diamonds. The eye, catching the end of the points, was -dazzled with yellow light, which faded into red as the rays of the -larger roses overpowered the brilliants; and at the upper rim the soft -crimson haze of light melted, overpowered, into nine blazing great -rubies. It seemed, however, a shame to hide such a beautiful neck by -such a glorious bauble. - -Mary was trying to clasp it on, but her fingers failed, and down went -the jewels clashing on the floor. The next moment she was down too, on -her knees, clutching Lady Hainault's hand, and saying, or trying to say, -in spite of a passionate burst of sobbing, "Lady Hainault, let me see -him; let me see him, or I shall die." - -Lady Hainault turned suddenly upon her, and laid her disengaged hand -upon her hair. "My little darling," she said, "my pretty little bird." - -"You must let me see him. You could not be so cruel. I always loved him, -not like a sister, oh! not like a sister, woe to me. As you love Lord -Hainault; I know it now." - -"My poor little Mary. I always thought something of this kind." - -"He is coming to-night. He sails to-morrow or next day, and I shall -never see him again." - -"Sails! where for?" - -"I don't know; he does not say. But you must let me see him. He don't -dream I care for him, Lady Hainault. But I must see him, or I shall -die." - -"You shall see him; but who is it? Any one I know?" - -"Who is it? Who could it be but Charles Ravenshoe?" - -"Good God! Coming here to-night! Mary, ring the bell for Alwright. Send -round to South Audley Street for Lord Saltire, or William Ravenshoe, or -some of them. They are dying to catch him. There is something more in -their eagerness than you or I know of. Send at once, Mary, or we shall -be too late. When does he come? Get up, my dear. My poor little Mary. I -am so sorry. Is he coming here? And how soon will he come, dear? Do be -calm. Think what we may do for him. He should be here now. Stay, I will -write a note--just one line. Where is my blotting-book? Alwright, get my -blotting-book. And stay; say that, if any one calls for Miss Corby, he -is to be shown into the drawing-room at once. Let us go there, Mary." - -Alwright had meanwhile, not having heard the last sentence, departed to -the drawing-room, and possessed herself of Lady Hainault's portfolio, -meaning to carry it up to the dressing-room; then she had remembered the -message about any one calling being shown up to the drawing-room, and -had gandered down to the hall to give it to the porter; after which she -gandered upstairs to the dressing-room again, thinking that Lady -Hainault was there, and missing both her and Mary from having gone -downstairs. So, while she and Mary were looking for the blotting-book -impatiently in the drawing-room, the door was opened, and the servant -announced, "A gentleman to see Miss Corby." - -He had discreetly said a gentleman, for he did not like to say an -Hussar. Mary turned round and saw a man all scarlet and gold before her, -and was frightened, and did not know him. But when he said "Mary," in -the old, old voice, there came such a rush of bygone times, bygone -words, scenes, sounds, meetings and partings, sorrows and joys, into her -wild, warm little heart, that, with a low, loving, tender cry she ran to -him and hid her face on his bosom.[6] - -And Lady Hainault swept out of the room after that unlucky -blotting-book. And I intend to go after her, out of mere politeness, to -help her to find it. I will not submit to be lectured for making an -aposiopesis. If any think they could do this business better than I, let -them communicate with the publishers, and finish the story for -themselves. I decline to go into that drawing-room at present. I shall -wander upstairs into my lady's chamber, after that goosey-gander -Alwright, and see what she has done with the blotting-book. - -Lady Hainault found the idiot of a woman in her dressing-room, looking -at herself in the glass, with the blotting-book under her arm. The maid -looked as foolish as people generally do who are caught looking at -themselves in the glass. (How disconcerting it is to be found standing -on a chair before the chimney-glass, just to have a look at your entire -figure before going to a party!)[7] But Lady Hainault said nothing to -her; but, taking the book from under her arm, she sat down and fiercely -scrawled off a note to Lord Saltire, to be opened by any of them, to say -that Charles Ravenshoe was then in her house, and to come in God's name. - -"I have caged their bird for them," she said out loud when she had just -finished and was folding up the letter; "they will owe me a good turn -for this." - -The maid, who had no notion anything was the matter, had been -surreptitiously looking in the glass again, and wondering whether her -nose was really so very red after all. When Lady Hainault spoke thus -aloud to herself, she gave a guilty start, and said, "Immediately, my -lady," which you will perceive was not exactly appropriate to the -occasion. - -"Don't be a goose, my good old Alwright, and don't tread on my necklace, -Alwright; it is close at your feet." - -So it was. Lying where Mary had dropped it. Alwright thought she must -have knocked it off the dressing-table; but when Lady Hainault told her -that Miss Corby had dropped it there, Alwright began to wonder why her -Ladyship had not thought it worth while to pick it up again. - -"Put it on while I seal this letter will you? I cannot trust you, -Alwright; I must go myself." She went out of the room and quickly down -stairs to the hall. All this had taken but a few minutes; she had -hurried as much as was possible, but the time seems longer to us, -because, following my usual plan of playing the fool on important -occasions, I have been telling you about the lady's-maid's nose. She -went down quickly to the hall, and sent off one of the men to South -Audley Street, with her note, giving him orders to run all the way, and -personally to see Lady Ascot, or some one else of those named. After -this she came upstairs again. - -When she came to the drawing-room door, Charles was standing at it. -"Lady Hainault," he said, "would you come here, please? Poor Mary has -fainted." - -"Poor thing," said Lady Hainault. "I will come to her. One word, Mr. -Ravenshoe. Oh, do think one instant of this fatal, miserable resolution -of yours. Think how fond we have all been of you. Think of the love that -your cousin and Lady Ascot bear for you, and communicate with them. At -all events, stay ten minutes more, and see one of them. I must go to -poor Mary." - -"Dear Lady Hainault, you will not change my resolution to stand alone. -There is a source of disgrace you probably know nothing of. Besides, -nothing short of an Order in Council could stop me now. We sail for the -East in twenty-four hours." - -They had just time for this, very hurriedly spoken, for poor little Mary -had done what she never had done before in her life, fainted away. Lady -Hainault and Charles went into the drawing-room. - -Just before this, Alwright, coming downstairs, had seen her most sacred -mistress standing at the drawing-room door, talking familiarly and -earnestly to a common soldier. Her ladyship had taken his hand in hers, -and was laying her other hand upon his breast. Alwright sat down on the -stairs. - -She was a poor feeble thing, and it was too much for her. She was -Casterton-bred, and had a feeling for the honour of the family. Her -first impulse was to run to Lord Hainault's dressing-room door and lock -him in. Her next was to rock herself to and fro and moan. She followed -the latter of these two impulses. Meanwhile, Lady Hainault had succeeded -in bringing poor Mary to herself. Charles had seen her bending over the -poor little lifeless body, and blessed her. Presently Lady Hainault -said, "She is better now, Mr. Ravenshoe; will you come and speak to -her?" There was no answer. Lady Hainault thought Charles was in the -little drawing-room, and had not heard her. She went there. It was dimly -lighted, but she saw in a moment that it was empty. She grew frightened, -and hurriedly went out on to the stairs. There was no one there. She -hurried down, and was met by the weeping Alwright. - -"He is safe out of the house, my lady," said that brilliant genius. "I -saw him come out of the drawing-room, and I ran down and sent the hall -porter on a message, and let him out myself. Oh, my lady! my lady!" - -Lady Hainault was a perfect-tempered woman, but she could not stand -this. "Alwright," she said, "you are a perfect, hopeless, imbecile -idiot. Go and tell his lordship to come to me instantly. Instantly! do -you hear? I wouldn't," she continued to herself when Alwright was gone, -"face Lord Saltire alone after this for a thousand pounds." - -What was the result of Charles's interview with Mary? Simply this. The -poor little thing had innocently shown him, in a way he could not -mistake, that she loved him with all her heart and soul. And, when he -left that room, he had sworn an oath to himself that he would use all -his ingenuity to prevent her ever setting eyes on him again. "I am low -and degraded enough now," he said to himself; "but if I gave that poor -innocent child the opportunity of nourishing her love for me, I should -be too low to live." - -He did not contemplate the possibility, you see, of raising himself to -her level. No. He was too much broken down for that. Hope was dead -within him. He had always been a man of less than average strength of -will; and two or three disasters--terrible disasters they were, -remember--had made him such as we see him, a helpless, drifting log upon -the sea of chance. What Lord Welter had said was terribly true, "Charles -Ravenshoe is broken-hearted." But to the very last he was a just, -honourable, true, kind-hearted man. A man in ten thousand. Call him -fool, if you will. I cannot gainsay you there. But when you have said -that you have finished. - -Did he love Mary? Yes, from this time forward, he loved her as she loved -him; and, the darker the night grew, that star burned steadily and more -steadily yet. Never brighter, perhaps, than when it gleamed on the -turbid waters, which whelm the bodies of those to whose eyesight all -stars have set for ever. - - - - -CHAPTER XLVIII. - -IN WHICH CUTHBERT BEGINS TO SEE THINGS IN A NEW LIGHT. - - -The stream at Ravenshoe was as low as they had ever seen it, said the -keeper's boys, who were allowed to take artists and strangers up to see -the waterfall in the wood. The artists said that it was more beautiful -than ever; for now, instead of roaring headlong over the rocks in one -great sheet beneath the quivering oak leaves, it streamed and spouted -over and among the black slabs of slate in a million interlacing jets. -Yes, the artists were quite satisfied with the state of things; but the -few happy souls who had dared to ask Cuthbert for a day or so of -salmon-fishing were not so well satisfied by any means. While the -artists were saying that this sort of thing, you know, was the sort of -thing to show one how true it was that beauty, life, and art, were terms -co-ordinate, synonymous, inseparable--that these made up the sum of -existence--that the end of existence was love, and what was love but the -worship of the beautiful (or something of this sort, for your artist is -but a mortal man, like the rest of us, and is apt, if you give him -plenty of tobacco on a hot day, to get uncommon hazy in his -talk)--while, I say, the artists were working away like mad, and -uttering the most beautiful sentiments in the world, the anglers were, -as old Master Lee up to Slarrow would have said, "dratting" the scenery, -the water, the weather, the beer, and existence generally, because it -wouldn't rain. If it had rained, you see, the artists would have left -talking about the beautiful, and begun "dratting" in turn; leaving the -anglers to talk about the beautiful as best they might. Which fact gives -rise to moral reflections of the profoundest sort. But every one, except -the discontented anglers, would have said that it was heavenly summer -weather. The hay was all got in without one drop of rain on it. And now, -as one glorious, cloudless day succeeded another, all the land seemed -silently swelling with the wealth of the harvest. Fed by gentle dews at -night, warmed by the genial sun by day, the corn began to turn from grey -to gold, and the distant valleys which spread away inland, folded in the -mighty grey arms of the moor, shone out gallantly with acre beyond acre -of yellow wheat and barley. A still, happy time. - -And the sea! Who shall tell the beauty of the restless Atlantic in such -weather? For nearly three weeks there was a gentle wind, now here, now -there, which just curled the water, and made a purple shadow for such -light clouds as crept across the blue sky above. Night and morning the -fishing-boats crept out and in. Never was such a fishing season. The -mouth of the stream was crowded with salmon, waiting to get up the first -fresh. You might see them as you sailed across the shallow sand-bank, -the delta of the stream, which had never risen above the water for forty -years, yet which now, so still had been the bay for three weeks, was -within a foot of the surface at low tide. - -A quiet, happy time. The three old Master Lees lay all day on the sand, -where the fishing-boats were drawn up, and had their meals brought to -them by young male relatives, who immediately pulled off every rag of -clothes they had, and went into the water for an hour or two. The -minding of these 'ere clothes, and the looking out to sea, was quite -enough employment for these three old cronies. They never fell out once -for three weeks. They used to talk about the war, or the cholera, which -was said to be here, or there, or coming, or gone. But they cared little -about that. Ravenshoe was not a cholera place. It had never come there -before, and they did not think that it was coming now. They were quite -right; it never came. Cuthbert used his influence, and got the folks to -move some cabbage stalks, and rotten fish, just to make sure, as he -said. They would have done more for him than that just now; so it was -soon accomplished. The juvenile population, which is the pretty way of -saying the children, might have offered considerable opposition to -certain articles of merchandise being removed without due leave obtained -and given; but, when it was done, they were all in the water as naked as -they were born. When it was over they had good sense enough to see that -it could not be helped. These sweeping measures of reform, however, are -apt to bear hard on particular cases. For instance, young James Lee, -great-grandson of Master James Lee up to Slarrow, lost six dozen (some -say nine, but that I don't believe) of oyster-shells, which he was -storing up for a grotto. Cuthbert very properly refunded the price of -them, which amounted to twopence. - -"Nonsense, again," you say. Why, no! What I have written above is not -nonsense. The whims and oddities of a village; which one has seen with -one's own eyes, and heard with one's own ears, are not nonsense. I knew, -when I began, what I had to say in this chapter, and I have just -followed on a train of images. And the more readily, because I know that -what I have to say in this chapter must be said without effort to be -said well. - -If I thought I was writing for a reader who was going to criticise -closely my way of telling my story, I tell you the honest truth, I -should tell my story very poorly indeed. Of course I must submit to the -same criticism as my betters. But there are times when I feel that I -must have my reader go hand in hand with me. To do so, he must follow -the same train of ideas as I do. At such times I write as naturally as I -can. I see that greater men than I have done the same. I see that -Captain Marryat, for instance, at a particular part of his noblest -novel, "The King's Own," has put in a chapter about his grandmother and -the spring tides, which, for perfect English and rough humour, it is -hard to match anywhere. - -I have not dared to play the fool, as he has, for two reasons. The -first, that I could not play it so well, and the second, that I have no -frightful tragedy to put before you, to counterbalance it, as he had. -Well, it is time that this rambling came to an end. I hope that I have -not rambled too far, and bored you. That would be very unfortunate just -now. - -Ravenshoe Bay again, then--in the pleasant summer drought I have been -speaking of before. Father Mackworth and the two Tiernays were lying on -the sand, looking to the sea. Cuthbert had gone off to send away some -boys who were bathing too near the mouth of the stream and hunting his -precious salmon. The younger Tiernay had recently taken to collect -"common objects of the shore"--a pleasant, healthy mania which prevailed -about that time. He had been dabbling among the rocks at the western end -of the bay, and had just joined his brother and Father Mackworth with a -tin-box full of all sorts of creatures, and he turned them out on the -sand and called their attention to them. - -"A very good morning's work, my brother," he said. "These anemones are -all good and rare ones." - -"Bedad," said the jolly priest, "they'd need be of some value, for they -ain't pretty to look at; what's this cockle now wid the long red spike -coming out of him?" - -"Cardium tuberculatum." - -"See here, Mackworth," said Tiernay, rolling over toward him on the sand -with the shell in his hand. - -"Here's the rid-nosed oysther of Carlingford. Ye remember the legend -about it, surely?" - -"I don't, indeed," said Mackworth, angrily, pretty sure that Father -Tiernay was going to talk nonsense, but not exactly knowing how to stop -him. - -"Not know the legend!" said Father Tiernay. "Why, when Saint Bridget was -hurrying across the sand, to attend St. Patrick in his last illness, -poor dear, this divvle of a oysther was sunning himself on the shore, -and, as she went by, he winked at her holiness with the wicked eye of -'um, and he says, says he, 'Nate ankles enough, anyhow,' he says. 'Ye're -drunk, ye spalpeen,' says St. Bridget, 'to talk like that to an honest -gentlewoman.' 'Sorra a bit of me,' says the oysther. 'Ye're always -drunk,' says St. Bridget. 'Drunk yourself,' says the oysther; 'I'm -fastin from licker since the tide went down.' 'What makes your nose so -red, ye scoundrel?' says St. Bridget: 'No ridder nor yer own,' says the -oysther, getting angry. For the Saint was stricken in years, and -red-nosed by rayson of being out in all weathers, seeing to this and to -that. 'Yer nose is red through drink,' says she, 'and yer nose shall -stay as rid as mine is now, till the day of judgment.' And that's the -legend about St. Bridget and the Carlingford oysther, and ye ought to be -ashamed that ye never heard it before." - -"I wish, sir," said Mackworth, "that you could possibly stop yourself -from talking this preposterous, indecent nonsense. Surely the first and -noblest of Irish Saints may claim exemption from your clumsy wit." - -"Begorra, I'm catching it, Mr. Ravenshoe," said Tiernay. - -"What for?" said Cuthbert, who had just come up. - -"Why, for telling a legend. Sure, I made it up on the spot. But it is -none the worse for that; d'ye think so, now?" - -"Not much the better, I should think," said Cuthbert, laughing. - -"Allow me to say," said Mackworth, "that I never heard such shameless, -blasphemous nonsense in my life." - -The younger Tiernay was frightened, and began gathering up his shells -and weeds. His handsome weak face was turned towards the great, strong, -coarse face of his brother, with a look of terror, and his fingers -trembled as he put the sea-spoils into his box. Cuthbert, watching them -both, guessed that sometimes Father Tiernay could show a violent, -headlong temper, and that his brother had seen an outbreak of this kind -and trembled for one now. It was only a guess, probably a good one; but -there were no signs of such an outbreak now. Father Tiernay only lay -back on the sand and laughed, without a cloud on his face. - -"Bedad," he said, "I've been lying on the sand, and the sun has got into -my stomach and made me talk nonsense. When I was a gossoon, I used to -sleep with the pig; and it was a poor, feeble-minded pig, as never got -fat on petaty skins. If folly's catchin', I must have caught it from -that pig. Did ye ever hear the legend of St. Laurence O'Toole's -wooden-legged sow, Mackworth?" - -It was evident, after this, that the more Mackworth fulminated against -good Father Tiernay's unutterable nonsense, the more he would talk; so -he rose and moved sulkily away. Cuthbert asked him, laughing, what the -story was. - -"Faix," said Tiernay, "I ain't sure, principally because I haven't had -time to invent it; but we've got rid of Mackworth, and can now discourse -reasonable." - -Cuthbert sent a boy up to the hall for some towels, and then lay down on -the sand beside Tiernay. He was very fond of that man in spite of his -reckless Irish habit of talking nonsense. He was not alone there. I -think that every one who knew Tiernay liked him. - -They lay on the sand together those three; and, when Father Mackworth's -anger had evaporated, he came back and lay beside him. Tiernay put his -hand out to him, and Mackworth shook it, and they were reconciled. I -believe Mackworth esteemed Tiernay, though they were so utterly unlike -in character and feeling. I know that Tiernay had a certain admiration -for Mackworth. - -"Do you think, now," said Tiernay, "that you Englishmen enjoy such a -scene and such a time as this as much as we Irishmen do? I cannot tell. -You talk better about it. You have a dozen poets to our one. Our best -poet, I take it, is Tommy Moore. You class him as third-rate; but I -doubt, mind you, whether you feel nature as acutely as we do." - -"I think we do," said Cuthbert, eagerly. "I cannot think that you can -feel the beauty of the scene we are looking at more deeply than I do. -You feel nature as in 'Silent O'Moyle'; we feel it as in Keats' 'St. -Agnes' Eve!'" - -He was sitting up on the sand, with his elbows on his knees, and his -face buried in his hands. None of them spoke for a time; and he, looking -seaward, said idly, in a low voice-- - - "'St. Agnes' Eve. Ah! bitter chill it was. - The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold; - The hare limped, trembling, through the frozen grass; - And drowsy was the flock in woolly fold.'" - -What was the poor lad thinking of? God knows. There are times when one -can't follow the train of a man's thoughts--only treasure up their -spoken words as priceless relics. - -His beautiful face was turned towards the dying sun, and in that face -there was a look of such kindly, quiet peace, that they who watched it -were silent, and waited to hear what he would say. - -The western headland was black before the afternoon sun, and, far to -sea, Lundy lay asleep in a golden haze. All before them the summer sea -heaved between the capes, and along the sand, and broke in short crisp -surf at their feet, gently moving the seaweed, the sand, and the shells. - -"'St. Agnes' Eve,'" he said again. "Ah, yes! that is one of the poems -written by Protestants which help to make men Catholics. Nine-tenths of -their highest religious imagery is taken from Catholicism. The English -poets have nothing to supply the place of it. Milton felt it, and wrote -about it; yes, after ranging through all heathendom for images he comes -home, to us at last:-- - - "'Let my due feet never fail - To walk the studious cloisters pale, - And love the high embowed roof, - With antique pillars massy proof, - And storied windows, richly dight, - Casting a dim religious light.'" - -"Yes; he could feel for that cloister life. The highest form of human -happiness! We have the poets with us, at all events. Why, what is the -most perfect bijou of a poem in the English language? Tennyson's 'St. -Agnes.' He had to come to us." - -The poor fellow looked across the sea, which was breaking in crisp -ripples at his feet among the seaweed, the sand, and the shells; and as -they listened, they heard him say, almost passionately-- - - "'Break up the heavens, oh, Lord! and far - Through all yon starlight keen - Draw me, thy bride, a glittering star - In raiment white and clean.' - -"They have taken our churches from us, and driven us into -Birmingham-built chapels. They sneer at us, but they forget that we -built their arches and stained their glass for them. Art has revenged -herself on them for their sacrilege by quitting earth in disgust. They -have robbed us of our churches and our revenues, and turned us out on -the world. Ay, but we are revenged. They don't know the use of them now -they have got them; and the only men who could teach them, the -Tractarians, are abused and persecuted by them for their superior -knowledge." - -So he rambled on, looking seaward; at his feet the surf playing with the -sand, the seaweed, and the shells. - -He made a very long pause, and then, when they thought that he was -thinking of something quite different, he suddenly said-- - -"I don't believe it matters whether a man is buried in the chancel or -out of it. But they are mad to discourage such a feeling as that, and -not make use of it. Am I the worse man because I fancy that, when I lay -there so quiet, I shall hear above my head the footfalls of those who go -to kneel around the altar? What is it one of them says-- - - "'Or where the kneeling hamlet drains - The chalice of the grapes of God.'" - -He very seldom spoke so much as this. They were surprised to hear him -ramble on so; but it was an afternoon in which it was natural to sit -upon the shore and talk, saying straight on just what came uppermost--a -quiet, pleasant afternoon; an afternoon to lie upon the sand and conjure -up old memories. - -"I have been rambling, haven't I," he said presently. "Have I been -talking aloud, or only thinking?" - -"You have been talking," said Tiernay, wondering at such a question. - -"Have I? I thought I had been only thinking. I will go and bathe, I -think, and clear my head from dreams. I must have been quoting poetry, -then," he added, smiling. - -"Ay, and quoting it well, too," said Tiernay. - -A young fisherman was waiting with a boat, and the lad had come with his -towels. He stepped lazily across the sand to the boat, and they shoved -off. - -Besides the murmur of the surf upon the sand, playing with the shells -and seaweed; besides the shouting of the bathing boys; besides the -voices of the home-returning fishermen, carried sharp and distinct along -the water; besides the gentle chafing of the stream among the pebbles, -was there no other sound upon the beach that afternoon? Yes, a sound -different to all these. A loud-sounding alarm drum, beating more rapidly -and furiously each moment, but only heard by one man, and not heeded by -him. - -The tide drawing eastward, and a gentle wind following it, hardly enough -to fill the sails of the lazy fishing-boats and keep them to their -course. Here and there among the leeward part of the fleet, you might -hear the sound of an oar working in the row-locks, sleepily coming over -the sea and mingling harmoniously with the rest. - -The young man with Cuthbert rowed out a little distance, and then they -saw Cuthbert standing in the prow undressing himself. The fishing-boats -near him luffed and hurriedly put out oars, to keep away. The Squire was -going to bathe, and no Ravenshoe man was ill-mannered enough to come -near. - -Those on the shore saw him standing stripped for one moment--a tall -majestic figure. Then they saw him plunge into the water and begin -swimming. - -And then;--it is an easy task to tell it. They saw his head go under -water, and, though they started on their feet and waited till seconds -grew to minutes and hope was dead, it never rose again. Without one cry, -without one struggle, without even one last farewell wave of the hand, -as the familiar old landscape faded on his eyes for ever, poor Cuthbert -went down; to be seen no more until the sea gave up its dead. The poor -wild, passionate heart had fluttered itself to rest for ever. - -The surf still gently playing with the sand, the sea changing from -purple to grey, and from grey to black, under the fading twilight. The -tide sweeping westward towards the tall black headland, towards the -slender-curved thread of the new moon, which grew more brilliant as the -sun dipped to his rest in the red Atlantic. - -Groups of fishermen and sea boys and servants, that followed the ebbing -tide as it went westward, peering into the crisping surf to see -something they knew was there. One group that paused among the tumbled -boulders on the edge of the retreating surges, under the dark -promontory, and bent over something which lay at their feet. - -The naked corpse of a young man, calm and beautiful in death, lying -quiet and still between two rocks, softly pillowed on a bed of green and -purple seaweed. And a priest that stood upon the shore, and cried wildly -to the four winds of heaven. "Oh, my God, I loved him! My God! my God! I -loved him!" - - - - -CHAPTER XLIX. - -THE SECOND COLUMN OF "THE TIMES" OF THIS DATE, WITH OTHER MATTERS. - - - "TOMATO. Slam the door!" - - "EDWARD. Come at once; poor Maria is in sad distress. - Toodlekins stole!!!!" - - "J. B. can return to his deeply afflicted family if he - likes, or remain away if he likes. The A F, one and all, - will view either course with supreme indifference. Should - he choose the former alternative, he is requested to be as - quick as possible. If the latter, to send the key of the - cellaret." - - "LOST. A little black and tan lady's lap dog. Its real name - is Pussy, but it will answer to the name of Toodlekins - best. If any gentleman living near Kensal Green, or Kentish - Town, should happen, perfectly accidentally of course, to - have it in his possession, and would be so good as to bring - it to 997, Sloane Street, I would give him a sovereign and - welcome, and not a single question asked, upon my honour." - -It becomes evident to me that the dog Toodlekins mentioned in the second -advertisement, is the same dog alluded to in the fourth; unless you -resort to the theory that two dogs were stolen on the same day, and that -both were called Toodlekins. And you are hardly prepared to do that, I -fancy. Consequently, you arrive at this, that the "Maria" of the second -advertisement is the "little black and tan lady" of the fourth. And -that, in 1854, she lived at 997, Sloane Street. Who was she? Had she -made a fortune by exhibiting herself in a caravan, like Mrs. Gamp's -spotted negress, and taken a house in Sloane Street, for herself, -Toodlekins, and the person who advertised for Edward to come and comfort -her? Again, who was Edward? Was he her brother? Was he something nearer -and dearer? Was he enamoured of her person or her property? I fear the -latter. Who could truly love a little black and tan lady? - -Again. The wording of her advertisement gives rise to this train of -thought. Two persons must always be concerned in stealing a dog--the -person who steals the dog, and the person who has the dog stolen; -because, if the dog did not belong to any one, it is evident that no one -could steal it. To put it more scientifically, there must be an active -and a passive agent. Now, I'll bet a dirty old dishcloth against the -_New York Herald_, which is pretty even betting, that our little black -and tan friend, Maria, had been passive agent in a dog-stealing case -more than once before this, or why does she mention these two -localities? But we must get on to the other advertisements. - - "LOST. A large white bull-dog, very red about the eyes: - desperately savage. Answers to the name of 'Billy.' The - advertiser begs that any person finding him will be very - careful not to irritate him. The best way of securing him - is to make him pin another dog, and then tie his four legs - together and muzzle him. Any one bringing him to the Coach - and Horses, St. Martin's Lane, will be rewarded." - -He seems to have been found the same day, and by some one who was a bit -of a wag; for the very next advertisement runs thus: - - "FOUND. A large white bull-dog, very red about the eyes; - desperately savage. The owner can have him at once, by - applying to Queen's Mews, Belgrave Street, and paying the - price of the advertisement and the cost of a new pad groom, - aged 18, as the dog has bitten one so severely about the - knee that it is necessary to sell him at once to drive a - cab." - - "LOST. Somewhere between Mile-end Road and Putney Bridge, - an old leathern purse, containing a counterfeit sixpence, a - lock of hair in a paper, and a twenty-pound note. Any one - bringing the note to 267, Tylney Street, Mayfair, may keep - the purse and the rest of its contents for their trouble." - -This was a very shabby advertisement. The next, though coming from an -attorney's office, is much more munificent. It quite makes one's mouth -water, and envy the lucky fellow who would answer it. - - "ONE HUNDRED GUINEAS REWARD. Register wanted. To parish - clerks. Any person who can discover the register of - marriage between Petre Ravenshoe, Esq. of Ravenshoe, in the - county of Devon, and Maria Dawson, which is supposed to - have been solemnised in or about the year 1778, will - receive the above reward, on communicating with Messrs. - Compton and Brogden, Solicitors, 2004, Lincoln's Inn - Fields." - -Tomato slammed the door as he was told. Edward dashed up to 997, Sloane -Street, in a hansom cab, just as the little black and tan lady paid one -sovereign to a gentleman in a velveteen shooting-coat from Kentish Town, -and hugged Toodlekins to her bosom. J. B. came home to his afflicted -family with the key of the cellaret. The white bull-dog was restored to -the prize-fighter, and the groom-lad received shin-plaster and was sent -home tipsy. Nay, even an honest man, finding that the note was stopped, -took it to Tylney Street, and got half-a-crown. But no one ever answered -the advertisement of Lord Saltire's solicitor about the marriage -register. The long summer dragged on. The square grew dry and dusty; -business grew slack, and the clerks grew idle; but no one came. As they -sat there drinking ginger-beer, and looking out at the parched lilacs -and laburnums, talking about the theatres, and the war, and the cholera, -it grew to be a joke with them. When any shabby man in black was seen -coming across the square, they would say to one another, "Here comes the -man to answer Lord Saltire's advertisement." Many men in black, shabby -and smart, came across the square and into the office; but none had a -word to say about the marriage of Petre Ravenshoe with Maria Dawson, -which took place in the year 1778. - -Once, during that long sad summer, the little shoeblack thought he would -saunter up to the house in South Audley Street, before which he had -waited so long one night to meet Charles, who had never come. Not -perhaps with any hope. Only that he would like to see the place which -his friend had appointed. He might come back there some day; who could -tell? - -Almost every house in South Audley Street had the shutters closed. When -he came opposite Lord Ascot's house, he saw the shutters were closed -there too. But more; at the second storey there was a great painted -board hung edgeways, all scarlet and gold. There was some writing on it, -too, on a scroll. He could spell a little now, thanks to the -ragged-school, and he spelt out "Christus Salvator meus." What could -that mean? he wondered. - -There was an old woman in the area, holding two of the rails in her -hands, and resting her chin on the kerb-stone, looking along the hot -desolate street. Our friend went over and spoke to her. - -"I say, missus," he said, "what's that thing up there?" - -"That's the scutching, my man," said she. - -"The scutching?" - -"Ah! my lord's dead. Died last Friday week, and they've took him down to -the country house to bury him." - -"My lord?" said the boy; "was he the one as used to wear top-boots, and -went for a soger?" - -The old woman had never seen my lord wear top-boots. Had hearn tell, -though, as his father used to, and drive a coach and four in 'em. None -of 'em hadn't gone for soldiers, neither. - -"But what's the scutching for?" asked the boy. - -They put it for a year, like for a monument, she said. She couldn't say -what the writing on it meant. It was my lord's motter, that was all she -knowd. And, being a tender-hearted old woman, and not having the fear of -thieves before her eyes, she had taken him down into the kitchen and fed -him. When he returned to the upper regions, he was "collared" by a -policeman, on a charge of "area sneaking," but, after explanations, was -let go, to paddle home, barefooted, to the cholera-stricken court where -he lived, little dreaming, poor lad, what an important part he was -accidentally to play in this history hereafter. - -They laid poor Lord Ascot to sleep in the chancel at Ranford, and Lady -Ascot stood over the grave like a grey, old storm-beaten tower. "It is -strange, James," she said to Lord Saltire that day, "you and I being -left like this, with the young ones going down around us like grass. -Surely our summons must come soon, James. It's weary, weary waiting." - - - - -CHAPTER L. - -SHREDS AND PATCHES. - - -Lord Welter was now Lord Ascot. I was thinking at one time that I would -continue to call him by his old title, as being the one most familiar to -you. But, on second thoughts, I prefer to call him by his real name, as -I see plainly that to follow the other course would produce still worse -confusion. I only ask that you will bear his change of title in mind. -The new Lady Ascot I shall continue to call Adelaide, choosing rather to -incur the charge of undue familiarity with people so far above me in -social position, than to be answerable for the inevitable confusion -which would be caused by my speaking, so often as I shall have to speak, -of two Ladies Ascot, with such a vast difference between them of age and -character. - -Colonel Whisker, a tenant of Lord Ascot's, had kindly placed his house -at the disposal of his lordship for his father's funeral. Never was -there a more opportune act of civility, for Ranford was dismantled; and -the doors of Casterton were as firmly closed to Adelaide as the gates of -the great mosque at Ispahan to a Christian. - -Two or three days after Lord Ascot's death, it was arranged that he -should be buried at Ranford. That night the new Lord Ascot came to his -wife's dressing-room, as usual, to plot and conspire. - -"Ascot," said she, "they are all asked to Casterton for the funeral. Do -you think she will ask me?" - -"Oh dear no," said Lord Ascot. - -"Why not?" said Adelaide. "She ought to. She is civil enough to me." - -"I tell you I know she won't. He and I were speaking about it to-day." - -He was looking over her shoulder into the glass, and saw her bite her -lip. - -"Ah," said she. "And what did he say?" - -"Oh, he came up in his infernal, cold, insolent way, and said that he -should be delighted to see me at Casterton during the funeral, but Lady -Hainault feared that she could hardly find rooms for Lady Ascot and her -maid." - -"Did you knock him down? Did you kick him? Did you take him by the -throat and knock his hateful head against the wall?" said Adelaide, as -quietly as if she was saying "How d'ye do?" - -"No, my dear, I didn't," said Lord Ascot. "Partly, you see, because I -did not know how Lord Saltire would take it. And remember, Adelaide, I -always told you that it would take years, years, before people of that -sort would receive you." - -"What did you say to him?" - -"Well, as much as you could expect me to say. I sneered as insolently, -but much more coarsely, than he could possibly sneer; and I said that I -declined staying at any house where my wife was not received. And so we -bowed and parted." - -Adelaide turned round and said, "That was kind and manly of you, Welter. -I thank you for that, Welter." - -And so they went down to Colonel Whisker's cottage for the funeral. The -colonel probably knew quite how the land lay, for he was a man of the -world, and so he had done a very good-natured action just at the right -time. She and Lord Ascot lived for a fortnight there, in the most -charming style; and Adelaide used to make him laugh, by describing what -it was possible the other party were doing up at the solemn old -Casterton. She used to put her nose in the air and imitate young Lady -Hainault to perfection. At another time she would imitate old Lady -Hainault and her disagreeable sayings equally well. She was very amusing -that fortnight, though never affectionate. She knew that was useless; -but she tried to keep Lord Ascot in good humour with her. She had a -reason. She wanted to get his ear. She wanted him to confide entirely to -her the exact state of affairs between Lord Saltire and himself. Here -was Lord Ascot dead, Charles Ravenshoe probably at Alyden in the middle -of the cholera, and Lord Saltire's vast fortune, so to speak, going -a-begging. If he were to be clumsy now--now that the link formed by his -father, Lord Ascot, between him and Lord Saltire was taken away--they -were ruined indeed. And he was so terribly outspoken! - -And so she strained her wits, till her face grew sharp and thin, to keep -him in good humour. She had a hard task at times; for there was -something lying up in the deserted house at Ranford which made Lord -Ascot gloomy and savage now and then, when he thought of it. I believe -that the man, coarse and brutal as he was, loved his father, in his own -way, very deeply. - -A night or so after the funeral, there was a dressing-room conference -between the two; and, as the conversation which ensued was very -important, I must transcribe it carefully. - -When he came up to her, she was sitting with her hands folded on her -lap, looking so perfectly beautiful that Lord Ascot, astonished and -anxious as he was at that moment, remarked it, and felt pleased at, and -proud of, her beauty. A greater fool than she might probably have met -him with a look of love. She did not. She only raised her great eyes to -his, with a look of intelligent curiosity. - -He drew a chair up close to her, and said-- - -"I am going to make your hair stand bolt up on end, Adelaide, in spite -of your bandoline." - -"I don't think so," said she; but she looked startled, nevertheless. - -"I am. What do you think of this?" - -"This? I think that is the _Times_ newspaper. Is there anything in it?" - -"Read," said he, and pointed to the list of deaths. She read. - -"Drowned, while bathing in Ravenshoe Bay, Cuthbert Ravenshoe, Esq., of -Ravenshoe Hall. In the faith that his forefathers bled and died -for.--R.I.P." - -"Poor fellow!" she said, quietly. "So _he's_ gone, and brother William, -the groom, reigns in his stead. That is a piece of nonsense of the -priests about their dying for the faith. I never heard that any of them -did that. Also, isn't there something wrong about the grammar?" - -"I can't say," said Lord Ascot. "I was at Eton, and hadn't the advantage -that you had of learning English grammar. Did you ever play the game of -trying to read the _Times_ right across, from one column to another, and -see what funny nonsense it makes?" - -"No. I should think it was good fun." - -"Do it now." - -She did. Exactly opposite the announcement of Cuthbert's death was the -advertisement we have seen before--Lord Saltire's advertisement for the -missing register. - -She was attentive and eager enough now. After a time, she said, "Oho!" - -Lord Ascot said, "Hey! what do you think of that, Lady Ascot?" - -"I am all abroad." - -"I'll see if I can fetch you home again. Petre Ravenshoe, in 1778, -married a milkmaid. She remembered the duties of her position so far as -to conveniently die before any of the family knew what a fool he had -made of himself; but so far forgot them as to give birth to a boy, who -lived to be one of the best shots, and one of the jolliest old cocks I -ever saw--Old James, the Ravenshoe keeper. Now, my dearly beloved -grandmother Ascot is, at this present speaking, no less than eighty-six -years old, and so, at the time of the occurrence, was a remarkably -shrewd girl of ten. It appears that Petre Ravenshoe, sneaking away here -and there with his pretty Protestant wife, out of the way of the -priests, and finding life unendurable, not having had a single chance to -confess his sins for two long years, came to the good-natured Sir Cingle -Headstall, grandmamma's papa, and opened his griefs, trying to persuade -him to break the matter to that fox-hunting old Turk of a father of his, -Howard. Sir Cingle was too cowardly to face the old man for a time; and -before the pair of them could summon courage to speak, the poor young -thing died at Manger Hall, where they had been staying with the -Headstalls some months. This solved the difficulty, and nothing was said -about the matter. Petre went home. They had heard reports about his -living with a woman and having had a baby born. They asked very few -questions about the child or his mother, and of course it was all -forgotten conveniently, long before his marriage with my grandaunt, Lady -Alicia Staunton, came on the tapis, which took place in 1782, when -grandma was fourteen years of age. Now grandma had, as a girl of ten, -heard this marriage of Petre Ravenshoe with Maria Dawson discussed in -her presence, from every point of view, by her father and Petre. Night -and morning, at bed-time, at meal-times, sober, and very frequently -drunk. She had heard every possible particular. When she heard of his -second marriage (my mouth is as dry as dust with this talking; ring the -bell, and send your maid down for some claret and water)--when she heard -of his second marriage, she never dreamt of saying anything, of -course--a chit of fourteen, with a great liability to having her ears -boxed. So she held her tongue. When, afterwards, my grandfather made -love to her, she held it the tighter, for my grandaunt's sake, of whom -she was fond. Petre, after a time, had the boy James home to Ravenshoe, -and kept him about his own person. He made him his gamekeeper, treated -him with marked favour, and so on; but the whole thing was a sort of -misprision of felony, and poor silly old grandma was a party to it." - -"You are telling this very well, Ascot," said Adelaide. "I will, as a -reward, go so far out of my usual habits as to mix you some claret and -water. I am not going to be tender, you know; but I'll do so much. Now -that's a dear, good fellow; go on." - -"Now comes something unimportant, but inexplicable. Old Lady Hainault -knew it, and held _her_ tongue. How or why is a mystery we cannot -fathom, and don't want to. Grandma says that she would have married -Petre herself, and that her hatred for grandma came from the belief that -grandma could have stopped the marriage with my grandaunt by speaking. -After it was over, she thinks that Lady Hainault had sufficient love -left for Petre to hold her tongue. But this is nothing to the purpose. -This James, the real heir of Ravenshoe, married an English girl, a -daughter of a steward on one of our Irish estates, who had been born in -Ireland, and was called Nora. She was, you see, Irish enough at heart; -for she committed the bull of changing her own child, poor dear Charles, -the real heir, for his youngest cousin, William, by way of bettering his -position, and then confessed the whole matter to the priest. Now this -new discovery would blow the honest priest's boat out of the water; -but----" - -"Yes!" - -"Why, grandma can't, for the life of her, remember where they were -married. She is certain that it was in the north of Hampshire, she says. -Why or wherefore, she can't say. She says they resided the necessary -time, and were married by license. She says she is sure of it, because -she heard him, more than once, say to her father that he had been so -careful of poor Maria's honour, that he sent her from Ravenshoe to the -house of the clergyman who married them, who was a friend of his; -farther than this she knows nothing." - -"Hence the advertisement, then. But why was it not inserted before?" - -"Why, it appears that, when the whole _esclandre_ took place, and when -you, my Lady Ascot, jilted the poor fellow for a man who is not worth -his little finger, she communicated with Lord Saltire at once, and the -result was, that she began advertising in so mysterious a manner that -the advertisement was wholly unintelligible. It appears that she and -Lord Saltire agreed not to disturb Cuthbert till they were perfectly -sure of everything. But, now he is dead, Lord Saltire has insisted on -instantly advertising in a sensible way. So you see his advertisement -appears actually in the same paper which contains Cuthbert's death, the -news of which William got the night before last by telegraph." - -"William, eh? How does he like the cup being dashed from his lips like -this?" - -Lord Ascot laughed. "That ex-groom is a born fool, Lady Ascot. He loves -his foster-brother better than nine thousand a year, Lady Ascot. He is -going to start to Varna, and hunt him through the army and bring him -back." - -"It is incredible," said Adelaide. - -"I don't know. I might have been such a fool myself once, who knows?" - -"Who knows indeed," thought Adelaide, "who knows now?" "So," she said -aloud, "Charles is heir of Ravenshoe after all." - -"Yes. You were foolish to jilt him." - -"I was. Is Alyden healthy?" - -"You know it is not. Our fellows are dying like dogs." - -"Do they know what regiment he is in?" - -"They think, from Lady Hainault's and Mary Corby's description, that it -is the 140th." - -"Why did not William start on this expedition before?" - -"I don't know. A new impulse. They have written to all sorts of -commanding officers, but he won't turn up till he chooses, if I know him -right." - -"If William brings him back?" - -"Why, then he'll come into nine, or more probably twelve thousand a -year. For those tin lodes have turned up trumps." - -"And the whole of Lord Saltire's property?" - -"I suppose so." - -"And we remain beggars?" - -"I suppose so," said Lord Ascot. "It is time to go to bed, Lady Ascot." - -This is exactly the proper place to give the results of William's -expedition to Varna. He arrived there just after the army had gone -forward. Some men were left behind invalided, among whom were two or -three of the 140th. One of these William selected as being a likely man -from whom to make inquiries. - -He was a young man, and, likely enough, a kind-hearted one; but when he -found himself inquired of by a handsome, well-dressed young gentleman, -obviously in search of a missing relative, a lying spirit entered into -him, and he lied horribly. It appeared that he had been the intimate and -cherished comrade of Charles Horton (of whom he had never heard in his -life). That they had ridden together, drunk together, and slept side by -side. That he had nursed him through the cholera, and then (seeing no -other way out of the maze of falsehood in which he had entangled -himself), that he assisted to bury him with his own hands. Lastly, lying -on through mere recklessness, into desperation, and so into a kind of -sublimity, he led William out of the town, and pointed out to him -Charles's untimely grave. When he saw William pick some dry grass from -the grave, when he saw him down on his knees, with his cheek on the -earth, then he was sorry for what he had done. And, when he was alone, -and saw William's shadow pass across the blazing white wall, for one -instant, before he went under the dark gateway of the town, then the -chinking gold pieces fell from his hand on the burning sandy ground, and -he felt that he would have given them, and ten times more, to have -spoken the truth. - -So Charles was dead and buried, was he? Not quite yet, if you please. -Who is this riding, one of a gallant train, along the shores of the bay -of Eupatoria towards some dim blue mountains? Who is this that keeps -looking each minute to the right, at the noble fleet which is keeping -pace with the great scarlet and blue rainbow which men call the allied -armies? At the great cloud of smoke floating angrily seaward, and the -calm waters of the bay beaten into madness by three hundred throbbing -propellers? - - - - -CHAPTER LI. - -IN WHICH CHARLES COMES TO LIFE AGAIN. - - -Ha! This was a life again. Better this than dawdling about at the heels -of a dandy, or sitting on a wheelbarrow in a mews! There is a scent here -sweeter than that of the dunghill, or the dandy's essences--what is it? -The smell of tar, and bilge water, and red herrings. There is a fresh -whiff of air up this narrow street, which moves your hair, and makes -your pulse quicken. It is the free wind of the sea. At the end of the -street are ships, from which comes the clinking of cranes; pleasanter -music sometimes than the song of nightingales. - -Down the narrow street towards the wharf come the hussars. Charles is -among them. On the wharf, in the confusion, foremost, as far as he dare, -to assist. He was known as the best horseman in the troop, and, as such, -was put into dangerous places. He had attracted great attention among -the officers by his fearlessness and dexterity. The captain had openly -praised him; and, when the last horse had been slung in, and the last -cheer given, and the great ship was away down the river, on her message -of wrath, and woe, and glory, Charles was looking back at Southampton -spires, a new man with a new career before him. - -The few months of degradation, of brooding misery, of listlessness and -helplessness he had gone through, made this short episode in his life -appear the most happy and most beautiful of all. The merest clod of a -recruit in the regiment felt in some way ennobled and exalted: but as -for Charles, with his intensely, sensitive, romantic nature, he was -quite, as the French say, _tete montee_. The lowest menial drudgery was -exalted and glorified. Groom his horse and help clean the deck? Why not? -That horse must carry him in the day of the merry meeting of heroes. -Hard living, hard work, bad weather, disease, death: what were they, -with his youth, health, strength, and nerve? Not to be thought of save -with a smile. Yes! this expedition of his to the Crimea was the noblest, -and possibly the happiest in his life. To use a borrowed simile, it was -like the mournful, beautiful autumn sunset, before the dark night closes -in. He felt like a boy at midsummer, exploring some wood, or distant -valley, watched from a distance long, and at last attained; or as one -feels when, a stranger in a new land, one first rides forth alone into -the forest on some distant expedition, and sees the new world, dreamt of -and longed for all one's life, realised in all its beauty and wonder at -last; and expanding leaf by leaf before one. In a romantic state of -mind. I can express it no better. - -And really it is no wonder that a man, not sea-sick, should have been in -a state of wonder, eager curiosity, kindliness, and, above all, high -excitement--which four states of mind, I take it, make up together the -state of mind called romantic, quixotic, or chivalrous; which is a very -pleasant state of mind indeed. For curiosity, there was enough to make -the dullest man curious. Where were they going? Where would the blow be -struck? Where would the dogs of war first fix their teeth? Would it be a -campaign in the field, or a siege, or what? For kindliness: were not his -comrades a good set of brave, free-hearted lads, and was not he the -favourite among them? As for wonder and excitement, there was plenty of -that, and it promised to last. Why, the ship herself was a wonder. The -biggest in the world, carrying 500 men and horses; and every man in the -ship knew, before she had been five hours at sea, that that -quiet-looking commander of hers was going to race her out under steam -the whole way. Who could tire of wondering at the glimpse one got down -the iron-railed well into the machinery, at the busy cranks and leaping -pistons, or, when tired of that, at the strange dim vista of swinging -horses between decks? Wonder and excitement enough here to keep twenty -Don Quixotes going! Her very name too was romantic--HIMALAYA. - -A north-east wind and a mountain of rustling white canvas over head. -Blue water that seethed and creamed, and roared past to leeward. A calm, -and the Lizard to the north, a dim grey cape. A south-west wind, and -above a mighty cobweb of sailless rigging. Top-gallant masts sent down -and yards close hauled. Still, through it all, the busy clack and rattle -of the untiring engine. - -A dim wild sunset, and scudding prophet clouds that hurried from the -west across the crimson zenith, like witches towards a sabbath. A wind -that rose and grew as the sun went down, and hummed loud in the rigging -as the bows of the ship dipped into the trough of the waves, and failed -almost into silence as she raised them. A night of storm and terror: in -the morning, the tumbling broken seas of Biscay. A few fruit brigs -scudding wildly here and there; and a cape on a new land. A high round -down, showing a gleam of green among the flying mists. - -Sail set again before a northerly wind, and the ship rolling before it -like a jolly drunkard. Then a dim cloud of smoke before them. Then the -great steamer _Bussorah_, thundering forward against the wind, tearing -furiously at the leaping seas with her iron teeth. A hurried glimpse of -fluttering signals, and bare wet empty decks; and, before you had time -to say what a noble ship she was, and what good weather she was making -of it, only a cloud of smoke miles astern. - -Now, a dark line, too faint for landsmen's eyes, far ahead, which -changed into a loom of land, which changed into a cloud, which changed -into a dim peak towering above the sea mists, which changed into a tall -crag, with a town, and endless tiers of white fortification--Gibraltar. - -Then a strong west wind for three days, carrying the ship flying before -it with all plain sail set. And each day, at noon, a great excitement on -the quarter-deck, among the officers. On the third day much cheering and -laughter, and shaking of hands with the commander. Charles, catching an -opportunity, took leave to ask his little friend the cornet, what it -meant. The _Himalaya_ had run a thousand miles in sixty-three hours.[8] - -And now at sunrise an island is in sight, flat, bald, blazing yellow in -the morning sun, with a solitary, flat-topped mass of buildings just in -the centre, which the sailors say is Civita Vecchia; and, as they sweep -round the southern point of it, a smooth bay opens, and there is a -flat-roofed town rising in tiers from the green water--above heavier -fortifications than those of Gibralter, Charles thinks, but wrongly. -Right and left, two great forts, St. Elmo and St. Angelo, say the -sailors; and that flight of stone steps, winding up into the town, is -the Nix Mangare stairs. A flood of historical recollections comes over -Charles, and he recognises the place as one long known and very dear to -him. On those very stairs, Mr. Midshipman Easy stood and resolved that -he would take a boat and sail to Gozo. What followed on his resolution -is a matter of history. Other events have taken place at Malta, about -which Charles was as well informed as the majority, but Charles did not -think of them; not even of St. Paul and the viper, or the old windy -dispute, in Greek Testament lecture, at Oxford, between this Melita and -the other one off the coast of Illyricum. He thought of Midshipman Easy, -and felt as if he had seen the place before. - -I suppose that, if I knew my business properly, I should at this point -represent Charles as falling down the companion-ladder and spraining his -ankle, or as having over-eaten himself, or something of that sort, and -so pass over the rest of the voyage by saying that he was confined to -his bunk, and saw no more of it. But I am going to do nothing of the -sort, for two reasons. In the first place, because he did not do -anything of the kind; and in the next, because he saw somebody at -Constantinople, of whom I am sure you will be glad to hear again. - -Charles had seen Tenedos golden in the east, and Lemnos purple in the -west, as the sun went down; then, after having steamed at half-speed -through the Dardanelles, was looking the next evening at Constantinople, -and at the sun going down behind the minarets, and at all that sort of -thing, which is no doubt very beautiful, but of which one seems to have -heard once or twice before. The ship was lying at anchor, with fires -banked, and it was understood that they were waiting for a Queen's -messenger. - -They could see their own boat, which they had sent to wait for him at -Seraglio Point. One of the sailors had lent Charles a telescope--a -regular old brute of a telescope, with a crack across the object-glass. -Charles was looking at the boat with it, and suddenly said, "There he -is." - -He saw a small grey-headed man, with moustaches, come quickly down and -get into the boat, followed by some Turks with his luggage. This was -Colonel Oldhoss, the Queen's messenger; but there was another man with -him, whom Charles recognised at once. He handed the telescope to the man -next him, and walked up and down the deck rapidly. - -"I _should_ like to speak to him," he thought, "if it were only one -word. Dear old fellow. But then he will betray me, and they will begin -persecuting me at home, dear souls. I suppose I had better not. No. If I -am wounded and dying I will send for him. I will not speak to him now." - -The Queen's messenger and his companion came on board, and the ship got -under way and steamed through the Bosphorus out into the wild seething -waves of the "Fena Kara degniz," and Charles turned in without having -come near either of them. But in the chill morning, when the ship's head -was north-west, and the dawn was flushing up on the distant Thracian -sierra, Charles was on deck, and, while pausing for an instant in his -duties, to look westward, and try to remember what country and what -mountains lay to the north-west of Constantinople, a voice behind him -said quietly, "Go, find me Captain Croker, my man." He turned, and was -face to face with General Mainwaring. - -It was only for an instant, but their eyes met; the general started, but -he did not recognise him. Charles's moustache had altered him so much -that it was no great wonder. He was afraid that the general would seek -him out again, but he did not. These were busy times. They were at Varna -that night. - -Men were looking sourly at one another. The French expedition had just -come in from Kustendji in a lamentable state, and the army was rotting -in its inactivity. You know all about that as well as I can tell you; -what is of more importance to us is, that Lieutenant Hornby had been -down with typhus, and was recovering very slowly, so that Charles's -chances of meeting him were very small. - -What am I to do with this three weeks or more at Varna to which I have -reduced Charles, you, and myself? Say as little about it as need be, I -should say. Charles and his company were, of course, moved up at once to -the cavalry camp at Devna, eighteen miles off, among the pleasant hills -and woodlands. Once, his little friend, the young cornet, who had taken -a fancy for him, made him come out shooting with him to carry his bag. -And they scrambled and clambered, and they tore themselves with thorns, -and they fell down steep places, and utterly forgot their social -positions towards one another. And they tried to carry home every object -which was new to them, including a live turtle and a basaltic column. -And they saw a green lizard, who arched his tail and galloped away like -a racehorse, and a grey lizard, who let down a bag under his chin and -barked at them like a dog. And the cornet shot a quail, and a hare, and -a long-tailed francolin, like a pheasant, and a wood-pigeon. And, -lastly, they found out that, if you turned over the stones, there were -scorpions under them, who tucked their claws under their armpits, as a -man folds his arms, and sparred at them with their tails, drawing their -sting in and out, as an experienced boxer moves his left hand when -waiting for an attack. Altogether, they had a glorious day in a new -country, and did not remember in what relation they were to one another -till they topped the hill above Devna by moonlight, and saw the two long -lakes, stretching towards the sea, broken here and there into silver -ripples by the oars of the commissariat boats. A happy innocent -schoolboy day--the sort of day which never comes if we prepare for it -and anticipate it, but which comes without warning, and is never -forgotten. - -Another day the cornet had business in Varna, and he managed that -Charles should come with him as orderly; and with him, as another -orderly, went the young lad who spoke about his sister in the pot-house -of Windsor; for this lad was another favourite of the cornet's, being a -quiet, gentlemanly lad, in fact a favourite with everybody. A very -handsome lad, too. And the three went branking bravely down the -hill-side, through the woodlands, over the streaming plain, into the -white dirty town. And the cornet must stay and dine with the mess of the -42nd, and so Charles and the other lad might go where they would. And -they went and bathed, and then, when they had dressed, they stood -together under the burning white wall, looking over the wicked Black -Sea, smoking. And Charles told his comrade about Ravenshoe, about the -deer, and the pheasants, and the blackcock, and about the big trout that -lay nosing up into the swift places, in the cool clear water. And -suddenly the lad turned on him, with his handsome face livid with agony -and horror, and clutched him convulsively by both arms, and prayed him, -for God Almighty's sake---- - -There, that will do. We need not go on. The poor lad was dead in four -hours. The cholera was very prevalent at Varna that month, and those who -dawdled about in the hot sun, at the mouth of the filthy drains of that -accursed hole, found it unto their cost. We were fighting, you see, to -preserve the town to those worthless dirty Turks, against the valiant, -noble, but, I fear, equally dirty Russians. The provoking part of the -Russian war was, that all through we respected and liked our gallant -enemies far more than we did the useless rogues for whom we were -fighting. Moreover, our good friends the French seem to have been more -struck by this absurdity than ourselves. - -I only mentioned this sad little incident to show that this Devna life -among the pleasant woodlands was not all sunshine; that now and then -Charles was reminded, by some tragedy like this, that vast masses of men -were being removed from ordinary occupations and duties into an unusual -and abnormal mode of life; and that Nature was revenging herself for the -violation of her laws. - -You see that we have got through this three weeks more pleasantly than -they did at Varna. Charles was sorry when the time came for breaking up -the camp among the mountain woodlands. The more so, as it had got about -among the men that they were only to take Sebastopol by a sudden attack -in the rear, and spend the winter there. There would be no work for the -cavalry, every one said. - -It is just worthy of notice how, when one once begins a vagabond life, -one gets attached to a place where one may chance to rest even for a -week. When one gets accustomed to a change of locality every day for a -long while, a week's pause gives one more familiarity with a place than -a month's residence in a strange house would give if one were habitually -stationary. This remark is almost a platitude, but just worth writing -down. Charles liked Devna, and had got used to it, and parted from it as -he would from a home. - -This brings us up to the point where, after his death and burial, I have -described him as riding along the shore of the Bay of Eupatoria, -watching the fleet. The 140th had very little to do. They were on the -extreme left; on the seventeenth they thought they were going to have -some work, for they saw 150 of the lancers coming in, driving a lot of -cattle before them, and about 1,000 Cossacks hanging on their rear. But, -when some light dragoons rode leisurely out to support them, the -Cossacks rode off, and the 140th were still condemned to inactivity. - -Hornby had recovered, and was with the regiment. He had not recognised -Charles, of course. Even if he had come face to face with him, it was -almost unlikely that he would have recognised him in his moustache. They -were not to meet as yet. - -In the evening of the nineteenth there was a rumble of artillery over -the hill in front of them, which died away in half an hour. Most of the -rest of the cavalry were further to the front of the extreme left, and -were "at it," so it was understood, with the Cossacks. But the 140th -were still idle. - -On the morning of the twentieth, Charles and the rest of them, sitting -in their saddles, heard the guns booming in front and on the right. It -became understood among the men that the fleet was attacking some -batteries. Also, it was whispered that the Russians were going to stand -and fight. Charles was sixth man from the right of the rear rank of the -third troop. He could see the tails of the horses immediately before -him, and could remark that his front-rank man had a great patch of oil -on the right shoulder of his uniform. He could also see Hornby in the -troop before him. - -These guns went moaning on in the distance till half-past one; but still -they sat there idle. About that time there was a new sound in the air, -close on their right, which made them prick up their ears and look at -one another. Even the head of the column could have seen nothing, for -they were behind the hill. But all could hear, and guess. We all know -that sound well enough now. You hear it now, thank God, on every village -green in England when the cricket is over. Crack, crack! Crack, crack! -The noise of advancing skirmishers. - -And so it grew from the right towards the front, towards the left, till -the air was filled with the shrill treble of musketry. Then, as the -French skirmished within reach of the artillery, the deep bass roared -up, and the men, who dared not whisper before, could shout at one -another without rebuke. - -Louder again, as our artillery came into range. All the air was tortured -with concussion. Charles would have given ten years of his life to know -what was going on on the other side of the hill. But no. There they sat, -and he had to look at the back of the man before him; and at this time -he came to the conclusion that the patch of grease on his right shoulder -was of the same shape as the map of Sweden. - -A long weary two hours or more was spent like this. Charles, by looking -forward and to the right, between the two right-hand men of the troop -before him, could see the ridge of the hill, and see the smoke rising -from beyond it, and drifting away to the left before the sea-breeze. He -saw an aide-de-camp come over that ridge and dismount beside the captain -of Hornby's troop, loosening his girths. They laughed together; then the -captain shouted to Hornby, and he laughed and waved his sword over his -head. After this, he was reduced to watching the back of the man before -him, and studying the map of Sweden. It was becoming evident that the -map of North America, if it existed, must be on his left shoulder, under -his hussar jacket, and that the Pacific Islands must be round in front, -about his left breast, when the word was given to go forward. - -They advanced to the top of the hill, and wheeled. Charles, for one -instant, had a glimpse of the valley below, seething and roaring like a -volcano. Everywhere bright flashes of flame, single, or running along in -lines, or blazing out in volleys. The smoke, driven to the left by the -wind, hung across the valley like a curtain. On the opposite hill a ring -of smoke and fire, and in front of it a thin scarlet line disappearing. -That was all. The next moment they wheeled to the right, and Charles saw -only the back of the man before him, and the patch of grease on his -shoulder. - -But that night was a night of spurs for them. Hard riding for them far -into the night. The field of the Alma had been won, and they were -ordered forward to harass the Cossacks, who were covering the rear of -the Russian army. They never got near them. But ever after, when the -battle of the Alma was mentioned before him, Charles at once used to -begin thinking of the map of Sweden. - - - - -CHAPTER LII. - -WHAT LORD SALTIRE AND FATHER MACKWORTH SAID WHEN THEY LOOKED OUT OF THE -WINDOW. - - -"And how do you do, my dear sir?" said Lord Saltire. - -"I enjoy the same perfect health as ever, I thank you, my lord," said -Father Mackworth. "And allow me to say, that I am glad to see your -lordship looking just the same as ever. You may have forgotten that you -were the greatest benefactor that I ever had. I have not." - -"Nay, nay," said Lord Saltire. "Let bygones be bygones, my dear sir. -By-the-bye, Mr. Mackworth--Lord Hainault." - -"I am delighted to see you at Casterton, Mr. Mackworth," said Lord -Hainault. "We are such rabid Protestants here, that the mere presence of -a Catholic ecclesiastic of any kind is a source of pleasurable -excitement to us. When, however, we get among us a man like you--a man -of whose talents we have heard so much, and a man personally endeared to -us, through the love he bore to one of us who is dead, we give him a -threefold welcome." - -Lord Saltire used, in his _tete-a-tetes_ with Lady Ascot, to wish to Gad -that Hainault would cure himself of making speeches. He was one of the -best fellows in the world, but he would always talk as if he was in the -House of Lords. This was very true about Lord Hainault; but, although he -might be a little stilted in his speech, he meant every word he said, -and was an affectionate, good-hearted man, and withal, a clever one. - -Father Mackworth bowed, and was pleased with the compliment. His nerve -was in perfect order, and he was glad to find that Lord Hainault was -well inclined towards him, though just at this time the Most Noble the -Marquis of Hainault was of less importance to him than one of the grooms -in the stable. What he required of himself just now was to act and look -in a particular way, and to do it naturally and without effort. His -genius rose to the situation. He puzzled Lord Saltire. - -"This is a sad business," said Lord Saltire. - -"A bitter business," said Mackworth. "I loved that man, my lord." - -He looked suddenly up as he said it, and Lord Saltire saw that he was in -earnest. He waited for him to go on, watching him intently with his -eyelids half dropped over his grey eagle eyes. - -"That is not of much consequence, though," said Father Mackworth. -"Speaking to a man of the world, what is more to the purpose is, to -hear what is the reason of your lordship's having sought this interview. -I am very anxious to know that, and so, if I appear rude, I must crave -forgiveness." - -Lord Saltire looked at him minutely and steadily. How Mackworth looked -was of more importance to Lord Saltire than what he said. On the other -hand, Mackworth every now and then calmly and steadily raised his eyes -to Lord Saltire's, and kept them fixed there while he spoke to him. - -"Not at all, my dear sir," said Lord Saltire. "If you will have business -first, however, which is possibly the best plan, we will have it, and -improve our acquaintance afterwards. I asked you to come to me to speak -of family matters. You have seen our advertisement?" - -"I have, indeed," said Mackworth, looking up with a smile. "I was -utterly taken by surprise. Do you think that you can be right about this -marriage?" - -"Oh! I am sure of it," said Lord Saltire. - -"I cannot believe it," said Mackworth. "And I'll tell you why. If it -ever took place I _must_ have heard of it. Father Clifford, my -predecessor, was Petre Ravenshoe's confessor. I need not tell you that -he must have been in possession of the fact. Your knowledge of the world -will tell you how impossible it is that, in a house so utterly -priest-ridden as the House of Ravenshoe, an affair of such moment could -be kept from the knowledge of the father-confessor. Especially when the -delinquent, if I may so express myself, was the most foolishly bigoted, -and cowardly representative of that house which had appeared for many -generations. I assure you, upon my honour, that Clifford _must_ have -known it. And, if he had known of it, he must have communicated it to -me. No priest could possibly have died without leaving such a secret to -his successor; a secret which would make the owner of it--that is, the -priest--so completely the master of Ravenshoe and all in it. I confessed -that man on his death-bed, my lord," said Mackworth, looking quietly at -Lord Saltire, with a smile, "and I can only tell you, if you can bring -yourself to believe a priest, that there was not one word said about his -marriage." - -"No?" said Lord Saltire, pensively looking out of the window. "And yet -Lady Ascot seems so positive." - -"I sincerely hope," said Mackworth, "that she may be wrong. It would be -a sad thing for me. I am comfortable and happy at Ravenshoe. Poor dear -Cuthbert has secured my position there during my lifetime. The present -Mr. Ravenshoe is not so tractable as his brother, but I can get on well -enough with him. But in case of this story being true, and Mr. Charles -Horton coming back, my position would be untenable, and Ravenshoe would -be in Protestant hands for the first time in history. I should lose my -home, and the Church would lose one of its best houses in the west. The -best, in fact. I had sooner be at Ravenshoe than at Segur. I am very -much pleased at your lordship's having sought this conference. It shows -you have some trust in me, to consult me upon a matter in which my own -interests are all on one side." - -Lord Saltire bowed. "There is another way to look at the matter, too, my -dear sir. If we prove our case, which is possible, and in case of our -poor dear Charles dying or getting killed, which is probable, why then -William comes in for the estate again. Suppose, now, such a possibility -as his dying without heirs; why, then, Miss Ravenshoe is the greatest -heiress in the West of England. Have you any idea where Miss Ravenshoe -is?" - -Both Lord Saltire and Lord Hainault turned on him as the former said -this. For an instant Mackworth looked inquiringly from one to the other, -with his lips slightly parted, and said, "Miss Ravenshoe?" Then he gave -a half-smile of intelligence, and said, "Ah! yes; I was puzzled for a -moment. Yes, in that case poor Ellen would be Miss Ravenshoe. Yes, and -the estate would remain in Catholic hands. What a prospect for the -Church! A penitent heiress! The management of L12,000 a year! Forgive my -being carried away for a moment. You know I am an enthusiastic -Churchman. I have been bound, body and soul, to the Church from a child, -and such a prospect, even in such remote perspective, has dazzled me. -But I am afraid I shall see rather a large family of Ravenshoes between -me and such a consummation. William is going to marry." - -"Then you do not know where poor Ellen is?" said Lord Saltire. - -"I do not," said Mackworth; "but I certainly shall try to discover, and -most certainly I shall succeed. William might die on this very -expedition. You might prove your case. If anything were to happen to -William, I most certainly hope you may, and will give you every -assistance. For half a loaf is better than no bread. And besides, -Charles also might be killed, or die of cholera. As it is, I shall not -move in the matter. I shall not help you to bring a Protestant to -Ravenshoe. Now, don't think me a heartless man for talking like this; I -am nothing of the kind. But I am talking to two very shrewd men of the -world, and I talk as a man of the world; that is all." - -At this point Lord Hainault said, "What is that?" and left the room. -Lord Saltire and Mackworth were alone together. - -"Now, my dear sir," said Lord Saltire, "I am glad you have spoken merely -as a man of the world. It makes matters so much easier. You could help -us if you would." - -Mackworth laughed. "Of course I could, my lord. I could bring the whole -force of the Catholic Church, at my back, to give assistance. With our -powers of organisation, we could discover all about the marriage in no -time (if it ever took place, which I don't choose to believe just now). -Why, it would pay us to search minutely every register in England, if it -were to keep such a house in the hands of the Church. But the Catholic -Church, in my poor person, politely declines to move all its vast -machinery, to give away one of its best houses to a Protestant." - -"I never supposed that the dear old lady would do anything of the kind. -But, as for Mr. Mackworth, will nothing induce _him_ to move _his_ vast -machinery in our cause?" - -"I am all attention, my lord." - -"In case of our finding Charles, then?" - -"Yes," said Mackworth, calmly. - -"Twenty thousand?" - -"No," said Mackworth. "It wouldn't do. Twenty million wouldn't do. You -see there is a difference between a soldier disguising himself, and -going into the enemy's camp, to lie, and it may be, murder, to gain -information for his own side, and the same soldier deserting to the -enemy, and giving information. The one is a hero, and the other a rogue. -I am a hero. You must forgive me for putting matters so coarsely, but -you distrust me so entirely that I am forced to do so." - -"I do not think you have put it so coarsely," said Lord Saltire. "I have -to ask your forgiveness for this offer of money, which you have so nobly -refused. They say every man has his price. If this is the case, yours is -a very high one, and you should be valued accordingly." - -"Now, my lord, before we conclude this interview, let me tell you two -things, which may be of advantage to you. The first is, that you cannot -buy a Jesuit." - -"A Jesuit!" - -"Ay. And the next thing is this. This marriage of Petre Ravenshoe is all -a fiction of Lady Ascot's brain. I wish you good morning, my lord." - -There are two sides to every door. You grant that. A man cannot be in -two places at once. You grant that, without the exception made by the -Irish member. Very well then. I am going to describe what took place on -both sides of the library door at the conclusion of this interview. -Which side shall I describe first? - -That is entirely as I choose, and I choose to describe the outside -first. The side where Father Mackworth was. This paragraph and the last -are written in imitation of the Shandean-Southey-Doctorian style. The -imitation is a bad one, I find, and approaches nearer to the lower style -known among critics as Swivellerism; which consists in saying the first -thing that comes into your head. Any style would be quite allowable, -merely as a rest to one's aching brain, after the dreadfully keen -encounter between Lord Saltire and Father Mackworth, recorded above. - -When Mackworth had closed the library door behind him, he looked at it -for a moment, as if to see it was safe, and then his whole face -underwent a change. It grew haggard and anxious, and, as he parted his -lips to moisten them, the lower one trembled. His eyes seemed to grow -more prominent, and a leaden ring began to settle round them; he paused -in a window, and raised his hand towards his head. When he had raised it -half way he looked at it; it was shaking violently. - -"I am not the man I was," he said. "These great field-days upset me. My -nerve is going, God help me. It is lucky that I was really puzzled by -his calling her Miss Ravenshoe. If I had not been all abroad, I could -never have done so well. I must be very careful. My nerve ought not to -go like this. I have lived a temperate life in every way. Possibly a -little too temperate. I won't go through another interview of this kind -without wine. It is not safe. - -"The chances are ten to one in favour of one never hearing of Charles -again, Shot and steel and cholera. Then William only to think of. In -that case I am afraid I should like to bring in the elder branch of the -family, to that young gentleman's detriment. I wish my nerve was better; -this irritability increases on me in spite of all my care. I wish I -could stand wine. - -"Ravenshoe, with Ellen for its mistress, and Mackworth living there as -her master! A penitential devotee, and a clever man for confessor! And -twelve thousand a year! If we Jesuits were such villains as the -Protestants try to make us out, Master William would be unwise to live -in the house with me. - -"I wonder if Lord Saltire guesses that I hold the clue in my hand. I -can't remember the interview, or what I said. My memory begins to go. -They should put a younger man in such a place. But I would not yield to -another man. No. The stakes are too high. I wish I could remember what I -said. - -"Does William dream that, in case of Charles's death, he is standing -between me and the light? At all events, Lord Saltire sees it. I wonder -if I committed myself. I remember I was very honest and -straightforward? What was it I said at last? I have an uneasy feeling -about that, but I can't remember. - -"I hope that Butler will keep the girl well in hand. If I was to get -ill, it would all rest with him. God! I hope I shall not get ill." - -Now we will go to the other side of the door. Lord Saltire sat quietly -upright in his chair until the door was safely closed. Then he took a -pinch of snuff. He did not speak aloud, but he looked cunningly at the -door, and said to himself-- - -"Odd!" - -Another pinch of snuff. Then he said aloud, "Uncommon curious, by Ged." - -"What is curious?" said Lord Hainault, who had come into the room. - -"Why, that fellow. He took me in to the last moment. I thought he was -going to be simply honest; but he betrayed himself by over-eagerness at -the end. His look of frank honesty was assumed; the real man came out in -the last sentence. You should have seen how his face changed, when he -turned sharply on me, after fancying he had lulled suspicion to sleep, -and told me that the marriage was a fiction. He forgot his manners for -the first time, and laid his hand upon my knee." - -Lord Hainault said, "Do you think that he knows about the marriage?" - -"I am sure he does. And he knows where Ellen is." - -"Why?" - -"Because I am sure of it." - -"That is hardly a reason, my dear Lord Saltire. Don't you think, eh?" - -"Think what?" - -"Think that you are--well," said Lord Hainault, in a sort of -desperation, "are not you, my dear lord, to put it very mildly, -generalising from an insufficient number of facts? I speak with all -humility before one of the shrewdest men in Europe; but don't you think -so?" - -"No, I don't," said Lord Saltire. - -"I bow," said Lord Hainault. "The chances are ten to one that you are -right, and I am wrong. Did you make the offer?" - -"Yes." - -"And did he accept it?" - -"Of course he didn't. I told you he wouldn't." - -"That is strange, is it not?" - -"No," said Lord Saltire. - -Lord Hainault laughed, and then Lord Saltire looked up and laughed too. -"I like being rude to you, Hainault. You are so solemn." - -"Well," said Lord Hainault with another hearty laugh. "And what are we -to do now?" - -"Why, wait till William comes back," said Lord Saltire. "We can do -nothing till then, my dear boy. God bless you, Hainault. You are a good -fellow." - -When the old man was left alone, he rose and looked out of the window. -The bucks were feeding together close under the windows; and, farther -off, under the shadow of the mighty cedars, the does and fawns were -standing and lying about lazily, shaking their broad ears and stamping -their feet. Out from the great rhododendron thickets, right and left of -the house, the pheasants were coming to spend the pleasant evening-tide -in running to and fro, and scratching at the ant-hills. The rabbits, -too, were showing out among the grass, scuttling about busily. The -peacock had lit down from the stable roof, and was elegantly picking his -way and dragging his sweeping train among the pheasants and the rabbits; -and on the topmost, copper-red, cedar-boughs, some guinea fowl were -noisily preparing for roost. One hundred yards from the window the park -seemed to end, for it dropped suddenly down in a precipitous, almost -perpendicular slope of turf, three hundred and fifty feet high, towards -the river, which you could see winding on for miles through the richly -wooded valley; a broad riband of silver, far below. Beyond, wooded -hills: on the left, endless folds of pearl-coloured downs; to the right, -the town, a fantastic grey and red heap of buildings, lying along from -the river, which brimmed full up to its wharves and lane ends; and, over -it, a lazy cloud of smoke, from which came the gentle booming of -golden-toned bells. - -Casterton is not a show place. Lord Hainault has a whim about it. But -you may see just such a scene, with variations, of course, from -Park-place, or Hedsor, or Chiefden, or fifty other houses on the king of -rivers. I wonder when the tour of the Thames will become fashionable. I -have never seen anything like it, in its way. And I have seen a great -many things. - -Lord Saltire looked out on all this which I have roughly described (for -a reason). And, as he looked, he spoke to himself, thus, or nearly so-- - -"And so I am the last of them all; and alone. Hardly one of them left. -Hardly one. And their sons are feeding their pheasants, and planting -their shrubberies still, as we did. And the things that were terrible -realities for us, are only printed words for them, which they try to -realise, but cannot. The thirty mad long years, through which we stood -with our backs to the wall, and ticketed as "the revolutionary wars," -and put in a pigeon-hole. I wish they would do us justice. We _were_ -right. Hainault's pheasants prove it. They must pay their twenty million -a year, and thank us that they have got off so easy. - -"I wonder what _they_ would do, in such a pinch as we had. They seem to -be as brave as ever; but I am afraid of their getting too much -unbrutalised for another struggle like ours. I suppose I am wrong, for I -am getting too old to appreciate new ideas, but I am afraid of our -getting too soft. It is a bygone prejudice, I am afraid. One comfort is, -that such a struggle can never come again. If it did, they might have -the will to do all that we did, and more, but have they the power? This -extension of the suffrage has played the devil, and now they want to -extend it farther, the madmen! They'll end by having a House full of -Whigs. And then--why, then, I suppose, there'll be nothing but Whigs in -the House. That seems to me near about what will happen. Well! well! I -was a Whig myself once on a time. - -"All gone. Every one of them. And I left on here, in perfect health and -preservation, as much an object of wonder to the young ones as a dodo -would be to a poultry-fancier. Before the effect of our deeds has been -fully felt, our persons have become strange, and out of date. But yet I, -strange to say, don't want to go yet. I want to see that Ravenshoe boy -again. Gad! how I love that boy. He has just Barkham's sweet, gentle, -foolish way with him. I determined to make him my heir from the first -time I saw him at Ranford, if he turned out well. If I had announced it, -everything would have gone right. What an endless series of unlucky -accidents that poor boy has had. - -"Just like Barkham. The same idle, foolish, lovable creature, with anger -for nothing; only furious, blind indignation for injustice and wrong. I -wish he would come back. I am getting aweary of waiting. - -"I wonder if I shall see Barkham again, just to sit with my arm on his -shoulder, as I used to on the terrace in old times. Only for one short -half-hour----" - -I shall leave off here. I don't want to follow the kind old heathen -through his vague speculations about a future state. You see how he had -loved his son. You see why he loved Charles. That is all I wished to -show you. - -"And if Charles don't come back? By Gad! I am very much afraid the -chances are against it. Well, I suppose, if the poor lad dies, I must -leave the money to Welter and his wife, if it is only for the sake of -poor Ascot, who was a good fellow. I wonder if we shall ever get at the -bottom of this matter about the marriage. I fancy not, unless Charles -dies, in which case Ellen will be re-instated by the priest. - -"I hope William will make haste back with him. Old fellows like me are -apt to go off in a minute. And if he dies and I have not time to make a -will, the whole goes to the Crown, which will be a bore. I would sooner -Welter had it than that." - -Lord Saltire stood looking out of the library window, until the river -looked like a chain of crimson pools, stretching westward towards the -sinking sun. The room behind him grew dark, and the marble pillars, -which divided it in unequal portions, stood like ghosts in the gloom. He -was hidden by the curtain, and presently he heard the door open, and a -light footstep stealthily approaching over the Turkey carpet. There was -a rustle of a woman's dress, and a moving of books on the centre table, -by some hand which evidently feared detection. Lord Saltire stepped from -behind his curtain, and confronted Mary Corby. - - - - -CHAPTER LIII. - -CAPTAIN ARCHER TURNS UP. - - -"Do not betray me, my lord," said Mary, from out of the gloom. - -"I will declare your malpractices to the four winds of heaven, Miss -Corby, as soon as I know what they are. Why, why do you come rustling -into the room, like a mouse in the dark? Tell me at once what this -hole-and-corner work means." - -"I will not, unless you promise not to betray me, Lord Saltire." - -"Now just think how foolish you are. How can I possibly make myself -particeps, of what is evidently a most dark and nefarious business, -without knowing beforehand what benefit I am to receive? You offer me no -share of booty; you offer me no advantage, direct or indirect, in -exchange for my silence, except that of being put into possession of -facts which it is probably dangerous to know anything about. How can you -expect to buy me on such terms as these?" - -"Well, then, I will throw myself on your generosity. I want -_Blackwood_. If I can find _Blackwood_ now, I shall get a full hour at -it to myself while you are all at dinner. Do you know where it is?" - -"Yes," said Lord Saltire. - -"Do tell me, please. I do so want to finish a story in it. Please to -tell me where it is." - -"I won't." - -"Why not? How very unkind. We have been friends eight months now, and -you are just beginning to be cross to me. You see how familiarity breeds -contempt; you used to be so polite." - -"I shan't tell you where _Blackwood_ is," said Lord Saltire, "because I -don't choose. I don't want you to have it. I want you to sit here in the -dark and talk to me, instead of reading it." - -"I will sit and talk to you in the dark; only you must not tell ghost -stories." - -"I want you to sit in the dark," said Lord Saltire, "because I want to -be '_vox et praeterea nihil_.' You will see why, directly. My dear Mary -Corby, I want to have some very serious talk with you. Let us joke no -more." - -Mary settled herself at once into the arm-chair opposite Lord Saltire, -and, resting her cheek on her hand, turned her face towards the empty -fireplace. "Now, my dear Lord Saltire," she said, "go on. I think I can -anticipate what you are going to say." - -"You mean about Charles." - -"Yes." - -"Ah, that is only a part of what I have to say. I want to consult you -there, certainly; but that is but a small part of the business." - -"Then I am curious." - -"Do you know, then, I am between eighty and ninety years old?" - -"I have heard so, my lord." - -"Well then, I think that the voice to which you are now listening will -soon be silent for ever; and do not take offence; consider it as a dead -man's voice, if you will." - -"I will listen to it as the voice of a kind living friend," said Mary. -"A friend who has always treated me as a reasonable being and an equal." - -"That is true, Mary; you are so gentle and so clever, that is no wonder. -See here, you have no private fortune." - -"I have my profession," said Mary, laughing. - -"Yes, but your profession is one in which it is difficult to rise," -said Lord Saltire, "and so I have thought it necessary to provide for -you in my will. For I must make a new one." - -Poor Mary gave a start. The announcement was so utterly unexpected. She -did not know what to say or what to think. She had had long night -thoughts about poverty, old age, a life in a garret as a needlewoman, -and so on; and had many a good cry over them, and had never found any -remedy for them except saying her prayers, which she always found a -perfect specific. And here, all of a sudden, was the question solved! -She would have liked to thank Lord Saltire. She would have liked to kiss -his hand; but words were rather deficient. She tried to keep her tears -back, and she in a way succeeded; then in the honesty of her soul she -spoke. - -"I will thank you more heartily, my lord, than if I went down on my -knees and kissed your feet. All my present has been darkened by a great -cloud of old age and poverty in the distance. You have swept that cloud -away. Can I say more?" - -"On your life, not another word. I could have over-burdened you with -wealth, but I have chosen not to do so. Twenty thousand pounds will -enable you to live as you have been brought up. Believe an old man when -he says that more would be a plague to you." - -"Twenty thousand pounds!" - -"Yes. That will bring you in, you will find, about six hundred a year. -Take my word for it, it is quite enough. You will be able to keep your -brougham, and all that sort of thing. Believe me, you would not be happy -with more." - -"More!" said Mary, quietly. "My lord, look here, and see what you have -done. When the children are going to sleep, I sit, and sew, and sing, -and, when they are gone to sleep, I still sit, and sew, and think. Then -I build my Spanish castles; but the highest tower of my castle has risen -to this--that in my old age I should have ten shillings a week left me -by some one, and be able to keep a canary bird, and have some old woman -as pensioner. And now--now--now. Oh! I'll be quiet in a moment. Don't -speak to me for a moment. God is very good." - -I hope Lord Saltire enjoyed his snuff. I think that, if he did not, he -deserved to. After a pause Mary began again. - -"Have I left on you the impression that I am selfish? I am almost afraid -I have. Is it not so? I have one favour to ask of you. Will you grant -it?" - -"Certainly I will." - -"On your honour, my lord." - -"On my honour." - -"Reduce the sum you have mentioned to one-fourth. I have bound you by -your honour. Oh, don't make me a great heiress; I am not fit for it." - -Lord Saltire said, "Pish! If you say another word I will leave you ten -thousand more. To the deuce with my honour; don't talk nonsense." - -"You said you were going to be quiet in a moment," he resumed presently. -"Are you quiet now?" - -"Yes, my lord, quiet and happy." - -"Are you glad I spoke to you in the dark?" - -"Yes." - -"You will be more glad that it was in the dark directly. Is Charles -Ravenshoe quite the same to you as other men?" - -"No," said Mary; "that he most certainly is not. I could have answered -that question _to you_ in the brightest daylight." - -"Humph!" said Lord Saltire. "I wish I could see him and you comfortably -married, do you know? I hope I speak plain enough. If I don't, perhaps -you will be so good as to mention it, and I'll try to speak a little -plainer." - -"Nay; I quite understand you. I wonder if you will understand me, when I -say that such a thing is utterly and totally out of the question." - -"I was afraid so. You are a pair of simpletons. My dear daughter (you -must let me call you so), you must contemplate the contingency I have -hinted at in the dark. I know that the best way to get a man rejected, -is to recommend him; I therefore, only say, that John Marston loves you -with his whole heart and soul, and that he is a _protege_ of mine." - -"I am speaking to you as I would to my own father. John Marston asked me -to be his wife last Christmas, and I refused him." - -"Oh, yes. I knew all about that the same evening. It was the evening -after they were nearly drowned out fishing. Then there is no hope of a -reconsideration there?" - -"Not the least," said Mary. "My lord, I will never marry." - -"I have not distressed you?" - -"Certainly not. You have a right to speak as you have. I am not a silly -hysterical girl either, that I cannot talk on such subjects without -affectation. But I will never marry; I will be an old maid. I will write -novels, or something of that sort. I will not even marry Captain Archer, -charm he never so wisely." - -"Captain Archer! Who on earth is Captain Archer?" - -"Don't you know Captain Archer, my lord?" replied Mary, laughing -heartily, but ending her laugh with a short sob. "Avast heaving! Bear a -hand, my hearties, and let us light this taper. I think you ought to -read his letter. He is the man who swam with me out of the cruel sea, -when the _Warren Hastings_ went down. That is who he is, Lord Saltire." -And at this point, little Mary, thoroughly unhinged by this strange -conversation, broke down, and began crying her eyes out, and putting a -letter into his hand, rose to leave the room. - -He held the door open for her. "My dear Mary," he said, "if I have been -coarse or rude, you must try to forgive me." - -"Your straightforward kindness," she said, "is less confusing than the -most delicate finesse." And so she went. - -Captain Archer is one of the very best men I know. If you and I, reader, -continue our acquaintance, you will soon know more of him than you have -been able to gather from the pages of Ravenshoe. He was in person -perhaps the grandest and handsomest fellow you ever saw. He was gentle, -brave, and courteous. In short, the best example I have ever seen of the -best class of sailor. By birth he was a gentleman, and he had carefully -made himself a gentleman in manners. Neither from his dress, which was -always scrupulously neat and in good taste, nor from his conversation, -would you guess that he was a sailor, unless in a very select circle, -where he would, if he thought it pleased or amused, talk salt water by -the yard. The reason why he had written to Mary in the following style -was, that he knew she loved it, and he wished to make her laugh. Lord -Saltire set him down for a mad seaman, and nothing more. You will see -that he had so thoroughly obscured what he meant to say, that he left -Mary with the very natural impression that he was going to propose to -her. - -He had done it, he said, from Port Philip Heads, in sixty-four days, at -last, in consequence of one of his young gentlemen (merchant midshipmen) -having stole a black cat in Flinder's-lane, and brought her aboard. He -had caught the westerly wind off the Leuwin and carried it down to 62 -deg., through the ice, and round the Horn, where he had met a cyclone, -by special appointment, and carried the outside edge of it past the -Auroras. That during this time it had blown so hard, that it was -necessary for three midshipmen to be on deck with him night and day, to -hold his hair on. That, getting too near the centre, he had found it -necessary to lay her to, which he had successfully done, by tying one of -his false collars in the fore weather-rigging. And so on. Giving an -absurd account of his whole voyage, evidently with the intention of -making her laugh. - -He concluded thus: "And now, my dear Mary, I am going to surprise you. I -am getting rich, and I am thinking of getting married. Have you ever -thought of such a thing? Your present dependence must be irksome. Begin -to contemplate a change to a happier and freer mode of life. I will -explain more fully when I come to you. I shall have much to tell you -which will surprise you; but you know I love you, and only study your -happiness. When the first pang of breaking off old associations is over, -the new life, to such a quiet spirit as yours, becomes at first -bearable, then happy. A past is soon created. Think of what I have said, -before I come to you. Your future, my dear, is not a very bright one. It -is a source of great anxiety to me, who love you so dearly--you little -know how dearly." - -I appeal to any young lady to say whether or no dear Mary was to blame -if she thought good, blundering Archer was going to propose to her. If -they give it against her, and declare that there is nothing in the above -letter leading to such a conclusion, I can only say that Lord Saltire -went with her and with me, and regarded the letter as written -preparatory to a proposal. Archer's dismay, when we afterwards let him -know this, was delightful to behold. His wife was put in possession of -the fact, by some one who shall be nameless, and I have heard that jolly -soul use her information against him in the most telling manner on -critical occasions. - -But, before Captain Archer came, there came a letter from William, from -Varna, announcing Charles's death of cholera. There are melancholy -scenes, more than enough, in this book, and alas! one more to come: so I -may spare you the description of their woe at the intelligence, which we -know to be false. The letter was closely followed by William himself, -who showed them the grass from his grave. This helped to confirm their -impression of its truth, however unreasonable. Lord Saltire had a -correspondence with the Horse Guards, long and windy, which resulted, -after months, in discovering that no man had enlisted in the 140th under -the name of Horton. This proved nothing, for Charles might have enlisted -under a false name, and yet might have been known by his real name to an -intimate comrade. - -Lord Saltire wrote to General Mainwaring. But, by the time his letter -reached him, that had happened which made it easy for a fool to count on -his fingers the number of men left in the 140th. Among the dead or among -the living, no signs of Charles Ravenshoe. - -General Mainwaring was, as we all know, wounded on Cathcart's Hill, and -came home. The news which he brought about the doings of the 140th we -shall have from first hand. But he gave them no hope about Charles. - -Lord Saltire and General Mainwaring had a long interview, and a long -consultation. Lord Hainault and the General witnessed his will. There -were some legacies to servants; twenty thousand pounds to Miss Corby; -ten thousand to John Marston; fifty thousand pounds to Lady Ascot; and -the rest, amounting in one way or another, to nearly five hundred -thousand pounds, was left to Lord Ascot (our old acquaintance, Lord -Welter) and his heirs for ever. - -There was another clause in the will, carefully worded--carefully -guarded about by every legal fence which could be erected by law, and by -money to buy that law--to the effect that, if Charles should reappear, -he was to come into a fortune of eighty thousand pounds, funded -property. - -Now please to mark this. Lord Ascot was informed by General Mainwaring -that, the death of Charles Ravenshoe being determined on as being a -fact, Lord Saltire had made his will in his (Lord Ascot's) favour. I -pray you to remember this. Lord Ascot knew no particulars, only that the -will was in his favour. If you do not keep this in mind, it would be -just as well if there had been no Lord Welter at all in the story. - -Ravenshoe and its poor twelve thousand a year begin to sink into -insignificance, you see. But still we must attend to it. How did -Charles's death affect Mackworth? Rather favourably. The property could -not come into the hands of a Protestant now. William was a staunch -Catholic, though rebellious and disagreeable. If anything happened to -him, why, then there was Ellen to be produced. Things might have been -better, certainly, but they were certainly improved by that young cub's -death, and by the cessation of all search for the marriage register. And -so on. If you care to waste time on it, you may think it all through for -yourselves, as did not Father Mackworth. - -And I'll tell you why. Father Mackworth had had a stroke of paralysis, -as men will have, who lead, as he did, a life of worry and excitement, -without taking proper nourishment; and he was lying, half idiotic, in -the priest's tower at Ravenshoe. - - - - -CHAPTER LIV. - -CHARLES MEETS HORNBY AT LAST - - -Oh for the whispering woodlands of Devna! Oh for the quiet summer -evenings above the lakes, looking far away at the white-walled town on -the distant shore! No more hare-shooting, no more turtle-catching, for -you, my dear Charles. The allies had determined to take Sebastopol, and -winter in the town. It was a very dull place, every one said; but there -was a race-course, and there would be splendid boat-racing in the -harbour. The country about the town was reported to be romantic, and -there would be pleasant excursions in the winter to Simpheropol, a gayer -town than Sebastopol, and where there was more society. They were not -going to move till the spring, when they were to advance up the valley -of the Dnieper to Moscow, while a flying column was to be sent to follow -the course of the Don, cross to the Volga at Suratow, and so penetrate -into the Ural Mountains and seize the gold mines, or do something of -this sort; it was all laid out quite plain. - -Now, don't call this _ex post facto_ wisdom, but just try to remember -what extravagant ideas every non-military man had that autumn about what -our army would do. The ministers of the King of Lerne never laid down a -more glorious campaign than we did. "I will," says poor Picrochole, -"give him fair quarter, and spare his life--I will rebuild Solomon's -Temple--I will give you Caramania, Syria, and all Palestine." "Ha! -sire," said they, "it is out of your goodness. Grammercy, we thank you." -We have had our little lesson about that kind of amusement. There has -been none of it in this American business; but our good friends the -other side of the Atlantic are worse than they were in the time of the -Pogram defiance. Either they don't file their newspapers, or else they -console themselves by saying that they could have done it all if they -had liked. - -It now becomes my duty to use all the resources of my art to describe -Charles's emotions at the first sight of Sebastopol. Such an opportunity -for the display of beautiful language should not be let slip. I could do -it capitally by buying a copy of Mr. Russell's "War," or even by using -the correspondence I have on the table before me. But I think you will -agree with me that it is better left alone. One hardly likes to come -into the field in that line after Russell. - -Balaclava was not such a pleasant place as Devna. It was bare and rocky, -and everything was in confusion, and the men were dying in heaps of -cholera. The nights were beginning to grow chill, too, and Charles began -to dream regularly that he was sleeping on the bare hill-side, in a -sharp frost, and that he was agonisingly cold about the small of his -back. And the most singular thing was, that he always woke and found his -dream come true. At first he only used to dream this dream towards -morning; but, as October began to creep on, he used to wake with it -several times in the night, and at last hardly used to go to sleep at -all for fear of dreaming it. - -Were there no other dreams? No. No dreams, but one ever-present reality. -A dull aching regret for a past for ever gone. A heavy deadly grief, -lost for a time among the woods of Devna, but come back to him now -amidst the cold, and the squalor, and the sickness of Balaclava. A -brooding over missed opportunities, and the things that might have been. -Sometimes a tangled puzzled train of thought, as to how much of this -ghastly misery was his own fault, and how much accident. And above all, -a growing desire for death, unknown before. - -And all this time, behind the hill, the great guns--which had begun a -fitful muttering when they first came there, often dying off into -silence--now day by day, as trench after trench was opened, grew louder -and more continuous, till hearing and thought were deadened, and the -soul was sick of their never-ceasing melancholy thunder. - -And at six o'clock on the morning of the seventeenth, such an infernal -din began as no man there had ever heard before, which grew louder and -louder till nine, when it seemed impossible that the ear could bear the -accumulation of sound; and then suddenly doubled, as the _Agamemnon_ and -the _Montebello_, followed by the fleets, steamed in, and laid -broadside-to under the forts. Four thousand pieces of the heaviest -ordnance in the world were doing their work over that hill, and the -140th stood dismounted and listened. - -At ten o'clock the earth shook, and a column of smoke towered up in the -air above the hill, and as it began to hang motionless, the sound of it -reached them. It was different from the noise of guns. It was something -new and terrible. An angry hissing roar. An hour after they heard that -twenty tons of powder were blown up in the French lines. - -Soon after this, though, there was work to be done, and plenty of it. -The wounded were being carried to the rear. Some cavalry were -dismounted, and told off for the work. Charles was one of them. - -The wind had not yet sprung up, and all that Charles saw for the moment -was a valley full of smoke, and fire, and sound. He caught the glimpse -of the spars and funnel of a great liner above the smoke to the left; -but directly after they were under fire, and the sickening day's work -began. - -Death and horror in every form, of course. The wounded lying about in -heaps. Officers trying to compose their faces, and die like gentlemen. -Old Indian soldiers dying grimly as they had lived; and lads, fresh from -the plough last year, listed at the market-cross some unlucky Saturday, -sitting up staring before them with a look of terror and wonder: sadder -sight than either. But everywhere all the day, where the shot screamed -loudest, where the shell fell thickest, with his shako gone, with his -ambrosial curls tangled with blood, with his splendid gaudy fripperies -soiled with dust and sweat, was Hornby, the dandy, the fop, the dicer; -doing the work of ten, carrying out the wounded in his arms, encouraging -the dying, cheering on the living. - -"I knew there was some stuff in him," said Charles, as he followed him -into the Crown battery; just at that time the worst place of all, for -the _The Twelve Apostles_ had begun dropping red-hot shot into it, and -exploded some ammunition, and killed some men. And they had met a naval -officer, known to Hornby, wounded, staggering to the rear, who said, -"that his brother was knocked over, and that they wanted to make out he -was dead, but he had only fainted." So they went back with him. The -officer's brother was dead enough, poor fellow; but as Charles and -Hornby bent suddenly over to look at him, their faces actually touched. - -Hornby did not recognise him. He was in a state of excitement, and was -thinking of no one less than Charles, and Charles's moustaches had -altered him, as I said before. If their eyes had met, I believe Hornby -would have known him; but it was not to be till the 25th, and this was -only the 17th. If Hornby could only have known him, if they could only -have had ten minutes' talk together, Charles would have known all that -we know about the previous marriage of his grandfather: and, if that -conversation had taken place, he would have known more than any of them, -for Hornby knew something which he thought of no importance, which was -very important indeed. He knew where Ellen was. - -But Charles turned his face away, and the recognition did not take -place. Poor Charles said afterwards that it was all a piece of -luck--that "the stars in their courses fought against Sisera." It is not -the case. He turned away his eyes, and avoided the recognition. What he -meant is this:-- - -As Hornby's face was touching his, and they were both bending over the -dead man, whom they could hardly believe to be dead, the men behind them -fired off the great Lancaster in the next one-gun battery. "Crack!" and -they heard the shell go piff, piff, piff, piff, and strike something. -And then one man close to them cried, "God Almighty!" and another cried, -"Christ!" as sailors will at such awful times; and they both leapt to -their feet. Above the smoke there hung, a hundred feet in the air, a -something like a vast black pine-tree; and before they had time to -realise what had happened, there was a horrible roar, and a concussion -which made them stagger on their legs. A shell from the Lancaster had -blown up the great redoubt in front of the Redan wall, and every Russian -gun ceased firing. And above the sound of the Allied guns rose the -cheering of our own men, sounding, amidst the awful bass, like the -shrill treble of school-children at play. - -Charles said afterwards that this glorious accident prevented their -recognition. It is not true. He prevented it himself, and took the -consequences. But Hornby recognised him on the twenty-fifth in this -wise:-- - -The first thing in the morning, they saw, on the hills to the right, -Russian skirmishers creeping about towards them, apparently without an -object. They had breakfast, and took no notice of them till about eight -o'clock, when a great body of cavalry came slowly, regiment by regiment, -from behind a hill near the Turks. Then gleaming batteries of artillery; -and lastly, an endless column of grey infantry, which began to wheel -into line. And when Charles had seen some five or six grey batallions -come swinging out, the word was given to mount, and he saw no more, but -contemplated the tails of horses. And at the same moment the guns began -an irregular fire on their right. - -Almost immediately the word was given to advance, which they did slowly. -Charles could see Hornby just before him, in his old place, for they -were in column. They crossed the plain, and went up the crest of the -hill, halting on the high road. Here they sat for some time, and the -more fortunate could see the battle raging below to the right. The -English seemed getting rather the worst of it. - -They sat there about an hour and a half; and all in a moment, before any -one seemed to expect it, some guns opened on them from the right; so -close that it made their right ears tingle. A horse from the squadron in -front of Charles bolted from the ranks, and nearly knocked down Hornby. -The horse had need to bolt, for he carried a dead man, who in the last -spasm had pulled him on his haunches, and struck his spurs deep into his -sides. - -Charles began to guess that they were "in for it" at last. He had no -idea, of course, whether it was a great battle or a little one; but he -saw that the 140th had work before them. I, of course, have only to -speak of what Charles saw with his own eyes, and what therefore bears -upon the story I am telling you. That was the only man he saw killed at -that time, though the whole brigade suffered rather heavily by the -Russian cannonade at that spot. - -Very shortly after this they were told to form line. Of course, when -this manoeuvre was accomplished, Charles had lost sight of Hornby. He -was sorry for this. He would have liked to know where he was; to help -him if possible, should anything happen to him; but there was not much -time to think of it, for directly after they moved forward at a canter. -In the front line were the 11th Hussars and the 13th Light Dragoons, and -in the second where the 140th Hussars,[9] the 8th Hussars, and the 4th -Dragoons. Charles could see thus much, now they were in line. - -They went down hill, straight towards the guns, and almost at once the -shot from them began to tell. The men of the 11th and 13th began to fall -terribly fast. The men in the second line, in which Charles was, were -falling nearly as fast, but this he could not remark. He missed the man -next him on the right, one of his favourite comrades, but it did not -strike him that the poor fellow was cut in two by a shot. He kept on -wishing that he could see Hornby. He judged that the affair was getting -serious. He little knew what was to come. - -He had his wish of seeing Hornby, for they were riding up hill into a -narrowing valley, and it was impossible to keep line. They formed into -column again, though men and horses were rolling over and over at every -stride, and there was Hornby before him, sailing along as gallant and -gay as ever. A fine beacon to lead a man to a glorious death. - -And, almost the next moment, the batteries right and left opened on -them. Those who were there engaged can give us very little idea of what -followed in the next quarter of an hour. They were soon among guns--the -very guns that had annoyed them from the first; and infantry beyond -opened fire on them. There seems to have been a degree of confusion at -this point. Charles, and two or three others known to him, were hunting -some Russian artillerymen round their guns, for a minute or so. Hornby -was among them. He saw also at this time his little friend the cornet, -on foot, and rode to his assistance. He caught a riderless horse, and -the cornet mounted. Then the word was given to get back again; I know -not how; I have nothing to do with it. But, as they turned their faces -to get out of this horrible hell, poor Charles gave a short, sharp -scream, and bent down in his saddle over his horse's neck. - -It was nothing. It was only as if one were to have twenty teeth pulled -out at once. The pain was over in an instant. What a fool he was to cry -out! The pain was gone again, and they were still under fire, and Hornby -was before him. - -How long? How many minutes, how many hours? His left arm was nearly -dead, but he could hold his reins in a way, and rode hard after Hornby, -from some wild instinct. The pain had stopped, but was coming on again -as if ten thousand red-hot devils were pulling at his flesh, and twenty -thousand were arriving each moment to help them. - -His own friends were beside him again, and there was a rally and a -charge. At what? he thought for an instant. At guns? No. At men this -time, Russian hussars--right valiant fellows, too. He saw Hornby in the -thick of the _melee_, with his sword flickering about his head like -lightning. He could do but little himself; he rode at a Russian and -unhorsed him; he remembers seeing the man go down, though whether he -struck at him, or whether he went down by the mere superior weight of -his horse, he cannot say. This I can say, though, that, whatever he did, -he did his duty as a valiant gentleman; I will go bail for that much. - -They beat them back, and then turned. Then they turned again and beat -them back once more. And then they turned and rode. For it was time. -Charles lost sight of Hornby till the last, when some one caught his -rein and turned his horse, and then he saw that they were getting into -order again, and that Hornby was before him, reeling in his saddle. - -As the noise of the battle grew fainter behind them, he looked round to -see who was riding beside him, and holding him by the right arm. It was -the little cornet. Charles wondered why he did so. "You're hard hit, -Simpson," said the cornet. "Never mind. Keep your saddle a little -longer. We shall be all right directly." - -His faculties were perfectly acute, and, having thanked the cornet he -looked down and noticed that he was riding between him and a trooper, -that his left arm was hanging numbed by his side, and that the trooper -was guiding his horse. He saw that they had saved him, and even in his -deadly agony he was so far his own old courteous self, that he turned -right and left to them, and thanked them for what they had done for him. - -But he had kept his eyes fixed on Hornby, for he saw that he was -desperately hit, and he wanted to say one or two words to him before -either of them died. Soon they were among English faces, and English -cheers rang out in welcome to their return, but it was nothing to him; -he kept his eye, which was growing dim, on Hornby, and, when he saw him -fall off his saddle into the arms of a trooper, he dismounted too and -staggered towards him. - -The world seemed to go round and round, and he felt about him like a -blind man. But he found Hornby somehow. A doctor, all scarlet and gold, -was bending over him, and Charles knelt down on the other side, and -looked into the dying man's face. - -"Do you know me, lieutenant?" he said, speaking thick like a drunken -man, but determined to hold out. "You know your old servant, don't you?" - -Hornby smiled as he recognised him, and said, "Ravenshoe." But then his -face grew anxious, and he said, "Why did you hide yourself from me? You -have ruined everything." - -He could get no further for a minute, and then he said-- - -"Take this from round my neck and carry it to her. Tell her that you saw -me die, and that I was true to our compact. Tell her that my share of -our purification was complete, for I followed duty to death, as I -promised her. She has a long life of weary penance before her to fulfil -our bargain. Say I should wish her to be happy, only that I know she -cannot be. And also say that I see now, that there is something better -and more desirable than what we call happiness. I don't know what it is, -but I suspect it is what we call duty." - -Here the doctor said, "They are at it again, and I must go with them. I -can do no good here for the poor dear fellow. Take what he tells you off -his neck, in my presence, and let me go." - -The doctor did it himself. When the great heavy gold stock was -unbuttoned, Hornby seemed to breathe more freely. The doctor found round -his neck a gold chain, from which hung a photograph of Ellen, and a -black cross. He gave them to Charles, and departed. - -Once more Charles spoke to Hornby. He said, "Where shall I find her?" - -Hornby said, "Why, at Hackney, to be sure; did you not know she was -there?" And afterwards, at the very last, "Ravenshoe, I should have -loved you; you are like her, my boy. Don't forget." - -But Charles never heard that. They found Hornby dead and cold, with his -head on Charles's lap, and Charles looked so like him that they said, -"This man is dead too; let us bury him." But a skilful doctor there -present said, "This man is not dead, and will not die;" and he was -right. - -Oh, but the sabres bit deep that autumn afternoon! There were women in -Minsk, in Moglef, in Tchernigof, in Jitemir, in Polimva, whose husbands -were Hussars--and women in Taganrog, in Tcherkask, in Sanepta, which -lies under the pleasant slate mountains, whose husbands and sons were -Cossacks--who were made widows that day. For that day's work there was -weeping in reed-thatched hovels of the Don, and in the mud-built -shanties of the Dnieper. For the 17th Lancers, the Scots Greys, the 1st -Royals, and the 6th Enniskillens--"these terrible beef-fed islanders" -(to use the words of the _Northern Bee_)--were upon them; and Volhynia -and Hampshire, Renfrewshire and Grodno, Podolia and Fermanagh, were -mixed together in one common ruin. - -Still, they say, the Princess Petrovitch, on certain days, leaves her -carriage, and walks a mile through the snow barefoot, into Alexandroski, -in memory of her light-haired handsome young son, whom Hornby slew at -Balaclava. And I myself know the place where Lady Allerton makes her -pilgrimage for those two merry boys of hers who lie out on the Crimean -hill. Alas! not side by side. Up and down, in all weathers, along a -certain gravel walk, where the chalk brook, having flooded the park with -its dammed-up waters, comes foaming and spouting over a cascade, and -hurries past between the smooth-mown lawns of the pleasance. In the very -place where she stood when the second letter came. And there, they say, -she will walk at times, until her beauty and her strength are gone, and -her limbs refuse to carry her. - -Karlin Karlinoff was herding strange-looking goats on the Suratow -hill-side, which looks towards the melancholy Volga on one side, and the -reedy Ural on the other, when the Pulk came back, and her son was not -with them. Eliza Jones had got on her husband's smock-frock, and was -a-setting of beans, when the rector's wife came struggling over the -heavy lands and water-furrows, and broke the news gently, and with many -tears. Karlin Karlinoff drove her goats into the mud-walled yard that -night, though the bittern in the melancholy fen may have been startled -from his reeds by a cry more wild and doleful than his own; and Eliza -Jones went on setting her beans, though they were watered with her -tears. - -What a strange, wild business it was! The extreme east of Europe against -the extreme west. Men without a word, an idea, a habit, or a hope in -common, thrown suddenly together to fight and slay; and then to part, -having learned to respect one another better, in one year of war, than -ever they had in a hundred years of peace. Since that year we have -understood Eylau and Borodino, which battles were a puzzle to some of us -before that time. The French did better than we, which was provoking, -because the curs began to bark--Spanish curs, for instance; American -curs; the lower sort of French cur; and the Irish curs, who have the -strange habit of barking the louder the more they are laughed at, and -who, now, being represented by about two hundred men among six million, -have rather a hard time of it. They barked louder, of course, at the -Indian mutiny. But they have all got their tails between their legs now, -and are likely to keep them there. We have had our lesson. We have -learnt that what our fathers told us was true--that we are the most -powerful nation on the face of the earth. - -This, you will see, bears all upon the story I am telling you. Well, in -a sort of way. Though I do not exactly see how. I could find a reason, -if you gave me time. If you gave me time, I could find a reason for -anything. However, the result is this, that our poor Charles had been -struck by a ball in the bone of his arm, and that the splinters were -driven into the flesh, though the arm was not broken. It was a nasty -business, said the doctors. All sorts of things might happen to him. -Only one thing was certain, and that was that Charles Ravenshoe's career -in the army was over for ever. - - - - -CHAPTER LV. - -ARCHER'S PROPOSAL. - - -Six weeks had passed since the date of Captain Archer's letter before he -presented himself in person at Casterton. They were weary weeks enough -to Mary, Lord Saltire, and Lady Ascot. Lady Ascot was staying on at -Casterton, as if permanently, at the earnest request of Lord and Lady -Hainault; and she stayed on the more willingly that she and Mary might -mingle their tears about Charles Ravenshoe, whom they were never to see -again. The "previous marriage affair" had apparently fallen through -utterly. All the advertisements, were they worded never so frantically, -failed to raise to the surface the particular parish-clerk required; and -Lady Ascot, after having propounded a grand scheme for personally -inspecting every register in the United Kingdom, which was pooh-poohed -by Lord Saltire, now gave up the matter as a bad job; and Lord Saltire -himself began to be puzzled and uneasy, and once more to wonder whether -or no Maria was not mistaken after all. Mackworth was still very ill, -though slowly recovering. The younger Tiernay, who was nursing him, -reported that his head seemed entirely gone, although he began to eat -voraciously, and, if encouraged, would take exercise. He would now walk -far and fast, in silence, with the kind priest toiling after him. But -his wilful feet always led him to the same spot. Whether they rambled in -the park, whether they climbed the granite tors of the moor, or whether -they followed the stream up through the woods, they always ended their -walk at the same place--at the pool among the tumbled boulders, under -the dark western headland, where Cuthbert's body had been found. And -here the priest would sit looking seaward, as if his life and his -intellect had come to a full stop here, and he was waiting patiently -till a gleam of light should come from beyond. - -William was at Ravenshoe, in full possession of the property. He had -been born a gamekeeper's son, and brought up as a groom. He had now -L10,000 a year; and was going to marry the fisherman's daughter, his own -true love; as beautiful, as sweet-tempered a girl as any in the three -kingdoms. It was one of the most extraordinary rises in life that had -ever taken place. Youth, health, and wealth--they must produce -happiness. Why no, not exactly in this case. He believed Charles was -dead, and he knew, if that was the case, that the property was his; but -he was not happy. He could not help thinking about Charles. He knew he -was dead and buried, of course; but still he could not help wishing that -he would come back, and that things might be again as they had been -before. It is not very easy to analyse the processes of the mind of a -man brought up as William was. Let us suppose that, having been taught -to love and admire Charles above all earthly persons, his mind was not -strong enough to disabuse himself of the illusion. I suppose that your -African gets fond of his fetish. I take it that, if you stole his -miserable old wooden idol in the night, though it might be badly carved, -and split all up the back by the sun, and put in its place an Old -Chelsea shepherdess, he would lament his graven image, and probably -break the fifty guineas' worth of china with his club. I know this, -however, that William would have given up his ten thousand a year, and -have trusted to his brother's generosity, if he could have seen him back -again. In barbarous, out-of-the-way places, like the west of Devonshire, -the feudal feeling between foster-brothers is still absurdly strong. It -is very ridiculous, of course. Nothing can be more ridiculous or -unnecessary than the lightning coming down the dining-room chimney and -sending the fire-irons flying about the cat's ears. But there it is, and -you must make the best of it. - -We are now posted up well enough in the six weeks which preceded the -arrival of the mysterious Archer. He deferred his arrival till his -honeymoon was completed. His mysterious letter to Mary partly alluded to -his approaching marriage with Jane Blockstrop--daughter of Lieutenant -Blockstrop of the coast guard, and niece of Rear-Admiral Blockstrop, -who, as Captain Blockstrop, had the _Tartar_ on the Australian -station--and partly to something else. We shall see what directly. For, -when Mary came down to see him in the drawing-room, there was with him, -besides his wife, whom he introduced at once, a very tall and handsome -young man, whom he presented to her as her cousin, George Corby. - -Did Charles turn in his pallet at Scutari? Did he turn over and stare at -the man in the next bed, who lay so deadly still, and who was gone when -he woke on the weary morrow? - -There was no mystery about George Corby's appearance. When Mary's -father, Captain Corby, had gone to India, his younger brother, George's -father, had gone to Australia. This younger brother was a somewhat -peevish, selfish man, and was not on the best of terms with Captain -Corby. He heard, of course, of the wreck of the _Warren Hastings_, and -the loss of his brother. He also informed himself that his niece was -saved, and was the protected favourite of the Ravenshoes. He had then -said to himself, "I am needy. I have a rising family. She is better off -than I can make her. Let her stay there." And so he let her stay there, -keeping himself, however, to do him justice, pretty well informed of her -position. He had made the acquaintance of Captain Archer, at Melbourne, -on his first voyage to that port, in the end of 1852; laid the whole -matter before him, and begged him not to break it to her at present. -Captain Archer had readily promised to say nothing, for he saw Mary the -lady of a great house, with every prospect, as he thought, of marrying -the heir. But when he saw Mary, after the break-up, in Grosvenor Square, -a nursery governess, he felt that he ought to speak, and set sail from -the port of London with a full determination of giving a piece of his -mind to her uncle, should he hesitate to acknowledge her. He had no need -to say much. Mr. Corby, though a selfish, was not an unkind man, by any -means. And, besides, he was now very wealthy, and perfectly able to -provide for his niece. So, when Archer had finished his story, he -merely said, "I suppose I had better send over George to see if he will -fall in love with her. That will be the best thing, I take it. She must -not be a governess to those swells. They might slight or insult her. -Take George over for me, will you, my dear soul, and see how it is -likely to go. At all events, bring her back to me. Possibly I may not -have done my duty by her." - -George was called in from the rocking-chair in the verandah to receive -instructions. He was, so his father told him, to go to Europe with -Captain Archer, and, as Captain Archer was going to get married and miss -a voyage, he might stay till he came back. First and foremost, he was to -avail himself of his letters of introduction, and get into the good -society that his father was able to command for him. Under this head of -instruction he was to dance as much as possible, and to ride to the -fox-hounds, taking care not to get too near to the hounds, or to rush at -his fences like a madman, as all Australians did. Secondly, he was, if -possible, to fall in love with his cousin Mary Corby, marry her, bring -her back, and reside _pro tem._ at Toorallooralyballycoomefoozleah, -which station should be swept and garnished for his reception, until the -new house at the Juggerugahugjug crossing-place was finished. Thirdly, -he might run across to the Saxony ram sales, and, if he saw anything -reasonable, buy, but be careful of pink ears, for they wouldn't stand -the Grampian frosts. Fourthly, he was not to smoke without changing his -coat, or to eat the sugar when any one was looking. Fifthly, he was to -look out for a stud horse, and might go as far as five hundred. Such a -horse as Allow Me, Ask Mamma, or Pam's Mixture would do.[10] And so on, -like the directions of the Aulic Council to the Archduke. He was not to -go expressly to Durham; but, if he found himself in that part of the -world, he might get a short-horned bull. He need not go to Scotland -unless he liked; but, if he did, he might buy a couple of collies, &c., -&c. - -George attended the ram sales in Saxony, and just ran on to Vienna, -thinking, with the philosophy of an Australian, that, if he _did_ fall -in love with his cousin, he might not care to travel far from her, and -that therefore she might "keep." However, he came at last, when Archer -had finished his honeymoon; and there he was in the drawing-room at -Casterton. - -Mary was not very much surprised when it was all put before her. She had -said to Charles, in old times, "I know I have relations somewhere; when -I am rich they will acknowledge me;" and, just for one instant, the -suspicion crossed her mind that her relations might have heard of the -fortune Lord Saltire had left her. It was unjust and impossible, and in -an instant she felt it to be so. Possibly the consciousness of her -injustice made her reception of her cousin somewhat warmer. - -He was certainly very handsome and very charming. He had been brought up -by his father the most punctilious dandy in the southern hemisphere, and -thrown from a boy among the best society in the colony; so he was quite -able to make himself at home everywhere. If there was a fault in his -manner, it was that there was just a shade too much lazy ease in the -presence of ladies. One has seen that lately, however, in other young -gentlemen, not educated in the bush, to a greater extent: so we must not -be hard upon him. When Lady Hainault and Lady Ascot heard that a cousin -of Mary's had just turned up from the wilds of Australia, they looked at -one another in astonishment, and agreed that he must be a wild man. But, -when they had gone down and sat on him, as a committee of two, for an -hour, they both pronounced him charming. And so he was. - -Lord Hainault, on receiving this report, could do no less than ask him -to stay a day or two. And so his luggage was sent for to Twyford, and -the good Archer left, leaving him in possession. - -Lord Saltire had been travelling round to all his estates. He had taken -it into his head, about a month before this, that it was time that he -should get into one of his great houses, and die there. He told Lady -Ascot so, and advised her to come with him; but she still held on by -Lord Charles Herries' children, and Mary, and said she would wait. So he -had gone away, with no one but his confidential servant. He had gone to -Cottingdean first, which stands on the banks of the Wannet, at the foot -of the North Hampshire mountains. - -Well, Cottingdean did seem at first sight a noble lair for an old lion -to crawl away to, and die in. There was a great mile-long elm avenue, -carried, utterly regardless of economy, over the flat valley, across the -innumerable branches of the river; and at the last the trees ran up over -the first great heave of the chalk hill: and above the topmost boughs of -those which stood in the valley, above the highest spire of the tallest -poplar in the water-meadow, the old grey house hung aloft, a long -irregular facade of stone. Behind were dark woods, and above all a -pearl-green line of down. - -But Cottingdean wouldn't do. His lordship's man Simpson knew it wouldn't -do from the first. There were draughts in Cottingdean, and doors that -slammed in the night, and the armour in the great gallery used suddenly -to go "clank" at all hours, in a terrible way. And the lady ancestress -of the seventeenth century, who carried her head in a plate before her, -used to stump upstairs and downstairs, from twelve o'clock to one, when -she was punctually relieved from duty by the wicked old ancestor of the -sixteenth century, who opened the cellar door and came rattling his -sword against the banisters up all the staircase till he got to the -north-east tower, into which he went and slammed the door; and, when he -had transacted his business, came clanking down again: when he in turn -was relieved by an [Greek: oi polloi] of ghosts, who walked till -cockcrow. Simpson couldn't stand it. No more could Lord Saltire, though -possibly for different reasons than Simpson's. - -The first night at Cottingdean Lord Saltire had his writing-desk -unpacked, and took therefrom a rusty key. He said to Simpson, "You know -where I am going. If I am not back in half an hour, come after me." -Simpson knew where he was going. Lord Barkham had been staying here at -Cottingdean just before he went up to town, and was killed in that -unhappy duel. The old servants remembered that, when Lord Barkham went -away that morning, he had taken the key of his room with him, and had -said, in his merry way, that no one was going in there till he came back -the next week, for he had left all his love-letters about. Lord Saltire -had got the key, and was going to open the room the first time for forty -years. - -What did the poor old man find there? Probably nothing more than poor -Barkham had said--some love-letters lying about. When the room was -opened afterwards, by the new master of Cottingdean, we found only a -boy's room, with fishing-rods and guns lying about. In one corner were a -pair of muddy top-boots kicked off in a hurry, and an old groom -remembered that Lord Barkham had been riding out the very morning he -started for London. But, amidst the dust of forty years, we could -plainly trace that some one had, comparatively recently, moved a chair -up to the fireplace; and on the cold hearth there was a heap of the -ashes of burnt paper. - -Lord Saltire came back to Simpson just as his half-hour was over, and -told him in confidence that the room he had been in was devilish -draughty, and that he had caught cold in his ear. Cottingdean would not -do after this. They departed next morning. They must try Marksworth. - -Marksworth, Lord Saltire's north country place, is in Cumberland. If you -are on top of the coach, going northward, between Hiltonsbridge and -Copley Beck, you can see it all the way for three miles or more, over -the stone walls. The mountains are on your left; to the right are -endless unbroken level woodlands; and, rising out of them, two miles -off, is a great mass of grey building, from the centre of which rises a -square Norman keep, ninety feet high, a beacon for miles even in that -mountainous country. The Hilton and Copley Beck join in the park, which -is twelve miles in circumference, and nearly all thick woodland. Beyond -the great tower, between it and the further mountains, you catch a gleam -of water. This is Marksmere, in which there are charr. - -The draughts at Marksworth were colder and keener than the draughts at -Cottingdean. Lord Saltire always hated the place: for the truth is this, -that although Marksworth looked as if it had stood for eight hundred -years, every stone in it had been set up by his father, when he, Lord -Saltire, was quite a big boy. It was beautifully done; it was splendidly -and solidly built--probably the best executed humbug in England; but it -was not comfortable to live in. A nobleman of the nineteenth century, -stricken in years, finds it difficult to accommodate himself in a house -the windows of which are calculated to resist arrows. At the time of the -Eglinton tournament, Lord Saltire challenged the whole Tory world in -arms, to attack Marksworth in the ante-gunpowder style of warfare; his -lordship to provide eatables and liquor to besiegers and besieged; -probably hoping that he might get it burnt down over his head, and have -a decent excuse for rebuilding it in a more sensible style. The -challenge was not accepted. "The trouble," said certain Tory noblemen, -"of getting up the old tactics correctly would be very great; and the -expense of having the old engines of war constructed would be enormous. -Besides, it might come on to rain again, and spoil the whole affair." - -Marksworth wouldn't do. And then Simpson suggested his lordship's town -house in Curzon Street, and Lord Saltire said "Hey?" and Simpson -repeated his suggestion, and Lord Saltire said "Hah!" As Charles's luck -would have it, he liked the suggestion, and turned south, coming to -Casterton on his way to London. He arrived at Casterton a few days after -George Corby. When he alighted at the door, Lord Hainault ran down the -steps to greet him, for this pair were very fond of one another. Lord -Hainault, who was accused by some people of "priggishness," was -certainly not priggish before Lord Saltire. He was genial and hearty. -There was a slight crust on Lord Hainault. Because he had held his own -among the clever commoners at the University, he fancied himself a -little cleverer than he was. He in his heart thought more of his second, -than Marston did of his double first, and possibly showed it among his -equals. But before an acknowledged superior, like Lord Saltire, this -never showed. When Lord Saltire talked wisely and shrewdly (and who -could do so better than he?), he listened; when Lord Saltire was cross, -he laughed. On this occasion Lord Saltire was cross. He never was cross -to any one but Lady Ascot, Lord Hainault, and Marston. He knew they -liked it. - -"Good Ged, Hainault," he began, "don't stand grinning there, and looking -so abominably healthy and happy, or I will drive away again and go on to -London. Nothing can be in worse taste than to look like that at a man -whom you see is tired, and cold, and peevish. You have been out -shooting, too. Don't deny it; you smell of gunpowder." - -"Did you _never_ shoot?" said Lord Hainault, laughing. - -"I shot as long as I could walk, and therefore I have a right to nourish -envy and all uncharitableness against those who can still do so. I wish -you would be cross, Hainault. It is wretched manners not to be cross -when you see a man is trying to put you out of temper." - -"And how _are_ you, my dear lad?" continued Lord Saltire, when he had -got hold of his arm. "How is Lady Ascot? and whom have you got here?" - -"We are all very well," said Lord Hainault; "and we have got nobody." - -"Well done," said Lord Saltire. "I thought I should have found the house -smelling like a poulterer's shop on Guy Fawkes's day, in consequence of -your having got together all the hawbucks in the country for pheasant -shooting. I'll go upstairs, my dear boy, and change, and then come down -to the library fire." - -And so he did. There was no one there, and he sank into a comfortable -chair, with a contented "humph!" in front of the fire, beside a big -round table. He had read the paper in the train; so he looked for a -book. There was a book on the table beside him--Ruskin's "Modern -Painters," which had pictures in it; so he took out his great gold -glasses, and began turning it over. - -A man's card fell from it. He picked it up and read it. "Mr. Charles -Ravenshoe." Poor Charles! That spring, you remember, he had come over to -see Adelaide, and, while waiting to see old Lady Hainault, had held his -card in his hand. It had got into the book. Lord Saltire put the book -away, put up his glasses, and walked to the window. - -And Charles lay in his bed at Scutari, and watched the flies upon the -wall. - -"I'll send up for little Mary," said Lord Saltire. "I want to see the -little bird. Poor Charles!" - -He looked out over the landscape. It was dull and foggy. He wandered -into the conservatory, and idly looked out of the glass door at the end. -Then, as he looked, he said, suddenly, "Gadzooks!" and then, still more -briskly, "The deuce!" - -There was a splendid show of chrysanthemums in the flower-garden, but -they were not what his lordship exclaimed at. In the middle of the walk -was Mary Corby, leaning on the arm of a very handsome young man. He was -telling some very animated story, and she was looking up into his face -with sparkling eyes. - -"Othello and Desdemona! Death and confusion!" said Lord Saltire. "Here's -a pretty kettle of fish! Maria must be mad!" - -He went back into the library. Lord Hainault was there. "Hainault," said -he, quietly, "who is that young gentleman, walking with Mary Corby in -the garden?" - -"Oh! her cousin. I have not had time to tell you about it." Which he -did. - -"And what sort of fellow is he?" said Lord Saltire. "A Yahoo, I -suppose?" - -"Not at all. He is a capital fellow--a perfect gentleman. There will be -a match, I believe, unless you put a stop to it. You know best. We will -talk it over. It seems to me to offer a good many advantages. I think it -will come off in time. It is best for the poor little thing to forget -poor Ravenshoe, if she can." - -"Yes, it will be best for her to forget poor Ravenshoe, if she can," -repeated Lord Saltire. "I wish her to do so. I must make the young -fellow's acquaintance. By-the-bye, what time does your post go out?" - -"At five." - -"Have you no morning post?" - -"Yes. We can send to Henley before nine." - -"Then I shall not plague myself with writing my letter now. I should -like to see this young fellow, Hainault." - -George Corby was introduced. Lord Saltire seemed to take a great fancy -to him. He kept near him all the evening, and listened with great -pleasure to his Australian stories. George Corby was, of course, very -much flattered by such attention from such a famous man. Possibly he -might have preferred to be near Mary; but old men, he thought, are -exacting, and it is the duty of gentlemen to bear with them. So he -stayed by him with good grace. After a time, Lord Saltire seemed to see -that he had an intelligent listener. And then the others were astonished -to hear Lord Saltire do what he but seldom did for them--use his utmost -powers of conversation; use an art almost forgotten, that of _talking_. -To this young man, who was clever and well educated, and, like most -"squatters," perhaps a _trifle_ fond of hearing of great people, Lord -Saltire opened the storehouse of his memory, of a memory extending over -seventy years; and in a clear, well modulated voice, gave him his -recollection of his interviews with great people--conversations with -Sieyes, Talleyrand, with Madame de Stael, with Robespierre, with -Egalite, with Alexander, and a dozen others. George was intensely eager -to hear about Marat. Lord Saltire and his snuff-box had not penetrated -into the lair of that filthy wolf, but he had heard much of him from -many friends, and told it well. When the ladies rose to go to bed, -George Corby was astonished; he had forgotten Mary, had never been near -her the whole evening, and he had made an engagement to drive Lord -Saltire the next morning up to Wargrave in a pony-chaise, to look at -Barrymore House, and the place where the theatre stood, and where the -game of high jinks had been played so bravely fifty years before. And, -moreover, he and Lord Saltire were, the day after, to make an excursion -down the river and see Medmenham, where once Jack Wilkes and the devil -had held court. Mary would not see much of him at this rate for a day or -two. - -It was a great shame of this veteran to make such a fool of the innocent -young bushman. There ought to be fair play in love or war. His -acquaintance, Talleyrand, could not have been more crafty. I am so angry -with him that I will give the letter he wrote that night _in extenso_, -and show the world what a wicked old man he was. When he went to his -room, he said to Simpson, "I have got to write a letter before I go to -bed. I want it to go to the post at Henley before nine. I don't want it -to lie in the letter-box in the hall. I don't want them to see the -direction. What an appetite you would have for your breakfast, Simpson, -if you were to walk to Henley." And Simpson said, "Very good, my lord." -And Lord Saltire wrote as follows:-- - - "MY DEAR LAD,--I have been travelling to my places, looking - for a place to die in. They are all cold and draughty, and - won't do. I have come back to Casterton. I must stay here - at present on your account, and I am in mortal fear of - dying here. Nothing, remember, can be more unmannerly or - rude than falling ill, and dying, in another man's house. I - know that I should resent such a proceeding myself as a - deliberate affront, and I therefore would not do it for the - world. - - "You must come here to me _instantly_; do you hear? I am - keeping the breach for you at all sacrifices. Until you - come, I am to be trundled about this foggy valley in pony - carriages through the day, and talk myself hoarse all the - evening, all for your sake. A cousin of Mary Corby's has - come from Australia. He is very handsome, clever, and - gentlemanly, and I am afraid she is getting very fond of - him. - - "This must not be, my dear boy. Now our dear Charles is - gone, you must, if possible, marry her. It is insufferable - that we should have another disappointment from an - interloper. I don't blame you for not having come before. - You were quite right, but don't lose a moment now. Leave - those boys of yours. The dirty little rogues must get on - for a time without you. Don't think that I sneer at the - noble work that you and your uncle are doing; God Almighty - forbid; but you must leave it for a time, and come here. - - "Don't argue or procrastinate, but come. I cannot go on - being driven all over the country in November to keep him - out of the way. Besides, if you don't come soon, I shall - have finished all my true stories, and have to do what I - have never done yet--to lie. So make haste, my dear boy. - - "Yours affectionately, - - "SALTIRE." - -On the second day from this Lord Saltire was driven to Medmenham by -George Corby, and prophesied to him about it. When they neared home, -Lord Saltire grew distraught for the first time, and looked eagerly -towards the terrace. As they drove up, John Marston ran down the steps -to meet them. Lord Saltire said, "Thank God!" and walked up to the -hall-door between the two young men. - -"Are you staying in London?" said George Corby. - -"Yes. I am living in London," said John Marston. "An uncle of mine, a -Moravian Missionary from Australia, is working at a large ragged school -in the Borough, and I am helping him." - -"You don't surely mean James Smith?" said Corby. - -"Indeed I do." - -"Your uncle? Well, that is very strange. I know him very well. My father -fought his battle for him when he was at variance with the squatters -about.... He is one of the best fellows in the world. I am delighted to -make your acquaintance." - -Lord Saltire said to Lord Hainault, when they were alone together--"You -see what a liberty I have taken, having my private secretary down in -this unceremonious way. Do ask him to stay." - -"You know how welcome he is for his own sake. Do you think you are -right?" - -"I think so." - -"I am afraid you are a little too late," said Lord Hainault. - -Alas! poor Charles. - - - - -CHAPTER LVI. - -SCUTARI. - - -Alas! poor Charles. While they were all dividing the spoil at home, -thinking him dead, where was he? - -At Scutari. What happened to him before he got there, no one knows or -ever will know. He does not remember, and there is no one else to tell. -He was passed from hand to hand and put on board ship. Here fever set -in, and he passed from a state of stupid agony into a state of delirium. -He may have lain on the pier in the pouring rain, moistening his parched -lips in the chilling shower; he may have been jolted from hospital to -hospital, and laid in draughty passages, till a bed was found for him; -as others were. But he happily knew nothing of it. Things were so bad -with him now that it did not much matter how he was treated. Read Lord -Sidney Osborne's "Scutari and its Hospitals," and see how he _might_ -have been, and probably was. It is no part of our duty to dig up and -exhibit all that miserable mismanagement. I think we have learnt our -lesson. I think I will go bail it don't happen again. Before Charles -knew where he was, there was a great change for the better. The hospital -nurses arrived early in November. - -He thinks that there were faint gleams of consciousness in his delirium. -In the first, he says he was lying on his back, and above him were the -masts and spars of a ship, and a sailor-boy was sitting out on a yard -in the clear blue, mending a rope or doing something. It may have been a -dream or not. Afterwards there were periods, distinctly remembered, when -he seemed conscious--conscious of pain and space, and time--to a certain -extent. At these times he began to understand, in a way, that he was -dead, and in hell. The delirium was better than this at ordinary times, -in spite of its headlong incongruities. It was not so unbearable, save -at times, when there came the feeling, too horrible for human brain to -bear, of being millions and millions of miles, or of centuries, away, -with no road back; at such times there was nothing to be done but to -leap out of bed, and cry aloud for help in God's name. - -Then there came a time when he began, at intervals, to see a great -vaulted arch overhead, and to wonder whether or no it was the roof of -the pit. He began, after studying the matter many times, to find that -pain had ceased, and that the great vaulted arch was real. And he heard -low voices once at this time--blessed voices of his fellow-men. He was -content to wait. - -At last, his soul and consciousness seemed to return to him in a strange -way. He seemed to pass out of some abnormal state into a natural one. -For he became aware that he was alive; nay, more, that he was asleep, -and dreaming a silly, pleasant dream, and that he could wake himself at -any time. He awoke, expecting to awake in his old room at Ravenshoe. But -he was not there, and looked round him in wonder. - -The arch he remembered was overhead. That was real enough. Three people -were round his bed--a doctor in undress, a grey-haired gentleman who -peered into his face, and a lady. - -"God bless me!" said the doctor. "We have fetched him through. Look at -his eyes, just look at his eyes. As sane an eye as yours or mine, and -the pulse as round as a button." - -"Do you know us, my man?" said the gentleman. - -It was possible enough that he did not, for he had never set eyes on him -before. The gentleman meant only, "Are you sane enough to know your -fellow-creatures when you see one?" Charles thought he must be some one -he had met in society in old times and ought to recognise. He framed a -polite reply, to the effect that he hoped he had been well since he met -him last, and that, if he found himself in the west, he would not pass -Ravenshoe without coming to see him. - -The doctor laughed. "A little abroad, still, I daresay; I have pulled -you through. You have had a narrow escape." - -Charles was recovered enough to take his hand and thank him fervently, -and whispered, "Would you tell me one thing, sir? How did Lady Hainault -come here?" - -"Lady Hainault, my man?" - -"Yes; she was standing at the foot of the bed." - -"That is no Lady Hainault, my man; that is Miss Nightingale. Do you ever -say your prayers?" - -"No." - -"Say them to-night before you go to sleep, and remember her name in -them. Possibly they may get to heaven the quicker for it. Good-night." - -Prayers forgotten, eh! How much of all this misery lay in that, I -wonder? How much of this dull, stupid, careless despair--earth a -hopeless, sunless wilderness, and heaven not thought of? Read on. - -But, while you read, remember that poor Charles had had no domestic -religious education whatever. The vicar had taught him his catechism and -"his prayers." After that, Shrewsbury and Oxford. Read on, but don't -condemn; at least not yet. - -That he thanked God with all the earnestness of his warm heart that -night, and remembered that name the doctor told him, you may be sure. -But, when the prayer was finished, he began to think whether or no it -was sincere, whether it would not be better that he should die, and that -it should be all over and done. His creed was, that, if he died in the -faith of Christ, bearing no ill will to any one, having repented of his -sins, it would not go ill with him. Would it not be better to die now -that he could fulfil those conditions, and not tempt the horrible black -future? Certainly. - -In time he left watching the great arch overhead, and the creeping -shadows, and the patch of light on the wall, which shaped itself into a -faint rhomboid at noon, and crept on till it defined itself into a -perfect square at sundown, and then grew golden and died out. He began -to notice other things. But till the last there was one effect of light -and shadow which he always lay awake to see--a faint flickering on the -walls and roof, which came slowly nearer, till a light was in his eyes. -We all know what that was. It has been described twenty times. I can -believe that story of the dying man kissing the shadow on the wall. When -Miss Nightingale and her lamp are forgotten, it will be time to consider -whether one would prefer to turn Turk or Mormon. - -He began to take notice that there were men in the beds beside him. One, -as we know, had been carried out dead; but there was another in his -place now. And one day there was a great event; when Charles woke, both -of them were up, sitting at the side of their beds, ghastly shadows, and -talking across him. - -The maddest musician never listened to the "vox humana" stop at Haarlem, -with such delight as Charles did to these two voices. He lay for a time -hearing them make acquaintance, and then he tried to sit up and join. He -was on his left side, and tried to rise. His left arm would not support -him, and he fell back, but they crept to him and set him up, and sat on -his bed. - -"Right again, eh, comrade?" said one. "I thought you was gone, my lad. -But I heard the doctor say you'd get through. You look bravely. Time was -when you used to jump out of bed, and cry on God A'mighty. Many a time -I've strove to help ye. The man in _his_ bed died while you was like -that: a Fusilier Guards man. What regiment?" - -"I am of the 140th," said Charles. "We had a bit of a brush with the -enemy on the twenty-fifth. I was wounded there. It was a pretty little -rattle, I think, for a time, but not of very much importance, I fancy." - -The man who had first spoken laughed; the other man, a lad who had a -round face once, perhaps, but which now was a pale death's head, with -two great staring eyes, speaking with a voice which Charles knew at once -to be a gentleman's, said, "Don't you know then that that charge of -yours is the talk of Europe? That charge will never be forgotten while -the world is round. Six hundred men against ten battalions. Good God! -And you might have died there, and not known it." - -"Ah, is it so?" said Charles. "If some could only know it!" - -"That is the worst of it," said the young man. "I have enlisted under a -false name, and will never go home any more. Never more. And she will -never know that I did my duty." - -And after a time he got strong again in a way. A bullet, it appears, had -struck the bone of his arm, and driven the splinters into the flesh. -Fever had come on, and his splendid constitution, as yet untried, save -by severe training, had pulled him through. But his left arm was -useless. The doctor looked at it again and again, and shook his head. - -The two men who were in the beds on each side of him were moved before -him. They were only there a fortnight after his coming to himself. The -oldest of the two went first, and two or three days after the younger. - -The three made all sorts of plans for meeting in England. Alas, what -chance is there for three soldiers to meet again, unless by accident? -At home it would have taken three years to have made these three men -such hearty friends as they had become in a fortnight. Friendships are -made in the camp, in the bush, or on board ship, at a wonderful rate. -And, moreover, they last for an indefinite time. For ever, I fancy: for -these reasons. Time does not destroy friendship. Time has nothing -whatever to do with it. I have heard an old man of seventy-eight talking -of a man he had not seen for twelve years, and before that for -twenty-five, as if they were young men together. Craving for his -company, as if once more they were together on the deck of the -white-sailed yacht, flying before the easterly wind between Hurstcastle -and Sconce Point. Mere continual familiarity, again, does not hurt -friendship, unless interests clash. Diversity of interests is the -death-blow of friendship. One great sacrifice may be made--two, or even -three; but after the first, two men are not to one another as they were -before. Where men are thrown intimately together for a short time, and -part have only seen the best side of one another, or where men see one -another frequently, and have not very many causes of difference, -friendship will flourish for ever. In the case of love it is very -different, and for this obvious reason, which I will explain in a few -pages if---- - -I entered into my own recognisances, in an early chapter of this story, -not to preach. I fear they are escheated after this short essay on -friendship, coming, as it does, exactly in the wrong place. I must only -throw myself on the court, and purge myself of my contempt by promising -amendment. - -Poor Charles after a time was sent home to Fort Pitt. But that mighty -left arm, which had done such noble work when it belonged to No. 3 in -the Oxford University eight, was useless, and Charles Simpson, trooper -in the 140th, was discharged from the army, and found himself on -Christmas Eve in the street in front of the Waterloo Station, with -eighteen shillings and ninepence in his pocket, wondering blindly what -the end of it all would be, but no more dreaming of begging from those -who had known him formerly than of leaping off Waterloo Bridge. Perhaps -not half so much. - - - - -CHAPTER LVII. - -WHAT CHARLES DID WITH HIS LAST EIGHTEEN SHILLINGS. - - -Charles's luck seemed certainly to have deserted him at last. And that -is rather a serious matter, you see; for, as he had never trusted to -anything but luck, it now follows that he had nothing left to trust to, -except eighteen shillings and ninepence and his little friend the -cornet, who had come home invalided and was living with his mother in -Hyde Park Gardens. Let us hope, reader, that you and I may never be -reduced to the patronage of a cornet of Hussars, and eighteen shillings -in cash. - -It was a fine frosty night, and the streets were gay and merry. It was a -sad Christmas for many thousands; but the general crowd seemed -determined not to think too deeply of these sad accounts which were -coming from the Crimea just now. They seemed inclined to make Christmas -Christmas, in spite of everything; and perhaps they were right. It is -good for a busy nation like the English to have two great festivals, and -two only, the object of which every man who is a Christian can -understand, and on these occasions to put in practice, to the best of -one's power, the lesson of goodwill towards men which our Lord taught -us. We English cannot stand too many saints' days. We decline to stop -business for St. Blaise or St. Swithin; but we can understand Christmas -and Easter. The foreign Catholics fiddle away so much time on saints' -days that they are obliged to work like the Israelites in bondage on -Sunday to get on at all. I have as good a right to prophesy as any other -freeborn Englishman who pays rates and taxes; and I prophesy that, in -this wonderful resurrection of Ireland, the attendance of the male -population at Church on week-days will get small by degrees and -beautifully less. - -One man, Charles Ravenshoe, has got to spend his Christmas with eighteen -shillings and a crippled left arm. There is half a million of money or -so, and a sweet little wife, waiting for him if he would only behave -like a rational being; but he will not, and must take the consequences. - -He went westward, through a kind of instinct, and he came to Belgrave -Square, where a certain duke lived. There were lights in the windows. -The duke was in office, and had been called up to town. Charles was glad -of this; not that he had any business to transact with the duke, but a -letter to deliver to the duke's coachman. - -This simple circumstance saved him from being much nearer actual -destitution than I should have liked to see him. The coachman's son had -been wounded at Balaclava, and was still at Scutari, and Charles brought -a letter from him. He got an English welcome, I promise you. And, next -morning, going to Hyde Park Gardens, he found that his friend the cornet -was out of town, and would not be back for a week. At this time the -coachman became very useful. He offered him money, house-room, -employment, everything he could possibly get for him; and Charles -heartily and thankfully accepted house-room and board for a week. - -At the end of a week he went back to Hyde Park Gardens. The cornet was -come back. He had to sit in the kitchen while his message was taken -upstairs. He merely sent up his name, said he was discharged, and asked -for an interview. - -The servants found out that he had been at the war, in their young -master's regiment, and they crowded round him, full of sympathy and -kindness. He was telling them how he had last seen the cornet in the -thick of it on the terrible 25th, when they parted right and left, and -in dashed the cornet himself, who caught him by both hands. - -"By gad, I'm so glad to see you. How you are altered without your -moustache! Look you here, you fellows and girls, this is the man that -charged up to my assistance when I was dismounted among the guns, and -kept by me, while I caught another horse. What a cropper I went down, -didn't I? What a terrible brush it was, eh? And poor Hornby, too! It is -the talk of Europe, you know. You remember old Devna, and the galloping -lizard, eh?" - -And so on, till they got upstairs; and then he turned on him, and said, -"Now, what are you going to do?" - -"I have got eighteen shillings." - -"Will your family do nothing for you?" - -"Did Hornby tell you anything about me, my dear sir?" said Charles, -eagerly. - -"Not a word. I never knew that Hornby and you were acquainted, till I -saw you together when he was dying." - -"Did you hear what we said to one another?" - -"Not a word. The reason I spoke about your family is, that no one, who -had seen so much of you as I, could doubt that you were a gentleman. -That is all. I am very much afraid I shall offend you----" - -"That would not be easy, sir." - -"Well, then, here goes. If you are utterly hard up, take service with -me. There." - -"I will do so with the deepest gratitude," said Charles. "But I cannot -ride, I fear. My left arm is gone." - -"Pish! ride with your right. It's a bargain. Come up and see my mother. -I must show you to her, you know, because you will have to live here. -She is deaf. Now you know the reason why the major used to talk so -loud." - -Charles smiled for an instant; he did remember that circumstance about -the cornet's respected and gallant father. He followed the cornet -upstairs, and was shown into the drawing-room, where sat a very handsome -lady, about fifty years of age, knitting. - -She was not only stone deaf, but had a trick of talking aloud, like the -old lady in "Pickwick," under the impression that she was only thinking, -which was a very disconcerting habit indeed. When Charles and the cornet -entered the room, she said aloud, with amazing distinctness, looking -hard at Charles, "God bless me! Who has he got now? What a fine -gentlemanly-looking fellow. I wonder why he is dressed so shabbily." -After which she arranged her trumpet, and prepared to go into action. - -"This, mother," bawled the cornet, "is the man who saved me in the -charge of Balaclava." - -"Do you mean that that is trooper Simpson?" said she. - -"Yes, mother." - -"Then may the blessing of God Almighty rest upon your head!" she said to -Charles. "That time will come, trooper Simpson, when you will know the -value of a mother's gratitude. And when that time comes think of me. But -for you, trooper Simpson, I might have been tearing my grey hair this -day. What are we to do for him, James? He looks ill and worn. Words are -not worth much. What shall we do?" - -The cornet put his mouth to his mother's trumpet, and in an apologetic -bellow, such as one gets from the skipper of a fruit brig, in the Bay of -Biscay, O! when he bears up to know if you will be so kind as to oblige -him with the longitude; roared out: - -"He wants to take service with me. Have you any objection?" - -"Of course not, you foolish boy," said she. "I wish we could do more for -him than that." And then she continued, in a tone slightly lowered, but -perfectly audible, evidently under the impression that she was thinking -to herself: "He is ugly, but he has a sweet face. I feel certain he is a -gentleman who has had a difference with his family. I wish I could hear -his voice. God bless him! he looks like a valiant soldier. I hope he -won't get drunk, or make love to the maids." - -Charles had heard every word of this before he had time to bow himself -out. - -And so he accepted his new position with dull carelessness. Life was -getting very worthless. - -He walked across the park to see his friend the coachman. The frost had -given, and there was a dull dripping thaw. He leant against the railings -at the end of the Serpentine. There was still a great crowd all round -the water; but up the whole expanse there were only four skaters, for -the ice was very dangerous and rotten, and the people had been warned -off. One of the skaters came sweeping down to within a hundred yards of -where he was--a reckless, headlong skater, one who would chance drowning -to have his will. The ice cracked every moment and warned him, but he -would not heed, till it broke, and down he went; clutching wildly at the -pitiless, uptilted slabs which clanked about his head, to save himself; -and then with a wild cry disappeared. The icemen were on the spot in a -minute; and, when five were past, they had him out, and bore him off to -the receiving-house. A gentleman, a doctor apparently, who stood by -Charles, said to him, "Well, there is a reckless fool gone to his -account, God forgive him!" - -"They will bring him round, won't they?" said Charles. - -"Ten to one against it," said the doctor. "What right has he to -calculate on such a thing, either? Why, most likely there will be half a -dozen houses in mourning for that man to-morrow. He is evidently a man -of some mark. I can pity his relations in their bereavement, sir, but I -have precious little pity for a reckless fool." - -And so Charles began to serve his friend the cornet, in a way--a very -poor way, I fear, for he was very weak and ill, and could do but little. -The deaf lady treated him like a son, God bless her! but Charles could -not recover the shock of his fever and delirium in the Crimea. He grew -very low-spirited and despondent by day, and worst of all, he began to -have sleepless nights--terrible nights. In the rough calculation he had -made of being able to live through his degradation, and get used to it, -he had calculated, unwittingly, on perfect health. He had thought that -in a few years he should forget the old life, and become just like one -of the grooms he had made his companions. This had now become -impossible, for his health and his nerve were gone. - -He began to get afraid of his horses; that was the first symptom. He -tried to fight against the conviction, but it forced itself upon him. -When he was on horseback, he found that he was frightened when anything -went wrong; his knees gave way on emergency, and his hand was -irresolute. And, what is more, be sure of this, that, before he -confessed the fact to himself, the horses had found it out, and "taken -action on it," or else may I ride a donkey, with my face towards the -tail, for the rest of my life. - -And he began to see another thing. Now, when he was nervous, in ill -health, and whimsical, the company of men among whom he was thrown as -fellow-servants became nearly unbearable. Little trifling acts of -coarseness, unnoticed when he was in good health and strong, at the time -he was with poor Hornby, now disgusted him. Most kind-hearted young -fellows, brought up as he had been, are apt to be familiar with, and -probably pet and spoil, the man whose duty it is to minister to their -favourite pleasures, be he gamekeeper, or groom, or cricketer, or -waterman. Nothing can be more natural, or, in proper bounds, harmless. -Charles had thought that, being used to these men, he could live with -them, and do as they did. For a month or two, while in rude coarse -health, he found it was possible; for had not Lord Welter and he done -the same thing for amusement? But now, with shattered nerves, he found -it intolerable. I have had great opportunities of seeing gentlemen -trying to do this sort of thing--I mean in Australia--and, as far as my -experience goes, it ends in one of two ways. Either they give it up as a -bad job, and assume the position that superior education gives them, or -else they take to drink, and go, not to mince matters, to the devil. - -What Charles did, we shall see. Nobody could be more kind and -affectionate than the cornet and his deaf mother. They guessed that he -was "somebody," and that things were wrong with him; though, if he had -been a chimney-sweep's son, it would have made no difference to them, -for they were "good people." The cornet once or twice invited his -confidence; but he was too young, and Charles had not the energy to tell -him anything. His mother, too, asked him to tell her if anything was -wrong in his affairs, and whether she could help him; and possibly he -might have been more inclined to confide in her, than in her son. But -who could bellow such a sad tale of misery through an ear-trumpet? He -held his peace. - -He kept Ellen's picture, which he had taken from Hornby. He determined -he would not go and seek her. She was safe somewhere, in some Catholic -asylum. Why should he re-open her grief? - -But life was getting very, very weary business. By day, his old -favourite pleasure of riding had become a terror, and at night he got no -rest. Death forty good years away, by all calculation. A weary time. - -He thought himself humbled, but he was not. He said to himself that he -was prevented from going back, because he had found out that Mary was in -love with him, and also because he was disgraced through his sister; and -both of these reasons were, truly, most powerful with him. But, in -addition to this, I fear there was a great deal of obstinate pride, -which thing is harder to beat out of a man than most things. - -And, now, after all this half-moralising narrative, an important fact or -two. The duke was very busy, and stayed in town, and, as a consequence, -the duke's coachman. Moreover, the duke's coachman's son came home -invalided, and stayed with his father; and Charles, with the hearty -approval of the cornet, used to walk across the park every night to see -him, and talk over the campaign, and then look in at the Servants' Club, -of which he was still a member. And the door of the Servants' Club room -had glass windows to it. And I have noticed that anybody who looks -through a glass window (under favourable circumstances) can see who is -on the other side. I have done it myself more than once. - - - - -CHAPTER LVIII. - -THE NORTH SIDE OF GROSVENOR SQUARE. - - -John Marston's first disappointment in life had been his refusal by -Mary. He was one of those men, brought up in a hard school, who get, -somehow, the opinion that everything which happens to a man is his own -fault. He used to say that every man who could play whist could get a -second if he chose. I have an idea that he is in some sort right. But he -used to carry this sort of thing to a rather absurd extent. He was apt -to be hard on men who failed, and to be always the first to say, "If he -had done this, or left that alone, it would not have been so," and he -himself, with a calm clear brain and perfect health, had succeeded in -everything he had ever tried at, even up to a double first. At one point -he was stopped. He had always given himself airs of superiority over -Charles, and had given him advice, good as it was, in a way which would -have ruined his influence with nine men out of ten; and suddenly he was -brought up. At the most important point in life, he found Charles his -superior. Charles had won a woman's love without knowing it, or caring -for it; and he had tried for it, and failed. - -John Marston was an eminently noble and high-minded man. His faults were -only those of education, and his faults were very few. When he found -himself rejected, and found out why it was so--when he found that he was -no rival of Charles, and that Charles cared naught for poor Mary--he -humbly set his quick brain to work to find out in what way Charles, so -greatly his inferior in intellect, was superior to him in the most -important of all things. For he saw that Charles had not only won Mary's -love, but the love of every one who knew him; whereas he, John Marston, -had but very few friends. - -And, when he once set to work at this task, he seemed to come rapidly to -the conclusion that Charles was superior to him in everything except -application. "And how much application should I have had," he concluded, -"if I had not been a needy man?" - -So you see that his disappointment cured him of what was almost his only -vice--conceit. Everything works together for good, for those who are -really good. - -Hitherto, John Marston has led only the life that so many young -Englishmen lead--a life of study, combined with violent, objectless, -physical exertion as a counterpoise. He had never known what enthusiasm -was, as yet. There was a vast deal of it somewhere about him; in his -elbows or his toes, or the calves of his legs, or somewhere, as events -prove. If I might hazard an opinion, I should say that it was stowed -away somewhere in that immensely high, but somewhat narrow, forehead of -his. Before he tried love-making, he might have written the calmest and -most exasperating article in the _Saturday Review_. But, shortly after -that, the tinder got a-fire; and the man who set it on fire was his -uncle Smith, the Moravian missionary. - -For this fellow, Smith, had, as we know, come home from Australia with -the dying words of his beautiful wife ringing in his ears: "Go home from -here, my love, into the great towns, and see what is to be done there." -And he had found his nephew, John Marston. And, while Marston listened -to his strange, wild conversation, a light broke in upon him. And what -had been to him merely words before this, now became glorious, -tremendous realities. - -And so those two had gone hand in hand down into the dirt and profligacy -of Southwark, to do together a work the reward of which comes after -death. There are thousands of men at such work now. We have no more to -do with it than to record the fact, that these two were at it heart and -hand. - -John Marston's love for Mary had never waned for one instant. When he -had found that, or thought he had found that, she loved Charles, he had, -in a quiet, dignified way, retired from the contest. He had determined -that he would go away, and work at ragged schools, and so on, and try to -forget all about her. He had begun to fancy that his love was growing -cool, when Lord Saltire's letter reached him, and set it all a-blaze -again. - -This was unendurable--that a savage from the southern wilds should step -in like this, without notice. He posted off to Casterton. - -Mary was very glad to see him; but he had proposed to her once, and, -therefore, how could she be so familiar with him as of yore? -Notwithstanding this, John was not so very much disappointed at his -reception; he had thought that matters were even worse than they were. - -After dinner, in the drawing-room, he watched them together. George -Corby was evidently in love. He went to Mary, who was sitting alone, the -moment they came from the dining-room. Mary looked up, and caught his -eyes as he approached; but her eyes wandered from him to the door, until -they settled on John himself. She seemed to wish that he would come and -talk to her. He had a special reason for not doing so: he wanted to -watch her and George together. So he stayed behind, and talked to Lord -Hainault. - -Lord Saltire moved up beside Lady Ascot. Lady Hainault had the three -children--Archy in her lap, and Gus and Flora beside her. In her high -and mighty way she was amusing them, or rather trying to do so. Lady -Hainault was one of the best and noblest women in the world, as you have -seen already; but she was not an amusing person. And no one knew it -better than herself. Her intentions were excellent: she wanted to leave -Mary free from the children until their bed-time, so that she might talk -to her old acquaintance, John Marston; for, at the children's bed-time, -Mary would have to go with them. Even Lady Hainault, determined as she -was, never dared to contemplate putting those children to bed without -Mary's assistance. She was trying to tell them a story out of her own -head, but was making a dreadful mess of it; and she was quite conscious -that Gus and Flora were listening to her with contemptuous pity. - -So they were disposed. Lord Saltire and Lady Ascot were comfortably out -of hearing. We had better attend to them first, and come round to the -others afterwards. - -Lady Ascot began. "James," she said, "it is perfectly evident to me that -you sent for John Marston." - -"Well, and suppose I did?" said Lord Saltire. - -"Well, then, why did you do so?" - -"Maria," said Lord Saltire, "do you know that sometimes you are -intolerably foolish? Cannot you answer that question for yourself?" - -"Of course I can," said Lady Ascot. - -"Then why the deuce did you ask me?" - -That was a hard question to answer, but Lady Ascot said: - -"I doubt if you are wise, James. I believe it would be better that she -should go to Australia. It is a very good match for her." - -"It is not a good match for her," said Lord Saltire, testily. "To begin -with, first-cousin marriages are an invention of the devil. Third and -lastly, she sha'n't go to that infernal hole. Sixthly, I want her, now -our Charles is dead, to marry John Marston; and, in conclusion, I mean -to have my own way." - -"Do you know," said Lady Ascot, "that he proposed to her before, and was -rejected?" - -"He told me of it the same night," said Lord Saltire. "Now, don't talk -any more nonsense, but tell me this: Is she bitten with that young -fellow?" - -"Not deeply, as yet, I think," said Lady Ascot. - -"Which of them has the best chance?" said Lord Saltire. - -"James," said Lady Ascot, repeating his own words, "do you know that -sometimes you are intolerably foolish? How can I tell?" - -"Which would you bet on, Miss Headstall?" asked Lord Saltire. - -"Well, well!" said Lady Ascot, "I suppose I should bet on John Marston." - -"And how long are you going to give Sebastopol, Lord Hainault?" said -John Marston. - -"What do you think about the Greek Kalends, my dear Marston?" said Lord -Hainault. - -"Why, no. I suppose we shall get it at last. It won't do to have it said -that England and France----" - -"Say France and England just now," said Lord Hainault. - -"No, I will not. It must not be said that England and France could not -take a Black Sea fortress." - -"We shall have to say it, I fear," said Lord Hainault. "I am not quite -sure that we English don't want a thrashing." - -"I am sure we do," said Marston, "But we shall never get one. That is -the worst of it." - -"My dear Marston," said Lord Hainault, "you have a clear head. Will you -tell me this: Do you believe that Charles Ravenshoe is dead?" - -"God bless me, Lord Hainault, have you any doubts?" - -"Yes." - -"So have I," said Marston, turning eagerly towards him. "I thought you -had all made up your minds. If there is any doubt, ought we not to -mention it to Lord Saltire?" - -"I think that he has doubts himself. I may tell you that he has secured -to him, in case of his return, eighty thousand pounds." - -"He would have made him his heir, I suppose," said John Marston; "would -he not?" - -"Yes: I think I am justified in saying Yes." - -"And so all the estates go to Lord Ascot, in any case?" - -"Unless in case of Charles's re-appearance before his death; in which -case I believe he will alter his will." - -"Then if Charles be alive, he had better keep out of Lord Ascot's way on -dark nights, in narrow lanes," said John Marston. - -"You are mistaken there," said Lord Hainault, thoughtfully. "Ascot is a -bad fellow. I told him so once in public, at the risk of getting an -awful thrashing. If it had not been for Mainwaring I should have had -sore bones for a twelvemonth. But--but--well, I was at Eton with Ascot, -and Ascot was and is a great blackguard. But, do you know, he is to some -a very affectionate fellow. You know he was adored at Eton." - -"He was not liked at Oxford," said Marston. "I never knew any good of -him. He is a great rascal." - -"Yes," said Lord Hainault, "I suppose he is what you would call a great -rascal. Yes; I told him so, you know. And I am not a fighting man, and -that proves that I was strongly convinced of the fact, or I should have -shirked my duty. A man in my position don't like to go down to the House -of Lords with a black eye. But I doubt if he is capable of any deep -villainy yet. If you were to say to me that Charles would be unwise to -allow Ascot's wife to make his gruel for him, I should say that I agreed -with you." - -"There you are certainly right, my lord," said John Marston, smiling. -"But I never knew Lord Ascot spare either man or woman." - -"That is very true," said Lord Hainault. "Do you notice that we have -been speaking as if Charles Ravenshoe were not dead?" - -"I don't believe he is," said John Marston. - -"Nor I, do you know," said Lord Hainault; "at least only half. What a -pair of ninnies we are! Only ninety men of the 140th came out of that -Balaclava charge. If he escaped the cholera, the chances are in favour -of his having been killed there." - -"What evidence have we that he enlisted in that regiment at all?" - -"Lady Hainault's and Mary's description of his uniform, which they never -distinctly saw for one moment," said Hainault. "_Viola tout._" - -"And you would not speak to Lord Saltire?" - -"Why, no. He sees all that we see. If he comes back, he gets eighty -thousand pounds. It would not do either for you or me to press him to -alter his will. Do you see?" - -"I suppose you are right, Lord Hainault. Things cannot go very wrong -either way. I hope Mary will not fall in love with that cousin of hers," -he added, with a laugh. - -"Are you wise in persevering, do you think?" said Lord Hainault, kindly. - -"I will tell you in a couple of days," said John Marston. "Is there any -chance of seeing that best of fellows, William Ravenshoe, here?" - -"He may come tumbling up. He has put off his wedding, in consequence of -the death of his half-brother. I wonder if he was humbugged at Varna?" - -"Nothing more likely," said Marston. "Where is Lord Welter?" - -"In Paris--plucking geese." - -Just about this time, all the various groups in the drawing-room -seemed to come to the conclusion that the time had arrived for -new combinations, to avoid remarks. So there was a regular -pass-in-the-corner business. John Marston went over to Mary; George -Corby came to Lord Hainault; Lord Saltire went to Lady Hainault, who had -Archy asleep in her lap; and Gus and Flora went to Lady Ascot. - -"At last, old friend," said Mary to John Marston. "And I have been -watching for you so long. I was afraid that the time would come for the -children to go to bed, and that you would never come and speak to me." - -"Lord Hainault and I were talking politics," said Marston. "That is why -I did not come." - -"Men must talk politics, I suppose," said Mary. "But I wish you had come -while my cousin was here. He is so charming. You will like him." - -"He seems to be a capital fellow," said Marston. - -"Indeed he is," said Mary. "He is really the most lovable creature I -have met for a long time. If you would take him up, and be kind to him, -and show him life, from the side from which _you_ see it, you would be -doing a good work; and you would be obliging _me_. And I know, my dear -friend, that you like to oblige me." - -"Miss Corby, you know that I would die for you." - -"I know it. Who better? It puzzles me to know what I have done to earn -such kindness from you. But there it is. You will be kind to him." - -Marston was partly pleased and partly disappointed by this conversation. -Would you like to guess why? Yes. Then I will leave you to do so, and -save myself half a page of writing. - -Only saying this, for the benefit of inexperienced novel-readers, that -he was glad to hear her talk in that free and easy manner about her -cousin; but would have been glad if she had not talked in that free and -easy manner to himself. Nevertheless, there was evidently no harm done -as yet. That was a great cause of congratulation; there was time yet. - -Gus and Flora went over to Lady Ascot. Lady Ascot said, "My dears, is it -not near bed-time?" just by way of opening the conversation--nothing -more. - -"Lawks a mercy on me, no," said Flora. "Go along with you, do, you -foolish thing." - -"My dear! my dear!" said Lady Ascot. - -"She is imitating old Alwright," explained Gus. "She told me she was -going to. Lord Saltire says, 'Maria! Maria! Maria!--you are intolerably -foolish, Maria!'" - -"Don't be naughty, Gus," said Lady Ascot. - -"Well, so he did, for I heard him. Don't mind us; we don't mean any -harm. I say, Lady Ascot, has she any right to bite and scratch?" - -"Who?" said Lady Ascot. - -"Why, that Flora. She bit Alwright because she wouldn't lend her Mrs. -Moko." - -"Oh, you dreadful fib!" said Flora. "Oh, you wicked boy! you know where -you'll go to if you tell such stories. Lady Ascot, I didn't bite her; I -only said she ought to be bit. She told me that she couldn't let me have -Mrs. Moko, because she was trying caps on her. And then she told nurse -that I should never have her again, because I squeezed her flat. And so -she told a story. And it was not I who squeezed her flat, but that boy, -who is worse than Ananias and Sapphira. And I made a bogey of her in the -nursery door, with a broom and a counterpane, just as he was coming in. -And he shut the door on her head, and squeezed a piece of paint off her -nose as big as half-a-crown." - -Lady Ascot was relieved by being informed that the Mrs. Moko aforesaid -was only a pasteboard image, the size of life, used by the lady's maid -for fitting caps. - -There were many evenings like this; a week or so was passed without any -change. At last there was a move towards London. - -The first who took flight was George Corby. He was getting dissatisfied, -in his sleepy semi-tropical way, with the state of affairs. It was -evident that, since John Marston's arrival, he had been playing, with -regard to Mary, second fiddle (if you can possibly be induced to pardon -the extreme coarseness of the expression). One day, Lord Saltire asked -him to take him for a drive. They went over to dismantled Ranford, and -Lord Saltire was more amusing than ever. As they drove up through the -dense larch plantation, on the outskirt of the park, they saw Marston -and Mary side by side. George Corby bit his lip. - -"I suppose there is something there, my lord?" said he. - -"Oh dear, yes; I hope so," said Lord Saltire. "Oh, yes, that is a very -old affair." - -So George Corby went first. He did not give up all hopes of being -successful, but he did not like the way things were going. His English -expedition was not quite so pleasant as he intended it to be. He, poor -fellow, was desperately in love, and his suit did not seem likely to -prosper. He was inclined to be angry with Lord Saltire. "He should not -have let things go so far," thought George, "without letting him know;" -quite forgetting that the mischief was done before Lord Saltire's -arrival. - -Lord Saltire and John Marston moved next. Lord Saltire had thought it -best to take his man Simpson's advice, and move into his house in Curzon -Street. He had asked John to come with him. - -"It is a very nice little house," he said; "deuced well aired, and that -sort of thing; but I know I shall have a creeping in my back when I go -back for the first week, and fancy there is a draught. This will make me -peevish. I don't like to be peevish to my servants, because it is -unfair; they can't answer one. I wish you would come and let me be -peevish to you. You may just as well. It will do you good. You have got -a fancy for disciplining yourself, and all that sort of thing; and you -will find me capital practice for a week or so in a fresh house. After -that I shall get amiable, and then you may go. You may have the use of -my carriage, to go and attend to your poor man's plaster business in -Southwark, if you like. I am not nervous about fever or vermin. Besides, -it may amuse me to hear all about it. And you can bring that cracked -uncle of yours to see me sometimes; his Scriptural talk is very -piquant." - -Lord and Lady Hainault moved up into Grosvenor Square too, for -Parliament was going to meet rather early. They persuaded Lady Ascot to -come and stay with them. - -After a few days, William made his appearance. "Well, my dear -Ravenshoe," said Lord Hainault, "and what brings you to town?" - -"I don't know," said William. "I cannot stay down there. Lord Hainault, -do you know I think I am going cracked?" - -"Why, my dear fellow, what do you mean?" - -"I have got such a strange fancy in my head, I cannot rest." - -"What is your fancy?" said Lord Hainault. "Stay; may I make a guess at -it?" - -"You would never dream what it is. It is too mad." - -"I will guess," said Lord Hainault. "Your fancy is this:--You believe -that Charles Ravenshoe is alive, and you have come up to London to take -your chance of finding him in the streets." - -"But, good God!" said William, "how have you found this out? I have -never told it even to my own sweetheart." - -"Because," said Lord Hainault, laying his hand on his shoulder, "I and -John Marston have exactly the same fancy. That is why." - -And Charles so close to them all the time. Creeping every day across the -park to see the coachman and his son. Every day getting more hopeless. -All energy gone. Wit enough left to see that he was living on the -charity of the cornet. There were some splinters in his arm which would -not come away, and kept him restless. He never slept now. He hesitated -when he was spoken to. Any sudden noise made him start and look wild. I -will not go on with the symptoms. Things were much worse with him than -we have ever seen them before. He, poor lad, began to wonder whether it -would come to him to die in a hospital or---- - -Those cursed bridges! Why did they build such things? Who built them? -The devil. To tempt ruined, desperate men, with ten thousand fiends -gnawing and sawing in their deltoid muscles, night and day. Suppose he -had to cross one of these by night, would he ever get to the other side? -Or would angels from heaven come down and hold him back? - -The cornet and his mother had a conversation about him. Bawled the -cornet into the ear-trumpet: - -"My fellow Simpson is very bad, mother. He is getting low and nervous, -and I don't like the looks of him." - -"I remarked it myself," said the lady. "We had better have Bright. It -would be cheaper to pay five guineas, and get a good opinion at once." - -"I expect he wants a surgeon more than a doctor," said the cornet. - -"Well, that is the doctor's business," said the old lady. "Drop a line -to Bright, and see what he says. It would be a burning shame, my -dear--enough to bring down the wrath of God upon us--if we were to let -him want for anything, as long as we have money. And we have plenty of -money. More than we want. And if it annoys him to go near the horses, we -must pension him. But I would rather let him believe that he was earning -his wages, because it might be a weight on his mind if he did not. See -to it the first thing in the morning. Remember Balaclava, James! -Remember Balaclava! If you forget Balaclava, and what trooper Simpson -did for you there, you are tempting God to forget you." - -"I hope He may when I do, mother," shouted the cornet. "I remember -Balaclava--ay, and Devna before." - -There are such people as these in the world, reader. I know some of -them. I know a great many of them. So many of them, in fact, that this -conclusion has been forced upon me--that the world is _not_ entirely -peopled by rogues and fools; nay, more, that the rogues and fools form a -contemptible minority. I may become unpopular, I may be sneered at by -men who think themselves wiser for coming to such a conclusion; but I -will not retract what I have said. The good people in the world -outnumber the bad, ten to one, and the ticket for this sort of belief is -"Optimist." - -This conversation between the cornet and his mother took place at -half-past two. At that time Charles had crept across the park to the -Mews, near Belgrave Square, to see his friend the duke's coachman and -his son. May I be allowed, without being accused of writing a novel in -the "confidential style," to tell you that this is the most important -day in the whole story. - -At half-past two, William Ravenshoe called at Lord Hainault's house in -Grosvenor Square. He saw Lady Ascot. Lady Ascot asked him what sort of -weather it was out of doors. - -William said that there was a thick fog near the river, but that on the -north side of the square it was pleasant. So Lady Ascot said she would -like a walk, if it were only for ten minutes, if he would give her his -arm; and out they went. - -Mary and the children came out too, but they went into the square. Lady -Ascot and William walked slowly up and down the pavement alone, for Lady -Ascot liked to see the people. - -Up and down the north side, in front of the house. At the second turn, -when they were within twenty yards of the west end of the square, a tall -man with an umbrella over his shoulder came round the corner, and leant -against the lamp-post. They both knew him in an instant. It was Lord -Ascot. He had not seen them. He had turned to look at a great -long-legged chestnut that was coming down the street, from the right, -with a human being on his back. The horse was desperately vicious, but -very beautiful and valuable. The groom on his back was neither beautiful -nor valuable, and was losing his temper with the horse. The horse was -one of those horses vicious by nature--such a horse as Rarey (all honour -to him) can terrify into submission for a short time; and the groom was -a groom, not one of our country lads, every one of whose virtues and -vices have been discussed over and over again at the squire's -dinner-table, or about whom the rector had scratched his head, and had -had into his study for private exhortation or encouragement. Not one of -the minority. One of the majority, I fear very much. Reared, like a dog, -among the straw, without education, without religion, without -self-respect--worse broke than the horse he rode. When I think of all -that was said against grooms and stable-helpers during the Rarey fever, -I get very angry, I confess it. One man said to me, "When we have had a -groom or two killed, we shall have our horses treated properly." Look to -your grooms, gentlemen, and don't allow such a blot on the fair fame of -England as some racing stables much longer, or there will be a heavy -reckoning against you when the books are balanced. - -But the poor groom lost his temper with the horse, and beat it over the -head. And Lord Ascot stayed to say, "D---- it all, man, you will never -do any good like that," though a greater fiend on horseback than Lord -Ascot I never saw. - -This gave time for Lady Ascot to say, "Come on, my dear Ravenshoe, and -let us speak to him." So on they went. Lord Ascot was so busy looking at -the horse and groom, that they got close behind him before he saw them. -Nobody being near, Lady Ascot, with a sparkle of her old fun, poked him -in the back with her walking-stick. Lord Ascot turned sharply and -angrily round, with his umbrella raised for a blow. - -When he saw who it was, he burst out into a pleasant laugh. "Now, you -grandma," he said, "you keep that old stick of yours quiet, or you'll -get into trouble. What do you mean by assaulting the head of the house -in the public streets? I am ashamed of you. You, Ravenshoe, you egged -her on to do it. I shall have to punch your head before I have done. How -are you both?" - -"And where have you been, you naughty boy?" said Lady Ascot. - -"At Paris," said that ingenuous nobleman, "dicing and brawling, as -usual. Nobody can accuse me of hiding _my_ talents in a napkin, grandma. -Those two things are all I am fit for, and I certainly do them with a -will. I have fought a duel, too. A Yankee Doodle got it into his head -that he might be impertinent to Adelaide; so I took him out and shot -him. Don't cry, now. He is not dead. He'll walk lame though, I fancy, -for a time. How jolly it is to catch you out here! I dread meeting that -insufferable prig Hainault, for fear I should kick him. Give me her arm, -my dear Ravenshoe." - -"And where is Adelaide?" said Lady Ascot. - -"Up at St. John's Wood," said he. "Do steal away, and come and see her. -Grandma, I was very sorry to hear of poor Charles's death--I was indeed. -You know what it has done for me; but, by Gad, I was very sorry." - -"Dear Welter--dear Ascot," said Lady Ascot, "I am sure you were sorry. -Oh! if you would repent, my own dear. If you would think of the love -that Christ bore you when He died for you. Oh, Ascot, Ascot! will -nothing save you from the terrible hereafter?" - -"I am afraid not, grandma," said Lord Ascot. "It is getting too cold for -you to stay out. Ravenshoe, my dear fellow, take her in." - -And so, after a kind good-bye, Lord Ascot walked away towards the -south-west. - -I am afraid that John Marston was right. I am afraid he spoke the truth -when he said that Lord Ascot was a savage, untameable blackguard. - - - - -CHAPTER LIX. - -LORD ASCOT'S CROWNING ACT OF FOLLY. - - -Lord Ascot, with his umbrella over his shoulder, swung on down the -street, south-westward. The town was pleasant in the higher parts, and -so he felt inclined to prolong his walk. He turned to the right into -Park Lane. - -He was a remarkable-looking man. So tall, so broad, with such a mighty -chest, and such a great, red, hairless, cruel face above it, that -people, when he paused to look about him, as he did at each street -corner, turned to look at him. He did not notice it; he was used it. -And, besides, as he walked there were two or three words ringing yet in -his ears which made him look less keenly than usual after the handsome -horses and pretty faces which he met in his walk. - -"Oh, Ascot, Ascot! will nothing save you from the terrible hereafter?" - -"Confound those old women, more particularly when they take to religion. -Always croaking. And grandma Ascot, too, as plucky and good an old soul -as any in England--as good a judge of a horse as William Day--taking to -that sort of thing. Hang it! it was unendurable. It was bad taste, you -know, putting such ideas into a fellow's head. London was dull enough -after Paris, without that." - -So thought Lord Ascot, as he stood in front of Dudley House, and looked -southward. The winter sun was feebly shining where he was, but to the -south there was a sea of fog, out of which rose the Wellington statue, -looking more exasperating than ever, and the two great houses at the -Albert Gate. - -"This London is a beastly hole," said he. "I have got to go down into -that cursed fog. I wish Tattersall's was anywhere else." But he -shouldered his umbrella again, and on he went. - -Opposite St. George's Hospital there were a number of medical students. -Two of them, regardless of the order which should always be kept on Her -Majesty's highway, were wrestling. Lord Ascot paused for a moment to -look at them. He heard one of the students who were looking on say to -another, evidently about himself-- - -"By Gad! what preparations that fellow would cut up into." - -"Ah!" said another, "and wouldn't he cuss and d---- under the operation -neither." - -"I know who that is," said a third. "That's Lord Ascot; the most -infernal, headlong, gambling savage in the three kingdoms." - -So Lord Ascot, in the odour of sanctity, passed down into Tattersall's -yard. There was no one in the rooms. He went out into the yard again. - -"Hullo, you sir! Have you seen Mr. Sloane?" - -"Mr. Sloane was here not ten minutes ago, my lord. He thought your -lordship was not coming. He is gone down to the Groom's Arms." - -"Where the deuce is that?" - -"In Chapel Street, at the corner of the mews, my lord. Fust turning on -the right, my lord." - -Lord Ascot had business with our old acquaintance, Mr. Sloane, and went -on. When he came to the public-house mentioned (the very same one in -which the Servants' Club was held, to which Charles belonged), he went -into the bar, and asked of a feeble-minded girl, left accidentally in -charge of the bar--"Where was Mr. Sloane?" And she said, "Upstairs, in -the club-room." - -Lord Ascot walked up to the club-room, and looked in at the glass door. -And there he saw Sloane. He was standing up, with his hand on a man's -shoulder, who had a map before him. Right and left of these two men were -two other men, an old one and a young one, and the four faces were close -together; and while he watched them, the man with the map before him -looked up, and Lord Ascot saw Charles Ravenshoe, pale and wan, looking -like death itself, but still Charles Ravenshoe in the body. - -He did not open the door. He turned away, went down into the street, and -set his face northward. - -So he was alive, and----There were more things to follow that "and" than -he had time to think of at first. He had a cunning brain, Lord Ascot, -but he could not get at his position at first. The whole business was -too unexpected--he had not time to realise it. - -The afternoon was darkening as he turned his steps northwards, and began -to walk rapidly, with scowling face and compressed lips. One or two of -the students still lingered on the steps of the hospital. The one who -had mentioned him by name before said to his fellows, "Look at that Lord -Ascot. What a devil he looks! He has lost some money. Gad! there'll be -murder done to-night. They oughtn't to let such fellows go loose!" - -Charles Ravenshoe alive. And Lord Saltire's will. Half a million of -money. And Charley Ravenshoe, the best old cock in the three kingdoms. -Of all his villainies--and, God forgive him, they were many--the one -that weighed heaviest on his heart was his treatment of Charles. And -now---- - -The people turned and looked after him as he hurled along. Why did his -wayward feet carry him to the corner of Curzon Street? That was not his -route to St. John's Wood. The people stared at the great red-faced -giant, who paused against the lamp-post irresolute, biting his upper lip -till the blood came. - -How would they have stared if they had seen what I see.[11] - -There were two angels in the street that wretched winter afternoon, who -had followed Lord Ascot in his headlong course, and paused here. He -could see them but dimly, or only guess at their existence, but I can -see them plainly enough. - -One was a white angel, beautiful to look at, who stood a little way off, -beckoning to him, and pointing towards Lord Saltire's house; and the -other was black, with its face hid in a hood, who was close beside him, -and kept saying in his ear, "Half a million! half a million!" - -A strange apparition in Curzon Street, at four o'clock on a January -afternoon! If you search the files of the papers at this period, you -will find no notice of any remarkable atmospheric phenomena in Curzon -Street that afternoon. But two angels were there, nevertheless, and Lord -Ascot had a dim suspicion of it. - -A dim suspicion of it! How could it be otherwise, when he heard a voice -in one ear repeating Lady Ascot's last words, "What can save you from -the terrible hereafter?" and in the other the stealthy whisper of the -fiend, "Half a million! half a million!" - -He paused, only for a moment, and then headed northward again. The black -angel was at his ear, but the white one was close to him--so close, that -when his own door opened, the three passed in together. Adelaide, -standing under the chandelier in the hall, saw nothing of the two -spirits; only her husband, scowling fiercely. - -She was going upstairs to dress, but she paused. As soon as Lord Ascot's -"confidential scoundrel," before mentioned, had left the hall, she came -up to him, and in a whisper, for she knew the man was listening, said: - -"What is the matter, Welter?" - -He looked as if he would have pushed her out of the way. But he did not. -He said: - -"I have seen Charles Ravenshoe." - -"When?" - -"To-night." - -"Good God! Then it is almost a matter of time with us," said Adelaide. -"I had a dim suspicion of this, Ascot. It is horrible. We are ruined." - -"Not yet," said Lord Ascot. - -"There is time--time. He is obstinate and mad. Lord Saltire might -die----" - -"Well?" - -"Either of them," she hissed out. "Is there no----" - -"No what?" - -"There is half a million of money," said Adelaide. - -"Well?" - -"All sorts of things happen to people." - -Lord Ascot looked at her for an instant, and snarled out a curse at her. - -John Marston was perfectly right. He was a savage, untameable -blackguard. He went upstairs into his bedroom. The two angels were with -him. They are with all of us at such times as these. There is no -plagiarism here. The fact is too old for that. - -Up and down, up and down. The bedroom was not long enough; so he opened -the door of the dressing-room; and that was not long enough; and so he -opened the door of what had been the nursery in a happier household than -his; and walked up and down through them all. And Adelaide sat below, -before a single candle, with pale face and clenched lips, listening to -his footfall on the floor above. - -She knew as well as if an angel had told her what was passing in his -mind as he walked up and down. She had foreseen this crisis plainly--you -may laugh at me, but she had. She had seen that if, by any wild -conjunction of circumstances, Charles Ravenshoe were alive, and if he -were to come across him before Lord Saltire's death, events would -arrange themselves exactly as they were doing on this terrible evening. -There was something awfully strange in the realisation of her morbid -suspicions. - -Yes, she had seen thus far, and had laughed at herself for entertaining -such mad fancies. But she had seen no further. What the upshot would be -was hidden from her like a dark veil, black and impenetrable as the fog -which was hanging over Waterloo Bridge at that moment, which made the -squalid figure of a young, desperate girl show like a pale, fluttering -ghost, leading a man whom we know well, a man who followed her, on the -road to--what? - -The rest, though, seemed to be, in some sort, in her own hands. Wealth, -position in the world, the power of driving her chariot over the necks -of those who had scorned her--the only things for which her worthless -heart cared--were all at stake. - -"He will murder me," she said, "_but he shall hear me_." - -Still, up and down, over head, his heavy footfall went to and fro. - -Seldom, in any man's life, comes such a trial as his this night. A good -man might have been hard tried in such circumstances. What hope can we -have of a desperate blackguard like Lord Ascot? He knew Lord Saltire -hated him; he knew that Lord Saltire had only left his property to him -because he thought Charles Ravenshoe was dead; and yet he hesitated -whether or no he should tell Lord Saltire that he had seen Charles, and -ruin himself utterly. - -Was he such an utter rascal as John Marston made him out? Would such a -rascal have hesitated long? What could make a man without a character, -without principle, without a care about the world's opinion, hesitate at -such a time as this? I cannot tell you. - -He was not used to think about things logically or calmly: and so, as he -paced up and down, it was some time before he actually arranged his -thoughts. Then he came to this conclusion, and put it fairly before -him--that, if he let Lord Saltire know that Charles Ravenshoe was alive, -he was ruined; and that, if he did not, he was a villain. - -Let us give the poor profligate wretch credit for getting even so far as -this. There was no attempt to gloss over the facts, and deceive himself. -He put the whole matter honestly before him. - -He would be a fool if he told Lord Saltire. He would be worse than a -fool, a madman--there was no doubt about that. It was not to be thought -about. - -But Charles Ravenshoe! - -How pale the dear old lad looked. What a kind, gentle old face it was. -How well he could remember the first time he ever saw him. At Twyford, -yes; and, that very same visit, how he ran across the billiard-room, and -asked him who Lord Saltire was. Yes. What jolly times there were down in -Devonshire, too. Those Claycomb hounds wanted pace, but they were full -fast enough for the country. And what a pottering old rascal Charley was -among the stone walls. Rode through. Yes. And how he'd mow over a -woodcock. Fire slap through a holly bush. Ha! - -And suppose they proved this previous marriage. Why, then he would be -back at Ravenshoe, and all things would be as they were. But suppose -they couldn't---- - -Lord Ascot did not know that eighty thousand pounds were secured to -Charles. - -By Gad! it was horrible to think of. That it should be thrown on him, of -all men, to stand between old Charley and his due. If it were any other -man but him---- - -Reader, if you do not know that a man will act from "sentiment" long, -long years after he has thrown "principle" to the winds, you had better -pack up your portmanteau, and go and live five years or more among -Australian convicts and American rowdies, as a friend of mine did. The -one long outlives the other. The incarnate devils who beat out poor -Price's brains with their shovels, when they had the gallows before -them, consistently perjured themselves in favour of the youngest of the -seven, the young fiend who had hounded them on. - -Why there never was such a good fellow as that Charley. That Easter -vacation--hey! Among the bargees, hang it, what a game it was----I won't -follow out his recollections here any further. Skittle-playing and -fighting are all very well; but one may have too much of them. - -"I might still do this," thought Lord Ascot: "I might----" - -At this moment he was opposite the dressing-room door. It was opened, -and Adelaide stood before him. - -Beautiful and terrible, with a look which her husband had, as yet, only -seen shadowed dimly--a look which he felt might come there some day, but -which he had never seen yet. The light of her solitary candle shone upon -her pale face, her gleaming eyes, and her clenched lip; and he saw what -was written there, and for one moment quailed. - -("If you were to say to me," said Lord Hainault once, "that Charles -would be unwise to let Ascot's wife make his gruel for him, I should -agree with you.") - -Only for one moment! Then he turned on her and cursed her. - -"What, in the name of hell, do you want here at this moment?" - -"You may murder me if you like, Ascot; but, before you have time to do -that, you shall hear what I have got to say. I have been listening to -your footsteps for a weary hour, and I heard irresolution in every one -of them. Ascot, don't be a madman!" - -"I shall be soon, if you come at such a time as this, and look like -that. If my face were to take the same expression as yours has now, Lady -Ascot, these would be dangerous quarters for you." - -"I know that," said she. "I knew all that before I came up here -to-night, Ascot. Ascot, half a million of money----" - -"Why, all the devils in the pit have been singing that tune for an hour -past. Have you only endangered your life to add your little pipe to -theirs?" - -"I have. Won't you hear me?" - -"No. Go away." - -"Are you going to do it." - -"Most likely not. You had better go away." - -"You might give him a hundred thousand pounds, you know, Ascot. Four -thousand a year. The poor dear fellow would worship you for your -generosity. He is a very good fellow, Ascot." - -"You had better go away," said he, quietly. - -"Not without a promise, Ascot. Think----" - -"Now go away. This is the last warning I give you. Madwoman!" - -"But, Ascot----" - -"Take care; it will be too late for both of us in another moment." - -She caught his eye for the first time, and fled for her life. She ran -down into the drawing-room, and threw herself into a chair. "God -preserve me!" she said; "I have gone too far with him. Oh, this lonely -house!" - -Every drop of blood in her body seemed to fly to her heart. There were -footsteps outside the door. Oh, God! have mercy on her; he was following -her. - -Where were the two angels now, I wonder? - -He opened the door, and came towards her slowly. If mortal agony can -atone for sin, she atoned for all her sins in that terrible half-minute. -She did not cry out; she dared not; she writhed down among the gaudy -cushions, with her face buried in her hands, and waited--for what? - -She heard a voice speaking to her. It was not his voice, but the kind -voice of old Lord Ascot, his dead father. It said-- - -"Adelaide, my poor girl, you must not get frightened when I get in a -passion. My poor child, you have borne enough for me; I would not hurt a -hair of your head." - -He kissed her cheek, and Adelaide burst into a passion of sobs. After a -few moments those sobs had ceased, and Lord Ascot left her. He did not -know that she had fainted away. She never told him that. - -Where were the angels now? Angels!--there was but one of them left. -Which one was that, think you? - -Hurrah! the good angel. The black fiend with the hood had sneaked away -to his torment. And, as Lord Ascot closed the door behind him, and sped -away down the foggy street, the good one vanished too; for the work was -done. Ten thousand fiends would not turn him from his purpose now. -Hurrah! - - * * * * * - -"Simpson," said Lord Saltire, as he got into bed that evening, "it won't -last much longer." - -"What will not last, my lord?" said Simpson. - -"Why, me," said Lord Saltire, disregarding grammar. "Don't set up a -greengrocer's shop, Simpson, nor a butter and egg shop, in Berkeley -Street, if you can help it, Simpson. If you must keep a lodging-house, I -should say Jermyn Street; but don't let me influence you. I am not sure -that I wouldn't sooner see you in Brook Street, or Conduit Street. But -don't try Pall Mall, that's a good fellow; or you'll be getting fast -men, who will demoralise your establishment. A steady connection among -government clerks, and that sort of person, will pay best in the long -run." - -"My dear lord--my good old friend, why should you talk like this -to-night?" - -"Because I am very ill, Simpson, and it will all come at once; and it -may come any time. When they open Lord Barkham's room, at Cottingdean, I -should like you and Mr. Marston to go in first, for I may have left -something or another about." - -An hour or two after, his bell rang, and Simpson, who was in the -dressing-room, came hurriedly in. He was sitting up in bed, looking just -the same as usual. - -"My good fellow," he said, "go down and find out who rung and knocked at -the door like that. Did you hear it?" - -"I did not notice it, my lord." - -"Butchers, and bakers, and that sort of people, don't knock and ring -like that. The man at the door now brings news, Simpson. There is no -mistake about the ring of a man who comes with important intelligence. -Go down and see." - -He was not long gone. When he came back again, he said-- - -"It is Lord Ascot, my lord. He insists on seeing you immediately." - -"Up with him, Simpson--up with him, my good fellow. I told you so. This -gets interesting." - -Lord Ascot was already in the doorway. Lord Saltire's brain was as acute -as ever; and as Lord Ascot approached him, he peered eagerly and -curiously at him, in the same way as one scrutinises the seal of an -unopened letter, and wonders what its contents may be. Lord Ascot sat -down by the bed, and whispered to the old man; and, when Simpson saw his -great coarse, red, hairless, ruffianly face actually touching that of -Lord Saltire, so delicate, so refined, so keen, Simpson began to have a -dim suspicion that he was looking on rather a remarkable sight. And so -he was. - -"Lord Saltire," said Lord Ascot, "I have seen Charles Ravenshoe -to-night." - -"You are quite sure?" - -"I am quite sure." - -"Ha! Ring the bell, Simpson." Before any one had spoken again, a footman -was in the room. "Bring the major-domo here instantly," said Lord -Saltire. - -"You know what you have done, Ascot," said Lord Saltire. "You see what -you have done. I am going to send for my solicitor, and alter my will." - -"Of course you are," said Lord Ascot. "Do you dream I did not know that -before I came here?" - -"And yet you came?" - -"Yes; with all the devils out of hell dragging me back." - -"As a matter of curiosity, why?" said Lord Saltire. - -"Oh, I couldn't do it, you know. I've done a good many dirty things; but -I couldn't do that, particularly to that man. There are some things a -fellow can't do, you know." - -"Where did you see him?" - -"At the Groom's Arms, Belgrave Mews; he was there not three hours ago. -Find a man called Sloane, a horse-dealer; he will tell you all about -him; for he was sitting with his hand on his shoulder. His address is -twenty-seven, New Road." - -At this time the major-domo appeared. "Take a cab at once, and _fetch_ -me--you understand when I say _fetch_--Mr. Brogden, my solicitor. Mr. -Compton lives out of town, but he lives over the office in Lincoln's -Inn. If you can get hold of the senior partner, he will do as well. Put -either of them in a cab, and pack them off here. Then go to Scotland -Yard; give my compliments to inspector Field; tell him a horrible murder -has been committed, accompanied by arson, forgery, and regrating, with a -strong suspicion of sorning, and that he must come at once." - -That venerable gentleman disappeared, and then Lord Saltire said-- - -"Do you repent, Ascot?" - -"No," said he. "D---- it all, you know, I could not do it when I came to -think of it. The money would never have stayed with me, I take it. -Good-night." - -"Good-night," said Lord Saltire; "come the first thing in the morning." - -And so they parted. Simpson said, "Are you going to alter your will -to-night, my lord? Won't it be a little too much for you?" - -"It would be if I was going to do so, Simpson; but I am not going to -touch a line of it. I am not sure that half a million of money was ever, -in the history of the world, given up with better grace or with less -reason. He is a noble fellow; I never guessed it; he shall have it--by -Jove, he shall have it! I am going to sleep. Apologise to Brogden, and -give the information to Field; tell him I expect Charles Ravenshoe here -to-morrow morning. Good-night." - -Simpson came in to open the shutters next morning; but those shutters -were not opened for ten days, for Lord Saltire was dead. - -Dead. The delicate waxen right hand, covered with rings, was lying -outside on the snow-white sheet, which was unwrinkled by any death -agony; and on the pillow was a face, beautiful always, but now more -beautiful, more calm, more majestic than ever. If his first love, dead -so many years, had met him in the streets but yesterday, she would not -have known him; but if she could have looked one moment on the face -which lay on that pillow, she would have seen once more the gallant -young nobleman who came a-wooing under the lime-trees sixty years agone. - -The inspector was rapid and dexterous in his work. He was on Charles -Ravenshoe's trail like a bloodhound, eager to redeem the credit which -his coadjutor, Yard, had lost over the same case. But his instructions -came to him three hours too late. - - - - -CHAPTER LX. - -THE BRIDGE AT LAST. - - -The group which Lord Ascot had seen through the glass doors consisted of -Charles, the coachman's son, the coachman, and Mr. Sloane. Charles and -the coachman's son had got hold of a plan of the battle of Balaclava, -from the _Illustrated London News_, and were explaining the whole thing -to the two older men, to their great delight. The four got enthusiastic -and prolonged the talk for some time; and, when it began to flag, Sloane -said he must go home, and so they came down into the bar. - -Here a discussion arose about the feeding of cavalry horses, in which -all four were perfectly competent to take part. The two young men were -opposed in argument to the two elder ones, and they were having a right -pleasant chatter about the corn or hay question in the bar, when the -swing doors were pushed open, and a girl entered and looked round with -that bold, insolent expression one only sees among a certain class. - -A tawdry draggled-looking girl, finely-enough dressed, but with -everything awry and dirty. Her face was still almost beautiful; but the -cheekbones were terribly prominent, and the hectic patch of red on her -cheeks, and the parched cracked lips, told of pneumonia developing into -consumption. - -Such a figure had probably never appeared in that decent aristocratic -public-house, called the Groom's Arms, since it had got its licence. The -four men ceased their argument and turned to look at her; and the -coachman, a family man with daughters, said, "Poor thing!" - -With a brazen, defiant look she advanced to the bar. The barmaid, a very -beautiful, quiet-looking, London-bred girl, advanced towards her, -frightened at such a wild, tawdry apparition, and asked her mechanically -what she would please to take. - -"I don't want nothing to drink, miss," said the girl; "least-ways, I've -got no money; but I want to ask a question. I say, miss, you couldn't -give a poor girl one of them sandwiches, could you? You would never miss -it, you know." - -The barmaid's father, the jolly landlord, eighteen stone of good humour, -was behind his daughter now. "Give her a porkpie, Jane, and a glass of -ale, my girl." - -"God Almighty bless you, sir, and keep her from the dark places where -the devil lies a-waiting. I didn't come here to beg--it was only when I -see them sandwiches that it came over me--I come here to ask a question. -I know it ain't no use. But you can't see him--can't see him--can't see -him," she continued, sobbing wildly, "rattling his poor soul away, and -not do as he asked you. I didn't come to get out for a walk. I sat there -patient three days, and would have sat there till the end, but he would -have me come. And so I came; and I must get back--get back." - -The landlord's daughter brought her some food, and as her eyes gleamed -with wolfish hunger, she stopped speaking. It was a strange group. She -in the centre, tearing at her food in a way terrible to see. Behind, the -calm face of the landlord, looking on her with pity and wonder; and his -pretty daughter, with her arm round his waist, and her head on his -bosom, with tears in her eyes. Our four friends stood to the right, -silent and curious--a remarkable group enough; for neither the duke's -coachman, nor Mr. Sloane, who formed the background, were exactly -ordinary-looking men; and in front of them were Charles and the -coachman's son, who had put his hand on Charles's right shoulder, and -was peering over his left at the poor girl, so that the two faces were -close together--the one handsome and pale, with the mouth hidden by a -moustache; the other, Charles's, wan and wild, with the lips parted in -eager curiosity, and the chin thrust slightly forward. - -In a few minutes the girl looked round on them. "I said I'd come here to -ask a question; and I must ask it and get back. There was a gentleman's -groom used to use this house, and I want him. His name was Charles -Horton. If you, sir, or if any of these gentlemen, know where I can find -him, in God Almighty's name tell me this miserable night." - -Charles was pale before, but he grew more deadly pale now; his heart -told him something was coming. His comrade, the coachman's son, held his -hand tighter still on his shoulder, and looked in his face. Sloane and -the coachman made an exclamation. - -Charles said quietly, "My poor girl, I am the man you are looking for. -What, in God's name, do you want with me?" and, while he waited for her -to answer, he felt all the blood in his body going towards his heart. - -"Little enough," she said. "Do you mind a little shoeblack boy as used -to stand by St. Peter's Church?" - -"Do I?" said Charles, coming towards her. "Yes, I do. My poor little -lad. You don't mean to say that you know anything about him?" - -"I am his sister, sir; and he is dying; and he says he won't die not -till you come. And I come off to see if I could find you. Will you come -with me and see him?" - -"Will I come?" said Charles. "Let us go at once. My poor little monkey. -Dying, too!" - -"Poor little man," said the coachman. "A many times, I've heard you -speak of him. Let's all go." - -Mr. Sloane and his son seconded this motion. - -"You mustn't come," said the girl. "There's a awful row in the court -to-night; that's the truth. He's safe enough with me; but if you come, -they'll think a mob's being raised. Now, don't talk of coming." - -"You had better let me go alone," said Charles. "I feel sure that it -would not be right for more of us to follow this poor girl than she -chooses. I am ready." - -And so he followed the girl out into the darkness; and, as soon as they -were outside, she turned and said to him-- - -"You'd best follow me from a distance. I'll tell you why; I expect the -police wants me, and you might get into trouble from being with me. -Remember, if I am took, it's Marquis Court, Little Marjoram Street, and -it's the end house, exactly opposite you as you go in. If you stands at -the archway, and sings out for Miss Ophelia Flanigan, she'll come to -you. But if the row ain't over, you wait till they're quiet. Whatever -you do, don't venture in by yourself, however quiet it may look; sing -out for her." - -And so she fluttered away through the fog, and he followed, walking fast -to keep her in sight. - -It was a dreadful night. The fog had lifted, and a moaning wind had -arisen, with rain from the south-west. A wild, dripping, melancholy -night, without rain enough to make one think of physical discomfort, and -without wind enough to excite one. - -The shoeblacks and the crossing-sweepers were shouldering their brooms -and their boxes, and were plodding homewards. The costermongers were -letting their barrows stand in front of the public-houses, while they -went in to get something to drink, and were discussing the price of -vegetables, and being fetched out by dripping policemen, for obstructing -her Majesty's highway. The beggars were gathering their rags together, -and posting homewards; let us charitably suppose, to their bit of fish, -with guinea-fowl and sea-kale afterwards, or possibly, for it was not -late in February, to their boiled pheasant and celery sauce. Every one -was bound for shelter but the policemen. And Charles--poor, silly, -obstinate Charles, with an earl's fortune waiting for him, dressed as a -groom, pale, wan, and desperate--was following a ruined girl, more -desperate even than he, towards the bridge. - -Yes; this is the darkest part of my whole story. Since his misfortunes -he had let his mind dwell a little too much on these bridges. There are -very few men without a cobweb of some sort in their heads, more or less -innocent. Charles had a cobweb in his head now. The best of men might -have a cobweb in his head after such a terrible breakdown in his -affairs as he had suffered; more especially if he had three or four -splinters of bone in his deltoid muscle, which had prevented his -sleeping for three nights. But I would sooner that any friend of mine -should at such times take to any form of folly (such even as having -fifty French clocks in the room, and discharging the butler if they did -not all strike at once, as one good officer and brave fellow did) rather -than get to thinking about bridges after dark, with the foul water -lapping and swirling about the piers. I have hinted to you about this -crotchet of poor Charles for a long time; I was forced to do so. I think -the less we say about it the better. I call you to witness that I have -not said more about it than was necessary. - -At the end of Arabella Row, the girl stopped, and looked back for him. -The mews' clock was overhead, a broad orb of light in the dark sky. Ten -minutes past ten. Lord Ascot was sitting beside Lord Saltire's bed, and -Lord Saltire had rung the bell to send for Inspector Field. - -She went on, and he followed her along the Mall. She walked fast, and he -had hard work to keep her in sight. He saw her plainly enough whenever -she passed a lamp. Her shadow was suddenly thrown at his feet, and then -swept in a circle to the right, till it overtook her, and then passed -her, and grew dim till she came to another lamp, and then came back to -his feet, and passed on to her again, beckoning him on to follow her, -and leading her--whither? - -How many lamps were there? One, two, three, four; and then a man lying -asleep on a bench in the rain, who said, with a wild, wan face, when the -policeman roused him, and told him to go home, "My home is in the -Thames, friend; but I shall not go there to-night, or perhaps -to-morrow." - -"His home was in the Thames." The Thames, the dear old happy river. The -wonder and delight of his boyhood. That was the river that slept in -crystal green depths, under the tumbled boulders fallen from the chalk -cliff, where the ivy, the oak, and the holly grew; and then went -spouting, and raging, and roaring through the weirs at Casterton, where -he and Welter used to bathe, and where he lay and watched kind Lord -Ascot spinning patiently through one summer afternoon, till he killed -the eight-pound trout at sundown. - -That was the dear old Thames. But that was fifty miles up the river, and -ages ago. Now, and here, the river had got foul, and lapped about -hungrily among piles, and barges, and the buttresses of bridges. And -lower down it ran among mud banks. And there was a picture of one of -them, by dear old H. K. Browne, and you didn't see at first what it was -that lay among the sedges, because the face was reversed, and the limbs -were---- - -They passed in the same order through Spring Gardens into the Strand. -And then Charles found it more troublesome than ever to follow the poor -girl in her rapid walk. There were so many like her there: but she -walked faster than any of them. Before he came to the street which leads -to Waterloo Bridge, he thought he had lost her; but when he turned the -corner; and as the dank wind smote upon his face, he came upon her, -waiting for him. - -And so they went on across the bridge. They walked together now. Was she -frightened, too? - -When they reached the other end of the bridge, she went on again to show -the way. A long way on past the Waterloo Station, she turned to the -left. They passed out of a broad, low, noisy street, into other streets, -some quiet, some turbulent, some blazing with the gas of miserable -shops, some dark and stealthy, with only one or two figures in them, -which disappeared round corners, or got into dark archways as they -passed. Charles saw that they were getting into "Queer Street." - -How that poor gaudy figure fluttered on! How it paused at each turning -to look back for him, and then fluttered on once more! What innumerable -turnings there were! How should he ever find his way back--back to the -bridge? - -At last she turned into a street of greengrocers, and marine-store -keepers, in which the people were all at their house doors looking out; -all looking in one direction, and talking so earnestly to one another, -that even his top-boots escaped notice: which struck him as being -remarkable, as nearly all the way from Waterloo Bridge a majority of the -populace had criticised them, either ironically; or openly, in an -unfavourable manner. He thought they were looking at a fire, and turned -his head in the same direction; he only saw the poor girl, standing at -the mouth of a narrow entry, watching for him. - -He came up to her. A little way down a dark alley was an archway, and -beyond there were lights, and a noise of a great many people shouting, -and talking, and screaming. The girl stole on, followed by Charles a few -steps, and then drew suddenly back. The whole of the alley, and the dark -archway beyond, was lined with policemen. A brisk-looking, middle-sized -man, with intensely black scanty whiskers, stepped out, and stood before -them. Charles saw at once that it was the inspector of police. - -"Now then, young woman," he said sharply, "what are you bringing that -young man here for, eh?" - -She was obliged to come forward. She began wringing her hands. - -"Mr. Inspector," she said, "sir, I wish I may be struck dead, sir, if I -don't tell the truth. It's my poor little brother, sir. He's a dying in -number eight, sir, and he sent for this young man for to see him, sir. -Oh! don't stop us, sir. S'elp me----" - -"Pish!" said the inspector; "what the devil is the use of talking this -nonsense to me? As for you, young man, you march back home double quick. -You've no business here. It's seldom we see a gentleman's servant in -such company in this part of the town." - -"Pooh! pooh! my good sir," said Charles; "stuff and nonsense. Don't -assume that tone with me, if you will have the goodness. What the young -woman says is perfectly correct. If you can assist me to get to that -house at the further end of the court, where the poor boy lies dying, I -shall be obliged to you. If you can't, don't express an opinion without -being in possession of circumstances. You may detain the girl, but I am -going on. You don't know who you are talking to." - -How the old Oxford insolence flashed out even at the last. - -The inspector drew back and bowed. "I must do my duty, sir. Dickson!" - -Dickson, in whose beat the court was, as he knew by many a sore bone in -his body, came forward. He said, "Well, sir, I won't deny that the young -woman is Bess, and perhaps she may be on the cross, and I don't go to -say that what with flimping, and with cly-faking, and such like, she -mayn't be wanted some day like her brother the Nipper was; but she is a -good young woman, and a honest young woman in her way, and what she says -this night about her brother is gospel truth." - -"Flimping" is a style of theft which I have never practised, and, -consequently, of which I know nothing. "Cly-faking" is stealing -pocket-handkerchiefs. I never practised this either, never having had -sufficient courage or dexterity. But, at all events, Police-constable -Dickson's notion of "an honest young woman in her way" seems to me to be -confused and unsatisfactory in the last degree. - -The inspector said to Charles, "Sir, if gentlemen disguise themselves -they must expect the police to be somewhat at fault till they open their -mouths. Allow me to say, sir, that in putting on your servant's clothes -you have done the most foolish thing you possibly could. You are on an -errand of mercy, it appears, and I will do what I can for you. There's -a doctor and a Scripture reader somewhere in the court now, so our -people say. _They_ can't get out. I don't think you have much chance of -getting in." - -"By Jove!" said Charles, "do you know that you are a deuced good fellow? -I am sorry that I was rude to you, but I am in trouble, and irritated. I -hope you'll forgive me." - -"Not another word, sir," said the inspector. "Come and look here, sir. -You may never see such a sight again. _Our_ people daren't go in. This, -sir, is, I believe, about the worst court in London." - -"I thought," said Charles, quite forgetting his top-boots, and speaking, -"_de haut en bas_" as in old times--"I thought that your Rosemary Lane -carried off the palm as being a lively neighbourhood." - -"Lord bless you," said the inspector, "nothing to this;--look here." - -They advanced to the end of the arch, and looked in. It was as still as -death, but it was as light as day, for there were candles burning in -every window. - -"Why," said Charles, "the court is empty. I can run across. Let me go; I -am certain I can get across." - -"Don't be a lunatic, sir;" said the inspector, holding him tight; "wait -till I give you the word, unless you want six months in Guy's Hospital." - -Charles soon saw the inspector was right. There were three houses on -each side of the court. The centre one on the right was a very large -one, which was approached on each side by a flight of three steps, -guarded by iron railings, which, in meeting, formed a kind of platform -or rostrum. This was Mr. Malone's house, whose wife chose, for family -reasons, to call herself Miss Ophelia Flanigan. - -The court was silent and hushed, when, from the door exactly opposite to -this one, there appeared a tall and rather handsome young man, with a -great frieze coat under one arm, and a fire-shovel over his shoulder. - -This was Mr. Dennis Moriarty, junior. He advanced to the arch, so close -to Charles and the inspector that they could have touched him, and then -walked down the centre of the court, dragging the coat behind him, -lifting his heels defiantly high at every step, and dexterously beating -a "chune on the bare head of um wid the fire-shovel. Hurroo!" - -He had advanced half-way down the court without a soul appearing, when -suddenly the enemy poured out on him in two columns, from behind two -doorways, and he was borne back, fighting like a hero with his -fire-shovel, into one of the doors on his own side of the court. - -The two columns of the enemy, headed by Mr. Phelim O'Neill, uniting, -poured into the doorway after him, and from the interior of the house -arose a hubbub, exactly as though people were fighting on the stairs. - -At this point there happened one of those mistakes which so often occur -in warfare, which are disastrous at the time, and inexplicable -afterwards. Can any one explain why Lord Lucan gave that order at -Balaclava? No. Can any one explain to me why, on this occasion, Mr. -Phelim O'Neill headed the attack on the staircase in person, leaving his -rear struggling in confusion in the court, by reason of their hearing -the fun going on inside, and not being able to get at it? I think not. -Such was the case, however, and, in the midst of it, Mr. Malone, howling -like a demon, and horribly drunk, followed by thirty or forty worse than -himself, dashed out of a doorway close by, and before they had time to -form line of battle, fell upon them hammer and tongs. - -I need not say that after this surprise in the rear, Mr. Phelim -O'Neill's party had very much the worst of it. In about ten minutes, -however, the two parties were standing opposite one another once more, -inactive from sheer fatigue. - -At this moment Miss Ophelia Flanigan appeared from the door of No. -8--the very house that poor Charles was so anxious to get to--and slowly -and majestically advanced towards the rostrum in front of her own door, -and ascending the steps, folded her arms and looked about her. - -She was an uncommonly powerful, red-faced Irishwoman; her arms were -bare, and she had them akimbo, and was scratching her elbows. - -Every schoolboy knows that the lion has a claw at the end of his tail -with which he lashes himself into fury. When the experienced hunter sees -him doing that, he, so to speak, "hooks it." When Miss Flanigan's -enemies saw her scratching her elbows, they generally did the same. She -was scratching her elbows now. There was a dead silence. - -One woman in that court, and one only, ever offered battle to the -terrible Miss Ophelia: that was young Mrs. Phaylim O'Nale. On the -present occasion she began slowly walking up and down in front of the -expectant hosts. While Miss Flanigan looked on in contemptuous pity, -scratching her elbows, Mrs. O'Neill opened her fire. - -"Pussey, pussey!" she began, "kitty, kitty, kitty! Miaow, miaow!" (Mr. -Malone had accumulated property in the cat's meat business.) "Morraow, -ye little tabby divvle, don't come anighst her, my Kitleen Avourneen, or -yill be convarted into sassidge mate, and sowld to keep a drunken -one-eyed old rapparee, from the county Cark, as had two months for -bowling his barrer sharp round the corner of Park Lane over a ould -gineral officer, in a white hat and a green silk umbereller; and as -married a red-haired woman from the county Waterford, as calls herself -by her maiden name, and never feels up to fighting but when the licker's -in her, which it most in general is, pussey; and let me see the one of -Malone's lot or Moriarty's lot ather, for that matter, as will deny it. -Miaow!" - -Miss Ophelia Flanigan blew her nose contemptuously. Some of the low -characters in the court had picked her pocket. - -Mrs. O'Neill quickened her pace and raised her voice. She was beginning -again, when the poor girl who was with Charles ran into the court and -cried out, "Miss Flanigan! I have brought him; Miss Flanigan!" - -In a moment the contemptuous expression faded from Miss Flanigan's face. -She came down off the steps and advanced rapidly towards where Charles -stood. As she passed Mrs. O'Neill she said, "Whist now, Biddy O'Nale, me -darlin. I ain't up to a shindy to-night. Ye know the rayson." - -And Mrs. O'Neill said, "Ye're a good woman, Ophelia. Sorra a one of me -would have loosed tongue on ye this night, only I thought it might cheer -ye up a bit after yer watching. Don't take notice of me, that's a dear." - -Miss Flanigan went up to Charles, and, taking him by the arm, walked -with him across the court. It was whispered rapidly that this was the -young man who had been sent for to see little Billy Wilkins, who was -dying in No. 8. Charles was as safe as if he had been in the centre of a -square of the Guards. As he went into the door, they gave him a cheer; -and, when the door closed behind him, they went on with their fighting -again. - -Charles found himself in a squalid room, about which there was nothing -remarkable but its meanness and dirt. There were four people there when -he came in--a woman asleep by the bed, two gentlemen who stood aloof in -the shadow, and the poor little wan and wasted boy in the bed. - -Charles went up and sat by the bed; when the boy saw him he made an -effort, rose half up, and threw his arms round his neck. Charles put his -arm round him and supported him--as strange a pair, I fancy, as you -will meet in many long days' marches. - -"If you would not mind, Miss Flanigan," said the doctor, "stepping -across the court with me, I shall be deeply obliged to you. You, sir, -are going to stay a little longer." - -"Yes, sir," said the other gentleman, in a harsh, unpleasant voice; "I -shall stay till the end." - -"You won't have to stay very long, my dear sir," said the doctor. "Now, -Miss Flanigan, I am ready. Please to call out that the doctor is coming -through the court, and that, if any man lays a finger on him, he will -exhibit croton and other drastics to him till he wishes he was dead, and -after that, throw in quinine till the top of his head comes off. -_Allons_, my dear madam." - -With this dreadful threat the doctor departed. The other gentleman, the -Scripture reader, stayed behind, and sat in a chair in the further -corner. The poor mother was sleeping heavily. The poor girl who had -brought Charles, sat down in a chair and fell asleep with her head on a -table. - -The dying child was gone too far for speech. He tried two or three -times, but he only made a rattle in his throat. After a few minutes he -took his arms from round Charles's neck, and, with a look of anxiety, -felt for something by his side. When he found it he smiled, and held it -towards Charles. Well, well; it was only the ball that Charles had given -him---- - -Charles sat on the bed, and put his left arm round the child, so that -the little death's head might lie upon his breast. He took the little -hand in his. So they remained. How long? - -I know not. He only sat there with the hot head against his heart, and -thought that a little life, so strangely dear to him, now that all -friends were gone, was fast ebbing away, and that he must get home again -that night across the bridge. - -The little hand that he held in his relaxed its grasp, and the boy was -dead. He knew it, but he did not move. He sat there still with the dead -child in his arms, with a dull terror on him when he thought of his -homeward journey across the bridge. - -Some one moved and came towards him. The mother and the girl were still -asleep--it was the Scripture reader. He came towards Charles, and laid -his hand upon his shoulder. And Charles turned from the dead child, and -looked up into his face--into the face of John Marston. - - - - -CHAPTER LXI. - -SAVED. - - -With the wailing mother's voice in their ears, those two left the house. -The court was quiet enough now. The poor savages who would not stop -their riot lest they should disturb the dying, now talked in whispers -lest they should awaken the dead. - -They passed on quickly together. Not one word had been uttered between -them--not one--but they pushed rapidly through the worst streets to a -better part of the town, Charles clinging tight to John Marston's arm, -but silent. When they got to Marston's lodgings, Charles sat down by the -fire, and spoke for the first time. He did not burst out crying, or -anything of that sort. He only said quietly-- - -"John, you have saved me. I should never have got home this night." - -But John Marston, who, by finding Charles, had dashed his dearest hopes -to the ground, did not take things quite so quietly. Did he think of -Mary now? Did he see in a moment that his chance of her was gone? And -did he not see that he loved her more deeply than ever? - -"Yes," I answer to all these three questions. How did he behave now? - -Why, he put his hand on Charles's shoulder, and he said, "Charles, -Charles, my dear old boy, look up and speak to me in your dear old -voice. Don't look wild like that. Think of Mary, my boy. She has been -wooed by more than one, Charles; but I think that her heart is yours -yet." - -"John," said Charles, "that is what has made me hide from you all like -this. I know that she loves me above all men. I dreamt of it the night I -left Ravenshoe. I knew it the night I saw her at Lord Hainault's. And -partly that she should forget a penniless and disgraced man like myself, -and partly (for I have been near the gates of hell to-night, John, and -can see many things) from a silly pride, I have spent all my cunning on -losing myself--hoping that you would believe me dead, thinking that you -would love my memory, and dreading lest you should cease to love Me." - -"We loved your memory well enough, Charles. You will never know how -well, till you see how well we love yourself. We have hunted you hard, -Charles. How you have contrived to avoid us, I cannot guess. You do not -know, I suppose, that you are a rich man?" - -"A rich man?" - -"Yes. Even if Lord Saltire does not alter his will, you come into three -thousand a year. And, besides, you are undoubtedly heir to Ravenshoe, -though one link is still wanting to prove that." - -"What do you mean?" - -"There is no reasonable doubt, although we cannot prove it, that your -grandfather Petre was married previously to his marriage with Lady -Alicia Staunton, that your father James was the real Ravenshoe, and that -Ellen and yourself are the elder children, while poor Cuthbert and -William----" - -"Cuthbert! Does he know of this? I will hide again; I will never -displace Cuthbert, mind you." - -"Charles, Cuthbert will never know anything about it. Cuthbert is dead. -He was drowned bathing last August." - -Hush! There is something, to me, dreadful in a man's tears. I dare say -that it was as well, that night, that the news of Cuthbert's death -should have made him break down and weep himself into quietness again -like a child. I am sure it was for the best. But it is the sort of thing -that good taste forbids one to dwell upon or handle too closely. - -When he was quiet again, John went on: - -"It seems incredible that you should have been able to elude us so long. -The first intelligence we had of you was from Lady Ascot, who saw you in -the Park." - -"Lady Ascot? I never saw my aunt in the Park." - -"I mean Adelaide. She is Lady Ascot now. Lord Ascot is dead." - -"Another of them!" said Charles. "John, before you go on, tell me how -many more are gone." - -"No more. Lady Ascot and Lord Saltire are alive and well. I was with -Lord Saltire to-day, and he was talking of you. He has left the -principal part of his property to Ascot. But, because none of us would -believe you dead, he has made a reservation in your favour of eighty -thousand pounds." - -"I am all abroad," said Charles. "How is William?" - -"He is very well, as he deserves to be. Noble fellow! He gave up -everything to hunt you through the world like a bloodhound and bring you -back. He never ceased his quest till he saw your grave at Varna." - -"At Varna!" said Charles; "why, we were quartered at Devna." - -"At Devna! Now, my dear old boy, I am but mortal; do satisfy my -curiosity. What regiment did you enlist in?" - -"In the 140th." - -"Then how, in the name of all confusion," cried John Marston, "did you -miss poor Hornby?" - -"I did not miss Hornby," said Charles, quietly. "I had his head in my -lap when he died. But now tell me, how on earth did you come to know -anything about him?" - -"Why, Ascot told us that you had been his servant. And he came to see -us, and joined in the chase with the best of us. How is it that he never -sent us any intelligence of you?" - -"Because I never went near him till the film of death was on his eyes. -Then he knew me again, and said a few words which I can understand now. -Did he say anything to any of you about Ellen?" - -"About Ellen?" - -"Yes. Did Ascot ever say anything either?" - -"He told Lord Saltire, what I suppose you know----" - -"About what?" - -"About Ellen." - -"Yes, I know it all." - -"And that he had met you. Now tell me what you have been doing." - -"When I found that there was no chance of my remaining _perdu_ any -longer, and when I found that Ellen was gone, why, then I enlisted in -the 140th...." - -He paused here, and hid his face in his hands for some time. When he -raised it again his eyes were wilder, and his speech more rapid. - -"I went out with Tom Sparks and the Roman-nosed bay horse; and we ran a -thousand miles in sixty-three hours. And at Devna we got wood-pigeons; -and the cornet went down and dined with the 42nd at Varna; and I rode -the Roman-nosed bay, and he carried me through it capitally, I ask your -pardon, sir, but I am only a poor discharged trooper. I would not beg, -sir, if I could help it; but pain and hunger are hard things to bear, -sir." - -"Charles, Charles, don't you know me?" - -"That is my name, sir. That is what they used to call me. I am no common -beggar, sir. I was a gentleman once, sir, and rode a-horseback after a -blue greyhound, and we went near to kill a black hare. I have a -character from Lord Ascot, sir. I was in the light cavalry charge at -Balaclava. An angry business. They shouldn't get good fellows to fight -together like that. I killed one of them, sir. Hornby killed many, and -he is a man who wouldn't hurt a fly. A sad business!" - -"Charles, old boy, be quiet." - -"When you speak to me, sir, of the distinction between the upper and -lower classes, I answer you, that I have had some experience in that way -of late, and have come to the conclusion that, after all, the gentleman -and the cad are one and the same animal. Now that I am a ruined man, -begging my bread about the streets, I make bold to say to you, sir, -hoping that your alms may be none the less for it, that I am not sure -that I do not like your cad as well as your gentleman, in his way. If I -play on the one side such cards as my foster-brother William and Tom -Sparks, you, of course, trump me with John Marston and the cornet. You -are right; but they are all four good fellows. I have been to death's -gate to learn it. I will resume my narrative. At Devna the cornet, -besides wood-pigeons, shot a francolin----" - -It is just as well that this sort of thing did not come on when Charles -was going home alone across the bridge; that is all I wished to call -your attention to. The next morning, Lord and Lady Hainault, old Lady -Ascot, William, Mary, and Father Tiernay, were round his bed, watching -the hot head rolling from side to side upon the pillow, and listening to -his half-uttered delirious babble, gazing with a feeling almost of -curiosity at the well-loved face which had eluded them so long. - -"Oh, Hainault! Hainault!" said Lady Ascot, "to find him like this after -all! And Saltire dead without seeing him! and all my fault, my fault. I -am a wicked old woman; God forgive me!" - -Lord Hainault got the greatest of the doctors into a corner, and said:-- - -"My dear Dr. B----, will he die?" - -"Well, yes," said the doctor; "to you I would sooner say yes than no, -the chances are so heavy against him. The surgeons like the look of -things still less than the physicians. You must really prepare for the -worst." - - - - -CHAPTER LXII. - -MR. JACKSON'S BIG TROUT. - - -Of course, he did not die; I need not tell you that. B---- and P. H---- -pulled him through, and shook their honest hands over his bed. Poor -B---- is reported to have winked on this occasion; but such a proceeding -was so unlike him, that I believe the report must have come round to us -through one of the American papers--probably the same one which -represented the Prince of Wales hitting the Duke of Newcastle in the eye -with a champagne cork. - -However, they pulled him through; and, in the pleasant spring-time, he -was carried down to Casterton. Things had gone so hard with him, that -the primroses were in blossom on the southern banks before he knew that -Lord Saltire was dead, and before he could be made to understand that he -was a rich man. - -From this much of the story we may safely deduce this moral, "That, if a -young gentleman gets into difficulties, it is always as well for him to -leave his address with his friends." But, as young gentlemen in -difficulties generally take particularly good care to remind their -friends of their whereabouts, it follows that this story has been -written to little or no purpose. Unless, indeed, the reader can find for -himself another moral or two; and I am fool enough to fancy that he may -do that, if he cares to take the trouble. - -Casterton is built on arches, with all sorts of offices and kitchens -under what would naturally be the ground floor. The reason why Casterton -was built on arches (that is to say, as far as you and I are concerned) -is this: that Charles, lying on the sofa in Lord Hainault's study, could -look over the valley and see the river; which, if it had been built on -the ground, he could not have done. From this window he could see the -great weirs spouting and foaming all day; and, when he was carried up to -bed, by William and Lord Hainault, he could hear the roar of them rising -and pinking, as the night-wind came and went, until they lulled him to -sleep. - -He lay here one day, when the doctors came down from London. And one of -them put a handkerchief over his face, which smelt like chemical -experiments, and somehow reminded him of Dr. Daubeny. And he fell -asleep; and when he awoke, he was suffering pain in his left arm--not -the old dull grinding pain, but sharper; which gradually grew less as -he lay and watched the weirs at Casterton. They had removed the -splinters of bone from his arm. - -He did not talk much in this happy quiet time. William and Lady Ascot -were with him all day. William, dear fellow, used to sit on a footstool, -between his sofa and the window, and read the _Times_ to him. William's -education was imperfect, and he read very badly. He would read Mr. -Russell's correspondence till he saw Charles's eye grow bright, and -heard his breath quicken, and then he would turn to the list of -bankrupts. If this was too sad he would go on to the share list, and -pound away at that, till Charles went to sleep, which he generally did -pretty quickly. - -About this time--that is to say, well in the spring--Charles asked two -questions:--The first was, whether or no he might have the window open; -the next, whether Lord Hainault would lend him an opera-glass? - -Both were answered in the affirmative. The window was opened, and Lord -Hainault and William came in, bearing, not an opera-glass, but a great -brass telescope, on a stand--a thing with an eight-inch object-glass, -which had belonged to old Lord Hainault, who was a Cambridge man, and -given to such vanities. - -This was very delightful. He could turn it with a move of his hand on to -any part of the weirs, and see almost every snail which crawled on the -burdocks. The very first day he saw one of the men from the paper-mill -come to the fourth weir, and pull up the paddles to ease the water. The -man looked stealthily around, and then raised a wheel from below the -apron, full of spawning perch. And this was close time! Oho! - -Then, a few days after, came a tall, grey-headed gentleman, spinning a -bleak for trout, who had with him a lad in top-boots, with a -landing-net. And this gentleman sent his bait flying out here and there -across the water, and rattled his line rapidly into the palm of his hand -in a ball, like a consummate master, as he was. (King among fishermen, -prince among gentlemen, you will read these lines, and you will be so -good as to understand that I am talking of you.) And this gentleman spun -all day and caught nothing. - -But he came the next day to the same place, and spun again. The great -full south-westerly wind was roaring up the valley, singing among the -budding trees, and carrying the dark, low, rainless clouds swiftly -before it. At two, just as Lady Ascot and William had gone to lunch, and -after Charles had taken his soup and a glass of wine, he, lying there, -and watching this gentleman diligently, saw his rod bend, and his line -tighten. The lad in the top-boots and the landing-net leaped up from -where he lay; there was no doubt about it now. The old gentleman had got -hold of a fish, and a big one. - -The next twenty minutes were terrible. The old gentleman gave him the -but, and moved slowly down along the camp-shuting, and Charles followed -him with the telescope, although his hand was shaking with excitement. -After a time, the old gentleman began to wind up his reel, and then the -lad, top-boots, and the landing-net, and all, slipped over the -camp-shooting (will anybody tell me how to spell that word? -_Camps-heading_ won't do, my dear sir, all things considered), and -lifted the fish (he was nine pound) up among the burdocks at the old -gentleman's feet. - -Charles had the whole group in the telescope--the old gentleman, the -great trout, and the dripping lad, taking off his boots, and emptying -the water out of them. But the old gentleman was looking to his right at -somebody who was coming, and immediately there came into the field of -the telescope a tall man in a velvet coat, with knee-breeches and -gaiters, and directly afterwards, from the other side, three children -and a young lady. The gentleman in the knee-breeches bowed to the young -lady, and then they all stood looking at the trout. - -Charles could see them quite plainly. The gentleman in velveteen and -small-clothes was Lord Ascot, and the young lady was Mary. - -He did not look through the telescope any more; he lay back, and tried -to think. Presently afterwards old Lady Ascot came in, and settled -herself in the window, with her knitting. - -"My dear," she said, "I wonder if I fidget you with my knitting-needles? -Tell me if I do, for I have plenty of other work." - -"Not at all, dear aunt; I like it. You did nineteen rows this morning, -and you would have done twenty-two if you had not dropped a stitch. When -I get stronger I shall take to it myself. There would be too much -excitement and over-exertion in it for me to begin just now." - -Lady Ascot laughed; she was glad to see him trying even such a feeble -joke. She said-- - -"My dear, Mr. Jackson has killed a trout in the weirs just now, nine -pounds." - -"I know," said Charles; "I did not know the weight, but I saw the fish. -Aunt, where is Welter--I mean, Ascot?" - -"Well, he is at Ranford. I suppose you know, my dear boy, that poor -James left him nearly all his fortune. Nearly five hundred thousand -pounds' worth, with Cottingdean and Marksworth together. All the Ranford -mortgages are paid off, and he is going on very well, my dear. I think -they ought to give him his marquisate. James might have had it ten times -over, of course, but he used to say, that he had made himself the most -notorious viscount in England, and that if he took an earldom, people -would forget who he was." - -"I wish he would come to see me, aunt. I am very fond of Welter." - -I can't help it; he said so. Remember how near death's door he had been. -Think what he had been through. How he had been degraded, and kicked -about from pillar to post, like an old shoe; and also remember the state -he was in when he said it. I firmly believe that he had at this time -forgotten everything, and that he only remembered Lord Ascot as his old -boy love, and his jolly college companion. You must make the best of it, -or the worst of it for him, as you are inclined. He said so. And in a -very short time Lady Ascot found that she wanted some more wool, and -hobbled away to get it. - -After a time, Charles heard a man come into the room. He thought it was -William; but it was not. This man came round the end of the sofa, and -stood in the window before him. Lord Ascot. - -He was dressed as we know, having looked through Charles's telescope, in -a velveteen coat, with knee breeches and leathern gaiters. There was not -much change in him since the old times; only his broad, hairless face -seemed redder, his lower jaw seemed coarser and more prominent, his -great eyebrows seemed more lowering, his vast chest seemed broader and -deeper, and altogether he looked rather more like a mighty, coarse, -turbulent blackguard than ever. - -"Well, old cock," he said, "so you are on your back, hey?" - -"Welter," said Charles, "I am so glad to see you again. If you would -help me up, I should like to look at you." - -"Poor old boy," said Lord Ascot, putting his great arm round him, and -raising him. "So! there you are, my pippin. What a good old fellow you -are, by Gad! So you were one of the immortal six hundred, hey? I thought -you would turn up somewhere in Queer Street, with that infernal old hook -nose of yours. I wish I had taken to that sort of thing, for I am fond -of fighting. I think, now I am rich and respectable, I shall subsidise a -prize-fighter to pitch into me once a fortnight. I wish I had been -respectable enough for the army; but I should always have been in -trouble with the commander-in-chief for dicing and brawling, I suppose. -Well, old man, I am devilish glad to see you again. I am in possession -of money which should have been yours. I did all I could for you, -Charles; you will never know how much. I tried to repair the awful wrong -I did you unconsciously. I did a thing in your favour I tremble to think -of now, but which, God help me, I would do again. You don't know what I -mean. If old Saltire had not died so quick, you would have known." - -He was referring to his having told Lord Saltire that he had seen -Charles. In doing that, remember, he had thought that he was throwing -half a million to the winds. I only tell you that he was referring to -this, for fear you should not gather it from his own brutal way of -speaking. - -I wonder how the balance will stand against Lord Ascot at last? Who ever -could have dreamt that his strong animal affection for his old friend -could have led him to make a sacrifice which many a more highly -organised man would have evaded, glossing over his conscience by fifty -mental subterfuges? - -"However, my dear fellow," he continued, "it comes to this: I have got -the money; I shall have no children; and I shall make no will; therefore -it all comes to you, if you outlive me. About the title I can't say. The -lawyers must decide about that. No one seems to know whether or not it -descends through the female branch. By-the-bye, you are not master of -Ravenshoe yet, though there seems no doubt that grandma is right, and -that the marriage took place. However, whether the estate goes to you or -to William, I offer the same advice to both of you: if you get my money, -don't spend it in getting the title. You can get into the House of -Commons easy enough, if you seem to care about that sort of fun; and -fellows I know tell me that you get much better amusement there for your -money than in the other place. I have never been to the House of Lords -since the night I took my seat. It struck me as being slow. The fellows -say that there is never any chaff, or personalities, or calling to -order, or that sort of thing there, which seem to me to be half the fun -of the fair. But, of course, you know more about this than I." - -Charles, in a minute, when he had ineffectually tried to understand what -Lord Ascot had been saying, collected his senses sufficiently to say: - -"Welter, old boy, look here, for I am very stupid. Why did you say that -you should have no children?" - -"Of course I can't; have they told you nothing?" - -"Is Adelaide dead, Welter?" asked Charles, plucking at the buttons of -his coat nervously. - -"They ought to have told you, Charles," said Lord Ascot, turning to the -window. "Now tell me something. Have you any love left for her yet?" - -"Not one spark," said Charles, still buttoning and unbuttoning his coat. -"If I ever am a man again, I shall ask Mary Corby to marry me. I ought -to have done so sooner, perhaps. But I love your wife, Welter, in a way; -and I should grieve at her death, for I loved her once. By Gad! yes; you -know it. When did she die?" - -"She is not dead, Charles." - -"Now, don't keep me like this, old man; I can't stand it. She is no more -to me than my sister--not so much. Tell me what is the matter at once; -it can't be worse than what I think." - -"The truth is very horrible, Charles," said Lord Ascot, speaking slowly. -"She took a fancy that I should buy back her favourite old Irish mare, -'Molly Asthore,' and I bought it for her; and we went out hunting -together, and we were making a nick, and I was getting the gate open for -her, when the devil rushed it; and down they came on it together. And -she broke her back--Oh, God! oh, God!--and the doctor says she may live -till seventy, but that she will never move from where she lies--and just -as I was getting to love her so dearly----" - -Charles said nothing; for with such a great brutal blackguard as Lord -Ascot sobbing passionately at the window, it was as well to say nothing; -but he thought, "Here's work to the fore, I fancy, after a life of -laziness. I have been the object of all these dear soul's anxiety for a -long time. She must take my place now." - - - - -CHAPTER LXIII. - -IN WHICH GUS CUTS FLORA'S DOLL'S CORNS. - - -That afternoon Charles said nothing more, but lay and looked out of the -window at the rhododendrons just bursting into bloom, at the deer, at -the rabbits, at the pheasants; and beyond, where the park dipped down so -suddenly, at the river which spouted and foamed away as of old; and to -the right, at the good old town of Casterton, and at the blue smoke from -its chimneys, drifting rapidly away before the soft south-westerly wind; -and he lay and looked at these and thought. - -And before sundown an arch arose in the west which grew and spread; an -arch of pale green sky, which grew till it met the sun, and then the wet -grass in the park shone out all golden, and the topmost cedar boughs -began to blaze like burnished copper. - -And then he spoke. He said, "William, my dear old friend--loved more -deeply than any words can tell--come here, for I have something to say -to you." - -And good William came and stood beside him. And William looked at him, -and saw that his face was animated, and that his eyes were sparkling. -And he stood and said not a word, but smiled and waited for him to go -on. - -And Charles said, "Old boy, I have been looking through that glass -to-day, and I saw Mr. Jackson catch the trout, and I saw Welter, and I -saw Mary; and I want you to go and fetch Mary here." - -And William straightway departed; and as he went up the staircase he met -the butler, and he looked so happy, so radiant, and so thoroughly -kind-hearted and merry, that the butler, a solemn man, found himself -smiling as he drew politely aside to let him pass. - -I hope you like this fellow, William. He was, in reality, only a groom, -say you. Well, that is true enough. A fellow without education or -breeding, though highly born. But still, I hope you like him. I was -forgetting myself a little, though. At this time he is master of -Ravenshoe, with certainly nine, and probably twelve, thousand a year--a -most eminently respectable person. One year's income of his would -satisfy a man I know, very well, and yet I am talking of him -apologetically. But then we novel writers have an unlimited command of -money, if we could only realise it. - -However, this great capitalist went upstairs towards the nursery; and -here I must break off, if you please, and take up the thread of my -narrative in another place (I don't mean the House of Lords). - -In point of fact there had been a shindy (I use the word advisedly, and -will repeat it)--a shindy, in the nursery that evening. The duty of a -story-teller is to stick in a moral reflection wherever he can, and so -at this place I pitchfork in this caution to young governesses, that -nothing can be more incautious or reprehensible, than to give children -books to keep them quiet without first seeing what these books are -about. - -Mary was very much to blame in this case (you see I tell the truth, and -spare nobody). Gus, Flora, and Archy had been out to walk with her, as -we know, and had come home in a very turbulent state of mind. They had -demanded books as the sole condition on which they would be good; and -Mary, being in a fidget about her meeting with Lord Ascot, over the -trout, and being not quite herself, had promptly supplied Gus with a -number of _Blackwood's Magazine_, and Flora with a "Shakspeare." - -This happened early in the afternoon. Remember this; for if we are not -particular in our chronology, we are naught. - -Gus turned to the advertisements. He read, among other things, a -testimonial to a great corn-cutter, from a potentate who keeps a very -small army, and don't mean any harm:-- - -"(TRANSLATION.) - - "Professor Homberg has cut my corns with a dexterity truly - marvellous. - - (Signed) "NAPOLEON." - -From a country baronet:-- - - "I am satisfied with Professor Homberg. - - (Signed) "PITCHCROFT COCKPOLE, Bart." - -From a bishop in the South Sea Islands:-- - - "Professor Homberg has cut my corns in a manner which does - equal honour to his head and his heart. - - (Signed) "RANGEHAIETA." - -(His real name is Jones, but that is neither here nor there); and in the -mean time Flora had been studying a certain part of "King Lear." - -Later in the afternoon, it occurred to Gus that he would like to be a -corn-cutter and have testimonials. He proposed to cut nurse's corns, but -she declined, assigning reasons. Failing here, he determined to cut -Flora's doll's corns, and, with this view, possessed himself of her -person during Flora's temporary absence. - -He began by snicking the corner of her foot off with nurse's scissors. -Then he found that the sawdust dribbled out at the orifice. This was -very delightful. He shook her, and it dribbled faster. Then he cut the -other foot off and shook her again. And she, not having any stitches put -in about the knee (as all dolls should), lost, not only the sawdust -from her legs, but also from her stomach and body, leaving nothing but -collapsed calico and a bust, with an undisturbed countenance of wax -above all. - -At this time Flora had rushed in to the rescue; she felt the doll's -body, and she saw the heap of sawdust; whereupon she, remembering her -"King Lear," turned on him and said scornfully: - -"Nero is an angler in the lake of darkness." At this awful taunt, Gus -butted her in the stomach, and she got hold of him by the hair. Archy, -excited for the first time in his life, threw a box of ninepins at them, -which exploded. Mary rushed in to separate them, and at the same moment -in came William with a radiant face, and he quietly took Mary round the -waist (like his impudence), and he said, "My dear creature, go down to -Charles, and leave these Turks to me." - -And she left these Turks to him. And he sat on a chair and administered -justice; and in a very few minutes, under the influence of that kind, -happy, sunny face of his, Flora had kissed Gus, and Archy had cuddled up -on his knee, and was sucking his thumb in peace. - -And going down to the hall, he found Lady Ascot hobbling up and down, -taking her afternoon's exercise, and she said to him, "Ravenshoe, you -best and kindest of souls, she is there with him now. My dear, we had -better not move in this matter any more. I tried to dispossess you -before I knew your worth and goodness, but I will do nothing now. He is -rich, and perhaps it is better, my dear, that Ravenshoe should be in -Papist hands--at least, in such hands as yours." - -He said, "My dear madam, I am not Ravenshoe. I feel sure that you are -right. We must find Ellen." - -And Mary came out and came toward them; and she said, "Lady Ascot and -Mr. Ravenshoe, Charles and I are engaged to be married." - - - - -CHAPTER LXIV. - -THE ALLIED ARMIES ADVANCE ON RAVENSHOE. - - -"How near the end we are getting, and yet so much to come! Never mind. -We will tell it all naturally and straightforwardly, and then there will -be nothing to offend you." - -By-and-bye it became necessary that Charles should have air and -exercise. His arm was well. Every splinter had been taken out of it, and -he must lie on the sofa no longer. - -So he was driven out through pleasant places, through the budding -spring, in one of Lord Hainault's carriages. All the meadows had been -bush-harrowed and rolled long ago, and now the orchises and fritillaries -were beginning to make the grass look purple. Lady Hainault had a low -carriage and a pair of small cobs, and this was given up to Charles; -Lady Hainault's first coachman declined to drive her ladyship out in the -daytime, for fear that the second coachman (a meritorious young man of -forty) should frighten Charles by a reckless and inexperienced way of -driving. - -Consequently Lady Hainault went a buying flannel petticoats and that -sort of thing, for the poor people in Casterton and Henley, driven by -her second coachman; and Charles was trundled all over the country by -the first coachman, in a low carriage with a pair of cobs. But Lady -Hainault was as well pleased with the arrangement as the old coachman -himself, and so it is no business of ours. For the curious thing was, -that no one who ever knew Charles would have hesitated for an instant in -giving up to him his or her bed, or dinner, or carriage, or any other -thing in this world. For people are great fools, you know. - -Perhaps the reason of it was, that every one who made Charles's -acquaintance, knew by instinct that he would have cut off his right hand -to serve them. I don't know why it was. But there is the fact. - -Sometimes Lady Ascot would go with him and sometimes William. And one -day, when William was with him, they were bowling quietly along a -by-road on the opposite side of the water from Henley. And in a secret -place, they came on a wicked old gentleman, breaking the laws of his -country, and catching perch in close time, out of a punt, with a chair, -and a stone bottle, and a fisherman from Maidenhead, who shall be -nameless, but who must consider himself cautioned. - -The Rajah of Ahmednuggur lives close by there; and he was reading the -_Times_, when Charles asked the coachman to pull up, that he might see -the sport. The Rajah's attention was caught by seeing the carriage -stopped; and he looked through a double-barrelled opera-glass, and not -only saw Charles and William in the carriage, but saw, through the -osiers, the hoary old profligate with his paternoster pulling the perch -out as fast as he could put his line in. Fired by a virtuous indignation -(I wish every gentleman on the Thames would do likewise), he ran in his -breeches and slippers down the lawn, and began blowing up like Old -Gooseberry. - -The old gentleman who was fishing looked at the rajah's redbrick house, -and said, "If my face was as ugly as that house, I would wear a green -veil;" but he ordered the fisherman to take up the rypecks, and he -floated away down stream. - -And as Charles and William drove along, Charles said, "My dear boy, -there could not be any harm in catching a few roach. I should so like to -go about among pleasant places in a punt once more." - -When they got home the head keeper was sent for. Charles told him that -he would so much like to go fishing, and that a few roach would not make -much difference. The keeper scornfully declined arguing about the -matter, but only wanted to know what time Mr. Ravenshoe would like to -go, adding, that any one who made objections would be brought up -uncommon short. - -So William and he went fishing in a punt, and one day Charles said, "I -don't care about this punt-fishing much. I wish--I wish I could get back -to the trout at Ravenshoe." - -"Do you really mean that?" said William. - -"Ah, Willy!" said Charles. "If I could only see it again!" - -"How I have been waiting to hear you say that!" said William. "Come to -your home with me; why, the people are wondering where we are. My -darling bird will be jealous, if I stay here much longer. Come down to -my wedding." - -"When are you to be married, William?" - -"On the same day as yourself," said William, sturdily. - -Said Charles, "Put the punt ashore, will you?" And they did. And -Charles, with his nose in the air, and his chest out, walked beside -William across the spring meadows, through the lengthening grass, -through the calthas, and the orchises, and the ladies' slippers, and the -cowslips, and the fritillaries, through the budding flower garden which -one finds in spring among the English meadows, a hale, strong man. And -when they had clomb the precipitous slope of the deer-park, Charles -picked a rhododendron flower, and put it in his button-hole, and turned -round to William, with the flush of health on his face, and said-- - -"Brother, we will go to Ravenshoe, and you will be with your love. Shall -we be married in London?" - -"In St. Petersburgh, if you like, now I see you looking your old self -again. But why?" - -"A fancy of mine. When I remember what T went through in London through -my own obstinacy, I should like to take my revenge on the place, by -spending the happiest day of my life there. Do you agree?" - -"Of course." - -"Ask Lady Ascot and Mary and the children down to Ravenshoe. Lady -Hainault will come too, but he can't. And have General Mainwaring and -the Tiernays. Have as many of the old circle as we can get." - -"This is something like life again," said William. "Remember, Charles, I -am not spending the revenues of Ravenshoe. They are yours. I know it. I -am spending about L400 a year. When our grandfather's marriage is -proved, you will provide for me and my wife, I know that. Be quiet. But -we shall never prove that till we find Ellen." - -"Find Ellen!" exclaimed Charles, turning round. "I will not go near -Ellen yet." - -"Do you know where she is?" asked William, eagerly. - -"Of course I do," said Charles. "She is at Hackney. Hornby told me so -when he was dying. But let her be for a time." - -"I tell you," said William, "that I am sure that she knows everything. -At Hackney!" - -The allied powers, General Mainwaring, Lady Ascot, Lord Hainault, and -William, were not long before they searched every hole and corner of -Hackney, in and out. There was only one nunnery there, but, in that -nunnery, there was no young lady at all resembling Ellen. The priests, -particularly Father Mackworth's friend Butler, gave them every -assistance in their power. But it was no good. - -As Charles and William were in the railway carriage going westward, -Charles said-- - -"Well, we have failed to find Ellen. Mackworth, poor fellow, is still at -Ravenshoe." - -"Yes," said William, "and nearly idiotic. All his fine-spun cobwebs cast -to the winds. But he holds the clue to the mystery, or I am mistaken. -The younger Tiernay takes care of him. He probably won't know you. But -Charles, when you come into Ravenshoe, keep a corner for Mackworth." - -"He ought to be an honoured guest of the house as long as he lives," -said Charles. "You still persist in saying that Ravenshoe is mine." - -"I am sure it is," said William. - -And, at the same time, William wrote to two other people telling all -about the state of affairs, and asking them to come and join the circle. -And John Marston came across into my room, and said, "Let us go." And I -said, "My dear John, we ought to go. It is not every day that we see a -man, and such a man, risen from the dead, as Charles Ravenshoe." - -And so we went. - - - - -CHAPTER LXV. - -FATHER MACKWORTH PUTS THE FINISHING TOUCH ON HIS GREAT PIECE OF -EMBROIDERY. - - -And so we went. At Ravenshoe were assembled General Mainwaring, Lady -Ascot, Mary, Gus, Flora, Archy and nurse, William, Charles, Father -Tiernay and Father Murtagh Tiernay, John Marston, and Tommy Cruse from -Clovelly, a little fisherboy, cousin of Jane Evans's--Jane Evans, who -was to be Mrs. Ravenshoe. - -It became necessary that Jane Evans should be presented to Lady Ascot. -She was only a fisherman's daughter, but she was wonderfully beautiful, -and gentle, and good. William brought her into the hall one evening, -when every one was sitting round the fire; and he said, "My dear madam, -this is my wife that is to be." Nothing more. - -And the dear old woman rose and kissed her, and said, "My love, how -wonderfully pretty you are. You must learn to love me, you know, and you -must make haste about it, because I am a very old woman, and I sha'n't -live very long." - -So Jane sat down by Mary, and was at home, though a little nervous. And -General Mainwaring came and sat beside her, and made himself as -agreeable as very few men beside him know how to. And the fisherboy got -next to William, and stared about with his great black eyes, like a deer -in a flower-garden. (You caught that face capitally, Mr. Hook, if you -will allow me to say so--best painter of the day!) - -Jane Evans was an immense success. She had been to school six months at -Exeter, and had possibly been drilled in a few little matters; such as -how to ask a gentleman to hold her fan; how to sit down to the piano -when asked to sing (which she couldn't do); how to marshal her company -to dinner; how to step into the car of a balloon; and so on. Things -absolutely necessary to know, of course, but which had nothing to do -with her success in this case; for she was so beautiful, gentle, and -winning, that she might have done anything short of eating with her -knife, and would have been considered nice. - -Had she a slight Devonshire accent? Well, well! Do you know, I rather -like it. I consider it equally so good with the Scotch, my dear. - -I could linger and linger on about this pleasant spring at old -Ravenshoe, but I must not. You have been my companion so long that I am -right loth to part with you. But the end is very near. - -Charles had his revenge upon the trout. The first day after he had -recovered from his journey, he and William went out and did most -terrible things. William would not carry a rod, but gave his to the -servant, and took the landing-net. That Ravenshoe stream carries the -heaviest fish in Devonshire. Charles worked up to the waterfall, and got -nineteen, weighing fourteen pounds. Then they walked down to the weir -above the bridge, and then Charles's evil genius prompted him to say, -"William, have you got a salmon-fly in your book?" And William told him -that he had, but solemnly warned him of what would happen. - -Charles was reckless and foolish. He, with a twelve-foot trout rod, and -thirty yards of line, threw a small salmon fly under the weir above the -bridge. There was a flash on the water. Charles's poor little reel began -screaming, and the next moment the line came "flick" home across his -face, and he said, "By gosh, what a fool I was," and then he looked up -to the bridge, and there was Father Mackworth looking at him. - -"How d'ye do, my dear sir," said Charles. "Glad to see you out. I have -been trying to kill a salmon with trout tackle, and have done quite the -other thing." - -Father Mackworth looked at him, but did not speak a word. Then he looked -round, and young Murtagh Tiernay came up and led him away; and Charles -got up on the road and watched the pair going home. And as he saw the -tall narrow figure of Father Mackworth creeping slowly along, dragging -his heels as he went, he said, "Poor old fellow, I hope he will live to -forgive me." - -Father Mackworth, poor fellow, dragged his heels homeward; and when he -got into his room in the priest's tower, Murtagh Tiernay said to him, -"My dear friend, you are not angry with me? I did not tell you that he -was come back, I thought it would agitate you." - -And Father Mackworth said slowly, for all his old decisive utterance was -gone, "The Virgin bless you, you are a good man." - -And Father Mackworth spoke truth. Both the Tiernays were good fellows, -though papists. - -"Let me help you off with your coat," said Murtagh, for Mackworth was -standing in deep thought. - -"Thank you," said Mackworth. "Now, while I sit here, go and fetch your -brother." - -Murtagh Tiernay did as he was told. In a few minutes our good jolly old -Irish friend was leaning over Mackworth's chair. - -"Ye're not angry that we didn't tell ye there was company?" he said. - -"No, no," said Mackworth. "Don't speak to me, that's a good man. Don't -confuse me. I am going. You had better send Murtagh out of the room." - -Father Murtagh disappeared. - -"I am going," said Mackworth. "Tiernay, we were not always good friends, -were we?" - -"We are good friends, any way, now, brother," said Tiernay. - -"Ay, ay, you are a good man. I have done a wrong. I did it for the sake -of the Church partly, and partly----well, I was very fond of Cuthbert. I -loved that boy, Tiernay. And I spun a web. But it has all got confused. -It is on this left side which feels so heavy. They shouldn't make one's -brains in two halves, should they?" - -"Begorra no. It's a burning shame," said Father Tiernay, determining, -like a true Irishman, to agree with every word said, and find out what -was coming. - -"That being the case, my dear friend," said poor Mackworth, "give me the -portfolio and ink, and we will let our dear brother Butler know, _de -profundis clamavi_, that the time is come." - -Father Tiernay said, "That will be the proper course," and got him pen -and ink, fully assured that another fit was coming on, and that he was -wandering in his mind; but still watching to see whether he would let -out anything. A true Irishman. - -Mackworth let out nothing. He wrote, as steadily as he could, a letter -of two lines, and put it in an envelope. Then he wrote another letter of -about three lines, and enclosed the whole in a larger envelope, and -closed it. Then he said to Father Tiernay, "Direct it to Butler, will -you, my dear friend; you quite agree that I have done right?" - -Father Tiernay said that he had done quite right; but wondered what the -dickens it was all about. We soon found out. But we walked, and rode, -and fished, and chatted, and played billiards, and got up charades with -Lady Ascot for an audience; not often thinking of the poor paralytic -priest in the lonely tower, and little dreaming of the mine which he was -going to spring under our feet. - -The rows (there is no other expression) that used to go on between -Father Tiernay and Lady Ascot were as amusing as anything I ever heard. -I must do Tiernay the justice to say that he was always perfectly well -bred, and also, that Lady Ascot began it. Her good temper, her humour, -and her shrewdness were like herself; I can say no more. Tiernay dodged, -and shuffled, and went from pillar to post, and was as witty and -good-humoured as an Irishman can be; but I, as a staunch Protestant, am -of opinion that Lady Ascot, though nearly ninety, had the best of it. I -daresay good Father Tiernay don't agree with me. - -The younger Tiernay was always in close attendance on Mackworth. Every -one got very fond of this young priest. We used to wait until Father -Mackworth was reported to be in bed, and then he was sent for. And -generally we used to make an excuse to go into the chapel, and Lady -Ascot would come, defiant of rheumatism, and we would get him to the -organ. - -And then--Oh, Lord! how he would make that organ speak, and plead, and -pray, till the prayer was won. And then, how he would send aggregated -armies of notes, marching in vast battalions one after another, out into -space, to die in confused melody; and then, how he would sound the -trumpet to recall them, and get no answer but the echo of the roof. Ah, -well, I hope you are fond of music, reader. - -But one night we sent for him, and he could not come. And later we sent -again, but he did not come; and the man we had sent, being asked, looked -uneasy, and said he did not know why. By this time the ladies had gone -to bed. General Mainwaring, Charles, William, John Marston, and myself, -were sitting over the fire in the hall, smoking, and little Tommy Cruse -was standing between William's knees. - -The candles and the fire were low. There was light outside from a -clouded moon, so that one could see the gleam of the sea out of the -mullioned windows. Charles was stooping down, describing the battle of -the Alma on the hearthrug, and William was bending over, watching him, -holding the boy between his knees, as I said. General Mainwaring was -puffing his cigar, and saying, "Yes, yes; that's right enough;" and -Marston and I were, like William, looking at Charles. - -Suddenly the boy gave a loud cry, and hid his face in William's bosom. I -thought he had been taken with a fit. I looked up over General -Mainwaring's head, and I cried out, "My God! what is this?" - -We were all on our legs in a moment, looking the same way. At the long -low mullioned window which had been behind General Mainwaring. The -clouded moonlight outside showed us the shape of it. But between us and -it there stood three black figures, and as we looked at them, we drew -one towards the other, for we were frightened. The General took two -steps forward. - -One of the figures advanced noiselessly. It was dressed in black, and -its face was shrouded in a black hood. In that light, with that silent, -even way of approaching, it was the most awful figure I ever saw. And -from under its hood came a woman's voice, the sound of which made the -blood of more than one to stand still, and then go madly on again. It -said:-- - -"I am Ellen Ravenshoe. My sins and my repentance are known to some here. -I have been to the war, in the hospitals, till my health gave way, and I -came home but yesterday, as it were, and I have been summoned here. -Charles, I was beautiful once. Look at this." - -And she drew her hood back, and we looked at her in the dim light. -Beautiful once! Ay, but never so beautiful as now. The complexion was -deadly pale, and the features were pinched, but she was more beautiful -than ever. I declare I believe that if we had seen a ring of glory round -her head at that moment none of us would have been surprised. Just then, -her beauty, her nun's dress, and the darkness of the hall, assisted the -illusion, probably; but there was really something saint-like and -romantic about her, for an instant or so, which made us all stand -silent. Alas! there was no ring of glory round her head. Poor Ellen was -only bearing the cross; she had not won the crown. - -Charles was the first who spoke or moved; he went up to her, and kissed -her, and said, "My sweet sister, I knew that if I ever saw you again I -should see you in these weeds. My dear love, I am so glad to see you. -And oh, my sister, how much more happy to see you dressed like that----" - -(Of course he did not use exactly those words, but words to that effect, -only more passionate and even less grammatical. I am not a shorthand -writer. I only give you the substance of conversations in the best prose -I can command.) - -"Charles," said she, "I do right to wear weeds, for I am the widow -of--(Never mind what she said; that sort of thing very properly jars on -Protestant ears). I am a sister of the Society of Mercy of St. Bridget, -and I have been to the East, as I told you: and more than once I must -have been into the room where you lay, to borrow things, or talk with -English Catholic ladies, and never guessed you were there. After Hornby -had found me at Hackney, I got leave from Father Butler to join an Irish -sisterhood; for our mother was Irish in speech and in heart, you -remember, though not by birth. I have something to say--something very -important. Father Mackworth, will you come here? Are all here intimate -friends of the family? Will you ask any of them to leave the hall, -Charles?" - -"Not one," said Charles. "Is one of those dark figures which have -frightened us so much Father Mackworth? My dear sir, I am so sorry. Come -to the fire; and who is the other?" - -"Only Murtagh Tiernay," said a soft voice. - -"Why did you stand out there these few minutes? Father Mackworth, your -arm." - -William and Charles helped him in towards the fire. He looked terribly -ill and ghastly. The dear old general took him from them, and sat him -down in his own chair by the fire; and there he sat looking curiously -around him, with the light of the wood fire and the candles strong on -his face, while Ellen stood behind him, with her hood thrown back, and -her white hands folded on her bosom. If you have ever seen a stranger -group than we were, I should be glad to hear of it. - -Poor Mackworth seemed to think that it was expected of him to speak. He -looked up to General Mainwaring, and he said-- - -"I hope you are better of your wound, sir. I have had a sharp stroke of -paralysis, and I have another coming on, sir, and my memory is going. -When you meet my Lord Saltire, whom I am surprised to find absent -to-night, you will tell him that I presented my compliments, and thought -that he had used me very well on the whole. Had she not better begin, -sir? or it may be too late; unless you would like to wait for Lord -Saltire." - -Father Murtagh Tiernay knelt down and whispered to him. - -"Ay! ay!" he said, "Dead--ay! so he is, I had forgotten. We shall all be -dead soon. Some of us will to hell, General, and some to heaven, and all -to purgatory. I am a priest, sir. I have been bound body and soul to the -Church from a child, and I have done things which the Church will -disapprove of when they are told, though not while they are kept secret; -and I tell them because the eyes of a dead man, of a man who was drowned -bathing in the bay, haunt me day and night, and say, Speak -out!--Murtagh!" - -Little Tiernay was kneeling beside him, and called his attention to him. - -"You had better give me the wine; for the end is getting very near. Tell -her to begin." - -And while poor Mackworth was taking some wine (poor fellow, it was -little enough he had taken in his lifetime), Ellen began to speak. I had -some notion that we should know everything now. We had guessed the truth -for a long while. We had guessed everything about Petre Ravenshoe's -marriage. We believed in it. We seemed to know all about it, from Lady -Ascot. No link was wanting in the chain of proof, save one, the name of -the place in which that marriage took place. That had puzzled every one. -Lady Ascot declared it was a place in the north of Hampshire, as you -will remember, but every register had been searched there, without -result. So conceive how we all stared at poor Ellen when she began to -speak, wondering whether she knew as much as ourselves, or even more. - -"I am Miss Ravenshoe," she said quietly. "My brother Charles there is -heir to this estate; and I have come here to-night to tell you so." - -There was nothing new here. We knew all about that. I stood up and put -my arm through Charles Ravenshoe's, and William came and laid his hand -upon my shoulder. The general stood before the fire, and Ellen went on. - -"Petre Ravenshoe was married in 1778 to Maria Dawson, and his son was -James Ravenshoe, my father, who was called Horton, and was Densil -Ravenshoe's gamekeeper. I have proof of this." - -So had we. We knew all this. What did she know more? It was intolerable -that she was to stop just here, and leave the one awful point -unanswered. I forgot my good manners utterly; I clutched Charles's arm -tighter, and I cried out-- - -"We know about the marriage, Miss Ravenshoe; we have known of it a long -while. But where did it take place, my dear young lady? Where?" - -She turned on me and answered, wondering at my eagerness. _I_ had -brought out the decisive words at last, the words that we had been dying -to hear for sixth months; she said-- - -"At Finchampstead, in Berkshire; I have a copy of the certificate with -me." - -I let go of Charles's arm, and fell back in my chair. My connection with -this story is over (except the trouble of telling it, which I beg you -won't mention, for it has given me as much pleasure as it has you; and -that, if you look at it in a proper point of view, is quite just, for -very few men have a friend who has met with such adventures as Charles -Ravenshoe, who will tell them all about it afterwards). I fell back in -my chair, and stared at poor Father Mackworth as if he were a copper -disk, and I was trying to get into a sufficiently idiotic state to be -electro-biologised. - -"I have very little more to tell," said Ellen. "I was not aware that you -knew so much. From Mr. William Marston's agitation, I conclude that I -have supplied the only link which was missing. I think that Father -Mackworth wishes to explain to you why he sent for me to come here -to-night. If he feels himself able to do so now, I shall be glad to be -dismissed." - -Father Mackworth sat up in his chair, and spoke at once. He had gathered -himself up for the effort, and went through it well, though with halting -and difficult speech. - -"I knew of Petre Ravenshoe's marriage from Father Clifford, with all the -particulars. It had been confessed to him. He told it to me the day Mrs. -Ravenshoe died, after Densil Ravenshoe had told me that his second son -was to be brought up to the Protestant faith. I went to him in a furious -passion, and he told me about this previous marriage which had been -confessed to him, to quiet me. It showed me, that if the worst were to -happen, and Cuthbert were to die, and Ravenshoe go to a Protestant, I -could still bring in a Catholic as a last resource. For if Cuthbert had -died, and Norah had not confessed about the changing of the children, I -should have brought in James, and after him William, both Catholics, -believing him to be the son of James and Norah. Do you understand? - -"Why did I not? I loved that boy Cuthbert. And it was told under seal of -confession, and must not be used save in deadly extremity, and William -was a turbulent boy. Which would have been the greater crime at that -time? It was only a choice of evils, for the Church is very dear to me. - -"Then Norah confessed to me about the change of children, and then I -saw, that by speaking of Petre Ravenshoe's marriage I should only bring -in a Protestant heir. But I saw, also, that, by using her confession -only, I could prove Charles Ravenshoe to be merely a gamekeeper's son, -and turn him out into the world, and so I used it, sir. You used to -irritate and insult me, sir," he said, turning to Charles, "and I was -not so near death then as now. If you can forgive me, in God's name say -so." - -Charles went over to him, and put his arm round him "Forgive you?" he -said; "dear Mackworth, can you forgive me?" - -"Well, well!" he continued, "what have I to forgive, Charles? At one -time, I thought if I spoke that it would be better, because Ellen, the -only daughter of the house, would have had a great dower, as Ravenshoe -girls have. But I loved Cuthbert too well. And Lord Welter stopped my -even thinking of doing so, by coming to Ravenshoe. And--and--we are all -gentlemen here. The day that you hunted the black hare, I had been -scolding her for writing to him. And William and I made her mad between -us, and she ran away to him. And she is with the army now, Charles. I -should not fetch her back, Charles. She is doing very good work there." - -By this time she had drawn the black hood over her face, and was -standing behind him, motionless. - -"I will answer any more questions you like to-morrow. Petre Ravenshoe's -marriage took place at Finchampstead, remember. Charles, my dear boy, -would you mind kissing me? I think I always loved you, Charles. Murtagh -Tiernay, take me to my room." - -And so he went tottering away through the darkness. Charles opened the -door for him. Ellen stood with her hood over her face, motionless. - -"I can speak like this with my face hidden," she said. "It is easy for -one who has been through what I have, to speak. What I have been you -know, what I am now is--(she used one of those Roman Catholic forms of -expression, which are best not repeated too often). I have a little to -add to this statement. William was cruel to me. You know you were. You -were wrong. I will not go on. You were awfully unjust--you were horribly -unjust. The man who has just left the room had some slight right to -upbraid me. You had none. You were utterly wrong. Mackworth, in one way, -is a very high-minded honourable man. You made me hate you, William. God -forgive me. I have forgiven you now." - -"Yes; I was wrong," said William, "I was wrong. But Ellen, Ellen! before -old friends, only with regard to the person." - -"When you treated me so ill, I was as innocent as your mother, sir. Let -us go on. This man Mackworth knew more than you. We had some terrible -scenes together about Lord Welter. One day he lost his temper, and -became theatrical. He opened his desk and showed me a bundle of papers, -which he waved in the air, and said they contained my future destiny. -The next day I went to the carpenter's shop and took a chisel. I broke -open his desk, and possessed myself of them. I found the certificate of -Petre Ravenshoe's marriage. I knew that you, William, as I thought, and -I were the elder children. But I loved Cuthbert and Charles better than -you or myself, and I would not speak. When, afterwards, Father Butler -told me while I was with Lord Welter, before I joined the sisters, of -the astounding fact of the change of children, I still held my peace, -because I thought Charles would be the better of penance for a year or -so, and because I hesitated to throw the power of a house like this -into heretic hands, though it were into the hands of my own brother. -Mackworth and Butler were to some extent enemies, I think; for Butler -seems not to have told Mackworth that I was with him for some time, and -I hardly know how he found it out at last. Three days ago I received -this letter from Mackworth, and after some hesitation I came. For I -thought that the Church could not be helped by wrong, and I wanted to -see that he concealed nothing. Here it is. I shall say no more." - -And she departed, and I have not seen her since. Perhaps she is best -where she is. I got a sight of the letter from Father Mackworth. It ran -thus-- - -"Come here at once, I order you. I am going to tell the truth. Charles -has come back. I will not bear the responsibility any longer." - -Poor Mackworth! He went back to his room, attended by the kind-hearted -young priest, who had left his beloved organ at Segur, to come and -attend to him. Lord Segur pished and pshawed, and did something more, -which we won't talk about, for which he had to get absolution. But -Murtagh Tiernay stayed at Ravenshoe, defying his lordship, and his -lordship's profane oaths, and making the Ravenshoe organ talk to Father -Mackworth about quiet churchyards and silent cloisters; and sometimes -raging on until the poor paralytic priest began to see the great gates -rolled back, and the street of the everlasting city beyond, crowded with -glorious angels. Let us leave these two to their music. Before we went -to town for the wedding, we were sitting one night, and playing at loo, -in the hall. (Not guinea unlimited loo, as they used to play at Lord -Welter's, but penny loo, limited to eighteen pence.) General Mainwaring -had been looed in miss four times running, making six shillings (an -almost impossible circumstance, but true), and Lady Ascot had been -laughing at him so, that she had to take off her spectacles and wipe -them, when Murtagh Tiernay came into the hall, and took away Charles, -and his brother Father Tiernay. - -The game was dropped soon after this. At Ravenshoe there was an -old-fashioned custom of having a great supper brought into the hall at -ten. A silly old custom, seeing that every one had dined at seven. -Supper was brought in, and every one sat down to table. All sorts of -things were handed to one by the servants, but no one ate anything. No -one ever did. But the head of the table was empty, Charles was absent. - -After supper was cleared away, every one drew in a great circle round -the fire, in the charming old-fashioned way one sees very seldom now, -for a talk before we went to bed. But nobody talked much. Only Lady -Ascot said, "I shall not go upstairs till he comes back. General, you -may smoke your cigar, but here I sit." - -General Mainwaring would not smoke his cigar, even up the chimney. -Almost before he had time to say so, Charles and Father Tiernay came -into the room, without saying a word, and Charles, passing through the -circle, pushed the logs on the hearth together with his foot. - -"Charles," said Lady Ascot, "has anything happened?" - -"Yes, aunt." - -"Is he dead?" - -"Yes, aunt." - -"I thought so," said Lady Ascot, "I hope he has forgiven me any hard -thoughts I had of him. I could have been brought to love that man in -time. There were a great many worse men than he, sir," she added, in her -old clear ringing tones, turning to Father Tiernay. "There were a great -many worse men than he." - -"There were a great many worse men, Lady Ascot," said Father Tiernay. -"There have been many worse men with better opportunities. He was a good -man brought up in a bad school. A good man spoilt. General Mainwaring, -you who are probably more honoured than any man in England just now, and -are worthy of it; you who can't stop at a street corner without a crowd -getting together to hurrah to you; you, the very darling of the nation, -are going to Oxford to be made an honorary Doctor of Laws. And when you -go into that theatre, and hear the maddening music of those boys' voices -cheering you: then, general, don't get insane with pride, like Herod, -but think what you might have been with Mackworth's opportunities." - -I think we all respected the Irishman for speaking up for his friend, -although his speech might be extravagant. But I am sure that no one -respected him more sincerely than our valiant, humble, old friend, -General Mainwaring. - - - - -CHAPTER LXVI. - -GUS AND FLORA ARE NAUGHTY IN CHURCH, AND THE WHOLE BUSINESS COMES TO AN -END. - - -Charles's purpose of being married in London held good. And I need not -say that William's held good too. - -Shall I insult your judgment by telling you that the whole story of -Petre Ravenshoe's marriage at Finchampstead was true? I think not. The -register was found, the lawyers were busy down at Ravenshoe, for every -one was anxious to get up to London, and have the two marriages over -before the season was too far advanced. - -The memorabilia about this time at Ravenshoe, were--The weather was -glorious. (I am not going to give you any more about the two capes, and -that sort of thing. You have had those two capes often enough. And I am -reserving my twenty-ninth description of the Ravenshoe scenery for the -concluding chapter.) The weather, I say, was glorious. And I was always -being fetched in from the river, smelling fishy, and being made to -witness deeds. I got tired of writing my name. I may have signed away -the amount of the national debt in triplicate, for anything I know (or -care. For you can't get blood out of a stone). I signed some fifty of -them, I think. But I signed two which gave me great pleasure. - -The first was a rent-charge on Ravenshoe of two thousand a year, in -favour of William Ravenshoe. The second was a similar deed of five -hundred a year in favour of Miss Ravenshoe. We will now have done with -all this sordid business, and go on. - -The ladies had all left for town, to prepare for the ceremony. There was -a bachelors' house at Ravenshoe for the last time. The weather was hot. -Charles Ravenshoe, General Mainwaring, and the rest, were all looking -out of the dining-room windows towards the sea, when we were astonished -by seeing two people ride up on to the terrace, and stop before the -porch. - -A noble-looking old gentleman, in a blue coat and brass buttons, -knee-breeches and gaiters, on a cob, and a beautiful boy of sixteen on a -horse. _I_ knew well enough who it was, and I said, Ho! But the others -wondered. William would have known, had he been looking out of window -just then, but by the time he got there, the old gentleman and the boy -were in the porch, and two of Charles's men were walking the horses up -and down. - -"Now, who the deuce is this?" said Charles. "They haven't come far; but -I don't know them. I seem to know the old man, somehow; but I can't -remember." - -We heard the old gentleman's heavy step along the hall, and then the -door was thrown open, and the butler announced, like a true Devonshire -man-- - -"Mr. Humby to Hele!" - -The old gentleman advanced with a frank smile and took Charles's hand, -and said, "Welcome home, sir; welcome to your own; welcome to Ravenshoe. -A Protestant at Ravenshoe at last. After so many centuries." - -Everybody had grown limp and faint when they heard the awful name of -Humby, that is to say, every one but me. Of course I had nothing to do -with fetching him over. Not at all. This was the first time that a Humby -had had friendly communication with a Ravenshoe for seven hundred and -eighty-nine years. The two families had quarrelled in 1066, in -consequence of John Humby having pushed against Kempion Ravenshoe, in -the grand rush across the Senlac, at the battle of Hastings. Kempion -Ravenshoe had asked John Humby where he was shoving to, and John Humby -had expressed a wish to punch Kempion Ravenshoe's head (or do what went -for the same thing in those times. I am no antiquarian). The wound was -never healed. The two families located themselves on adjoining estates -in Devonshire immediately after the Conquest, but never spoke till 1529, -when Lionel Humby bit his thumb at our old friend, Alured Ravenshoe, in -Cardinal Wolsey's antechamber, at Hampton, and Alured Ravenshoe asked -him, what the devil he meant by that. They fought in Twickenham meadow, -but held no relations for two hundred and fourteen years, that is to -say, till 1745, when Ambrose Ravenshoe squeezed an orange at Chichester -Humby, at an election dinner in Stonnington, and Body Fortescue went out -as second to Chichester Humby, and Lord Segur to Ambrose Ravenshoe. -After this the families did not speak again for one hundred and ten -years, that is to say, till the time we are speaking of, the end of -April, 1855, when James Humby to Hele frightened us all out of our wits, -by coming into the dining-room at Ravenshoe, in a blue coat and brass -buttons, and shaking hands with Charles, and saying, beside what I have -written above-- - -"Mrs. Humby and my daughters are in London for the season, and I go to -join them the day after to-morrow. There has been a slight cloud between -the two houses lately" (that is to say, as we know it, for seven hundred -and eighty-nine years. But what is time?) "and I wish to remove it. I am -not a very old man, but I have my whimsies, my dear sir. I wish my -daughters to appear among Miss Corby's bridesmaids, and do you know, I -fancy when you get to London that you will find the whole matter -arranged." - -Who was to resist this? Old Humby went up in the train with all of us -the next day but one. And if I were asked to pick out the most -roystering, boisterous, jolly old county member in England, Scotland, or -Ireland, I should pick out old Humby of Hele. What fun he made at the -stations where the express stopped! The way he allowed himself to be -fetched out of the refreshment-room by the guard, and then, at the last -moment, engaged him in a general conversation about the administration -of the line, until the station-master was mad, and an accident imminent, -was worthy of a much younger man, to say the least. But then, in a blue -coat and brass buttons, with drab small clothes, you may do anything. -They are sure to take you for a swell. If I, William Marston, am ever -old enough, and fat enough, and rich enough, I shall dress like that -myself, for reasons. If my figure does not develop, I shall try black -br--ch--s and gaiters, with a shovel hat, and a black silk waistcoat -buttoned up under my throat. That very often succeeds. Either are better -than pegtops and a black bowler hat, which strike no awe into the -beholders. - -When we all got to town, we were, of course, very busy. There was a -great deal of millinery business. Old Humby insisted on helping at it. -One day he went to Madame Tulle's, in Conduit Street, with his wife and -two daughters, and asked me to come too, for which I was sorry at first, -for he behaved very badly, and made a great noise. We were in a great -suite of rooms on the first floor, full of crinolines and that sort of -thing, and there were a great many people present. I was trying to keep -him quiet, for he was cutting a good many clumsy jokes, as an -old-fashioned country squire will. Everybody was amused with him, and -thoroughly appreciated his fun, save his own wife and daughters, who -were annoyed; so I was trying to keep him quiet, when a tall, -brown-faced, handsome young man came up to me and said-- - -"I beg a thousand pardons; but is not your name Marston?" - -I said, "Yes." - -"You are a first cousin of John Marston, are you not?--of John Marston, -whom I used to meet at Casterton?" - -I said, "Yes; that John Marston was my cousin." But I couldn't remember -my man, for all that. - -"You don't remember me! I met you once at old Captain Archer's, at -Lashbrook, for ten minutes. My wife has come here to buy fal-lals for -Charles Ravenshoe's wedding. He is going to marry my cousin. My name is -George Corby. I have married Miss Ellen Blockstrop, daughter of Admiral -Blockstrop. Her eldest sister married young Captain Archer of the -merchant service." - -I felt very faint, but I congratulated him. The way those Australians do -business shames us old-country folk. To get over a heavy disappointment -and be married in two months and a week is very creditable. - -"We bushmen are rough fellows," he said. (His manners were really -charming. I never saw them beaten.) "But you old-country fellows must -excuse us. Will you give me the pleasure of your acquaintance? I am sure -you must be a good fellow, for your cousin is one of the best fellows I -ever knew." - -"I should be delighted." And I spoke the truth. - -"I will introduce you to my wife directly," he said; "but the fact is, -she is just now having a row with Madame Tulle, the milliner here. My -wife is a deuced economical woman, and she wants to show at the -Ravenshoe wedding in a white moire-antique, which will only cost fifty -guineas, and which she says will do for an evening dress in Australia -afterwards. And the Frenchwoman won't let her have it for the purpose, -because she says it is incorrect. And I hope to Gad the Frenchwoman will -win, because my wife will get quite as good a gown to look at for twenty -guineas or so." - -Squire Humby begged to be introduced. Which I did. - -"I am glad, sir," he said, "that my daughters have not heard your -conversation. It would have demoralised them, sir, for the rest of their -lives. I hope they have not heard the argument about the fifty-guinea -gown. If they have, I am a ruined man. It was one of you Australians who -gave twelve hundred guineas for the bull, 'Master Butterfly,' the day -before yesterday?" - -"Well, yes," said George Corby, "I bought the bull. He'll pay, sir, -handsomely, in our part of the world." - -"The devil he will," said Squire Humby. "You don't know an opening for a -young man of sixty-five, with a blue coat and brass buttons, who -understands his business, in your part of the country, do you?" - -And so on. The weddings took place at St. Peter's, Eaton Square. If the -ghost of the little shoeblack had been hovering round the wall where he -had played fives with the brass button, he might have almost heard the -ceremony performed. Mary and Charles were not a handsome couple. The -enthusiasm of the population was reserved for William and Jane Evans, -who certainly were. It is my nature to be a Jack-of-all-trades, and so I -was entrusted with old Master Evans, Jane's father, a magnificent old -sea-king, whom we have met before. We two preferred to go to church -quietly before the others, and he, refusing to go into a pew, found -himself a place in the free seats, and made himself comfortable. So I -went out into the porch, and waited till they came. - -I waited till the procession had gone in, and then I found that the tail -of it was composed of poor Lord Charles Herries' children, Gus, Flora, -and Archy, with their nurse. - -If a bachelor is worth his salt, he will make himself useful. I saw that -nurse was in distress and anxious, so I stayed with her. - -Archy was really as good as gold till he met with his accident. He -walked up the steps with nurse as quiet as possible. But even at first I -began to get anxious about Gus and Flora. They were excited. Gus -wouldn't walk up the steps; but he put his two heels together, and -jumped up them one at a time, and Flora walked backwards, looking at him -sarcastically. At the top step but one Gus stumbled; whereupon Flora -said, "Goozlemy, goozlemy, goozlemy." - -And Gus said, "you wait a minute, my lady, till we get into church," -after which awful speech I felt as if I was smoking in a powder -magazine. - -I was put into a pew with Gus, and Flora, and Archy. Nurse, in her -modesty, went into the pew behind us. - -I am sorry to say that these dear children, with whom I had had no -previous acquaintance, were very naughty. The ceremony began by Archy -getting too near the edge of his hassock, falling off, pitching against -the pew door, bursting it open, and flying out among the free seats, -head foremost. Nurse, a nimble and dexterous woman, dashed out, and -caught him up, and actually got him out of the church door before he had -time to fetch his breath for a scream. Gus and Flora were left alone -with me. - -Flora had a great scarlet and gold church service. As soon as she opened -it, she disconcerted me by saying aloud, to an imaginary female friend, -"My dear, there is going to be a collection; and I have left my purse on -the piano." - -At this time, also, Gus, seeing that the business was well begun, -removed to the further end of the pew, sat down on the hassock, and took -from his trousers' pocket a large tin trumpet. - -I broke out all over in a cold perspiration as I looked at him. He saw -my distress, and putting it to his lips, puffed out his cheeks. Flora -administered comfort to me. She said, "You are looking at that foolish -boy. Perhaps he won't blow it, after all. He mayn't if you don't look at -him. At all events, he probably won't blow it till the organ begins; and -then it won't matter so much." - -Matters were so hopeless with me that I looked at old Master Evans. He -had bent down his head on to the rail of the bench before him. His -beautiful daughter had been his only companion at home for many years, -for his wife had died when Jane was a little bare-legged thing, who -paddled in the surf. It had been a rise in life for her to marry Mr. -Charles Ravenshoe's favourite pad-groom. And just now she had walked -calmly and quietly up the aisle, and had stopped when she came to where -he sat, and had pushed the Honiton-lace veil from her forehead, and -kissed his dear old cheek: and she would walk back directly as Mrs. -William Ravenshoe. And so the noble old privateer skipper had bent down, -and there was nothing to be seen there but a grey head and broad -shoulders, which seemed to shake. - -And so I looked up to the east end. And I saw the two couples kneeling -before the clergyman. And when I, knowing everything as I did, saw -Charles kneeling beside Mary Corby, with Lord Ascot, great burly, brutal -giant, standing behind him, I said something which is not in the -marriage service of the Church of England. After it all, to see him and -her kneeling so quietly there together! We were all happy enough that -day. But I don't think that any one was much happier than I. For I knew -more than any one. And also, three months from that time, I married my -present wife, Eliza Humby. And the affair had only been arranged two -days. So I was in good spirits. - -At least I should have been, if it had not been for Lord Charles -Herries' children. I wish those dear children (not meaning them any -harm) had been, to put it mildly, at play on the village green, that -blessed day. - -When I looked at Gus again, he was still on the hassock, threatening -propriety with his trumpet. I hoped for the best. Flora had her -prayer-book open, and was playing the piano on each side of it, with her -fingers. After a time she looked up at me, and said out loud-- - -"I suppose you have heard that Archy's cat has kittened?" - -I said, "No." - -"Oh, yes, it has," she said. "Archy harnessed it to his meal cart, which -turns a mill, and plays music when the wheels go round; and it ran -downstairs with the cart; and we heard the music playing as it went; and -it kittened in the wood-basket immediately afterwards; and Alwright -says she don't wonder at it; and no more do I; and the steward's-room -boy is going to drown some. But you mustn't tell Archy, because, if you -do, he won't say his prayers; and if he don't say his prayers, he will," -&c., &c. Very emphatically and in a loud tone of voice. - -This was very charming. If I could only answer for Gus, and keep Flora -busy, it was wildly possible that we might pull through. If I had not -been a madman, I should have noticed that Gus had disappeared. - -He had. And the pew door had never opened, and I was utterly -unconscious. Gus had crawled up, on all fours, under the seat of the -pew, until he was opposite the calves of his sister's legs, against -which calves, _horresco referens_, he put his trumpet and blew a long -shrill blast. Flora behaved very well and courageously. She only gave -one long, wild shriek, as from a lunatic in a padded cell at Bedlam, and -then, hurling her prayer-book at him, she turned round and tried to kick -him in the face. - -This was the culminating point of my misfortunes. After this, they -behaved better. I represented to them that every one was just coming out -of the vestry, and that they had better fight it out in the carriage -going home. Gus only made an impertinent remark about Flora's garters, -and Flora only drew a short, but trenchant, historical parallel between -Gus and Judas Iscariot; when the brides and bridegrooms came down the -aisle, and we all drove off to Charles's house in Eaton Square. - -And so, for the first time, I saw all together, with my own eyes, the -principal characters in this story. Only one was absent. Lord Saltire. I -had seen him twice in my life, and once had the honour of a conversation -with him. He was a man about five feet eleven, very broad shouldered, -and with a very deep chest. As far as the animal part of him went, I -came to the conclusion, from close and interested examination for twenty -minutes, that he had, fifty or sixty years before, been a man with whom -it would have been pleasanter to argue than to box. His make was -magnificent. Phrenologically speaking, he had a very high square head, -very flat at the sides: and, when I saw him, when he was nearly eighty, -he was the handsomest old man I had ever seen. He had a florid, pure -complexion. His face was without a wrinkle. His eyebrows were black, and -his hair seemed to refuse to be grey. There was as much black as grey in -it to the last. His eye was most extraordinary--a deep blue-grey. I can -look a man as straight in the face as any one; but when Lord Saltire -turned those eyes on me three or four times in the course of our -interview, I felt that it was an effort to meet them. I felt that I was -in the presence of a man of superior vitality to my own. We were having -a talk about matters connected with Charles Ravenshoe, which I have not -mentioned, because I want to keep myself, William Marston, as much out -of this story as possible. And whenever this terrible old man looked at -me, asking a question, I felt my eyebrows drawing together, and knew -that I was looking _defiantly_ at him. He was the most extraordinary man -I ever met. He never took office after he was forty. He played with -politics. He was in heart, I believe (no one knows), an advanced Whig. -He chose to call himself Tory. He played the Radical game very deep, -early in life, and, I think, he got disgusted with party politics. The -last thing the old Radical atheist did in public life was to rally up to -the side of the Duke in opposition to the Reform Bill. And another fact -about him is, that he had always a strong personal affection for Sir -Francis. - -He was a man of contradictions, if one judges a man by Whig and Tory -rules; but he was a great loss to the public business of the country. He -might have done almost anything in public life, with his calm clear -brain. My cousin John thinks that Lord Barkham's death was the cause of -his retirement. - -So much about Lord Saltire. Of the other characters mentioned in this -story, I will speak at once, just as I saw them sitting round the table -at Charles and William Ravenshoe's wedding. - -I sat beside Eliza Humby. She was infinitely the most beautiful, clever, -and amiable being that the world ever produced. (But that is my -business, not yours.) Charles Ravenshoe sat at the head of the table, -and I will leave him alone for a minute. I will give you my impressions -of the other characters in this story, as they appeared to me. - -Mary was a very charming-looking little person indeed, very short, and -with small features. I had never seen her before, and had never heard -any one say that she was pretty. I thought her very pretty indeed. Jane -Evans was an exceedingly beautiful Devonshire girl. My eye did not rest -very long on her. It came down the table to William, and there it -stopped. - -I got Eliza Humby to speak to him, and engage him in conversation while -I looked at him. I wanted to see whether there was anything remarkable -in his face, for a more remarkable instance of disinterested goodwill -than his determining to find Charles and ruin himself, I never happened -to have heard of. - -Well, he was very handsome and pleasing, with a square determined look -about the mouth, such as men brought up among horses generally have. -But I couldn't understand it, and so I spoke to him across Lizzie, and I -said, casting good manners to the winds, "I should think that the only -thing you regretted to-day was, that you had not been alongside of -Charles at Balaclava;" and then I understood it, for when I mentioned -Charles and Balaclava, I saw for one instant not a groom, but a poet. -Although, being a respectable and well-conducted man, he has never -written any poetry, and probably never will. - -Then I looked across the table at Lady Ascot. They say that she was -never handsome. I can quite believe that. She was a beautiful old woman -certainly, but then all old women are beautiful. Her face was very -square, and one could see that it was capable of very violent passion; -or could, knowing what one did, guess so. Otherwise there was nothing -very remarkable about her except that she was a remarkably charming old -lady. She was talking to General Mainwaring, who was a noble-looking old -soldier. - -Nothing more. In fact, the whole group were less remarkable and -tragical-looking than I thought they would have been. I was disappointed -until I came to Lord Ascot, and then I could not take my eyes off him. - -There was tragedy enough there. There was coarse brutality and passion -enough, in all conscience. And yet that man had done what he had done. -Here was a puzzle with a vengeance. - -Lord Ascot, as I saw him now, for the first time, was simply a low-bred -and repulsive-looking man. In stature he was gigantic, in every respect -save height. He was about five feet nine, very deep about the chest. His -hair was rather dark, cut close. His face was very florid, and perfectly -hairless. His forehead was low. His eyes were small, and close together. -His eyebrows were heavy, and met over his nose, which was short and -square. His mouth was large; and when you came to his mouth, you came to -the first tolerable feature in his face. When he was speaking to no one -in particular, the under lip was set, and the whole face, I am sorry to -say, was the sort of face which is quite as often seen in the dock, as -in the witness-box (unless some gentleman has turned Queen's evidence). -And this was the man who had risked a duke's fortune, because "There -were some things a fellow couldn't do, you know." - -It was very puzzling till he began to speak about his grandmother, and -then his lower lip pouted out, his eyebrows raised, his eyes were apart, -and he looked a different man. Is it possible that if he had not been -brought up to cock-fighting and horse-racing, among prize-fighters and -jockeys, that he might have been a different man? I can't say, I am -sure. - -Lord and Lady Hainault were simply a very high-bred, very handsome, and -very charming pair of people. I never had the slightest personal -acquaintance with either of them. My cousin knows them both very -intimately, and he says there are not two better people in the world. - -Charles Ravenshoe rose to reply to General Mainwaring's speech, -proposing the brides and bridegrooms, and I looked at him very -curiously. He was pale, from his recent illness, and he never was -handsome. But his face was the face of a man whom I should fancy most -people would get very fond of. When we were schoolfellows at Shrewsbury, -he was a tall dark-haired boy, who was always laughing, and kicking up a -row, and giving his things away to other fellows. Now he was a tall, -dark, melancholy-looking man, with great eyes and lofty eyebrows. His -vivacity, and that carriage which comes from the possession of great -physical strength, were gone; and while I looked at him, I felt ten -years older. Why should I try to describe him further? He is not so -remarkable a man as either Lord Ascot or William. But he was the best -man I ever knew. - -He said a few kind hearty words, and sat down, and then Lord Ascot got -up. And I took hold of Lizzie's hand with my left; and I put my right -elbow on the table and watched him intensely, with my hand shading my -face. He had a coat buttoned over his great chest, and as he spoke he -kept on buttoning and unbuttoning it with his great coarse hand. He -said-- - -"I ain't much hand at this sort of thing. I suppose those two Marstons, -confound them, are saying to themselves that I ought to be, because I am -in the House of Lords. That John Marston is a most impudent beggar, and -I shall expect to see his friend to-morrow morning. He always was, you -know. He has thwarted me all through my life. I wanted Charles Ravenshoe -to go to the deuce, and I'll be hanged if he'd let him. And it is not to -be borne." - -There was a general laugh at this, and Lord Ascot stretched his hand -across General Mainwaring, and shook hands with my cousin. - -"You men just go out of the room, will you?" (the servants departed, and -Lord Ascot went to the door to see they were not listening. I thought -some revelation was coming, but I was mistaken.) "You see I am obliged -to notice strangers, because a fellow may say things among old friends -which he don't exactly care to before servants. - -"It is all very well to say I'm a fool. That is very likely, and may be -taken for granted. But I am not such a fool as not to know that a very -strong prejudice exists against me in the present society." - -Every one cried out, "No, no!" Of all the great wedding breakfasts that -season, this was certainly the most remarkable. Lord Ascot went on. He -was getting the savage look on his face now. - -"Well, well! let that pass. Look at that man at the head of the -table--the bridegroom. Look at him. You wonder that I did what I did. -I'll tell you why. I love that fellow. He is what I call a man, General -Mainwaring. I met that fellow at Twyford years ago, and he has always -been the same to me since. You say I served him badly once. That is true -enough. You insulted me once in public about it, Hainault. You were -quite right. Say you, I should not talk about it to-day. But when we -come to think how near death's gates some of us have been since then, -you will allow that this wedding day has something very solemn about it. - -"My poor wife has broken her back across that infernal gate, and so she -could not come. I must ask you all to think kindly of that wife of mine. -You have all been very kind to her since her awful accident. She has -asked me to thank you. - -"I rose to propose a toast, and I have been carried away by a personal -statement, which, at every other wedding breakfast I ever heard of, it -would be a breach of good manners to make. It is not so on this -occasion. Terrible things have befallen every one of us here present. -And I suppose we must try all of us to--hey!--to--hah!--well, to do -better in future. - -"I rose, I said, to propose a toast. I rose to propose the most -blameless and excellent woman I ever knew. I propose that we drink the -health of my grandmother, Lady Ascot." - -And oh! but we leapt to our feet and drank it. Manners to the winds, -after what we had gone through. There was that solemn creature, Lord -Hainault, with his champagne glass in his hand, behaving like a -schoolboy, and giving us the time. And then, when her dear grey head was -bent down over the table, buried in her hands, my present father-in-law, -Squire Humby, leapt to his feet like a young giant, and called out for -three times three for Lord Ascot. And we had breath enough left to do -that handsomely, I warrant you. The whole thing was incorrect in the -highest degree, but we did it. And I don't know that any of us were -ashamed of it afterwards. - -And while the carriages were getting ready, Charles said, would we walk -across the square. And we all came with him. And he took us to a piece -of dead white wall, at the east end of St. Peter's Church, opposite the -cab-stand. And then he told us the story of the little shoeblack, and -how his comical friendship for that boy had saved him from what it would -not do to talk about. - - * * * * * - -But there is a cloud on Charles Ravenshoe's face, even now. I saw him -last summer lying on the sand, and playing with his eldest boy. And the -cloud was on him then. There was no moroseness, no hardness in the -expression; but the face was not the merry old face I knew so well at -Shrewsbury and Oxford. There is a dull, settled, dreaming melancholy -there still. The memory of those few terrible months has cast its shadow -upon him. And the shadow will lie, I fancy, upon that forehead, and will -dim those eyes, until the forehead is smoothed in the sleep of death, -and the eyes have opened to look upon eternity. - -Good-bye. - - -WARD, LOCK AND BOWDEN, LTD., LONDON, NEW YORK AND MELBOURNE. - - -FOOTNOTES: - -[1] The best banisters for sliding down are broad oak ones, with a rib -in the middle. This new narrow sort, which is coming in, are wretched. - -[2] The short description of the University boat-race which begins this -chapter was written two years ago, from the author's recollections of -the race of 1852. It would do for a description of this year's race, -quite as well as of any other year, substituting "Cambridge" for -"Oxford," according to the year. - -[3] I mean C. M. - -[4] A fact with regard to one tribe, to the author's frequent confusion. -Any number above two, whether of horses, cattle, or sheep, was always -represented as being eighty-four. Invariably, too, with an adjective -introduced after the word "four," which we don't use in a drawing-room. - -[5] Once for all, let me call every honest reader to witness, that, -unless I speak in the first person, I am not bound to the opinions of -any one of the characters in this book. I have merely made people speak, -I think, as they would have spoken. Even in a story, consisting so -entirely of incident as this, I feel it necessary to say so much, for no -kind of unfairness is so common as that of identifying the opinions of a -story-teller with those of his _dramatis personae_. - -[6] As a matter of curiosity I tried to write this paragraph from the -word "Mary," to the word "bosom," without using a single word derived -from the Latin. After having taken all possible pains to do so, I found -there were eight out of forty-eight. I think it is hardly possible to -reduce the proportion lower, and I think it is undesirable to reduce it -so low. - -[7] Which is a crib from Sir E. B. L. B. L. - -[8] The most famous voyage of the _Himalaya_, from Cork to Varna in -twelve days with the Fifth Dragoon Guards, took place in June. The -voyage here described, is, as will be perceived a subsequent one, but -equally successful, apparently. - -[9] If one has to raise an imaginary regiment, one must put it in an -imaginary place. The 17th Dragoons must try to forgive me. - -[10] These names actually occur, side by side, in my newspaper (_The -Field_), to which I referred for three names. They are in training by -Henry Hall, at Hambleton, in Yorkshire. Surely men could find better -names for their horses than such senseless ones as these. I would that -was all one had to complain of. I hope the noble old sport is not on its -last legs. But one trembles to think what will become of it, when the -comparatively few high-minded men who are keeping things straight are -gone. - -[11] Perhaps a reference to "The Wild Huntsman" will stop all criticism -at this point. 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