diff options
Diffstat (limited to 'old/42013.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | old/42013.txt | 7995 |
1 files changed, 0 insertions, 7995 deletions
diff --git a/old/42013.txt b/old/42013.txt deleted file mode 100644 index d0625f1..0000000 --- a/old/42013.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,7995 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Salem Chapel, v.1/2, by Mrs. Oliphant - -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/license - - -Title: Salem Chapel, v.1/2 - -Author: Mrs. Oliphant - -Release Date: February 4, 2013 [EBook #42013] -[Last updated July 5, 2013] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SALEM CHAPEL, V.1/2 *** - - - - -Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images available at The Internet Archive) - - - - - - - - COLLECTION - - OF - - BRITISH AUTHORS - - TAUCHNITZ EDITION. - - VOL. 1091. - - SALEM CHAPEL BY MRS. OLIPHANT. - - IN TWO VOLUMES. - - VOL. I. - - TAUCHNITZ EDITION. - -By the same Author, - -THE LAST OF THE MORTIMERS 2 vols. - -MARGARET MAITLAND 1 vol. - -AGNES 2 vols. - -MADONNA MARY 2 vols. - -THE MINISTER'S WIFE 2 vols. - -THE RECTOR AND THE DOCTOR'S FAMILY 1 vol. - - - - - - Chronicles of Carlingford - - SALEM CHAPEL - - BY - - MRS. OLIPHANT. - - _COPYRIGHT EDITION._ - - IN TWO VOLUMES. - - VOL. I. - - LEIPZIG - - BERNHARD TAUCHNITZ - - 1870. - - _The Right of Translation is reserved._ - - - - - SALEM CHAPEL. - - - - -CHAPTER I. - - -Towards the west end of Grove Street, in Carlingford, on the shabby side -of the street, stood a red brick building, presenting a pinched gable -terminated by a curious little belfry, not intended for any bell, and -looking not unlike a handle to lift up the edifice by to the public -observation. This was Salem Chapel, the only Dissenting place of worship -in Carlingford. It stood in a narrow strip of ground, just as the little -houses which flanked it on either side stood in their gardens, except -that the enclosure of the chapel was flowerless and sombre, and showed -at the farther end a few sparsely-scattered tombstones--unmeaning slabs, -such as the English mourner loves to inscribe his sorrow on. On either -side of this little tabernacle were the humble houses--little detached -boxes, each two storeys high, each fronted by a little flower-plot--clean, -respectable, meagre, little habitations, which contributed most largely -to the ranks of the congregation in the Chapel. The big houses opposite, -which turned their backs and staircase windows to the street, took -little notice of the humble Dissenting community. Twice in the winter, -perhaps, the Miss Hemmings, mild evangelical women, on whom the late -rector--the Low-Church rector, who reigned before the brief and -exceptional incumbency of the Rev. Mr. Proctor--had bestowed much of his -confidence, would cross the street, when other profitable occupations -failed them, to hear a special sermon on a Sunday evening. But the Miss -Hemmings were the only representatives of anything which could, by the -utmost stretch, be called Society, who ever patronised the Dissenting -interest in the town of Carlingford. Nobody from Grange Lane had ever -been seen so much as in Grove Street on a Sunday, far less in the -chapel. Greengrocers, dealers in cheese and bacon, milkmen, with some -dressmakers of inferior pretensions, and teachers of day-schools of -similar humble character, formed the _elite_ of the congregation. It is -not to be supposed, however, on this account, that a prevailing aspect -of shabbiness was upon this little community; on the contrary, the grim -pews of Salem Chapel blushed with bright colours, and contained both -dresses and faces on the summer Sundays which the Church itself could -scarcely have surpassed. Nor did those unadorned walls form a centre of -asceticism and gloomy religiousness in the cheerful little town. -Tea-meetings were not uncommon occurrences in Salem--tea-meetings which -made the little tabernacle festive, in which cakes and oranges were -diffused among the pews, and funny speeches made from the little -platform underneath the pulpit, which woke the unconsecrated echoes with -hearty outbreaks of laughter. Then the young people had their -singing-class, at which they practised hymns, and did not despise a -little flirtation; and charitable societies and missionary auxiliaries -diversified the congregational routine, and kept up a brisk succession -of "Chapel business," mightily like the Church business which occupied -Mr. Wentworth and his Sisters of Mercy at St. Roque's. To name the two -communities, however, in the same breath, would have been accounted -little short of sacrilege in Carlingford. The names which figured -highest in the benevolent lists of Salem Chapel, were known to society -only as appearing, in gold letters, upon the backs of those mystic -tradesmen's books, which were deposited every Monday in little heaps at -every house in Grange Lane. The Dissenters, on their part, aspired to no -conquests in the unattainable territory of high life, as it existed in -Carlingford. They were content to keep their privileges among -themselves, and to enjoy their superior preaching and purity with a -compassionate complacence. While Mr. Proctor was rector, indeed, Mr. -Tozer, the butterman, who was senior deacon, found it difficult to -refrain from an audible expression of pity for the "Church folks" who -knew no better; but, as a general rule, the congregation of Salem kept -by itself, gleaning new adherents by times at an "anniversary" or the -coming of a new minister, but knowing and keeping "its own place" in a -manner edifying to behold. - -Such was the state of affairs when old Mr. Tufton declined in -popularity, and impressed upon the minds of his hearers those -now-established principles about the unfitness of old men for any -important post, and the urgent necessity and duty incumbent upon old -clergymen, old generals, old admirals, &c.--every aged functionary, -indeed, except old statesmen--to resign in favour of younger men, which -have been, within recent years, so much enforced upon the world. To -communicate this opinion to the old minister was perhaps less difficult -to Mr. Tozer and his brethren than it might have been to men more -refined and less practical; but it was an undeniable relief to the -managers of the chapel when grim Paralysis came mildly in and gave the -intimation in the manner least calculated to wound the sufferer's -feelings. Mild but distinct was that undeniable warning. The poor old -minister retired, accordingly, with a purse and a presentation, and -young Arthur Vincent, fresh from Homerton, in the bloom of hope and -intellectualism, a young man of the newest school, was recognised as -pastor in his stead. - -A greater change could not possibly have happened. When the interesting -figure of the young minister went up the homely pulpit-stairs, and -appeared, white-browed, white-handed, in snowy linen and glossy clerical -apparel, where old Mr. Tufton, spiritual but homely, had been wont to -impend over the desk and exhort his beloved brethren, it was natural -that a slight rustle of expectation should run audibly through the -audience. Mr. Tozer looked round him proudly to note the sensation, and -see if the Miss Hemmings, sole representatives of a cold and unfeeling -aristocracy, were there. The fact was, that few of the auditors were -more impressed than the Miss Hemmings, who _were_ there, and who talked -all the evening after about the young minister. What a sermon it was! -not much in it about the beloved brethren; nothing very stimulating, -indeed, to the sentiments and affections, except in the youth and good -looks of the preacher, which naturally made a more distinct impression -upon the female portion of his hearers than on the stronger sex. But -then what eloquence! what an amount of thought! what an honest entrance -into all the difficulties of the subject! Mr. Tozer remarked afterwards -that such preaching was food for _men_. It was too closely reasoned out, -said the excellent butterman, to please women or weak-minded persons: -but he did not doubt, for his part, that soon the young men of -Carlingford, the hope of the country, would find their way to Salem. Under -such prognostications, it was fortunate that the young minister -possessed something else besides close reasoning and Homerton eloquence -to propitiate the women too. - -Mr. Vincent arrived at Carlingford in the beginning of winter, when -society in that town was reassembling, or at least reappearing, after -the temporary summer seclusion. The young man knew very little of the -community which he had assumed the spiritual charge of. He was almost as -particular as the Rev. Mr. Wentworth of St. Roque's about the cut of his -coat and the precision of his costume, and decidedly preferred the word -clergyman to the word minister, which latter was universally used by his -flock; but notwithstanding these trifling predilections, Mr. Vincent, -who had been brought up upon the 'Nonconformist' and the 'Eclectic -Review,' was strongly impressed with the idea that the Church -Establishment, though outwardly prosperous, was in reality a profoundly -rotten institution; that the Nonconforming portion of the English public -was the party of progress; that the eyes of the world were turned upon -the Dissenting interest; and that his own youthful eloquence and the -Voluntary principle were quite enough to counterbalance all the -ecclesiastical advantages on the other side, and make for himself a -position of the highest influence in his new sphere. As he walked about -Carlingford making acquaintance with the place, it occurred to the young -man, with a thrill of not ungenerous ambition, that the time might -shortly come when Salem Chapel would be all too insignificant for the -Nonconformists of this hitherto torpid place. He pictured to himself -how, by-and-by, those jealous doors in Grange Lane would fly open at his -touch, and how the dormant minds within would awake under his influence. -It was a blissful dream to the young pastor. Even the fact that Mr. -Tozer was a butterman, and the other managers of the chapel equally -humble in their pretensions, did not disconcert him in that flush of -early confidence. All he wanted--all any man worthy of his post -wanted--was a spot of standing-ground, and an opportunity of making the -Truth--and himself--known. Such, at least, was the teaching of Homerton -and the Dissenting organs. Young Vincent, well educated and enlightened -according to his fashion, was yet so entirely unacquainted with any -world but that contracted one in which he had been brought up, that he -believed all this as devoutly as Mr. Wentworth believed in Anglicanism, -and would have smiled with calm scorn at any sceptic who ventured to -doubt. Thus it will be seen he came to Carlingford with elevated -expectations--by no means prepared to circulate among his flock, and say -grace at Mrs. Tozer's "teas," and get up _soirees_ to amuse the -congregation, as Mr. Tufton had been accustomed to do. These secondary -circumstances of his charge had little share in the new minister's -thoughts. Somehow the tone of public writing has changed of late days. -Scarcely a newspaper writer condescends now to address men who are not -free of "society," and learned in all its ways. The 'Times' and the -Magazines take it for granted that all their readers dine out at -splendid tables, and are used to a solemn attendant behind their chair. -Young Vincent was one of those who accept the flattering implication. It -is true, he saw few enough of such celestial scenes in his college-days. -But now that life was opening upon him, he doubted nothing of the -society that must follow; and with a swell of gratification listened -when the advantages of Carlingford were discussed by some chance -fellow-travellers on the railway; its pleasant parties--its nice -people--Mr. Wodehouse's capital dinners, and the charming -breakfasts--such a delightful novelty!--so easy and agreeable!--of the -pretty Lady Western, the young dowager. In imagination Mr. Vincent saw -himself admitted to all these social pleasures; not that he cared for -capital dinners more than became a young man, or had any special -tendencies towards tuft-hunting, but because fancy and hope, and -ignorance of the real world, made him naturally project himself into -the highest sphere within his reach, in the simple conviction that such -was his natural place. - -With these thoughts, to be asked to Mrs. Tozer's to tea at six o'clock, -was the most wonderful cold plunge for the young man. He shrugged his -shoulders, smiled to himself over the note of invitation, which, -however, was very prettily written by Phoebe, Mrs. Tozer's blooming -daughter, on paper as pink as Lady Western's, and consented, as he could -not help himself. He went out from his nice lodgings a little after six, -still smiling, and persuading himself that this would be quite a -pleasant study of manners, and that of course he could not do less than -patronise the good homely people in their own way, whatever that might -be. Mr. Vincent's rooms were in George Street, at what the Grange Lane -people called _the other end_, in an imposing house with a large door, -and iron extinguishers fixed in the railing, which had in their day -quenched the links of the last century. To cross the street in his -evening coat, and walk into the butter-shop, where the two white-aproned -lads behind the counter stared, and a humble member of the congregation -turned sharply round, and held out the hand, which had just clutched a -piece of bacon, for her minister to shake, was a sufficiently trying -introduction to the evening's pleasure; but when the young pastor had -been ushered up-stairs, the first aspect of the company there rather -took away his breath, as he emerged from the dark staircase. Tozer -himself, who awaited the minister at the door, was fully habited in the -overwhelming black suit and white tie, which produced so solemnising an -effect every Sunday at chapel; and the other men of the party were, with -a few varieties, similarly attired. But the brilliancy of the female -portion of the company overpowered Mr. Vincent. Mrs. Tozer herself sat -at the end of her hospitable table, with all her best china tea-service -set out before her, in a gown and cap which Grange Lane could not have -furnished any rivals to. The brilliant hue of the one, and the flowers -and feathers of the other, would require a more elaborate description -than this chronicle has space for. Nor indeed in the particular of dress -did Mrs. Tozer do more than hold her own among the guests who surrounded -her. It was scarcely dark, and the twilight softened down the splendours -of the company, and saved the dazzled eyes of the young pastor. He felt -the grandeur vaguely as he came in with a sense of reproof, seeing that -he had evidently been waited for. He said grace devoutly when the tea -arrived and the gas was lighted, and with dumb amaze gazed round him. -Could these be the veritable womankind of Salem Chapel? Mr. Vincent saw -bare shoulders and flower-wreathed heads bending over the laden -tea-table. He saw pretty faces and figures not inelegant, remarkable -among which was Miss Phoebe's, who had written him that pink note, and -who herself was pink all over--dress, shoulders, elbows, cheeks, and -all. Pink--not red--a softened youthful flush, which was by no means -unbecoming to the plump full figure which had not an angle anywhere. As -for the men, the lawful owners of all this feminine display, they -huddled all together, indisputable cheesemongers as they were, quite -transcended and extinguished by their wives and daughters. The pastor -was young and totally inexperienced. In his heart he asserted his own -claim to an entirely different sphere; but, suddenly cast into this -little crowd, Mr. Vincent's inclination was to join the dark group of -husbands and fathers whom he knew, and who made no false pretences. He -was shy of venturing upon those fine women, who surely never could be -Mrs. Brown of the Devonshire Dairy, and Mrs. Pigeon, the poulterer's -wife; whereas Pigeon and Brown themselves were exactly like what they -always were on Sundays, if not perhaps a trifle graver and more -depressed in their minds. - -"Here's a nice place for you, Mr. Vincent--quite the place for you, -where you can hear all the music, and see all the young ladies. For I do -suppose ministers, bein' young, are like other young men," said Mrs. -Tozer, drawing aside her brilliant skirts to make room for him on the -sofa. "I have a son myself as is at college, and feel motherlike to -those as go in the same line. Sit you down comfortable, Mr. Vincent. -There ain't one here, sir, I'm proud to say, as grudges you the best -seat." - -"Oh, mamma, how could you think of saying such a thing!" said Phoebe, -under her breath; "to be sure, Mr. Vincent never could think there was -anybody anywhere that would be so wicked--and he the minister." - -"Indeed, my dear," said Mrs. Pigeon, who was close by, "not to affront -Mr. Vincent, as is deserving of our best respects, I've seen many and -many's the minister I wouldn't have given up my seat to; and I don't -misdoubt, sir, you've heard of such as well as we. There was Mr. Bailey -at Parson's Green, now. He went and married a poor bit of a governess, -as common a looking creature as you could see, that set herself up above -the people, Mr. Vincent, and was too grand, sir, if you'll believe me, -to visit the deacons' wives. Nobody cares less than me about them vain -shows. What's visiting, if you know the vally of your time? Nothing but -a laying up of judgment. But I wouldn't be put upon neither by a chit -that got her bread out of me and my husband's hard earnins; and so I -told my sister, Mrs. Tozer, as lives at Parson's Green." - -"Poor thing!" said the gentler Mrs. Tozer, "it's hard lines on a -minister's wife to please the congregation. Mr. Vincent here, he'll have -to take a lesson. That Mrs. Bailey was pretty-looking, I must allow----" - -"Sweetly pretty!" whispered Phoebe, clasping her plump pink hands. - -"Pretty-looking! I don't say anything against it," continued her mother; -"but it's hard upon a minister when his wife won't take no pains to -please his flock. To have people turn up their noses at you ain't -pleasant----" - -"And them getting their livin' off you all the time," cried Mrs. Pigeon, -clinching the milder speech. - -"But it seems to me," said poor Vincent, "that a minister can no more -be said to get his living off you than any other man. He works hard -enough generally for what little he has. And really, Mrs. Tozer, I'd -rather not hear all these unfortunate particulars about one of my -brethren----" - -"He ain't one of the brethren now," broke in the poulterer's wife. "He's -been gone out o' Parson's Green this twelvemonths. Them stuck-up ways -may do with the Church folks as can't help themselves, but they'll never -do with us Dissenters. Not that we ain't as glad as can be to see you, -Mr. Vincent, and I hope you'll favour my poor house another night like -you're favouring Mrs. Tozer's. Mr. Tufton always said that was the -beauty of Carlingford in our connection. Cheerful folks and no display. -No display, you know--nothing but a hearty meetin', sorry to part, and -happy to meet again. Them's our ways. And the better you know us, the -better you'll like us, I'll be bound to say. We don't put it all on the -surface, Mr. Vincent," continued Mrs. Pigeon, shaking out her skirts and -expanding herself on her chair, "but it's all real and solid; what we -say we mean--and we don't say no more than we mean--and them's the kind -of folks to trust to wherever you go." - -Poor Vincent made answer by an inarticulate murmur, whether of assent or -dissent it was impossible to say; and, inwardly appalled, turned his -eyes towards his deacons, who, more fortunate than himself, were -standing all in a group together discussing chapel matters, and wisely -leaving general conversation to the fairer portion of the company. The -unlucky minister's secret looks of distress awoke the interest and -sympathy of Phoebe, who sat in an interesting manner on a stool at her -mother's side. "Oh, mamma," said that young lady, too bashful to address -himself directly, "I wonder if Mr. Vincent plays or sings? There are -some such nice singers here. Perhaps we might have some music, if Mr. -Vincent----" - -"I don't perform at all," said that victim,--"not in any way; but I am -an exemplary listener. Let me take you to the piano." - -The plump Phoebe rose after many hesitations, and, with a simper and a -blush and pretty air of fright, took the minister's arm. After all, even -when the whole company is beneath a man's level, it is easier to play -the victim under the _supplice_ inflicted by a pretty girl than by two -mature matrons. Phoebe understood pretty well about her _h_'s, and did -not use the double negative; and when she rose up rustling from her low -seat, the round, pink creature, with dimples all about her, was not an -unpleasant object of contemplation. Mr. Vincent listened to her song -with decorous interest. Perhaps it was just as well sung as Lucy -Wodehouse, in Grange Lane, would have sung it. When Phoebe had -concluded, the minister was called to the side of Mrs. Brown of the -Devonshire Dairy, who had been fidgeting to secure him from the moment -he approached the piano. She was fat and roundabout, good woman, and had -the aspect of sitting upon the very edge of her chair. She held out to -the distressed pastor a hand covered with a rumpled white glove, which -did not fit, and had never been intended to fit, and beckoned to him -anxiously. With the calmness of despair Mr. Vincent obeyed the call. - -"I have been looking so anxious to catch your eye, Mr. Vincent," said -Mrs. Brown; "do sit you down, now there's a chance, and let me talk to -you a minnit. Bless the girl! there's Miss Polly Pigeon going to play, -and everybody can use their freedom in talking. For my part," said Mrs. -Brown, securing the vacant chair of the performer for her captive, -"that's why I like instrumental music best. When a girl sings, why, to -be sure, it's only civil to listen--ain't it now, Mr. Vincent? but -nobody expects it of you, don't you see, when she only plays. Now do you -sit down. What I wanted to speak to you was about that poor creetur in -Back Grove Street--that's the lane right behind the chapel. She do -maunder on so to see the minister. Mr. Tozer he's been to see her, and I -sent Brown, but it wasn't a bit of use. It's you, Mr. Vincent, she's -awanting of. If you'll call in to-morrow, I'll show you the place -myself, as you're a stranger; for if you'll excuse me saying it, I am as -curious as can be to hear what she's got to say." - -"If she has got anything to say, she might prefer that it was not -heard," said Vincent, with an attempt at a smile. "Is she ill--and who -is she? I have never heard of her before." - -"Well, you see, sir, she doesn't belong rightly to Salem. She's a -stranger here, and not a joined member; and she ain't ill either, as I -can see--only something on her mind. You ministers," said Mrs. Brown, -with a look of awe, "must have a deal of secrets confided to you. Folks -may stand out against religion as long as things go on straight with -them, but they're sure to want the minister as soon as they've got -something on their mind; and a deal better to have it out, and get a -little comfort, than to bottle it all up till their latter end, like old -Mrs. Thompson, and let it out in their will, to drive them as was -expecting different distracted. It's a year or two since that happened. -I don't suppose you've heerd tell of it yet. But that's what makes old -Mrs. Christian--I dare to say you've seen her at chapel--so -uncomfortable in her feelins. She's never got over it, sir, and never -will to her dying day." - -"Some disappointment about money?" said Mr. Vincent. - -"Poor old folks! their daughter did very well for herself--and very well -for them too," said Mrs. Brown; "but it don't make no difference in Mrs. -Christian's feelins: they're living, like, on Mr. Brown the solicitor's -charity, you see, sir, instead of their own fortin, which makes a deal -o' difference. It would have been a fine thing for Salem too," added -Mrs. Brown, reflectively, "if they had had the old lady's money; for -Mrs. Christian was always one that liked to be first, and stanch to her -chapel, and would never have been wanting when the collecting-books went -round. But it wasn't to be, Mr. Vincent--that's the short and the long -of it; and we never have had nobody in our connection worth speaking of -in Carlingford but's been in trade. And a very good thing too, as I tell -Brown. For if there's one thing I can't abear in a chapel, it's one set -setting up above the rest. But bein' all in the way of business, except -just the poor folks, as is all very well in their place, and never -interferes with nothing, and don't count, there's nothing but brotherly -love here, which is a deal more than most ministers can say for their -flocks. I've asked a few friends to tea, Mr. Vincent, on next Thursday, -at six. As I haven't got no daughters just out of a boarding-school to -write notes for me, will you take us in a friendly way, and just come -without another invitation? All our own folks, sir, and a comfortable -evening; and prayers, if you'll _be_ so good, at the end. I don't like -the new fashion," said Mrs. Brown, with a significant glance towards -Mrs. Tozer, "of separatin' like heathens, when all's of one connection. -We might never meet again, Mr. Vincent. In the midst of life, you know, -sir. You'll not forget Thursday, at six." - -"But, my dear Mrs. Brown, I am very sorry: Thursday is one of the days I -have specially devoted to study," stammered forth the unhappy pastor. -"What with the Wednesday meeting and the Friday committee----" - -Mrs. Brown drew herself up as well as the peculiarities of her form -permitted, and her roseate countenance assumed a deeper glow. "We've -been in the chapel longer than Tozer," said the offended deaconess. -"We've never been backward, in takin' trouble, nor spendin' our -substance, nor puttin' our hands to every good work; and as for makin' a -difference between one member and another, it's what we ain't been -accustomed to, Mr. Vincent. I'm a plain woman, and speak my mind. Old -Mr. Tufton was very particular to show no preference. He always said, it -never answered in a flock to show more friendship to one nor another; -and if it had been put to me, I wouldn't have said, I assure you, sir, -that it was us as was to be made the first example of. If I haven't a -daughter fresh out of a boarding-school, I've been a member of Salem -five-and-twenty year, and had ministers in my house many's the day, and -as friendly as if I were a duchess; and for charities and such things, -we've never been known to fail, though I say it; and as for trouble----" - -"But I spoke of my study," said the poor minister, as she paused, her -indignation growing too eloquent for words: "you want me to preach on -Sunday, don't you? and I must have some time, you know, to do my work." - -"Sir," said Mrs. Brown, severely, "I know it for a fact that Mr. -Wentworth of St. Roque's dines out five days in the week, and it don't -do _his_ sermons no injury; and when you go out to dinner, it stands to -reason it's a different thing from a friendly tea." - -"Ah, yes, most likely!" said Mr. Vincent, with a heavy sigh. "I'll come, -since you wish it so much; but," added the unlucky young man, with a -melancholy attempt at a smile, "you must not be too kind to me. Too much -of this kind of thing, you know, might have an effect----" Here he -paused, inclined to laugh at his own powers of sarcasm. As chance would -have it, as he pointed generally to the scene before them, the little -wave of his hand seemed to Mrs. Brown to indicate the group round the -piano, foremost in which was Phoebe, plump and pink, and full of -dimples. The good mistress of the Devonshire Dairy gave her head a -little toss. - -"Ah!" said Mrs. Brown, with a sigh, "you don't know, you young men, the -half of the tricks of them girls that look so innocent. But I don't deny -it's a pleasant party," added the deaconess, looking round on the -company in general with some complacency. "But just you come along our -way on Thursday, at six, and judge for yourself if mine ain't quite as -good; though I have not got no daughters, Mr. Vincent," she concluded, -with severe irony, elevating her double chin and nodding her flowery -head. - -The subdued minister made no reply; only deeper and deeper humiliation -seemed in store for him. Was it he, the first prize-man of Homerton, who -was supposed to be already smitten by the pink charms of Phoebe Tozer? -The unfortunate young man groaned in spirit, and, seizing a sudden -opportunity, plunged into the black group of deacons, and tried to -immerse himself in chapel business. But vain was the attempt. He was -recaptured and led back in triumph to Mrs. Tozer's sofa. He had to -listen to more singing, and accept another invitation to tea. When he -got off at last, it was with a sensation of dreadful dwindlement that -poor Vincent crossed the street again to his lonely abode. He knocked -quite humbly at the big door, and, with a sensation of unclerical rage, -wondered to himself whether the policeman who met him knew he had been -out to tea. Ah, blessed Mr. Wentworth of St. Roque's! The young -Nonconformist sighed as he put on his slippers, and kicked his boots -into a corner of his sitting-room. Somehow he had come down in the world -all at once, and without expecting it. Such was Salem Chapel and its -requirements: and such was Mr. Vincent's first experience of social life -in Carlingford. - - - - -CHAPTER II. - - -It was with a somewhat clouded aspect that the young pastor rose from -his solitary breakfast-table next morning to devote himself to the -needful work of visiting his flock. The minister's breakfast, though -lonely, had not been without alleviations. He had the "Carlingford -Gazette" at his elbow, if that was any comfort, and he had two letters -which were more interesting; one was from his mother, a minister's -widow, humbly enough off, but who had brought up her son in painful -gentility, and had done much to give him that taste for good society -which was to come to so little fruition in Carlingford. Mr. Vincent -smiled sardonically as he read his good mother's questions about his -"dear people," and her anxious inquiry whether he had found a "pleasant -circle" in Salem. Remembering the dainty little household which it took -her so much pains and pinching to maintain, the contrast made present -affairs still more and more distasteful to her son. He could fancy her -trim little figure in that traditionary black silk gown which never wore -out, and the whitest of caps, gazing aghast at Mrs. Brown and Mrs. -Tozer. But, nevertheless, Mrs. Vincent understood all about Mrs. Brown -and Mrs. Tozer, and had been very civil to such, and found them very -serviceable in her day, though her son, who knew her only in that -widowed cottage where she had her own way, could not have realised it. -The other letter was from a Homerton chum, a young intellectual and -ambitious Nonconformist like himself, whose epistle was full of -confidence and hope, triumph in the cause, and its perpetual advance. -"We are the priests of the poor," said the Homerton enthusiast, -encouraging his friend to the sacrifices and struggles which he presumed -to be already surrounding him. Mr. Vincent bundled up this letter with a -sigh. Alas! there were no grand struggles or sacrifices in Carlingford. -"The poor" were mostly church-goers, as he had already discovered. It -was a tolerably comfortable class of the community, that dreadful -"connection" of Browns, Pigeons, and Tozers. Amid their rude luxuries -and commonplace plenty, life could have no heroic circumstances. The -young man sighed, and did not feel so sure as he once did of the grand -generalities in which his friend was still confident. If Dissenters led -the van of progress generally, there was certainly an exception to be -made in respect to Carlingford. And the previous evening's entertainment -had depressed the young minister's expectations even of what he himself -could do--a sad blow to a young man. He was less convinced that -opportunity of utterance was all that was necessary to give him -influence in the general community. He was not half so sure of success -in opening the closed doors and sealed hearts of Grange Lane. On the -whole, matters looked somewhat discouraging that particular morning, -which was a morning in October, not otherwise depressing or -disagreeable. He took his hat and went down-stairs with a kind of -despairing determination to do his duty. There an encounter occurred -which did not raise his spirits. The door was open, and his landlady, -who was a member of Salem Chapel, stood there in full relief against the -daylight outside, taking from the hands of Miss Phoebe Tozer a little -basket, the destination of which she was volubly indicating. Mr. Vincent -appearing before Phoebe had half concluded her speech, that young lady -grew blushingly embarrassed, and made haste to relinquish her hold of -the basket. Her conscious looks filled the unwitting minister with -ignorant amaze. - -"Oh, to think Mr. Vincent should catch me here! What ever will he think? -and what ever will Ma say?" cried Miss Phoebe. "Oh, Mr. Vincent, Ma -thought, please, you might perhaps like some jelly, and I said I would -run over with it myself, as it's so near, and the servant might have -made a mistake, and Ma hopes you'll enjoy it, and that you liked the -party last night!" - -"Mrs. Tozer is very kind," said the minister, with cloudy looks. "Some -what, did you say, Miss Phoebe?" - -"La! only some jelly--nothing worth mentioning--only a shape that was -over supper last night, and Ma thought you wouldn't mind," cried the -messenger, half alarmed by the unusual reception of her offering. Mr. -Vincent turned very red, and looked at the basket as if he would like -nothing better than to pitch it into the street; but prudence for once -restrained the young man. He bit his lips, and bowed, and went upon his -way, without waiting, as she intended he should, to escort Miss Phoebe -back again to her paternal shop. Carrying his head higher than usual, -and thrilling with offence and indignation, the young pastor made his -way along George Street. It was a very trifling circumstance, certainly; -but just when an enthusiastic companion writes to you about the advance -of the glorious cause, and your own high vocation as a soldier of the -Cross, and the undoubted fact that the hope of England is in you, to -have a shape of jelly, left over from last night's tea-party, sent -across the street with complacent kindness, for your refreshment----! It -_was_ trying. To old Mrs. Tufton, indeed, who had an invalid daughter, -it might have seemed a Christian bounty; but to Arthur Vincent, -five-and-twenty, a scholar and a gentleman--ah me! If he had been a -Christchurch man, or even a Fellow of Trinity, the chances are he would -have taken it much more graciously; for then he would have had the -internal consciousness of his own dignity to support him; whereas the -sting of it all was, that poor young Vincent had no special right to his -own pretensions, but had come to them he could not tell how; and, in -reality, had his mind been on a level with his fortunes, ought to have -found the Tozers and Pigeons sufficiently congenial company. He went -along George Street with troubled haste, pondering his sorrows--those -sorrows which he could confide to nobody. Was he actually to live among -these people for years--to have no other society--to circulate among -their tea-parties, and grow accustomed to their finery, and perhaps "pay -attention" to Phoebe Tozer; or, at least, suffer that young lady's -attentions to him? And what would become of him at the end? To drop into -a shuffling old gossip, like good old Mr. Tufton, seemed the best thing -he could hope for; and who could wonder at the mild stupor of -paralysis--disease not tragical, only drivelling--which was the last -chapter of all? - -The poor young man accordingly marched along George Street deeply -disconsolate. When he met the perpetual curate of St. Roque's at the -door of Masters's bookshop--where, to be sure, at that hour in the -morning, it was natural to encounter Mr. Wentworth--the young -Nonconformist gazed at him with a certain wistfulness. They looked at -each other, in fact, being much of an age, and not unsimilar in worldly -means just at the present moment. There were various points of -resemblance between them. Mr. Vincent, too, wore an Anglican coat, and -assumed a high clerical aspect--sumptuary laws forbidding such -presumption being clearly impracticable in England; and the Dissenter -was as fully endowed with natural good looks as the young priest. How -was it, then, that so vast a world of difference and separation lay -between them? For one compensating moment Mr. Vincent decided that it -was because of his more enlightened faith, and felt himself persecuted. -But even that pretence did not serve the purpose. He began to divine -faintly, and with a certain soreness, that external circumstances do -stand for something, if not in the great realities of a man's career, at -least in the comforts of his life. A poor widow's son, educated at -Homerton, and an English squire's son, public school and university -bred, cannot begin on the same level. To compensate that disadvantage -requires something more than a talent for preaching. Perhaps genius -would scarcely do it without the aid of time and labour. The conviction -fell sadly upon poor Arthur Vincent as he went down the principal street -of Carlingford in the October sunshine. He was rapidly becoming -disenchanted, and neither the 'Nonconformist' nor the 'Patriot,' nor -Exeter Hall itself, could set him up again. - -With these feelings the young pastor pursued his way to see the poor -woman who, according to Mrs. Brown's account, was so anxious to see the -minister. He found this person, whose desire was at present shared by -most of the female members of Salem without the intervention of the -Devonshire Dairy, in a mean little house in the close lane dignified by -the name of Back Grove Street. She was a thin, dark, vivacious-looking -woman, with a face from which some forty years of energetic living had -withdrawn all the colour and fulness which might once have rendered it -agreeable, but which was, nevertheless, a remarkable face, not to be -lightly passed over. Extreme thinness of outline and sharpness of line -made the contrast between this educated countenance and the faces which -had lately surrounded the young minister still more remarkable. It was -not a profound or elevated kind of education, perhaps, but it was very -different from the thin superficial lacker with which Miss Phoebe was -coated. Eager dark eyes, with dark lines under them--thin eloquent -lips, the upper jaw projecting slightly, the mouth closing fast and -firm--a well-shaped small head, with a light black lace handkerchief -fastened under the chin--no complexion or softening of tint--a dark, -sallow, colourless face, thrilling with expression, energy, and thought, -was that on which the young man suddenly lighted as he went in, somewhat -indifferent, it must be confessed, and expecting to find nothing that -could interest him. She was seated in a shabby room, only half-carpeted, -up two pair of stairs, which looked out upon no more lively view than -the back of Salem Chapel itself, with its few dismal scattered -graves--and was working busily at men's clothing of the coarsest kind, -blue stuff which had transferred its colour to her thin fingers. Meagre -as were her surroundings, however, Mr. Vincent, stumbling listlessly up -the narrow bare stair of the poor lodging-house, suddenly came to -himself as he stood within this humble apartment. If this was to be his -penitent, the story she had to tell might be not unworthy of serious -listening. He stammered forth a half apology and explanation of his -errand, as he gazed surprised at so unexpected a figure, wondering -within himself what intense strain and wear of life could have worn to -so thin a tissue the outer garment of this keen and sharp-edged soul. - -"Come in," said the stranger, "I am glad to see you. I know you, Mr. -Vincent, though I can't suppose you've observed me. Take a seat. I have -heard you preach ever since you came--so, knowing in a manner how your -thoughts run, I've a kind of acquaintance with you: which, to be sure, -isn't the same on your side. I daresay the woman at the Dairy sent you -to me?" - -"I understood--from Mrs. Brown certainly--that you wanted to see me," -said the puzzled pastor. - -"Yes, it was quite true. I have resources in myself, to be sure, as much -as most people," said his new acquaintance, whom he had been directed to -ask for as Mrs. Hilyard, "but still human relations are necessary; and -as I don't know anybody here, I thought I'd join the Chapel. Queer set -of people, rather, don't you think?" she continued, glancing up from her -rapid stitching to catch Vincent's conscious eye; "they thought I was in -spiritual distress, I suppose, and sent me the butterman. Lord bless us! -if I had been, what could he have done for me, does anybody imagine? and -when he didn't succeed, there came the Dairy person, who, I daresay, -would have understood what I wanted had I been a cow. Now I can make out -what I'm doing when I have you, Mr. Vincent. I know your line a little -from your sermons. That was wonderfully clever on Sunday morning about -confirmation. I belong to the Church myself by rights, and was -confirmed, of course, at the proper time, like other people, but I am a -person of impartial mind. That was a famous downright blow. I liked you -there." - -"I am glad to have your approbation," said the young minister, rather -stiffly; "but excuse me--I was quite in earnest in my argument." - -"Yes, yes; that was the beauty of it," said his eager interlocutor, who -went on without ever raising her eyes, intent upon the rough work which -he could not help observing sometimes made her scarred fingers bleed as -it passed rapidly through them. "No argument is ever worth listening to -if it isn't used in earnest. I've led a wandering life, and heard an -infinity of sermons of late years. When there are any brains in them at -all, you know, they are about the only kind of mental stimulant a poor -woman in my position can come by, for I've no time for reading lately. -Down here, in these regions, where the butterman comes to inquire after -your spiritual interests, and is a superior being," added this singular -new adherent of Salem, looking full for a single moment in her visitor's -eyes, with a slight movement of the muscles of her thin face, and making -a significant pause, "the air's a trifle heavy. It isn't pure oxygen we -breathe in Back Grove Street, by any means." - -"I assure you it surprises me more than I can explain, to find," said -Vincent, hesitating for a proper expression, "to find----" - -"Such a person as I am in Back Grove Street," interrupted his companion, -quickly; "yes--and thereby hangs a tale. But I did not send for you to -tell it. I sent for you for no particular reason, but a kind of yearning -to talk to somebody. I beg your pardon sincerely--but you know," she -said, once more with a direct sudden glance and that half-visible -movement in her face which meant mischief, "you are a minister, and are -bound to have no inclinations of your own, but to give yourself up to -the comfort of the poor." - -"Without any irony, that is the aim I propose to myself," said Vincent; -"but I fear you are disposed to take rather a satirical view of such -matters. It is fashionable to talk lightly on those subjects; but I find -life and its affairs sufficiently serious, I assure you----" - -Here she stopped her work suddenly, and looked up at him, her dark sharp -eyes lighting up her thin sallow face with an expression which it was -beyond his power to fathom. The black eyelashes widened, the dark -eyebrows rose, with a full gaze of the profoundest tragic sadness, on -the surface of which a certain gleam of amusement seemed to hover. The -worn woman looked over the dark world of her own experience, of which -she was conscious in every nerve, but of which he knew nothing, and -smiled at his youth out of the abysses of her own life, where volcanoes -had been, and earthquakes. He perceived it dimly, without understanding -how, and faltered and blushed, yet grew angry with all the -self-assertion of youth. - -"I don't doubt you know that as well as I do--perhaps better; but -notwithstanding, I find my life leaves little room for laughter," said -the young pastor, not without a slight touch of heroics. - -"Mr. Vincent," said Mrs. Hilyard, with a gleam of mirth in her eye, "in -inferring that I perhaps know better, you infer also that I am older -than you, which is uncivil to a lady. But for my part, I don't object to -laughter. Generally it's better than crying, which in a great many cases -I find the only alternative. I doubt, however, much whether life, from -the butterman's point of view, wears the same aspect. I should be -inclined to say not; and I daresay your views will brighten with your -company," added the aggravating woman, again resuming, with eyes fixed -upon it, her laborious work. - -"I perceive you see already what is likely to be my great trial in -Carlingford," said young Vincent. "I confess that the society of my -office-bearers, which I suppose I must always consider myself bound -to----" - -"That was a very sad sigh," said the rapid observer beside him; "but -don't confide in me, lest I should be tempted to tell somebody. I can -speak my mind without prejudice to anybody; and if you agree with me, it -may be a partial relief to your feelings. I shall be glad to see you -when you can spare me half an hour. I can't look at you while I talk, -for that would lose me so much time, but at my age it doesn't matter. -Come and see me. It's your business to do me good--and it's possible I -might even do some good to you." - -"Thank you. I shall certainly come," said the minister, rising with the -feeling that he had received his dismissal for to-day. She rose, too, -quickly, and but for a moment, and held out her hand to him. - -"Be sure you don't betray to the dairywoman what I had on my mind, and -wanted to tell you, though she is dying to know," said his singular new -acquaintance, without a smile, but with again a momentary movement in -her thin cheeks. When she had shaken hands with him, she seated herself -again immediately, and without a moment's pause proceeded with her work, -apparently concentrating all her faculties upon it, and neither hearing -nor seeing more of her visitor, though he still stood within two steps -of her, overshadowing the table. The young man turned and left the room -with involuntary quietness, as if he had been dismissed from the -presence of a princess. He went straight down-stairs without ever -pausing, and hastened through the narrow back-street with still the -impulse communicated by that dismissal upon him. When he drew breath, it -was with a curious mixture of feelings. Who she was or what she was--how -she came there, working at those "slops" till the colour came off upon -her hands, and her poor thin fingers bled--she so strangely superior to -her surroundings, yet not despising or quarrelling with them, or even -complaining of them, so far as he could make out--infinitely perplexed -the inexperienced minister. He came away excited and bewildered from the -interview, which had turned out so different from his expectations. -Whether she had done him good, was extremely doubtful; but she had -changed the current of his thoughts, which was in its way an immediate -benefit. Marvelling over such a mysterious apparition, and not so sure -as in the morning that nothing out of the most vulgar routine ever could -occur in Carlingford, Mr. Vincent turned with meditative steps towards -the little house at the extreme end of Grove Street, where his -predecessor still lingered. A visit to old Mr. Tufton was a periodical -once a-week duty, to be performed with the utmost regularity. Tozer and -Pigeon had agreed that it would be the making of the young minister to -draw thus from the experience of the old one. Whether Mr. Vincent agreed -with them, may be apprehended from the scene which follows. - - - - -CHAPTER III. - - -Mr. Tufton's house was at the extremity of Grove Street--at the -extremity, consequently, in that direction, of Carlingford, lying -parallel with the end of Grange Lane, and within distant view of St. -Roque's. It was a little old-fashioned house, with a small garden in -front and a large garden behind, in which the family cabbages, much less -prosperous since the old minister became unable to tend them, -flourished. The room into which Mr. Vincent, as an intimate of the -house, was shown, was a low parlour with two small windows, overshadowed -outside by ivy, and inside by two large geraniums, expanded upon a -Jacob's ladder of props, which were the pride of Mrs. Tufton's heart, -and made it almost impossible to see anything clearly within, even at -the height of day. Some prints, of which one represented Mr. Tufton -himself, and the rest other ministers of "the connection," in mahogany -frames, hung upon the green walls. The furniture, though it was not -unduly abundant, filled up the tiny apartment, so that quite a -dislocation and rearrangement of everything was necessary before a chair -could be got for the visitor, and he got into it. Though it was rather -warm for October out of doors, a fire, large for the size of the room, -was burning in the fireplace, on either side of which was an easy-chair -and an invalid. The one fronting the light, and consequently fronting -the visitor, was Adelaide Tufton, the old minister's daughter, who had -been confined to that chair longer than Phoebe Tozer could remember; -and who, during that long seclusion, had knitted, as all Salem Chapel -believed, without intermission, nobody having ever yet succeeded in -discovering where the mysterious results of her labour went to. She was -knitting now, reclining back in the cushioned chair which had been made -for her, and was her shell and habitation. A very pale, emaciated, -eager-looking woman, not much above thirty, but looking, after half a -lifetime spent in that chair, any age that imagination might suggest; a -creature altogether separated from the world--separated from life, it -would be more proper to say--for nobody more interested in the world and -other people's share of it than Adelaide Tufton existed in Carlingford. -She had light-blue eyes, rather prominent, which lightened without -giving much expression to her perfectly colourless face. Her very hair -was pale, and lay in braids of a clayey yellow, too listless and dull to -be called brown, upon the thin temples, over which the thin white skin -seemed to be strained like an over-tight bandage. Somehow, however, -people who were used to seeing her, were not so sorry as they might have -been for Adelaide Tufton. No one could exactly say why; but she somehow -appeared, in the opinion of Salem Chapel, to indemnify herself for her -privations, and was treated, if without much sympathy, at least without -that ostentatious pity which is so galling to the helpless. Few people -could afford to be sorry for so quick-sighted and all-remembering an -observer; and the consequence was, that Adelaide, almost without knowing -it, had managed to neutralise her own disabilities, and to be -acknowledged as an equal in the general conflict, which she could enter -only with her sharp tongue and her quick eye. - -It was Mr. Tufton himself who sat opposite--his large expanse of face, -with the white hair which had been apostrophised as venerable at so many -Salem tea-parties, and which Vincent himself had offered homage to, -looming dimly through the green shade of the geraniums, as he sat with -his back to the window. He had a green shade over his eyes besides, and -his head moved with a slight palsied tremor, which was now the only -remnant of that "visitation" which had saved his feelings, and dismissed -more benignly than Tozer and his brother deacons the old pastor from his -old pulpit. He sat very contentedly doing nothing, with his large feet -in large loose slippers, and his elbows supported on the arms of his -chair. By the evidence of Mrs. Tufton's spectacles, and the newspaper -lying on the table, it was apparent that she had been reading the -'Carlingford Gazette' to her helpless companions; and that humble -journal, which young Vincent had kicked to the other end of his room -before coming out, had made the morning pass very pleasantly to the -three secluded inmates of Siloam Cottage, which was the name of the old -minister's humble home. Mr. Tufton said "'umble 'ome," and so did his -wife. They came from storied Islington, both of them, and were of -highly respectable connections, not to say that Mrs. Tufton had a little -property as well; and, acting in laudable opposition to the general -practice of poor ministers' wives, had brought many dividends and few -children to the limited but comfortable fireside. Mr. Vincent could not -deny that it was comfortable in its way, and quite satisfied its owners, -as he sat down in the shade of the geraniums in front of the fire, -between Adelaide Tufton and her father; but, oh heavens! to think of -such a home as all that, after Homerton and high Nonconformist hopes, -could come to himself! The idea, however, was one which did not occur to -the young minister. He sat down compassionately, seeing no analogy -whatever between his own position and theirs; scarcely even seeing the -superficial contrast, which might have struck anybody, between his -active youth and their helplessness and suffering. He was neither -hard-hearted nor unsympathetic, but somehow the easy moral of that -contrast never occurred to him. Adelaide Tufton's bloodless countenance -conveyed an idea of age to Arthur Vincent; her father was really old. -The young man saw no grounds on which to form any comparison. It was -natural enough for the old man and ailing woman to be as they were, just -as it was natural for him, in the height of his early manhood, to -rejoice in his strength and youth. - -"So there was a party at Mr. Tozer's last night--and you were there, Mr. -Vincent," said old Mrs. Tufton, a cheerful active old lady, with pink -ribbons in her cap, which asserted their superiority over the doubtful -light and the green shade of the geraniums. "Who did you have? The -Browns and the Pigeons, and--everybody else, of course. Now tell me, did -Mrs. Tozer make tea herself, or did she leave it to Phoebe?" - -"As well as I can remember, she did it herself," said the young pastor. - -"Exactly what I told you, mamma," said Adelaide, from her chair. "Mrs. -Tozer doesn't mean Phoebe to make tea this many a year. I daresay she -wants her to marry somebody, the little flirting thing. I suppose she -wore her pink, Mr. Vincent--and Mrs. Brown that dreadful red-and-green -silk of hers; and didn't they send you over a shape of jelly this -morning? Ha, ha! I told you so, mamma; that was why it never came to -me." - -"Pray let me send it to you," cried Vincent, eagerly. - -The offer was not rejected, though coquetted with for a few minutes. -Then Mr. Tufton broke in, in solemn bass. - -"Adelaide, we shouldn't talk, my dear, of pinks and green silks. -Providence has laid you aside, my love, from temptations; and you -remember how often I used to say in early days, No doubt it was a -blessing, Jemima, coming when it did, to wean our girl from the world; -she might have been as fond of dress as other girls, and brought us to -ruin, but for her misfortune. Everything is for the best." - -"Oh, bother!" said Adelaide, sharply--"I don't complain, and never did; -but everybody else finds my misfortune, as they call it, very easy to be -borne, Mr. Vincent--even papa, you see. There is a reason for -everything, to be sure; but how things that are hard and disagreeable -are always to be called for the best, I can't conceive. However, let us -return to Phoebe Tozer's pink dress. Weren't you rather stunned with -all their grandeur? You did not think we could do as much in Salem, did -you? Now tell me, who has Mrs. Brown taken in hand to do good to now? I -am sure she sent you to somebody; and you've been to see somebody this -morning," added the quick-witted invalid, "who has turned out different -from your expectations. Tell me all about it, please." - -"Dear Adelaide does love to hear what's going on. It is almost the only -pleasure she has--and we oughtn't to grudge it, ought we?" said -Adelaide's mother. - -"Stuff!" muttered Adelaide, in a perfectly audible aside. "Now I think -of it, I'll tell you who you've been to see. That woman in Back Grove -Street--there! What do you think of that for a production of Salem, Mr. -Vincent? But she does not really belong to Carlingford. She married -somebody who turned out badly, and now she's in hiding that he mayn't -find her; though most likely, if all be true, he does not want to find -her. That's her history. I never pretend to tell more than I know. Who -she was to begin with, or who he is, or whether Hilyard may be her real -name, or why she lives there and comes to Salem Chapel, I can't tell; -but that's the bones of her story, you know. If I were a clever romancer -like some people, I could have made it all perfect for you, but I prefer -the truth. Clever and queer, isn't she? So I have guessed by what -people say." - -"Indeed, you seem to know a great deal more about her than I do," said -the astonished pastor. - -"I daresay," assented Adelaide, calmly. "I have never seen her, however, -though I can form an idea of what she must be like, all the same. I put -things together, you see; and it is astonishing the number of scraps of -news I get. I shake them well down, and then the broken pieces come -together; and I never forget anything, Mr. Vincent," she continued, -pausing for a moment to give him a distinct look out of the pale-blue -eyes, which for the moment seemed to take a vindictive feline gleam. -"She's rather above the Browns and the Tozers, you understand. Somehow -or other, she's mixed up with Lady Western, whom they call the Young -Dowager, you know. I have not made that out yet, though I partly guess. -My lady goes to see her up two pairs of stairs in Back Grove Street. I -hope it does her ladyship good to see how the rest of the world manage -to live and get on." - -"I am afraid, Adelaide, my dear," said Mr. Tufton, in his bass tones, -"that my young brother will not think this very improving conversation. -Dear Tozer was speaking to me yesterday about the sermon to the -children. I always preached them a sermon to themselves about this time -of the year. My plan has been to take the congregation in classes; the -young men--ah, and they're specially important, are the young men! Dear -Tozer suggested that some popular lectures now would not come amiss. -After a long pastorate like mine," said the good man, blandly, -unconscious that dear Tozer had already begun to suggest a severance of -that tie before gentle sickness did it for him, "a congregation may be -supposed to be a little unsettled,--without any offence to you, my dear -brother. If I could appear myself and show my respect to your ministry, -it would have a good effect, no doubt; but I am laid aside, laid aside, -brother Vincent! I can only help you with my prayers." - -"But dear, dear Mr. Tufton!" cried his wife, "bless you, the chapel is -twice as full as it was six months ago--and natural too, with a nice -young man." - -"My dear!" said the old minister in reproof. "Yes, quite -natural--curiosity about a stranger; but my young brother must not be -elated; nor discouraged when they drop off. A young pastor's start in -life is attended by many trials. There is always a little excitement at -first, and an appearance of seats letting and the ladies very polite to -you. Take it easily, my dear brother! Don't expect too much. In a year -or two--by-and-by, when things settle down--then you can see how it's -going to be." - -"But don't you think it possible that things may never settle down, but -continue rising up instead?" said Mr. Vincent, making a little venture -in the inspiration of the moment. - -Mr. Tufton shook his head and raised his large hands slowly, with a -deprecating regretful motion, to hold them over the fire. "Alas! he's -got the fever already," said the old minister. "My dear young brother, -you shall have my experience to refer to always. You're always welcome -to my advice. Dear Tozer said to me just yesterday, 'You point out the -pitfalls to him, Mr. Tufton, and give him your advice, and I'll take -care that he shan't go wrong outside,' says dear Tozer. Ah, an -invaluable man!" - -"But a little disposed to interfere, I think," said Vincent, with an -irrestrainable inclination to show his profound disrelish of all the -advice which was about to be given him. - -Mr. Tufton raised his heavy forefinger and shook it slowly. "No--no. Be -careful, my dear brother. You must keep well with your deacons. You must -not take up prejudices against them. Dear Tozer is a man of a -thousand--a man of a thousand! Dear Tozer, if you listen to him, will -keep you out of trouble. The trouble he takes and the money he spends -for Salem Chapel is, mark my words, unknown--and," added the old pastor, -awfully syllabling the long word in his solemn bass, "in-con-ceiv-able." - -"He is a bore and an ass for all that," said the daring invalid -opposite, with perfect equanimity, as if uttering the most patent and -apparent of truths. "Don't you give in to him, Mr. Vincent. A pretty -business you will have with them all," she continued, dropping her -knitting-needles and lifting her pale-blue eyes, with their sudden green -gleam, to the face of the new-comer with a rapid perception of his -character, which, having no sympathy in it, but rather a certain -mischievous and pleased satisfaction in his probable discomfiture, gave -anything but comfort to the object of her observation. "You are -something new for them to pet and badger. I wonder how long they'll be -of killing Mr. Vincent. Papa's tough; but you remember, mamma, they -finished off the other man before us in two years." - -"Oh, hush, Adelaide, hush! you'll frighten Mr. Vincent," cried the kind -little mother, with uneasy looks: "when he comes to see us and cheer us -up--as I am sure is very kind of him--it is a shame to put all sorts of -things in his head, as papa and you do. Never mind Adelaide, Mr. -Vincent, dear. Do your duty, and never fear anybody; that's always been -my maxim, and I've always found it answer. Not going away, are you? -Dear, dear! and we've had no wise talk at all, and never once asked for -your poor dear mother--quite well, I hope?--and Miss Susan? You should -have them come and see you, and cheer you up. Well, good morning, if you -must go; don't be long before you come again." - -"And, my dear young brother, don't take up any prejudices," interposed -Mr. Tufton, in tremulous bass, as he pressed Vincent's half-reluctant -fingers in that large soft flabby ministerial hand. Adelaide added -nothing to these valedictions; but when she too had received his -leave-taking, and he had emerged from the shadow of the geraniums, the -observer paused once more in her knitting. "This one will not hold out -two years," said Adelaide, calmly, to herself, no one else paying any -attention; and she returned to her work with the zest of a spectator at -the commencement of an exciting drama. She did double work all the -afternoon under the influence of this refreshing stimulant. It was -quite a new interest in her life. - -Meanwhile young Vincent left the green gates of Siloam Cottage with no -very comfortable feelings--with feelings, indeed, the reverse of -comfortable, yet conscious of a certain swell and elevation in his mind -at the same moment. It was for him to show the entire community of -Carlingford the difference between his reign and the old _regime_. It -was for him to change the face of affairs--to reduce Tozer into his due -place of subordination, and to bring in an influx of new life, -intelligence, and enlightenment over the prostrate butterman. The very -sordidness and contraction of the little world into which he had just -received so distinct a view, promoted the revulsion of feeling which now -cheered him. The aspiring young man could as soon have consented to lose -his individuality altogether as to acknowledge the most distant -possibility of accepting Tozer as his guide, philosopher, and friend. He -went back again through Grove Street, heated and hastened on his way by -those impatient thoughts. When he came as far as Salem, he could not but -pause to look at it with its pinched gable and mean little belfry, -innocent of a bell. The day was overclouded, and no clearness of -atmosphere relieved the aspect of the shabby chapel, with its black -railing, and locked gates, and dank flowerless grass inside. To see -anything venerable or sacred in the aspect of such a place, required an -amount of illusion and glamour which the young minister could not summon -into his eyes. It was not the centre of light in a dark place, the -simple tribune from which the people's preacher should proclaim, to the -awe and conviction of the multitude, that Gospel once preached to the -poor, of which he flattered himself he should be the truest messenger in -Carlingford. Such had been the young man's dreams in Homerton--dreams -mingled, it is true, with personal ambition, but full notwithstanding of -generous enthusiasm. No--nothing of the kind. Only Salem Chapel, with so -many pews let, and so many still to be disposed of, and Tozer a guardian -angel at the door. Mr. Vincent was so far left to himself as to give -vent to an impatient exclamation as he turned away. But still matters -were not hopeless. He himself was a very different man from Mr. Tufton. -Kindred spirits there must surely be in Carlingford to answer to the -call of his. Another day might dawn for the Nonconformists, who were not -aware of their own dignity. With this thought he retraced his steps a -little, and, with an impulse which he did not explain to himself, -threaded his way up a narrow lane and emerged into Back Grove Street, -about the spot where he had lately paid his pastoral visit, and made so -unexpected an acquaintance. This woman--or should he not say lady?--was -a kind of first-fruits of his mission. The young man looked up with a -certain wistful interest at the house in which she lived. She was -neither young nor fair, it is true, but she interested the youthful -Nonconformist, who was not too old for impulses of chivalry, and who -could not forget her poor fingers scarred with her rough work. He had no -other motive for passing the house but that of sympathy and compassion -for the forlorn brave creature who was so unlike her surroundings; and -no throbbing pulse or trembling nerve forewarned Arthur Vincent of the -approach of fate. - -At that moment, however, fate was approaching in the shape of a handsome -carriage, which made quite an exaggeration of echo in this narrow -back-street, which rang back every jingle of the harness and dint of the -hoofs from every court and opening. It drew up before Mrs. Hilyard's -door--at the door of the house, at least, in which Mrs. Hilyard was a -humble lodger; and while Vincent slowly approached, a brilliant vision -suddenly appeared before him, rustling forth upon the crowded pavement, -where the dirty children stood still to gape at her. A woman--a lady--a -beautiful dazzling creature, resplendent in the sweetest English roses, -the most delicate bewildering bloom. Though it was but for a moment, the -bewildered young minister had time to note the dainty foot, the daintier -hand, the smiling sunshiny eyes, the air of conscious supremacy, which -was half command and half entreaty--an ineffable combination. That -vision descended out of the heavenly chariot upon the mean pavement just -as Mr. Vincent came up; and at the same moment a ragged boy, struck -speechless, like the young minister, by the apparition, planted himself -full in her way with open mouth and staring eyes, too much overpowered -by sudden admiration to perceive that he stopped the path. Scarcely -aware what he was doing, as much beauty-struck as his victim, Vincent, -with a certain unconscious fury, seized the boy by the collar, and -swung him impatiently off the pavement, with a feeling of positive -resentment against the imp, whose rags were actually touching those -sacred splendid draperies. The lady made a momentary pause, turned half -round, smiled with a gracious inclination of her head, and entered at -the open door, leaving the young pastor in an incomprehensible ecstasy, -with his hat off, and all his pulses beating loud in his ears, riveted, -as the romancers say, to the pavement. When the door shut he came to -himself, stared wildly into the face of the next passenger who came -along the narrow street, and then, becoming aware that he still stood -uncovered, grew violently red, put on his hat, and went off at a great -pace. But what was the use of going off? The deed was done. The world on -the other side of these prancing horses was a different world from that -on this side. Those other matters, of which he had been thinking so -hotly, had suddenly faded into a background and accessories to the one -triumphant figure which occupied all the scene. He scarcely asked -himself who was that beautiful vision? The fact of her existence was at -the moment too overpowering for any secondary inquiries. He had seen -her--and lo! the universe was changed. The air tingled softly with the -sound of prancing horses and rolling wheels, the air breathed an -irresistible soft perfume, which could nevermore die out of it, the air -rustled with the silken thrill of those womanly robes. There she had -enthroned herself--not in his startled heart, but in the palpitating -world, which formed in a moment's time into one great background and -framework for that beatific form. - -What the poor young man had done to be suddenly assailed and carried off -his feet by this wonderful and unexpected apparition, we are unable to -say. He seemed to have done nothing to provoke it: approaching quietly -as any man might do, pondering grave thoughts of Salem Chapel, and how -he was to make his post tenable, to be transfixed all at once and -unawares by that fairy lance, was a spite of fortune which nobody could -have predicted. But the thing was done. He went home to hide his -stricken head, as was natural; tried to read, tried to think of a -popular series of lectures, tried to lay plans for his campaign and -heroic desperate attempts to resuscitate the shopkeeping Dissenterism of -Carlingford into a lofty Nonconformist ideal. But vain were the efforts. -Wherever he lifted his eyes, was not She there, all-conquering and -glorious? when he did not lift his eyes, was not she everywhere Lady -Paramount of the conscious world? Womankind in general, which had never, -so to speak, entered his thoughts before, had produced much trouble to -poor Arthur Vincent since his arrival in Carlingford. But Phoebe -Tozer, pink and blooming--Mrs. Hilyard, sharp and strange--Adelaide -Tufton, pale spectator of a life with which she had nothing to do--died -off like shadows, and left no sign of their presence. Who was She? - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - - -After the remarkable encounter which had thus happened to the young -minister, life went on with him in the dullest routine for some days. -Thursday came, and he had to go to Mrs. Brown's tea-party, where, in the -drawing-room up-stairs, over the Devonshire Dairy, after tea, and music, -and the diversions of the evening, he conducted prayers to the great -secret satisfaction of the hostess, who felt that the superior piety of -her entertainment entirely made up for any little advantage in point of -gentility which Mrs. Tozer, with a grown-up daughter fresh from a -boarding-school, might have over her. On Friday evening there was the -singing-class at the chapel, which Mr. Vincent was expected to look in -upon, and from which he had the privilege of walking home with Miss -Tozer. When he arrived with his blooming charge at the private door, the -existence of which he had not hitherto been aware of, Tozer himself -appeared, to invite the young pastor to enter. This time it was the -butterman's unadorned domestic hearth to which Mr. Vincent was -introduced. This happy privacy was in a little parlour, which, being on -the same floor with the butter-shop, naturally was not without a -reminiscence of the near vicinity of all those hams and cheeses--a room -nearly blocked up by the large family-table, at which, to the disgust -of Phoebe, the apprentices sat at meal-times along with the family. -One little boy, distinguished out of doors by a red worsted comforter, -was, besides Phoebe, the only member of the family itself now at home; -the others being two sons, one in Australia, and the other studying for -a minister, as Mrs. Tozer had already informed her pastor, with motherly -pride. Mrs. Tozer sat in an easy-chair by the fire darning stockings on -this October night; her husband, opposite to her, had been looking over -his greasy books, one of which lay open upon a little writing-desk, -where a bundle of smaller ones in red leather, with "Tozer, -Cheesemonger," stamped on them in gilt letters, lay waiting Phoebe's -arrival to be made up. The Benjamin of the house sat half-way down the -long table with his slate working at his lessons. The margin of space -round this long table scarcely counted in the aspect of the room. There -was space enough for chairs to be set round it, and that was all: the -table with its red-and-blue cover and the faces appearing above it, -constituted the entire scene. Mr. Vincent stood uneasily at a corner -when he was brought into the apartment, and distinctly placed himself at -table, as if at a meal, when he sat down. - -"Do you now take off your greatcoat, and make yourself comfortable," -said Mrs. Tozer; "there's a bit of supper coming presently. This is just -what I like, is this. A party is very well in its way, Mr. Vincent, sir; -but when a gen'leman comes in familiar, and takes us just as we are, -that's what I like. We never can be took wrong of an evening, Tozer and -me; there's always a bit of something comfortable for supper; and after -the shop's shut in them long evenings, time's free. Phoebe, make haste -and take off your things. What a colour you've got, to be sure, with the -night air! I declare, Pa, somebody must have been saying something to -her, or she'd never look so bright." - -"I daresay there's more things than music gets talked of at the -singing," said Tozer, thus appealed to. "But she'd do a deal better if -she'd try to improve her mind than take notice what the young fellows -says." - -"Oh, Pa, the idea! and before Mr. Vincent too," cried Phoebe--"to think -I should ever dream of listening to anything that _anybody_ might choose -to say!" - -Vincent, to whom the eyes of the whole family turned, grinned a feeble -smile, but, groaning in his mind, was totally unequal to the effort of -saying anything. After a moment's pause of half-disappointed -expectation, Phoebe disappeared to take off her bonnet; and Mrs. -Tozer, bestirring herself, cleared away the desk and books, and went -into the kitchen to inquire into the supper. The minister and the deacon -were accordingly left alone. - -"Three more pews applied for this week--fifteen sittings in all," said -Mr. Tozer; "that's what I call satisfactory, that is. We mustn't let the -steam go down--not on no account. You keep well at them of Sundays, Mr. -Vincent, and trust to the managers, sir, to keep 'em up to their dooty. -Me and Mr. Tufton was consulting the other day. He says as we oughtn't -to spare you, and you oughtn't to spare yourself. There hasn't been such -a opening not in our connection for fifteen year. We all look to you to -go into it, Mr. Vincent. If all goes as I expect, and you keep up as -you're doing, I see no reason why we shouldn't be able to put another -fifty to the salary next year." - -"Oh!" said poor Vincent, with a miserable face. He had been rather -pleased to hear about the "opening," but this matter-of-fact -encouragement and stimulus threw him back into dismay and disgust. - -"Yes," said the deacon, "though I wouldn't advise you, as a young man -settin' out in life, to calculate upon it, yet we all think it more than -likely; but if you was to ask my advice, I'd say to give it 'em a little -more plain--meaning the Church folks. It's expected of a new man. I'd -touch 'em up in the State-Church line, Mr. Vincent, if I was you. Give -us a coorse upon the anomalies, and that sort of thing--the bishops in -their palaces, and the fisherman as was the start of it all; there's a -deal to be done in that way. It always tells; and my opinion is as you -might secure the most part of the young men and thinkers, and them as -can see what's what, if you lay it on pretty strong. Not," added the -deacon, remembering in time to add that necessary salve to the -conscience--"not as I would have you neglect what's more important; but, -after all, what is more important, Mr. Vincent, than freedom of opinion -and choosing your own religious teacher? You can't put gospel truth in a -man's mind till you've freed him out of them bonds. It stands to -reason--as long as he believes just what he's told, and has it all made -out for him the very words he's to pray, there may be feelin', sir, but -there can't be no spiritual understandin' in that man." - -"Well, one can't deny that there have been enlightened men in the Church -of England," said the young Nonconformist, with lofty candour. "The -inconsistencies of the human mind are wonderful; and it is coming to be -pretty clearly understood in the intellectual world, that a man may show -the most penetrating genius, and even the widest liberality, and yet be -led a willing slave in the bonds of religious rite and ceremony. One -cannot understand it, it is true; but in our clearer atmosphere we are -bound to exercise Christian charity. Great as the advantages are on our -side of the question, I would not willingly hurt the feelings of a -sincere Churchman, who, for anything I know, may be the best of men." - -Mr. Tozer paused with a "humph!" of uncertainty; rather dazzled with the -fine language, but doubtful of the sentiment. At length light seemed to -dawn upon the excellent butterman. "Bless my soul! that's a new view," -said Tozer; "that's taking the superior line over them! My impression is -as that would tell beautiful. Eh! it's famous, that is! I've heard a -many gentlemen attacking the Church, like, from down below, and giving -it her about her money and her greatness, and all that; but our clearer -atmosphere--there's the point! I always knew as you was a clever young -man, Mr. Vincent, and expected a deal from you; but that's a new view, -that is!" - -"Oh, Pa, dear! don't be always talking about chapel business," said Miss -Phoebe, coming in. "I am sure Mr. Vincent is sick to death of Salem. I -am sure his heart is in some other place now; and if you bore him always -about the chapel, he'll never, _never_ take to Carlingford. Oh, Mr. -Vincent, I am sure you know it is quite true!" - -"Indeed," said the young minister, with a sudden recollection, "I can -vouch for my heart being in Carlingford, and nowhere else;" and as he -spoke his colour rose. Phoebe clapped her hands with a little -semblance of confusion. - -"Oh, la!" cried that young lady, "that is _quite_ as good as a -confession that you have lost it, Mr. Vincent. Oh, I _am_ so interested! -I wonder who it can be!" - -"Hush, child; I daresay we shall know before long," said Mrs. Tozer, who -had also rejoined the domestic party; "and don't you colour up or look -ashamed, Mr. Vincent. Take my word, it's the very best a young minister -can do. To be sure, where there's a quantity of young ladies in a -congregation, it sometimes makes a little dispeace; but there ain't to -say many to choose from in Salem." - -"La, mamma, how _can_ you think it's a lady in Salem?" cried Phoebe, -in a flutter of consciousness. - -"Oh, you curious thing!" cried Mrs. Tozer: "she'll never rest, Mr. -Vincent, till she's found it all out. She always was, from a child, a -dreadful one for finding out a secret. But don't you trouble yourself; -it's the very best thing a young minister can do." - -Poor Vincent made a hasty effort to exculpate himself from the soft -impeachment, but with no effect. Smiles, innuendoes, a succession of -questions asked by Phoebe, who retired, whenever she had made her -remark, with conscious looks and pink blushes, perpetually renewed this -delightful subject. The unlucky young man retired upon Tozer. In -desperation he laid himself open to the less troublesome infliction of -the butterman's advice. In the mean time the table was spread, and -supper appeared in most substantial and savoury shape; the only drawback -being, that whenever the door was opened, the odours of bacon and cheese -from the shop came in like a musty shadow of the boiled ham and hot -sausages within. - -"I am very partial to your style, Mr. Vincent," said the deacon; -"there's just one thing I'd like to observe, sir, if you'll excuse _me_. -I'd give 'em a coorse; there's nothing takes like a coorse in our -connection. Whether it's on a chapter or a book of Scripture, or on a -perticklar doctrine, I'd make a pint of giving 'em a coorse if it was -me. There was Mr. Bailey, of Parson's Green, as was so popular before he -married--he had a historical coorse in the evenings, and a coorse upon -the eighth of Romans in the morning; and it was astonishing to see how -they took. I walked over many and many's the summer evening myself, he -kep' up the interest so. There ain't a cleverer man in our body, nor -wasn't a better liked as he was then." - -"And now I understand he's gone away--what was the reason?" asked Mr. -Vincent. - -Tozer shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. "All along of the -women: they didn't like his wife; and my own opinion is, he fell off -dreadful. Last time I heard him, I made up my mind I'd never go back -again--me that was such an admirer of his; and the managers found the -chapel was falling off, and a deputation waited on him; and, to be sure, -he saw it his duty to go." - -"And, oh, she was so sweetly pretty!" cried Miss Phoebe: "but pray, -pray, Mr. Vincent, don't look so pale. If you marry a pretty lady, we'll -all be so kind to her! We shan't grudge her our minister; we shall----" - -Here Miss Phoebe paused, overcome by her emotions. - -"I do declare there never was such a child," said Mrs. Tozer: "it's none -of your business, Phoebe. She's a great deal too feelin', Mr. Vincent. -But I don't approve, for my part, of a minister marrying a lady as is -too grand for her place, whatever Phoebe may say. It's her that should -teach suchlike as us humility and simple ways; and a fine lady isn't no -way suitable. Not to discourage you, Mr. Vincent, I haven't a doubt, for -my part, that you'll make a nice choice." - -"I have not the least intention of trying the experiment," said poor -Vincent, with a faint smile; then, turning to his deacon, he plunged -into the first subject that occurred to him. "Do you know a Mrs. Hilyard -in Back Grove Street?" asked the young minister. "I went to see her the -other day. Who is she, or where does she belong to, can you tell -me?--and which of your great ladies in Carlingford is it," he added, -with a little catching of his breath after a momentary pause, "who -visits that poor lady? I saw a carriage at her door." - -"Meaning the poor woman at the back of the chapel?" said Tozer--"I don't -know nothing of her, except that I visited there, sir, as you might do, -in the way of dooty. Ah! I fear she's in the gall of bitterness, Mr. -Vincent; she didn't take my 'umble advice, sir, not as a Christian -ought. But she comes to the chapel regular enough; and you may be the -means of putting better thoughts into her mind; and as for our great -ladies in Carlingford," continued Mr. Tozer, with the air of an -authority, "never a one of them, I give you my word, would go out of her -way a-visiting to one of the chapel folks. They're a deal too bigoted -for that, especially them at St. Roque's." - -"Oh, Pa, how can you say so," cried Phoebe, "when it's very well known -the ladies go everywhere, where the people are very, very poor? but then -Mr. Vincent said a poor _lady_. Was it a nice carriage? The Miss -Wodehouses always walk, and so does Mrs. Glen, and all the Strangeways. -Oh, I know, it was the young Dowager--that pretty, pretty lady, you -know, mamma, that gives the grand parties, and lives in Grange Lane. I -saw her carriage going up the lane by the chapel once. Oh, Mr. Vincent, -wasn't she very, _very_ pretty, with blue eyes and brown hair?" - -"I could not tell you what kind of eyes and hair they were," said Mr. -Vincent, trying hard to speak indifferently, and quite succeeding so far -as Phoebe Tozer was concerned; for who could venture to associate the -minister of Salem, even as a victim, with the bright eyes of Lady -Western? "I thought it strange to see her there, whoever she was." - -"Oh, how insensible you are!" murmured Phoebe, across the table. -Perhaps, considering all things, it was not strange that Phoebe should -imagine her own pink bloom to have dimmed the young pastor's -appreciation of other beauty. - -"But it was Mrs. Hilyard I inquired about, and not this Lady--Lady what, -Miss Phoebe?" asked the reverend hypocrite; "I don't profess to be -learned in titles, but hers is surely a strange one. I thought dowager -was another word for an old woman." - -"She's a beautiful young creature," broke in the butterman. "I mayn't -approve of such goings-on, but I can't shut my eyes. She deals with me -regular, and I can tell you the shop looks like a different place when -them eyes of hers are in it. She's out of our line, and she's out of -your line, Mr. Vincent," added Tozer, apologetically, coming down from -his sudden enthusiasm, "or I mightn't say as much as I do say, for she's -gay, and always a-giving parties, and spending her life in company, as I -don't approve of; but to look in her face, you couldn't say a word -against her--nor I couldn't. She might lead a man out of his wits, and I -wouldn't not to say blame him. If the angels are nicer to look at, it's -a wonder to me!" Having reached to this pitch of admiration, the -alarmed butterman came to a sudden pause, looked round him somewhat -dismayed, wiped his forehead, rubbed his hands, and evidently felt that -he had committed himself, and was at the mercy of his audience. Little -did the guilty Tozer imagine that never before--not when giving counsel -upon chapel business in the height of wisdom, or complimenting the -sermon as only a chapel-manager, feeling in his heart that the seats -were letting, could--had he spoken so much to the purpose in young -Vincent's hearing, or won so much sympathy from the minister. As for the -female part of the company, they were at first too much amazed for -speech. "Upon my word, Papa!" burst from the lips of the half-laughing, -half-angry Phoebe. Mrs. Tozer, who had been cutting bread with a large -knife, hewed at her great loaf in silence, and not till that occupation -was over divulged her sentiments. - -"Some bread, Mr. Vincent?" said at last that injured woman: "that's how -it is with all you men. Niver a one, however you may have been brought -up, nor whatever pious ways you may have been used to, can stand out -against a pretty face. Thank goodness, _we_ know better. Beauty's but -skin-deep, Mr. Vincent; and, for my part, I can't see the difference -between one pair o' eyes and another. I daresay I see as well out of -mine as Lady Western does out o' hers, though Tozer goes on about 'em. -It's a mercy for the world, women ain't carried away so; and to hear a -man as is the father of a family, and ought to set an example, a-talking -like this in his own house! What is the minister to think, Tozer? and -Phoebe, a girl as is as likely to take up notions about her looks as -most? It's what I didn't expect from you." - -"La, mamma! as if there was any likeness between Lady Western and me!" -cried Phoebe, lifting a not-unexpectant face across the table. But Mr. -Vincent was not equal to the occasion. In that _locale_, and under these -circumstances, a tolerable breadth of compliment would not have shocked -anybody's feelings; but the pastor neglected his opportunities. He sat -silent, and made no reply to Phoebe's look. He even at this moment, if -truth must be told, devoted himself to the well-filled plate which Mrs. -Tozer's hospitality had set before him. He would fain have made a -diversion in poor Tozer's favour had anything occurred to him in the -thrill of sudden excitement which Tozer's declaration had surprised him -into. As it was, tingling with anxiety to hear more of that unknown -enchantress, whose presence made sunshine even in the butterman's shop, -no indifferent words would find their way to Vincent's lips. So he -bestowed his attentions instead upon the comfortable supper to which -everybody around him, quite unexcited by this little interlude, was -doing full justice, and, not venturing to ask, listened with a -palpitating heart. - -"You see, Mr. Vincent," resumed Mrs. Tozer, "that title of 'the young -Dowager' has been given to Lady Western by them as is her chief friends -in Carlingford. Such little things comes to our knowledge as they -mightn't come to other folks in our situation, by us serving the best -families. There's but two families in Grange Lane as don't deal with -Tozer, and one of them's a new-comer as knows no better, and the other a -stingy old bachelor, as we wouldn't go across the road to get his -custom. A well-kept house must have its butter, and its cheese, and its -ham regular; but when there's but a man and a maid, and them nigh as -bilious as the master, and picking bits of cheese as one never heard the -name of, and as has to be sent to town for, or to the Italian shop, it -stands to reason neither me nor Tozer cares for a customer like that." - -"Oh, Ma, what _does_ Mr. Vincent care about the customers?" cried -Phoebe, in despair. - -"He might, then, before all's done," said the deaconess. "We couldn't be -as good friends to the chapel, nor as serviceable, nor as well thought -on in our connection, if it wasn't for the customers. So you see, sir, -Lady Western, she's a young lady not a deal older than my Phoebe, but -by reason of having married an old man, she has a step-son twice as old -as herself, and he's married; and so this gay pretty creature here, -she's the Dowager Lady Western. I've seen her with _young_ Lady Western, -her step-daughter-in-law, and young Lady Western was a deal older, and -more serious-looking, and knew twenty times more of life than the -Dowager--and you may be sure she don't lose the opportunity to laugh at -it neither--and so that's how the name arose." - -"Thank you for the explanation; and I suppose, of course, she lives in -Grange Lane," said the pastor, still bending with devotion over his -plate. - -"Dear, dear, you don't eat nothink, Mr. Vincent," cried his benevolent -hostess; "that comes of study, as I'm always a-telling Tozer. A deal -better, says I, to root the minister out, and get him to move about for -the good of his health, than to put him up to sermons and coorses, when -we're all as pleased as Punch to start with. She lives in Grange Lane, -to be sure, as they most all do as is anything in Carlingford. Fashion's -all--but I like a bit of stir and life myself, and couldn't a-bear them -close walls. But it would be news in Salem that we was spending our -precious time a-talking over a lady like Lady Western; and as for the -woman at the back of the chapel, don't you be led away to go to -everybody as Mrs. Brown sends you to, Mr. Vincent. She's a good soul, -but she's always a-picking up somebody. Tozer's been called up at twelve -o'clock, when we were all a-bed, to see somebody as was dying; and there -was no dying about it, but only Mrs. Brown's way. My son, being at his -eddication for a minister, makes me feel mother-like to a young pastor, -Mr. Vincent. I'd be grateful to anybody as would give my boy warning -when it comes to be his time." - -"I almost wonder," said Vincent, with a little natural impatience, "that -you did not struggle on with Mr. Tufton for a little longer, till your -son's education was finished." - -Mrs. Tozer held up her head with gratified pride. "He'll be two years -before he's ready, and there's never no telling what may happen in that -time," said the pleased mother, forgetting how little favourable to her -guest was any anticipated contingency. The words were very innocently -spoken, but they had their effect upon Vincent. He made haste to -extricate himself from the urgent hospitality which surrounded him. He -was deafer than ever to Miss Phoebe's remarks, and listened with a -little impatience to Tozer's wisdom. As soon as he could manage it, he -left them, with abundant material for his thoughts. "There's never no -telling what may happen in that time," rang in his ears as he crossed -George Street to his lodging, and the young minister could scarcely -check the disgust and impatience which were rising in his mind. In all -the pride of his young intellect, to be advised by Tozer--to have -warning stories told him of that unfortunate brother in Parson's Green, -whose pretty wife made herself obnoxious to the deacons' wives--to have -the support afforded by the butterman to the chapel thrown in his face -with such an undisguised claim upon his gratitude--oh heaven, was this -what Homerton was to come to? Perhaps he had been brought here, in all -the young flush of his hopes, only to have the life crushed out of him -by those remorseless chapel-managers, and room made over his tarnished -fame and mortified expectations--over his body, as the young man said to -himself in unconscious heroics--for young Tozer's triumphant entrance. -On the whole, it was not to be supposed that to see himself at the mercy -of such a limited and jealous coterie--people proud of their liberality -to the chapel, and altogether unable to comprehend the feelings of a -sensitive and cultivated mind--could be an agreeable prospect to the -young man. Their very approbation chafed him; and if he went beyond -their level, or exceeded their narrow limit, what mercy was he to -expect, what justice, what measure of comprehension? He went home with a -bitterness of disgust in his mind far more intense and tragical than -appeared to be at all necessary in the circumstances, and which only the -fact that this was his first beginning in real life, and that his -imagination had never contemplated the prominent position of the -butter-shop and the Devonshire Dairy, in what he fondly called his new -sphere, could have justified. Perhaps no new sphere ever came up to the -expectations of the neophyte; but to come, if not with too much gospel, -yet with an intellectual Christian mission, an evangelist of refined -nonconformity, an apostle of thought and religious opinion, and to sink -suddenly into "coorses" of sermons and statistics of seat-letting in -Salem--into tea-parties of deacons' wives, and singing-classes--into the -complacent society of those good people who were conscious of doing so -much for the chapel and supporting the minister--that was a downfall not -to be lightly thought of. Salem itself, and the new pulpit, which had a -short time ago represented to poor Vincent that tribune from which he -was to influence the world, that point of vantage which was all a true -man needed for the making of his career, dwindled into a miserable scene -of trade before his disenchanted eyes--a preaching shop, where his -success was to be measured by the seat-letting, and his soul decanted -out into periodical issue under the seal of Tozer & Co. Such, alas! were -the indignant thoughts with which, the old Adam rising bitter and -strong within him, the young Nonconformist hastened home. - -And She was Lady Western--the gayest and brightest and highest luminary -in all the society of Carlingford. As well love the moon, who no longer -descends to Endymion, as lift presumptuous eyes to that sweeter planet -which was as much out of reach of the Dissenting minister. Poor fellow! -his room did not receive a very cheerful inmate when he shut the door -upon the world and sat down with his thoughts. - - - - -CHAPTER V. - - -It was about this time, when Mr. Vincent was deeply cast down about his -prospects, and saw little comfort before or around him, and when, -consequently, an interest apart from himself, and which could detach his -thoughts from Salem and its leading members, was of importance, that his -mother's letters began to grow specially interesting. Vincent could not -quite explain how it was, but unquestionably those female epistles had -expanded all at once; and instead of the limited household atmosphere -hitherto breathing in them--an atmosphere confined by the strait cottage -walls, shutting in the little picture which the absent son knew so well, -and in which usually no figure appeared but those of his pretty sister -Susan, and their little servant, and a feminine neighbour or -two--instead of those strict household limits, the world, as we have -said, had expanded round the widow's pen; the cottage walls or windows -seemed to have opened out to disclose the universe beyond: life itself, -and words the symbols of life, seemed quickened and running in a fuller -current; and the only apparent reason for all this revolution was that -one new acquaintance had interrupted Mrs. Vincent's seclusion,--one only -visitor, who, from an unexpected call, recorded with some wonderment a -month or two before, had gained possession of the house apparently, and -was perpetually referred to--by Susan, in her gradually shortening -letters, with a certain timidity and reluctance to pronounce his name; -by the mother with growing frequency and confidence. Vincent, a little -jealous of this new influence, had out of the depths of his own -depression written with some impatience to ask who this Mr. Fordham was, -and how he had managed to establish himself so confidentially in the -cottage, when his mother's letter astounded him with the following piece -of news:-- - -"MY DEAREST BOY,--Mr. Fordham is, or at least will be--or, if I must be -cautious, as your poor dear papa always warned me I should--wishes very -much, and I hope will succeed in being--your brother, my own Arthur. -This is sudden news, but you know, and I have often told you, that a -crisis always does seem to arrive suddenly; however much you may have -been looking for it, or making up your mind to it, it does come like a -blow at the time; and no doubt there is something in human nature to -account for it, if I was a philosopher, like your dear papa and you. -Yes, my dear boy, that is how it is. Of course, I have known for some -time past that he must have had a motive--no mother could long remain -ignorant of that; and I can't say but what, liking Mr. Fordham so much, -and seeing him _every way so unexceptionable_, except, perhaps, in the -way of means, which we know nothing about, and which I have always -thought a secondary consideration to character, as I always brought up -my children to think, I was very much pleased. For you know, my dear -boy, life is uncertain with the strongest; and I am becoming an old -woman, and you will marry no doubt, and what is to become of Susan -unless she does the same? So I confess I was pleased to see Mr. -Fordham's inclinations showing themselves. And now, dear Arthur, I've -given them my blessing, and they are as happy as ever they can be, and -nothing is wanting to Susan's joy but your sympathy. I need not suggest -to my dear boy to write a few words to his sister to make her feel that -he shares our happiness; for Providence has blessed me in affectionate -children, and I can trust the instincts of my Arthur's heart; and oh! my -dear son, how thankful I ought to be, and how deeply I ought to feel -God's blessings! He has been a father to the fatherless, and the -strength of the widow. To think that before old age comes upon me, and -while I am still able to enjoy the sight of your prosperity, I should -have the happiness of seeing you comfortably settled, and in the way to -do your Master's work, and make yourself a good position, and Susan so -happily provided for, and instead of losing her, a new son to -love--indeed, I am overpowered, and can scarcely hold up my head under -my blessings. - -"Write immediately, my dearest boy, that we may have the comfort of your -concurrence and sympathy, and I am always, with much love, - -"My Arthur's loving mother, - -"E. S. VINCENT. - -"_P. S._--Mr. Fordham's account of his circumstances seems quite -satisfactory. He is not in any profession, but has enough, he says, to -live on very comfortably, and is to give me more particulars afterwards; -which, indeed, I am ashamed to think he could imagine necessary, as it -looks like want of trust, and as if Susan's happiness was not the first -thing with us--but indeed I must learn to be prudent and -_self-interested_ for your sakes." - - * * * * * - -It was with no such joyful feelings as his mother's that Vincent read -this letter. Perhaps it was the jealousy with which he had heard of this -unknown Mr. Fordham suddenly jumping into the friendship of the cottage, -which made him contemplate with a most glum and suspicious aspect the -stranger's promotion into the love of Susan, and the motherly regard of -Mrs. Vincent. Hang the fellow! who was he? the young minister murmured -over his spoiled breakfast: and there appeared to him in a halo of sweet -memories, as he had never seen them in reality, the simple graces of his -pretty sister, who was as much above the region of the Phoebe Tozers -as that ineffable beauty herself who had seized with a glance the vacant -throne of poor Arthur Vincent's heart. There was nothing ineffable about -Susan--but her brother had seen no man even in Homerton whom he would -willingly see master of her affections; and he was equally startled, -dissatisfied, and alarmed by this information. Perhaps his mother's -unworldliness was excessive. He imagined that _he_ would have exacted -more positive information about the fortunes of a stranger who had -suddenly appeared without any special business there, who had no -profession, and who might disappear lightly as he came, breaking poor -Susan's heart. Mr. Vincent forgot entirely the natural process by which, -doubtless, his mother's affections had been wooed and won as well as -Susan's. To him it was a stranger who had crept into the house, and -gained ascendancy there. Half in concern for Susan, half in jealousy for -Susan's brother eclipsed, but believing himself to be entirely actuated -by the former sentiment, the young minister wrote his mother a hurried, -anxious, not too good-tempered note, begging her to think how important -a matter this was, and not to come to too rapid a conclusion; and after -he had thus relieved his feelings, went out to his day's work in a more -than usually uncomfortable frame of mind. Mrs. Vincent congratulated -herself upon her son's happy settlement, as well as upon her daughter's -engagement. What if Mr. Fordham should turn out as unsatisfactory as -Salem Chapel? His day's work was a round of visits, which were not very -particularly to Mr. Vincent's mind. It was the day for his weekly call -upon Mr. Tufton and various other members of the congregation not more -attractive; and at Siloam Cottage he was reminded of Mrs. Hilyard, whom -he had not seen again. Here at least was something to be found different -from the ordinary level. He went up to Back Grove Street, not without a -vague expectation in his mind, wondering if that singular stranger would -look as unlike the rest of his flock to-day as she had done on the -former occasion. But when Vincent emerged into the narrow street, what -was that unexpected object which threw the young man into such sudden -agitation? His step quickened unconsciously into the rapid silent stride -of excitement. He was at the shabby door before any of the onlookers had -so much as perceived him in the street. For once more the narrow -pavement owned a little tattered crowd gazing at the pawing horses, the -big footman, the heavenly chariot; and doubtless the celestial visitor -must be within. - -Mr. Vincent did not pause to think whether he ought to disturb the -interview which, no doubt, was going on up-stairs. He left himself no -time to consider punctilios, or even to think what was right in the -matter. He went up with that swell of excitement somehow winging his -feet and making his footsteps light. How sweet that low murmur of -conversation within as he reached the door? Another moment, and Mrs. -Hilyard herself opened it, looking out with some surprise, her dark thin -head, in its black lace kerchief, standing out against the bit of shabby -drab-coloured wall visible through the opening of the door. A look of -surprise for one moment, then a gleam of something like mirth lighted in -the dark eyes, and the thin lines about her mouth moved, though no smile -came. "It is you, Mr. Vincent?--come in," she said. "I should not have -admitted any other visitor, but you shall come in, as you are my ghostly -adviser. Sit down. My dear, this gentleman is my minister and spiritual -guide." - -And She, sitting there in all her splendour, casting extraordinary -lights of beauty round her upon the mean apartment, perfuming the air -and making it musical with that rustle of woman's robes which had never -been out of poor Vincent's ears since he saw her first;--She lifted her -lovely face, smiled, and bowed her beautiful head to the young man, who -could have liked to go down on his knees, not to ask anything, but -simply to worship. As he dared not do that, he sat down awkwardly upon -the chair Mrs. Hilyard pointed to, and said, with embarrassment, that he -feared he had chosen a wrong time for his visit, and would return -again--but nevertheless did not move from where he was. - -"No, indeed; I am very glad to see you. My visitors are not so many, -nowadays, that I can afford to turn one from the door because another -chooses to come the same day. My dear, you understand Mr. Vincent has -had the goodness to take charge of my spiritual affairs," said the -mistress of the room, sitting down, in her dark poor dress, beside her -beautiful visitor, and laying her thin hands, still marked with traces -of the coarse blue colour which rubbed off her work, and of the scars of -the needle, upon the table where that work lay. "Thank heaven that's a -luxury the poorest of us needs not deny herself. I liked your sermon -last Sunday, Mr. Vincent. That about the fashion of treating serious -things with levity, was meant for me. Oh, I didn't dislike it, thank -you! One is pleased to think one's self of so much consequence. There -are more ways of keeping up one's _amour propre_ than _your_ way, my -lady. Now, don't you mean to go? You see I cannot possibly unburden my -mind to Mr. Vincent while you are here." - -"Did you ever hear anything so rude?" said the beauty, turning -graciously to the young minister. "You call me a great lady, and all -sorts of things, Rachel; but I never could be as rude as you are, and as -you always were as long as I remember." - -"My dear, the height of good-breeding is to be perfectly ill-bred when -one pleases," said Mrs. Hilyard, taking her work upon her knee and -putting on her thimble: "but though you are wonderfully pretty, you -never had the makings of a thorough fine lady in you. You can't help -trying to please everybody--which, indeed, if there were no women in the -world," added that sharp observer, with a sudden glance at Vincent, who -saw the thin lines again move about her mouth, "you might easily do -without giving yourself much trouble. Mr. Vincent, if this lady won't -leave us, might I trouble you to talk? For two strains of thought, -carried on at the same moment, now that I'm out of society, are too -exhausting for me." - -With which speech she gravely pinned her work to her knee, threaded her -needle with a long thread of blue cotton, and began her work with the -utmost composure, leaving her two visitors in the awkward _tete-a-tete_ -position which the presence of a third person, entirely absorbed in her -own employment, with eyes and face abstracted, naturally produces. Never -in his life had Vincent been so anxious to appear to advantage--never -had he been so totally deprived of the use of his faculties. His eager -looks, his changing colour, perhaps interceded for him with the -beautiful stranger, who was not ignorant of those signs of subjugation -which she saw so often. - -"I think it was you that were so good as to clear the way for me the -last time I was here," she said, with the sweetest grace, raising those -lovely eyes, which put even Tozer beside himself, to the unfortunate -pastor's face. "I remember fancying you must be a stranger here, as I -had not seen you anywhere in society. Those wonderful little wretches -never seem to come to any harm. They always appear to me to be -scrambling among the horses' feet. Fancy, Rachel, one of those boys who -flourish in the back streets, with such rags--oh, such rags!--you could -not possibly _make_ them, if you were to try, with scissors--such -perfection must come of itself;--had just pushed in before me, and I -don't know what I should have done, if Mr. ---- (I beg your pardon)--if -_you_ had not cleared the way." - -"Mr. Vincent," said Mrs. Hilyard breaking in upon Vincent's deprecation. -"I am glad to hear you had somebody to help you in such a delicate -distress. We poor women can't afford to be so squeamish. What! are you -going away? My dear, be sure you say down-stairs that you brought that -poor creature some tea and sugar, and how grateful she was. That -explains everything, you know, and does my lady credit at the same time. -Good-bye. Well, I'll kiss you if you insist upon it; but what can Mr. -Vincent think to see such an operation performed between us? There! my -love, you can make the men do what you like, but you know of old you -never could conquer me." - -"Then you will refuse over and over again--and you don't mind what I -say--and you know he's in Lonsdale, and why he's there, and all about -him----" - -"Hush," said the dark woman, looking all the darker as she stood in that -bright creature's shadow. "I know, and always will know, wherever he -goes, and that he is after evil wherever he goes; and I refuse, and -always will refuse--and my darling pretty Alice," she cried, suddenly -going up with rapid vehemence to the beautiful young woman beside her, -and kissing once more the delicate rose-cheek to which her own made so -great a contrast, "I _don't_ mind in the least what you say." - -"Ah, Rachel, I don't understand you," said Lady Western, looking at her -wistfully. - -"You never did, my dear; but don't forget to mention about the tea and -sugar as you go down-stairs," said Mrs. Hilyard, subsiding immediately, -not without the usual gleam in her eyes and movement of her mouth, "else -it might be supposed you came to have your fortune told, or something -like that; and I wish your ladyship _bon voyage_, and no encounter with -ragged boys in your way. Mr. Vincent," she continued, with great -gravity, standing in the middle of the room, when Vincent, trembling -with excitement, afraid, with the embarrassing timidity of inferior -position, to offer his services, yet chafing in his heart to be obliged -to stay, reluctantly closed the door, which he had opened for Lady -Western's exit, "tell me why a young man of your spirit loses such an -opportunity of conducting the greatest beauty in Carlingford to her -carriage? Suppose she should come across another ragged boy, and faint -on the stairs?" - -"I should have been only too happy; but as I am not so fortunate as to -know Lady Western," said the young minister, hesitating, "I feared to -presume----" - -With an entirely changed aspect his strange companion interrupted him. -"Lady Western could not think that any man whom she met in _my_ house -presumed in offering her a common civility," said Mrs. Hilyard, with the -air of a duchess, and an imperious gleam out of her dark eyes. Then she -recollected herself, gave her startled visitor a comical look, and -dropped into her chair, before which that coarsest of poor needlewoman's -work was lying. "_My_ house! it does look like a place to inspire -respect, to be sure," she continued, with a hearty perception of the -ludicrous, which Vincent was much too preoccupied to notice. "What fools -we all are! but, my dear Mr. Vincent, you are too modest. My Lady -Western could not frown upon anybody who honoured her with such a rapt -observation. Don't fall in love with her, I beg of you. If she were -merely a flirt, I shouldn't mind, but out of her very goodness she's -dangerous. She can't bear to give pain to anybody, which of course -implies that she gives double and treble pain when the time comes. -There! I've warned you; for of course you'll meet again." - -"Small chance of that," said Vincent, who had been compelling himself -to remain quiet, and restraining his impulse, now that the vision had -departed, to rush away out of the impoverished place. "Small chance of -that," he repeated, drawing a long breath, as he listened with intent -ears to the roll of the carriage which carried Her away; "society in -Carlingford has no room for a poor Dissenting minister." - -"All the better for him," said Mrs. Hilyard, regarding him with curious -looks, and discerning with female acuteness the haze of excitement and -incipient passion which surrounded him. "Society's all very well for -people who have been brought up in it; but for a young recluse like you, -that don't know the world, it's murder. Don't look affronted. The reason -is, you expect too much--twenty times more than anybody ever finds. But -you don't attend to my philosophy. Thinking of your sermon, Mr. Vincent? -And how is our friend the butterman? I trust life begins to look more -cheerful to you under his advice." - -"Life?" said the preoccupied minister, who was gazing at the spot where -that lovely apparition had been; "I find it change its aspects -perpetually. You spoke of Lonsdale just now, did you not? Is it possible -that you know that little place? My mother and sister live there." - -"I am much interested to know that you have a mother and sister," said -the poor needlewoman before him, looking up with calm, fine-lady -impertinence in his face. "But you did not hear me speak of Lonsdale; it -was her ladyship who mentioned it. As for me, I interest myself in what -is going on close by, Mr. Vincent. I am quite absorbed in the chapel; I -want to know how you get on, and all about it. I took that you said on -Sunday about levity deeply to heart. I entertain a fond hope that you -will see me improve under your ministrations, even though I may never -come up to the butterman's standard. Some people have too high an ideal. -If you are as much of an optimist as your respected deacon, I fear it -will be ages before I can manage to make you approve of me." - -Vincent's wandering thoughts were recalled a little by this attack. "I -hope," he said, rousing himself, "that you don't think me so -inexperienced as not to know that you are laughing at me? But indeed I -should be glad to believe that the services at the chapel might -sometimes perhaps be some _comfort_ to you," added the young pastor, -assuming the dignity of his office. He met his penitent's eyes at the -moment, and faltered, moon-struck as he was, wondering if she saw -through and through him, and knew that he was neither thinking of -consolation nor of clerical duties, but only of those lingering echoes -which, to any ears but his own, were out of hearing. There was little -reason to doubt the acute perceptions of that half-amused, -half-malicious glance. - -"_Comfort!_" she cried; "what a very strange suggestion to make! Why, -all the old churches in all the old ages have offered comfort. I thought -you new people had something better to give us; enlightenment," she -said, with a gleam of secret mockery, throwing the word like a -stone--"religious freedom, private judgment. Depend upon it, that is -the _role_ expected from you by the butterman. Comfort! one has that in -Rome." - -"You never can have that but in conjunction with truth, and truth is not -to be found in Rome," said Vincent, pricking up his ears at so familiar -a challenge. - -"We'll not argue, though you do commit yourself by an assertion," said -Mrs. Hilyard; "but oh, you innocent young man, where is the comfort to -come from? Comfort will not let your seats and fill your chapel, even -granting that you knew how to communicate it. I prefer to be instructed, -for my part. You are just at the age, and in the circumstances, to do -that." - -"I fear you still speak in jest," said the minister, with some doubt, -yet a little gratification; "but I shall be only too happy to have been -the means of throwing any light to you upon the doctrines of our faith." - -For a moment the dark eyes gleamed with something like laughter. But -there was nothing ill-natured in the amusement with which his strange -new friend contemplated the young pastor in the depressions and -confidences of his youth. She answered with a mock gravity which, at -that moment, he was by no means clear-sighted enough to see through. - -"Yes," she said, demurely, "be sure you take advantage of your -opportunities, and instruct us as long as you have any faith in -instruction. Leave consolation to another time: but you don't attend to -me, Mr. Vincent; come another day: come on Monday, when I shall be able -to criticise your sermons, and we shall have no Lady Western to put us -out. These beauties are confusing, don't you think? Only, I entreat you, -whatever you do, don't fall in love with her; and now, since I know you -wish it, you may go away." - -Vincent stammered a faint protest as he accepted his dismissal, but rose -promptly, glad to be released. Another thought, however, seemed to -strike Mrs. Hilyard as she shook hands with him. - -"Do your mother and sister in Lonsdale keep a school?" she said. "Nay, -pray don't look affronted. Clergymen's widows and daughters very often -do in the Church. I meant no impertinence in this case. They don't? -well, that is all I wanted to know. I daresay they are not likely to be -in the way of dangerous strangers. Good-bye; and you must come again on -Monday, when I shall be alone." - -"But--dangerous strangers--may I ask you to explain?" said Vincent, with -a little alarm, instinctively recurring to his threatened -brother-in-law, and the news which had disturbed his composure that -morning before he came out. - -"I can't explain; and you would not be any the wiser," said Mrs. -Hilyard, peremptorily. "Now, good morning. I am glad they don't keep a -school; because, you know," she added, looking full into his eyes, as if -defying him to make any meaning out of her words, "it is very tiresome, -tedious work, and wears poor ladies out. There!--good-bye; next day you -come I shall be very glad to see you, and we'll have no fine ladies to -put us out." - -Vincent had no resource but to let himself out of the shabby little room -which this strange woman inhabited as if it had been a palace. The -momentary alarm roused by her last words, and the state of half offence, -half interest, into which, notwithstanding his pre-occupation, she had -managed to rouse him, died away, however, as he re-entered the poor -little street, which was now a road in Fairyland instead of a lane in -Carlingford, to his rapt eyes. Golden traces of those celestial wheels -surely lingered still upon the way, they still went rolling and echoing -over the poor young minister's heart, which he voluntarily threw down -before that heavenly car of Juggernaut. Every other impression faded out -of his mind, and the infatuated young man made no effort of resistance, -but hugged the enchanted chain. He had seen Her--spoken with -Her--henceforward was of her acquaintance. He cast reason to the winds, -and probability, and every convention of life. Did anybody suppose that -all the world leagued against him could prevent him from seeing her -again? He went home with an unspeakable elation, longing, and -excitement, and at the same time with a vain floating idea in his mind -that, thus inspired, no height of eloquence was impossible to him, and -that triumph of every kind was inevitable. He went home, and got his -writing-desk, and plunged into his lecture, nothing doubting that he -could transfer to his work that glorious tumult of his thoughts; and, -with his paper before him, wrote three words, and sat three hours -staring into the roseate air, and dreaming dreams as wild as any Arabian -tale. Such was the first effort of that chance encounter, in which the -personages were not Lady Western and the poor Dissenting minister, but -Beauty and Love, perennial hero and heroine of the romance that never -ends. - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - - -It was only two days after this eventful meeting that Vincent, idling -and meditative as was natural in such a condition of mind, strayed into -Masters's shop to buy some books. It would have been difficult for him -to have explained why he went there, except, perhaps, because it was the -last place in the world which his masters at the chapel would have -advised him to enter. For there was another bookseller in the town, an -evangelical man, patronised by Mr. Bury, the whilom rector, where all -the Tract Society's publications were to be had, not to speak of a -general range of literature quite wide enough for the minister of Salem. -Masters's was a branch of the London Master's, and, as might be supposed, -was equally amazed and indignant at the intrusion of a Dissenter among -its consecrated book-shelves. He was allowed to turn over all the -varieties of the 'Christian Year' on a side-table before any of the -attendants condescended to notice his presence; and it proved so -difficult to find the books he wanted, and so much more difficult to -find anybody who would take the trouble of looking for them, that the -young Nonconformist, who was sufficiently ready to take offence, began -to get hot and impatient, and had all but strode out of the shop, with a -new mortification to record to the disadvantage of Carlingford. But -just as he began to get very angry, the door swung softly open, and a -voice became audible, lingering, talking to somebody before entering. -Vincent stopped speaking, and stared in the shopman's astonished face -when these tones came to his ear. He fell back instantly upon the -side-table and the 'Christian Year,' forgetting his own business, and -what he had been saying--forgetting everything except that She was -there, and that in another moment they would stand again within the same -walls. He bent over the much-multiplied volume with a beating heart, -poising in one hand a tiny miniature copy just made to slip within the -pocket of an Anglican waistcoat, and in the other the big red-leaved and -morocco-bound edition, as if weighing their respective merits--put -beside himself, in fact, if the truth must be told, oblivious of his -errand, his position--of everything but the fact that She was at the -door. She came in with a sweet flutter and rustle of sound, a perfumed -air entering with her, as the unsuspected enthusiast thought, and began -to lavish smiles, for which he would have given half his life, upon the -people of the place, who flew to serve her. She had her tablets in her -hand, with a list of what she wanted, and held up a dainty forefinger as -she stood reading the items. As one thing after another was mentioned, -Masters and his men darted off in search of it. There were fortunately -enough to give each of them a separate errand, and the principal ranged -his shining wares upon the counter before her, and bathed in her smiles, -while all his satellites kept close at hand, listening with all their -ears for another commission. Blessed Masters! happy shopmen! that one -who looked so blank when Vincent stopped short at the sound of her voice -and stared at him, had forgotten all about Vincent. _She_ was there; and -if a little impromptu litany would have pleased her ladyship, it is -probable that it could have been got up on the spot after the best -models, and that even the Nonconformist would have waived his objections -to liturgical worship and led the responses. But Masters's establishment -offered practical homage--only the poor Dissenting minister, divided -between eagerness and fear, stood silent, flushed with excitement, -turning wistful looks upon her, waiting till perhaps she might turn -round and see him, and letting fall out of his trembling fingers those -unregarded editions of the Anglican lyre. - -"And two copies of the 'Christian Year,'" said Lady Western, suddenly. -"Oh, thank you _so_ much! but I know they are all on the side-table, and -I shall go and look at them. Not the very smallest copy, Mr. Masters, -and not that solemn one with the red edges; something pretty, with a -little ornament and gilding: they are for two little _protegees_ of -mine. Oh, here is exactly what I want! another one like this, please. -How very obliging all your people are," said her ladyship, benignly, as -the nearest man dashed off headlong to bring what she wanted--"but I -think it is universal in Carlingford; and indeed the manners of our -country people in general have improved very much of late. Don't you -think so? oh, there can't be a question about it!" - -"I beg your ladyship's pardon, I am sure; but perhaps, my lady, it is -not safe to judge the general question from your ladyship's point of -view," said the polite bookseller, with a bow. - -"Oh, pray don't say so; I should be wretched if I thought you took more -trouble for me than for other people," said the young Dowager, with a -sweetness which filled Vincent's heart with jealous pangs. She was close -by his side--so close that those sacred robes rustled in his very ear, -and her shawl brushed his sleeve. The poor young man took off his hat in -a kind of ecstasy. If she did not notice him, what did it -matter?--silent adoration, speechless homage, could not affront a queen. - -And it was happily very far from affronting Lady Western. She turned -round with a little curiosity, and looked up in his face. "Oh, Mr.--Mr. -Vincent," cried the beautiful creature, brightening in recognition. "How -do you do? I suppose you are a resident in Carlingford now, are not you? -Pardon me, that I did not see you when I came in. How very, very good it -is of you to go and see my--my friend! Did you ever see anything so -dreadful as the place where she lives? and isn't she an extraordinary -creature? Thank you, Mr. Masters; that's exactly what I want. I do -believe she might have been Lord Chancellor, or something, if she had -not been a woman," said the enchantress, once more lifting her lovely -eyes with an expression of awe to Vincent's face. - -"She seems a very remarkable person," said Vincent. "To see her where -she is, makes one feel how insignificant are the circumstances of -life." - -"Really! now, how do you make out that?" said Lady Western; "for, to -tell the truth, I think, when I see her, oh, how important they are! and -that I'd a great deal rather die than live so. But you clever people -take such strange views of things. Now tell me how you make that out?" - -"Nay," said Vincent, lowering his voice with a delicious sense of having -a subject to be confidential upon, "you know what conditions of -existence all her surroundings imply; yet the most ignorant could not -doubt for a moment her perfect superiority to them--a superiority so -perfect," he added, with a sudden insight which puzzled even himself, -"that it is not necessary to assert it." - -"Oh, to be sure," said Lady Western, colouring a little, and with a -momentary hauteur, "of course a Russell---- I mean a gentlewoman--must -always look the same to a certain extent; but, alas! I am only a very -commonplace little woman," continued the beauty, brightening into those -smiles which perhaps might be distributed too liberally, but which -intoxicated for the moment every man on whom they fell. "I think those -circumstances which you speak of so disrespectfully are everything! I -have not a great soul to triumph over them. I should break down, or they -would overcome me--oh, you need not shake your head! I know I am right -so far as I myself am concerned." - -"Indeed I cannot think so," said the intoxicated young man; "you would -make any circumstances--" - -"What?" - -But the bewildered youth made no direct reply. He only gazed at her, -grew very red, and said, suddenly, "I beg your pardon," stepping back in -confusion, like the guilty man he was. The lady blushed, too, as her -inquiring eyes met that unexpected response. Used as she was to -adoration, she felt the silent force of the compliment withheld--it was -a thousand times sweeter in its delicate suggestiveness and reserve of -incense than any effusion of words. They were both a little confused for -the moment, poor Vincent's momentary betrayal of himself having somehow -suddenly dissipated the array of circumstances which surrounded and -separated two persons so far apart from each other in every conventional -aspect. The first to regain her place and composure was of course Lady -Western, who made him a pretty playful curtsy, and broke into a low, -sweet ring of laughter. - -"Now I shall never know whether you meant to be complimentary or -contemptuous," cried the young Dowager, "which is hard upon a creature -with such a love of approbation as our friend says I have. However, I -forgive you, if you meant to be very cutting, for her sake. It is so -very kind of you to go to see her, and I am sure she enjoys your visits. -Thank you, Mr. Masters, that is all. Have you got the two copies of the -'Christian Year'? Put them into the carriage, please. Mr. Vincent, I am -going to have the last of my summer-parties next Thursday--twelve -o'clock; will you come?--only a cup of coffee, you know, or tea if you -prefer it, and talk _au discretion_. I shall be happy to see you, and I -have some nice friends, and one or two good pictures; so there you have -an account of all the attractions my house can boast of. Do come: it -will be my last party this season, and I rather want it to be a great -success," said the syren, looking up with her sweet eyes. - -Vincent could not tell what answer he made in his rapture; but the next -thing he was properly conscious of was the light touch of her hand upon -his arm as he led her to her carriage, some sudden courageous impulse -having prompted him to secure for himself that momentary blessedness. He -walked forth in a dream, conducting that heavenly vision: and there, -outside, stood the celestial chariot with those pawing horses, and the -children standing round with open mouth to watch the lovely lady's -progress. It was he who put her in with such pride and humbleness as -perhaps only a generous but inexperienced young man, suddenly surprised -into passion, could be capable of--ready to kiss the hem of her garment, -or do any other preposterous act of homage--and just as apt to blaze up -into violent self-assertion should any man attempt to humble him who had -been thus honoured. While he stood watching the carriage out of sight, -Masters himself came out to tell the young Nonconformist, whose presence -that dignified tradesman had been loftily unconscious of a few minutes -before, that they had found the book he wanted; and Vincent, thrilling -in every pulse with the unlooked-for blessedness which had befallen -him, was not sorry, when he dropped out of the clouds at the -bookseller's accost, to re-enter that place where this enchantment still -hovered, by way of calming himself down ere he returned to those prose -regions which were his own lawful habitation. He saw vaguely the books -that were placed on the counter before him--heard vaguely the polite -purling of Masters's voice, all-solicitous to make up for the momentary -incivility with which he had treated a friend of Lady Western's--and was -conscious of taking out his purse and paying something for the volume, -which he carried away with him. But the book might have been Sanscrit -for anything Mr. Vincent cared--and he would have paid any fabulous -price for it with the meekest resignation. His attempt to appear -moderately interested, and to conduct this common transaction as if he -had all his wits about him, was sufficient occupation just at this -moment. His head was turned. There should have been roses blossoming all -along the bare pavement of George Street to account for the sweet gleams -of light which warmed the entire atmosphere as he traversed that -commonplace way. Not only the interview just passed, but the meeting to -come, bewildered him with an intoxicating delight. Here, then, was the -society he had dreamed of, opening its perfumed doors to receive him. -From Mrs. Tozer's supper-table to the bowery gates of Grange Lane was a -jump which, ten days ago, would of itself have made the young minister -giddy with satisfaction and pleasure. Now these calm emotions had ceased -to move him; for not society, but a sweeter syren, had thrown chains of -gold round the unsuspecting Nonconformist. With Her, Back Grove Street -was Paradise. Where her habitation was, or what he should see there, was -indifferent to Vincent. He was again to meet Herself. - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - - -The days which intervened between this meeting and Lady Western's party -were spent in a way which the managers of Salem would have been far from -approving of. Mr. Vincent, indeed, was rapt out of himself, out of his -work, out of all the ordinary regions of life and thought. When he sat -down to his sermons, his pen hung idly in his hand, and his mind, -wilfully cheating itself by that semblance of study, went off into long -delicious reveries, indescribable, intangible--a secret sweet -intoxication which forbade labour, yet nourished thought. Though he -sometimes did not write a word in an hour, so deep was the aspect of -studiousness displayed by the young pastor at his writing-desk, and so -entire the silence he maintained in his room, shut up in that world of -dreams which nobody knew anything of, that his landlady, who was one of -his hearers, communicated the fact to Tozer, and expatiated everywhere -upon the extreme devotion to study displayed by the new minister. Old -Mr. Tufton, who had been in the habit of putting together the disjointed -palaver which he called a sermon on the Saturday morning, shook his head -over the information, and doubted that his young brother was resorting -more to carnal than to spiritual means of filling his chapel; but the -members of Salem generally heard the rumour with pride, and felt a -certain distinction accrue to themselves from the possibility that their -pastor might ruin his health by over-study. It was a new sensation in -Salem; and the news, as it was whispered about, certainly came to the -ears of a few of those young men and thinkers, principally poor lawyers' -clerks and drapers' assistants, whom Tozer was so anxious to reach, and -drew two or three doubtful, genteel hearers to the chapel, where Mr. -Vincent's sermon, though no better than usual, and in reality dashed off -at the last moment in sheer desperation, when necessity momentarily -thrust the dreams away, was listened to with a certain awe and devout -attention, solely due to the toil it was reported to have cost. The -young minister himself came out of the pulpit remorseful and ashamed, -feeling that he had neglected his duty, and thoroughly disgusted with -the superficial production, just lighted up with a few fiery sentences -of that eloquence which belongs to excitement and passion, which he had -just delivered. But Tozer and all the deacons buzzed approbation. They -were penetrated with the conviction that he had worked hard at his -sermon, and given them his best, and were not to be undeceived by the -quality of the work itself, which was a secondary matter. More deeply -disgusted and contemptuous than ever was the young pastor at the end of -that Sunday--disgusted with himself to have done his work so -poorly--contemptuous of those who were pleased with it--his heart -swelling with mortified pride to think that what he thought so unworthy -of him was more appreciated than his best efforts. For he did not know -the report that had gone abroad; he did not know that, while brooding -over his own rising passion, and absorbed in dreams with which Salem had -nothing to do, the little world around him was complacently giving him -credit for a purpose of wearing himself out in its behalf. The sermons -so hastily written, thrust into a corner by the overpowering enchantment -of those reveries, were not the only sin he had to charge against -himself. He could not bring himself to bear the irksome society that -surrounded him, in the state of elevation and excitement he was in. -Tozer was unendurable, and Phoebe to be avoided at all costs. He did -not even pay his promised visit to Mrs. Hilyard, nor go to Siloam -Cottage as usual. In short, he spent the days in a kind of dream, -avoiding all his duties, paying no visits, doing no pastoral work, -neglecting the very sermon over which his landlady saw him hanging so -many silent hours, without knowing that all the vacant atmosphere -between him and that blank sheet of paper, in which she saw nothing, was -peopled with fairy visitants and unreal scenes to the dreamy eyes of her -lodger. Such were the first effects of Circe's cup upon the young -minister. He indulged himself consciously, with apologetic -self-remonstrances, as Thursday approached. After that day, life was to -go on as usual. No--not as usual--with a loftier aim and a higher -inspiration; but the season of dreams was to be over when he had real -admittance into that Eden garden, where the woman of all women wandered -among her flowers. He thought what he was to say to her on that -eventful day--how he should charm her into interest in his difficulties, -and beautify his office, and the barren spot in which he exercised it, -with her sympathy. He imagined himself possessed of her ear, certain of -a place by her side, a special guest of her own election. He was not -vain, nor deeply persuaded of his own importance; yet all this seemed -only natural to his excited imagination. He saw himself by her side in -that garden of beatitudes, disclosing to her all that was in his heart; -instinctively he recalled all that the poets have said of woman the -consoler--woman the inspirer. When he had gained that priceless -sympathy, what glorious amends he should make for the few days' -indolence to which he now gave way! Thus in his inexperience he went on, -preparing for himself, as any one a little wiser could have seen at a -glance, one of the bitterest disappointments of early life. - -Thursday came, a day of days--such a day as people reckon by, months -after; a soft and bright autumnal morning, breathing like spring. As -Vincent issued from his own door and took his way along George Street to -Grange Lane, he saw the curate of St. Roque's walking before him in the -same direction; but Mr. Wentworth himself was not more orthodoxly -clerical in every detail of his costume than was the young -Nonconformist, who was going, not to Lady Western's breakfast-party, but -into the Bower of Bliss, the fool's paradise of his youth. Mr. -Wentworth, it is true, was to see Lucy Wodehouse there, and was a true -lover; but he walked without excitement to the green gate which -concealed from him no enchanted world of delights, but only a familiar -garden, with every turn of which he was perfectly acquainted, and which, -even when Lucy was by his side, contained nothing ineffable or ecstatic. -It was, to tell the truth, an autumnal garden, bright enough still with -scarlet gleams of geranium and verbena, with a lawn of velvet -smoothness, and no great diminution as yet in the shade of the acacias -and lime-trees, and everything in the most perfect order in the trim -shrubberies, through the skilful mazes of which some bright groups were -already wandering, when Vincent passed through to the sunny open door. -At the open windows within he could see other figures in a pleasant -flutter of gay colour and light drapery, as he advanced breathless to -take his own place in that unknown world. He heard his own name -announced, and went in, with a chill of momentary doubt upon his high -expectations, into the airy sunshiny room, with its gay, brilliant, -rustling crowd, the ladies all bright and fresh in their pretty -morning-dresses, and the din of talk and laughter confusing his -unaccustomed ears. For a moment the stranger stood embarrassed, looking -round him, eagerly investigating the crowd for that one face, which was -not only the sole face of woman in the world so far as he was concerned, -but in reality the only face he knew in the gay party, where everybody -except himself knew everybody else. Then he saw her, and his doubts were -over. When she perceived him, she made a few steps forward to meet him -and held out her hand. - -"I am so glad to see you--how kind of you to come!" said Lady Western; -"and such a beautiful day--just what I wanted for my last fete. Have you -seen my friend again since I saw you, Mr. Vincent--quite well, I hope? -Now, do have some coffee.--How do you do, Mr. Wentworth? You have been -here full five minutes, and you have never paid your respects to me. -Even under the circumstances, you know, one cannot overlook such -neglect." - -"I am too deeply flattered that your ladyship should have observed my -entrance to be able to make any defence," said the curate of St. -Roque's, who could speak to her as to any ordinary woman; "but as for -circumstances----" - -"Oh dear, yes, we all know," cried Lady Western, with her sweet laugh. -"Was it you, Mr. Vincent, who were saying that circumstances were -everything in life?--oh, no, I beg your pardon, quite the reverse. I -remember it struck me as odd and clever. Now, I daresay, you two could -quite settle that question. I am such an ignoramus. So kind of you to -come!" - -Vincent was about to protest his delight in coming, and to deprecate the -imputation of kindness, but ere he had spoken three words, he suddenly -came to a stop, perceiving that not only Lady Western's attention but -her ear was lost, and that already another candidate for her favour had -possession of the field. He stepped back into the gay assembly, -disturbing one group, the members of which all turned to look at him -with well-bred curiosity. He stood quite alone and silent for some time, -waiting if, perhaps, he could catch the eye of Lady Western. But she -was surrounded, swept away, carried off even from his neighbourhood, -while he stood gazing. And here was he left, out of the sunshine of her -presence in the midst of Carlingford society, knowing nobody, while -every face smiled and every tongue was busy but his own: talk _au -discretion!_ such there certainly was--but Vincent had never in his life -felt so preposterously alone, so dismally silent, so shut up in himself. -If he had come to woo society, doubtless he could have plucked up a -spirit, and made a little effort for his object. But he had come to see -Her, flattering himself with vain dreams of securing her to himself--of -wandering by her side through those garden-paths, of keeping near her -whenever she moved--and the dream had intoxicated him more deeply than -even he himself was aware of. Now he woke to his sober wits with a chill -of mortification and disappointment not to be expressed. He stood -silent, following her with his eyes as she glided about from one corner -to the other of the crowded room. He had neither eyes nor ears for -anything else. Beautiful as she had always been, she was lovelier than -ever to-day, with her fair head uncovered and unadorned, her beautiful -hair glancing in the gleams of sunshine, her tiny hands ungloved. Poor -Vincent drew near a window, when it dawned upon his troubled perception -that he was standing amidst all those chattering, laughing people, a -silent statue of disappointment and dismay, and from that little refuge -watched her as she made her progress. And, alas! Lady Western assured -everybody that they were "_so_ kind" to come--she distributed her -smiles, her kind words, everywhere. She beamed upon the old men and the -young, the handsome and the stupid, with equal sweetness. After a while, -as he stood watching, Vincent began to melt in his heart. She was -hostess--she had the party's pleasure to think of, not her own. If he -could but help her, bring himself to her notice again in some other way! -Vincent made another step out of his window, and looked out eagerly with -shy scrutiny. Nobody wanted his help. They stared at him, and whispered -questions who he was. When he at length nerved himself to speak to his -next neighbour, he met with a courteous response and no more. Society -was not cruel, or repulsive, or severely exclusive, but simply did not -know him, could not make out who he was, and was busy talking that -conversation of a limited sphere full of personal allusions into which -no stranger could enter. Instead of the ineffable hour he expected, an -embarrassing, unbearable tedium was the lot of the poor Dissenting -minister by himself among the beauty, wit, and fashion of Carlingford. -He would have stolen away but for the forlorn hope that things might -mend--that Lady Western might return, and that the sunshine he had -dreamed of would yet fall upon him. But no such happiness came to the -unfortunate young minister. After a while, a perfectly undistinguished -middle-aged individual charitably engaged Mr. Vincent in conversation; -and as they talked, and while the young man's eager wistful eyes -followed into every new combination of the little crowd that one fair -figure which had bewitched him, it became apparent that the company was -flowing forth into the garden. At last Vincent stopped short in the -languid answer he was making to his respectable interlocutor with a -sudden start and access of impatience. The brilliant room had suddenly -clouded over. She had joined her guests outside. With bitterness, and a -sharp pang at his heart, Vincent looked round and wondered to find -himself in the house, in the company, from which she had gone. What -business had he there? No link of connection existed between him and -this little world of unknown people except herself. She had brought him -here; she alone knew even so much of him as his name. He had not an inch -of ground to stand on in the little alien assembly when she was not -there. He broke off his conversation with his unknown sympathiser -abruptly, and rushed out, meaning to leave the place. But somehow, -fascinated still, in a hundred different moods a minute, when he got -outside, he too lingered about the paths, where he continually met with -groups and stray couples who stared at him, and wondered again, -sometimes not inaudibly, who he was. He met her at last under the shadow -of the lime-trees with a train of girls about her, and a following of -eager male attendants. When he came forward lonely to make his farewell, -with a look in which he meant to unite a certain indignation and -reproach with still chivalrous devotion, the unconscious beauty met him -with unabated sweetness, held out her hand as before, and smiled the -most radiant of smiles. - -"Are you going to leave us already?" she said, in a tone which half -persuaded the unlucky youth to stay till the last moment, and swallow -all his mortifications. "So sorry you must go away so soon! and I wanted -to show you my pictures too. Another time, I hope, we may have better -fortune. When you come to me again, you must really be at leisure, and -have no other engagements. Good-bye! It was _so_ kind of you to come, -and I am so sorry you can't stay!" - -In another minute the green door had opened and closed, the fairy vision -was gone, and poor Vincent stood in Grange Lane between the two blank -lines of garden-wall, come back to the common daylight after a week's -vain wandering in the enchanted grounds, half stupefied, half maddened -by the disappointment and downfall. He made a momentary pause at the -door, gulped down the big indignant sigh that rose in his throat, and, -with a quickened step and a heightened colour, retraced his steps along -a road which no longer gleamed with any rosy reflections, but was -harder, more real, more matter-of-fact than ever it had looked before. -What a fool he had been, to be led into such a false position!--to be -cheated of his peace, and seduced from his duty, and intoxicated into -such absurdities of hope, all by the gleam of a bright eye, and the -sound of a sweet voice! He who had never known the weakness before, to -cover himself with ridicule, and compromise his dignity so entirely for -the sake of the first beautiful woman who smiled upon him! Poor Vincent! -He hurried to his rooms thrilling with projects, schemes, and sudden -vindictive ambition. That fair creature should learn that the young -Nonconformist was worthy of her notice. Those self-engrossed simperers -should yet be startled out of their follies by the new fame rising up -amongst them. Who was he, did they ask? One day they should know. - -That the young man should despise himself for this outbreak of injured -feeling, as soon as he had cooled down, was inevitable; but it took some -considerable time to cool down; and in the mean time his resolution rose -and swelled into that heroic region which youth always attains so -easily. He thought himself disenchanted for ever. That night, in bitter -earnest, he burned the midnight oil--that night his pen flew over the -paper with outbreaks, sometimes indignant, sometimes pathetic, on -subjects as remote as possible from Lady Western's breakfast-party; and -with a sudden revulsion he bethought himself of Salem and its oligarchy, -which just now prophesied so much good of their new minister. He -accepted Salem with all the heat of passion at that moment. His be the -task to raise it and its pastor into a common fame! - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - - -The events above narrated were all prefatory of the great success -accomplished by Mr. Vincent in Carlingford. Indeed, the date of the -young minister's fame--fame which, as everybody acquainted with that -town must be aware, was widely diffused beyond Carlingford itself, and -even reached the metropolis, and gladdened his _Alma Mater_ at -Homerton--might almost be fixed by a reference to Lady Western's -housekeeping book, if she kept any, and the date of her last -summer-party. That event threw the young Nonconformist into just the -state of mind which was wanted to quicken all the prejudices of his -education, and give individual force to all the hereditary limits of -thought in which he had been born. An attempt on the part of the -Government to repeal the Toleration Act, or reinstate the Test, could -scarcely have produced a more permanent and rapid effect than Lady -Western's neglect, and the total ignorance of Mr. Vincent displayed by -polite society in Carlingford. No shame to him. It was precisely the -same thing in private life which the other would have been in public. -Repeal of the Toleration Act, or re-enactment of the Test, are things -totally impossible; and when persecution is not to be apprehended or -hoped for, where but in the wrongs of a privileged class can the true -zest of dissidence be found? Mr. Vincent, who had received his -dissenting principles as matters of doctrine, took up the familiar -instruments now with a rush of private feeling. He was not conscious of -the power of that sentiment of injury and indignation which possessed -him. He believed in his heart that he was but returning, after a -temporary hallucination, to the true duties of his post; but the fact -was, that this wound in the tenderest point--this general slight and -indifference--pricked him forward in all that force of personal -complaint which gives warmth and piquancy to a public grievance. The -young man said nothing of Lady Western even to his dearest friend--tried -not to think of her except by way of imagining how she should one day -hear of him, and know his name when it possessed a distinction which -neither the perpetual curate of St. Roque's, nor any other figure in -that local world, dared hope for. But with fiery zeal he flew to the -question of Church and State, and set forth the wrongs which -Christianity sustained from endowment, and the heinous evils of rich -livings, episcopal palaces, and spiritual lords. It was no mean or -ungenerous argument which the young Nonconformist pursued in his fervour -of youth and wounded self-regard. It was the natural cry of a man who -had entered life at disadvantage, and chafed, without knowing it, at all -the phalanx of orders and classes above him, standing close in order to -prevent his entrance. With eloquent fervour he expatiated upon the -kingdom that was not of this world. If these words were true, what had -the Church to do with worldly possessions, rank, dignities, power? Was -his Grace of Lambeth more like Paul the tentmaker than his Holiness of -Rome? Mr. Vincent went into the whole matter with genuine conviction, -and confidence in his own statements. He believed and had been trained -in it. In his heart he was persuaded that he himself, oft disgusted and -much misunderstood in his elected place at Salem Chapel, ministered the -gospel more closely to his Master's appointment than the rector of -Carlingford, who was nominated by a college; or the curate of St. -Roque's, who had his forty pounds a-year from a tiny ancient endowment, -and was spending his own little fortune on his church and district. -These men had joined God and mammon--they were in the pay of the State. -Mr. Vincent thundered forth the lofty censures of an evangelist whom the -State did not recognise, and with whom mammon had little enough to do. -He brought forth all the weapons out of the Homerton armoury, new, -bright, and dazzling; and he did not know any more than his audience -that he never would have wielded them so heartily--perhaps would -scarcely have taken them off the wall--but for the sudden sting with -which his own inferior place, and the existence of a privileged class -doubly shut against his entrance, had quickened his personal -consciousness. Such, however, was the stimulus which woke the minister -of Salem Chapel into action, and produced that series of lectures on -Church and State which, as everybody knows, shook society in Carlingford -to its very foundation. - -"Now we've got a young man as is a credit to us," said Tozer; "and now -he's warming to his work, as I was a little afraid of at first; for -somehow I can't say as I could see to my satisfaction, when he first -come, that his heart was in it,--I say, now as we've got a pastor as -does us credit, I am not the man to consider a bit of expense. My -opinion is as we should take the Music Hall for them lectures. There's -folks might go to the Music Hall as would never come to Salem, and we're -responsible for our advantages. A clever young man like Mr. Vincent -ain't to be named along with Mr. Tufton; we're the teachers of the -community, that's what we are. I am for being public-spirited--I always -was; and I don't mind standing my share. My opinion is as we should take -the Music Hall." - -"If we was charging sixpence a-head or so----" said prudent Pigeon, the -poulterer. - -"That's what I'll never give my consent to--never!" said Tozer. "If we -was amusin' the people, we might charge sixpence a-head; but mark my -words," continued the butterman, "there ain't twenty men in Carlingford, -nor in no other place, as would give sixpence to have their minds -enlightened. No, sir, we're conferring of a boon; and let's do it -handsomely, I say--let's do it handsomely; and here's my name down for -five pound to clear expenses: and if every man in Salem does as well, -there ain't no reason for hesitating. I'm a plain man, but I don't make -no account of a little bit of money when a principle's at stake." - -This statement was conclusive. When it came to the sacrifice of a little -bit of money, neither Mrs. Pigeon nor Mrs. Brown could have endured -life had their husbands yielded the palm to Tozer. And the Music Hall -was accordingly taken; and there, every Wednesday for six weeks, the -young Nonconformist mounted his _cheval de bataille_, and broke his -impetuous spear against the Church. Perhaps Carlingford was in want of a -sensation at the moment; and the town was virgin soil, and had never yet -been invaded by sight or sound of heresy. Anyhow, the fact was, that -this fresh new voice attracted the ear of the public. That personal -impetuosity and sense of wrong which gave fire to the discourse, roused -the interest of the entire community. Mr. Vincent's lectures became the -fashion in Carlingford, where nobody in the higher levels of society had -ever heard before of the amazing evils of a Church Establishment. Some -of the weaker or more candid minds among the audience were even upset by -the young minister's arguments. Two or three young people of both sexes -declared themselves converted, and were persecuted to their hearts' -desire when they intimated their intention of henceforward joining the -congregation of Salem. The two Miss Hemmings were thrown into a state of -great distress and perplexity, and wrung their hands, and looked at each -other, as each new enormity was brought forth. A very animated -interested audience filled the benches in the Music Hall for the three -last lectures. It was Mr. Tozer's conviction, whispered in confidence to -all the functionaries at Salem, that the rector himself, in a muffler -and blue spectacles, listened in a corner to the voice of rebellion; but -no proof of this monstrous supposition ever came before the public. -Notwithstanding, the excitement was evident. Miss Wodehouse took -tremulous notes, her fingers quivering with anger, with the intention of -calling upon Mr. Wentworth to answer and deny these assertions. Dr. -Marjoribanks, the old Scotchman, who in his heart enjoyed a hit at the -Episcopate, cried "Hear, hear," with his sturdy northern _r_ rattling -through the hall, and clapped his large brown hands, with a broad grin -at his daughter, who was "high," and one of Mr. Wentworth's sisters of -mercy. But poor little Rose Lake, the drawing-master's daughter, who was -going up for confirmation next time the bishop came to Carlingford, -turned very pale under Mr. Vincent's teaching. All the different phases -of conviction appeared in her eager little face--first indignation, then -doubt, lastly horror and intense determination to flee out from Babylon. -Her father laughed, and told her to attend to her needlework, when Rose -confided to him her troubles. Her needlework! She who had just heard -that the Church was rotten, and tottering on its foundations; that it -was choked with filthy lucre and State support; that Church to which she -had been about to give in her personal adhesion. Rose put away her -catechism and confirmation good-books, and crossed to the other side of -the street that she might not pass Masters's, that emporium of evil. She -looked wistfully after the young Nonconformist as he passed her on the -streets, wondering what high martyr-thoughts must be in the apostolic -mind which entertained so high a contempt for all the honours and -distinctions of this world. Meanwhile Mr. Vincent pursued his own way, -entirely convinced, as was natural for a young man, that he was "doing a -great work" in Carlingford. He was still in that stage of life when -people imagine that you have only to state the truth clearly to have it -believed, and that to convince a man of what is right is all that is -necessary to his immediate reformation. But it was not with any very -distinct hopes or wishes of emptying the church in Carlingford, and -crowding Salem Chapel, that the young man proceeded. Such expectations, -high visions of a day to come when not a sitting could be had in Salem -for love or money, did indeed glance into the souls of Tozer and his -brother deacons; but the minister did not stand up and deliver his blow -at the world--his outcry against things in general--his warm youthful -assertion that he too had a right to all the joys and privileges of -humanity,--as, by means of sermons, lectures, poems, or what not, youth -and poverty, wherever they have a chance, do proclaim their protest -against the world. - -On the last night of the lectures, just as Vincent had taken his place -upon his platform, a rustle, as of some one of importance entering, -thrilled the audience. Looking over the sea of heads before him, the -breath almost left the young minister's lips when he saw the young -Dowager, in all the glory of full-dress, threading her way through the -crowd, which opened to let her pass. Mr. Vincent stood watching her -progress, unaware that it was time for him to begin, and that his -hearers, less absorbed than he, were asking each other what it was which -had so suddenly paled his face and checked his utterance. He watched -Lady Western and her companion come slowly forward; he saw Tozer, in a -delighted bustle, leading the way to one of the raised seats of the -orchestra close to the platform. When they were seated, and not till -then, the lecturer, drawing a long gasping breath, turned to his -audience. But the crowd was hazy to his eyes. He began, half -mechanically, to speak--then made a sudden pause, his mind occupied with -other things. On the very skirts of the crowd, far back at the door, -stood his friend of Back Grove Street. In that momentary pause, he saw -her standing alone, with the air of a person who had risen up -unconsciously in sudden surprise and consternation. Her pale dark face -looked not less confused and startled than Vincent himself was conscious -of looking, and her eyes were turned in the same direction as his had -been the previous moment. The crowd of Carlingford hearers died off from -the scene for the instant, so far as the young Nonconformist was -concerned. He knew but of that fair creature in all her sweet bloom and -blush of beauty--the man who accompanied her--Mrs. Hilyard, a thin, -dark, eager shadow in the distance--and himself standing, as it were, -between them, connecting all together. What could that visionary link be -which distinguished and separated these four, so unlike each other, from -all the rest of the world? But Mr. Vincent had no leisure to follow out -the question, even had his mind been sufficiently clear to do it. He saw -the pale woman at the end of the hall suddenly drop into her seat, and -draw a thick black veil over her face; and the confused murmur of -impatience in the crowd before him roused the young man to his own -position. He opened the eyes which had been hazing over with clouds of -imagination and excitement. He delivered his lecture. Though he never -was himself aware what he had said, it was received with just as much -attention and applause as usual. He got through it somehow; and, sitting -down at last, with parched lips and a helpless feeling of excitement, -watched the audience dispersing, as if they were so many enemies from -whom he had escaped. Who was this man with Her? Why did She come to -bewilder him in the midst of his work? It did not occur to the poor -young fellow that Lady Western came to his lecture simply as to a -"distraction." He thought she had a purpose in it. He pretended not to -look as she descended daintily from her seat in the orchestra, drawing -her white cloak with a pretty shiver over her white shoulders. He -pretended to start when her voice sounded in his expectant ear. - -"Oh, Mr. Vincent, how very clever and wicked of you!" cried Lady -Western. "I am so horrified, and charmed. To think of you attacking the -poor dear old Church, that we all ought to support through everything! -And I am such a stanch churchwoman, and so shocked to hear all this; but -you won't do it any more." - -Saying this, Lady Western leaned her beautiful hand upon Mr. Vincent's -table, and looked in his face with a beseeching insinuating smile. The -poor minister did all he could to preserve his virtue. He looked aside -at Lady Western's companion to fortify himself, and escape the -enervating influence of that smile. - -"I cannot pretend to yield the matter to your ladyship," said Vincent, -"for it had been previously arranged that this was to be the last of my -lectures at present. I am sorry it did not please you." - -"But it did please me," said the young Dowager; "only that it was so -very wicked and wrong. Where did you learn such dreadful sentiments? I -am so sorry I shan't hear you again, and so glad you are finished. You -never came to see me after my little fete. I am afraid you thought us -stupid. Good-night: but you really must come to me, and I shall convert -you. I am sure you never can have looked at the Church in the right way: -why, what would become of us if we were all Dissenters? What a frightful -idea! Thank you for such a charming evening. Good-night." - -And Lady Western held out that "treasured splendour, her hand," to the -bewildered Nonconformist, who only dared touch it, and let it fall, -drawing back from the smile with which the syren beguiled him back again -into her toils. But Mr. Vincent turned round hastily as he heard a -muttered exclamation, "By Jove!" behind him, and fixed the gaze of angry -and instinctive repugnance upon the tall figure which brushed past. -"Make haste, Alice--do you mean to stay here all night?" said this -wrathful individual, fixing his eyes with a defiant stare upon the -minister; and he drew the beauty's arm almost roughly into his own, and -hurried her away, evidently remonstrating in the freest and boldest -manner upon her civility. "By Jove! the fellow will think you are in -love with him," Vincent, with his quickened and suspicious ears, could -hear the stranger say, with that delightful indifference to being -overheard which characterises some Englishmen of the exalted classes; -and the strain of reproof evidently continued as they made their way to -the door. Vincent, for his part, when he had watched them out of sight, -dropped into his chair, and sat there in the empty hall, looking over -the vacant benches with the strangest mixture of feelings. Was it -possible that his eager fervour and revolutionary warmth were diminished -by these few words and that smile?--that the wrongs of Church and State -looked less grievous all at once, and that it was an effort to return to -the lofty state of feeling with which he had entered the place two hours -ago? As he sat there in his reverie of discomfiture, he could see Tozer, -a single black figure, come slowly up the hall, an emissary from the -group at the door of "chapel people," who had been enjoying the defeat -of the enemy, and were now waiting for the conqueror. "Mr. Vincent," -shouted Tozer, "shall we turn off the gas, and leave you to think it all -over till the morning, sir? They're all as pleased as Punch and as -curious as women down below here, and my Phoebe will have it you're -tired. I must say as it is peculiar to see you a-sitting up there all by -yourself, and the lights going out, and not another soul in the place," -added the butterman, looking round with a sober grin; and in reality the -lights diminished every moment as Mr. Vincent rose and stumbled down -from his platform into the great empty hall with its skeleton benches. -If they _had_ left him there till the morning, it would have been a -blessed exchange from that walk home with the party, that invitation to -supper, and all the applauses and inquiries that followed. They had the -Pigeons to supper that night at the butter-shop, and the whole matter -was discussed in all its bearings--the flutter of the "Church folks," -the new sittings let during the week, the triumphant conviction of the -two deacons that Salem would soon be overflowing. - - "Oh, why were 'deacons' made so coarse, - Or parsons made so fine?" - -Mr. Vincent did not bethink himself of that touching ditty. He could not -see the serio-comic lights in which the whole business abounded. It was -all the saddest earnest to the young pastor, who found so little -encouragement or support even in the enthusiasm of his flock. - -"And, oh, Mr. Vincent," said the engaging Phoebe, in a half-whisper -aside, "how _did_ you come to be so friendly with Lady Western? How she -did listen, to be sure! and smiled at you _so_ sweetly. Ah, I don't -wonder now that you can't see anything in the Carlingford young ladies; -but do tell us, please, how you came to know her so well?" - -Insensibly to himself, a gleam of gratification lighted up Mr. Vincent's -face. He was gracious to Phoebe. "I can't pretend to know her _well_," -he said, with a little mock humility; whereupon the matrons of the party -took up their weapons immediately. - -"And all the better, Mr. Vincent--all the better!" cried Mrs. Tozer; -"she didn't come there for no good, you may be sure. Them great ladies, -when they're pretty-looking, as I don't deny she's pretty-looking----" - -"Oh, mamma, beautiful!" exclaimed Phoebe. - -"When they're pretty-looking, as I say," continued Mrs. Tozer, "they're -no better nor evil spirits--that's what I tell you, Phoebe. They'll go -out o' their way, they will, for to lay hold on a poor silly young man -(which was not meaning you, Mr. Vincent, that knows better, being a -minister), and when they've got him fast, they'll laugh at him--that's -their sport. A minister of our connection as was well acquainted among -them sort of folks would be out o' nature. My boy shall never make no -such acquaintances as long as I'm here." - -"I saw her a-speaking to the minister," said Mrs Pigeon, "and the -thought crossed my mind as it wasn't just what I expected of Mr. -Vincent. Painted ladies, that come out of a night with low necks and -flowers in their hair, to have all Carlingford a-staring at them, ain't -fit company for a good pastor. _Them's_ not the lambs of the flock--not -so far as I understand; they're not friends as Salem folks would approve -of, Mr. Vincent. I'm always known for a plain speaker, and I don't -deceive you. It's a deal better to draw back in time." - -"I have not the least reason to believe that Lady Western means to -honour me with her friendship," said Vincent, haughtily--"so it is -premature to discuss the matter. As I feel rather tired, perhaps you'll -excuse me to-night. Come over to my rooms, Mr. Tozer, to-morrow, if you -can spare a little time and we will discuss our business there. I hope -Mrs. Tozer will pardon me withdrawing so early, but I am not very -well--rather tired--out of sorts a little to-night." - -So saying, the young pastor extricated himself from the table, shook -hands, regardless of all remonstrances, and made his way out with some -difficulty from the little room, which was choke-full, and scarcely -permitted egress. When he was gone, the three ladies looked at each -other in dumb amazement. Phoebe, who felt herself aggrieved, was the -first to break silence. - -"Ma and Mrs. Pigeon," cried the aggravated girl, "you've been and hurt -his feelings. I knew you would. He's gone home angry and disappointed; -he thinks none of us understand him; he thinks we're trying to humble -him and keep him down, when, to tell the truth----" - -Here Phoebe burst into tears. - -"Upon _my_ word," said Mrs. Pigeon, "dear, deary me! It's just what I -said whenever I knew you had made up your minds to a _young_ minister. -He'll come a-dangling after our girls, says I, and a-trifling with their -affections. Bless my heart, Phoebe! if it had been my Maria now that's -always a-crying about something--but you! Don't take on, -dear--fretting's no good--it'll spoil your colour and take away your -appetite, and that ain't the way to mend matters: and to think of his -lifting his eyes to my Lady Dowager! Upon _my_ word! but there ain't no -accounting for young men's ways no more than for girls--and being a -minister don't make a bit of difference, so far as I can see." - -"Why, what's the matter?" cried Tozer: "the pastor's gone off in a huff, -and Phoebe crying. What's wrong? You've been saying somethin'--you -women with your sharp tongues." - -"It's Phoebe and Mr. Vincent have had some words. Be quiet, -Tozer--don't you see the child's hurt in her feelings?" said his wife. - -Mr. and Mrs. Pigeon exchanged looks. "I'll tell you what it is," said -the latter lady, solemnly. "It's turned his head. I never approved of -the Music Hall myself. It's a deal of money to throw away, and it's not -like as if it was mercy to poor souls. And such a crush, and the -cheering, and my Lady Western to shake hands with him, has turned the -minister's head. Now, just you mark my words. He hasn't been here three -month yet, and he's a-getting high already. You men'll have your own -adoes with him. Afore a year's over our heads, he'll be a deal too high -for Salem. His head's turned--that's what it is." - -"Oh, Mrs. Pigeon, how unkind of you!" cried Phoebe, "when he's as good -as good--and not a bit proud, nor ever was--and always such a -gentleman!--and never neglects the very poorest whenever he's sent -for--oh, it's _so_ unkind of you." - -"I can't see as his head isn't straight enough on his shoulders," said -Tozer himself, with authority. "He's tired, that's what it is--and -excited a bit, I shouldn't wonder: a man can't study like he does, and -make hisself agreeable at the same time--no, no--by a year's time he'll -be settling down, and we'll know where we are; and as for Salem and our -connection, they never had a chance, I can tell you, like what they're -a-going to have now." - -But Mrs. Pigeon shook her head. It was the first cloud that had risen on -the firmament of Salem Chapel, so far as Mr. Vincent was concerned. - - - - -CHAPTER IX. - - -It was a January night on which Vincent emerged abruptly from Tozer's -door, the evening of that lecture--a winter night, not very cold, but -very dark, the skies looking not blue, but black overhead, and the light -of the lamps gleaming dismally on the pavement, which had received a -certain squalid power of reflection from the recent rain; for a sharp, -sudden shower had fallen while Vincent had been seated at the hospitable -table of the butterman, which had chased everybody from the darkling -streets. All the shops were closed, a policeman marched along with heavy -tread, and the wet pavement glimmered round his solitary figure. Nothing -more uncomfortable could be supposed after the warmth and light of a -snug interior, however humble; and the minister turned his face hastily -in the direction of his lodging. But the next moment he turned back -again, and looked wistfully in the other direction. It was not to gaze -along the dark length of street to where the garden-walls of Grange -Lane, undiscernible in the darkness, added a far-withdrawing perspective -of gentility and aristocratic seclusion to the vulgar pretensions of -George Street; it was to look at a female figure which came slowly up, -dimming out the reflection on the wet stones as it crossed one streak of -lamplight after another. Vincent was excited and curious, and had -enough in his own mind to make him wistful for sympathy, if it were to -be had from any understanding heart. He recognised Mrs. Hilyard -instinctively as she came forward, not conscious of him, walking, -strange woman as she was, with the air of a person walking by choice at -that melancholy hour in that dismal night. She was evidently not going -anywhere: her step was firm and distinct, like the step of a person -thoroughly self-possessed and afraid of nothing--but it lingered with a -certain meditative sound in the steady firm footfall. Vincent felt a -kind of conviction that she had come out here to think over some problem -of that mysterious life into which he could not penetrate, and he -connected this strange walk involuntarily with the appearance of Lady -Western and her careless companion. To his roused fancy, some -incomprehensible link existed between himself and the equally -incomprehensible woman before him. He turned back almost in spite of -himself, and went to meet her. Mrs. Hilyard looked up when she heard his -step. She recognised him also on the spot. They approached each other -much as if they had arranged a meeting at eleven o'clock of that wet -January night in the gleaming, deserted streets. - -"It is you, Mr. Vincent!" she said. "I wonder why I happen to meet you, -of all persons in the world, to-night. It is very odd. What, I wonder, -can have brought us both together at such an hour and in such a place? -You never came to see me that Monday--nor any Monday. You went to see -my beauty instead, and you were so lucky as to be affronted with the -syren at the first glance. Had you been less fortunate, I think I might -have partly taken you into my confidence to-night." - -"Perhaps I _am_ less fortunate, if that is all that hinders," said -Vincent; "but it is strange to see you out here so late in such a dismal -night. Let me go with you, and see you safe home." - -"Thank you. I am perfectly safe--nobody can possibly be safer than such -a woman as I am, in poverty and middle age," said his strange -acquaintance. "It is an immunity that women don't often prize, Mr. -Vincent, but it is very valuable in its way. If anybody saw you talking -to an equivocal female figure at eleven o'clock in George Street, think -what the butterman would say; but a single glimpse of my face would -explain matters better than a volume. I am going down towards Grange -Lane, principally because I am restless to-night, and don't know what to -do with myself. I shall tell you what I thought of your lecture if you -will walk with me to the end of the street." - -"Ah, my lecture?--never mind," said the hapless young minister; "I -forget all about that. What is it that brings you here, and me to your -side?--what is there in that dark-veiled house yonder that draws your -steps and mine to it? It is not accidental, our meeting here." - -"You are talking romance and nonsense, quite inconceivable in a man who -has just come from the society of deacons," said Mrs. Hilyard, glancing -up at him with that habitual gleam of her eyes. "We have met, my dear -Mr. Vincent, because, after refreshing my mind with your lecture, I -thought of refreshing my body by a walk this fresh night. One saves -candles, you know, when one does one's exercise at night: whereas -walking by day one wastes everything--time, tissue, daylight, invaluable -treasures: the only light that hurts nobody's eyes, and costs nobody -money, is the light of day. That illustration of yours about the clouds -and the sun was very pretty. I assure you I thought the whole -exceedingly effective. I should not wonder if it made a revolution in -Carlingford." - -"Why do you speak to me so? I know you did not go to listen to my -lecture," said the young minister, to whom sundry gleams of -enlightenment had come since his last interview with the poor -needle-woman of Back Grove Street. - -"Ah! how can you tell that?" she said, sharply, looking at him in the -streak of lamplight. "But to tell the truth," she continued, "I did -actually go to hear you, and to look at other people's faces, just to -see whether the world at large--so far as that exists in -Carlingford--was like what it used to be; and if I confess I saw -something there more interesting than the lecture, I say no more than -the lecturer could agree in, Mr. Vincent. You, too, saw something that -made you forget the vexed question of Church and State." - -"Tell me," said Vincent, with an earnestness he was himself surprised -at, "who was that man?" - -His companion started as if she had received a blow, turned round upon -him with a glance in her dark eyes such as he had never seen there -before, and in a sudden momentary passion drew her breath hard, and -stopped short on the way. But the spark of intense and passionate -emotion was as shortlived as it was vivid. "I do not suppose he is -anything to interest you," she answered the next moment, with a movement -of her thin mouth, letting the hands that she had clasped together drop -to her side. "Nay, make yourself quite easy; he is not a lover of my -lady's. He is only a near relation:--and," she continued, lingering on -the words with a force of subdued scorn and rage, which Vincent dimly -apprehended, but could not understand, "a very fascinating fine -gentleman--a man who can twist a woman round his fingers when he likes, -and break all her heartstrings--if she has any--so daintily afterwards, -that it would be a pleasure to see him do it. Ah, a wonderful man!" - -"You know him then? I saw you knew him," said the young man, surprised -and disturbed, thrusting the first commonplace words he could think of -into the silence, which seemed to tingle with the restrained meaning of -this brief speech. - -"I don't think we are lucky in choosing our subjects to-night," said the -strange woman. "How about the ladies in Lonsdale, Mr. Vincent? They -don't keep a school? I am glad they don't keep a school. Teaching, you -know, unless when one has a vocation for it, as you had a few weeks ago, -is uphill work. I am sorry to see you are not so sure about your work as -you were then. Your sister is pretty, I suppose? and does your mother -take great care of her and keep her out of harm's way? Lambs have a -silly faculty of running directly in the wolf's road. Why don't you take -a holiday and go to see them, or have them here to live with you?" - -"You know something about them," said Vincent, alarmed. "What has -happened?--tell me. It will be the greatest kindness to say it out at -once." - -"Hush," said Mrs. Hilyard; "now you are absurd. I speak out of my own -thoughts, as most persons do, and you, like all young people, make -personal applications. How can I possibly know about them? I am not a -fanciful woman, but there are some things that wake one's imagination. -In such a dark night as this, with such wet gleams about the streets, -when I think of people at a distance, I always think of something -uncomfortable happening. Misfortune seems to lie in wait about those -black corners. I think of women wandering along dismal solitary roads -with babies in their shameful arms--and of dreadful messengers of evil -approaching unconscious houses, and looking in at peaceful windows upon -the comfort they are about to destroy; and I think," she continued, -crossing the road so rapidly (they were now opposite Lady Western's -house) that Vincent, who had not anticipated the movement, had to -quicken his pace suddenly to keep up with her, "of evil creatures -pondering in the dark vile schemes against the innocent----" Here she -broke off all at once, and, looking up in Vincent's face with that gleam -of secret mockery in her eyes and movement of her mouth to which he was -accustomed, added, suddenly changing her tone, "Or of fine gentlemen, -Mr. Vincent, profoundly bored with their own society, promenading in a -dreary garden and smoking a disconsolate cigar. Look there!" - -The young minister, much startled and rather nervous, mechanically -looked, as she bade him, through the little grated loophole in Lady -Western's garden-door. He saw the lights shining in the windows, and a -red spark moving about before the house, as, with a little shame for his -undignified position, he withdrew his eyes from that point of vantage. -But Mrs. Hilyard was moved by no such sentiment. She planted herself -opposite the door, and, bending her head to the little grating, gazed -long and steadfastly. In the deep silence of the night, standing with -some uneasiness at her side, and not insensible to the fact that his -position, if he were seen by anybody who knew him, would be rather -absurd and slightly equivocal, Vincent heard the footsteps of the man -inside, the fragrance of whose cigar faintly penetrated the damp air. -The stranger was evidently walking up and down before the house in -enjoyment of that luxury which the feminine arrangements of the young -Dowager's household would not permit indoors; but the steady eagerness -with which this strange woman gazed--the way in which she had managed to -interweave Mrs. Vincent and pretty Susan at Lonsdale into the -conversation--the suggestions of coming danger and evil with which her -words had invested the very night, all heightened by the instinctive -repugnance and alarm of which the young man had himself been conscious -whenever he met the eye of Lady Western's companion--filled him with -discomfort and dread. His mind, which had been lately too much occupied -in his own concerns to think much of Susan, reverted now with sudden -uneasiness to his mother's cottage, from which Susan's betrothed had -lately departed to arrange matters for their speedy marriage. But how -Lady Western's "near relation"--this man whom Mrs. Hilyard watched with -an intense regard which looked like hatred, but might be dead -love--could be connected with Lonsdale, or Susan, or himself, or the -poor needlewoman in Back Grove Street, Vincent could not form the -remotest idea. He stood growing more and more impatient by that dark -closed door, which had once looked a gate of paradise--which, he felt in -his heart, half-a-dozen words or a single smile could any day make again -a gate of the paradise of fools to his bewildered feet--the steps of the -unseen stranger within, and the quick breath of agitation from the -watcher by his side, being the only sounds audible in the silence of the -night. At last some restless movement he made disturbed Mrs. Hilyard in -her watch. She left the door noiselessly and rapidly, and turned to -recross the wet road. Vincent accompanied her without saying a word. The -two walked along together half the length of Grange Lane without -breaking silence, without even looking at each other, till they came to -the large placid white lamp at Dr. Marjoribanks's gate, which cleared a -little oasis of light out of the heart of the gloom. There she looked up -at him with a face full of agitated life and motion--kindled eyes, -elevated head, nostril and lips swelling with feelings which were -totally undecipherable to Vincent; her whole aspect changed by an -indescribable inspiration which awoke remnants of what might have been -beauty in that thin, dark, middle-aged face. - -"You are surprised at me and my curiosity," she said, "and indeed you -have good reason; but it is astonishing, when one is shut up in one's -self and knows nobody, how excited one gets over the sudden apparition -of a person one has known in the other world. Some people die two or -three times in a lifetime, Mr. Vincent. There is a real transmigration -of souls, or bodies, or both if you please. This is my third life I am -going through at present. I knew that man, as I was saying, in the other -world." - -"The world _does_ change strangely," said Vincent, who could not tell -what to say; "but you put it very strongly--more strongly than I----" - -"More strongly than you can understand; I know that very well," said -Mrs. Hilyard; "but you perceive you are speaking to a woman who has died -twice. Coming to life is a bitter process, but one gets over it. If you -ever should have such a thing to go through with--and survive it," she -added, giving him a wistful glance, "I should like to tell you my -experiences. However, I hope better things. You are very well looked -after at Salem Chapel, Mr. Vincent. I think of you sometimes when I look -out of my window and see your tabernacle. It is not so pretty as Mr. -Wentworth's at St. Roque's, but you have the advantage of the curate -otherwise. So far as I can see, he never occupies himself with anything -higher than his prayer-book and his poor people. I doubt much whether -he would ever dream of replying to what you told us to-night." - -"Probably he holds a Dissenting minister in too much contempt," said -Vincent, with an uncomfortable smile on his lips. - -"Don't sneer--never sneer--no gentleman does," said his companion. "I -like you, though you are only a Dissenting minister. You know me to be -very poor, and you have seen me in very odd circumstances to-night; yet -you walk home with me--I perceive you are steering towards Back Grove -Street, Mr. Vincent--without an illusion which could make me feel myself -an equivocal person, and just as if this was the most reasonable thing -in the world which I have been doing to-night. Thank you. You are a -paladin in some things, though in others only a Dissenting minister. If -I were a fairy, the gift I would endow you with would be just that same -unconsciousness of your own disadvantages, which courtesy makes you show -of mine." - -"Indeed," said Vincent, with natural gratification, "it required no -discrimination on my part to recognise at once that I was -addressing----" - -"Hush! you have never even insinuated that an explanation was necessary, -which is the very height and climax of fine manners," said Mrs. Hilyard; -"and I speak who am, or used to be, an authority in such matters. I -don't mean to give you any explanation either. Now, you must turn back -and go home. Good-night. One thing I may tell you, however," she -continued, with a little warmth; "don't mistake me. There is no reason -in this world why you might not introduce me to the ladies in Lonsdale, -if any accident brought it about that we should meet. I say this to make -your mind easy about your penitent; and now, my good young father in the -faith, good-night." - -"Let me see you to your door first," said the wondering young man. - -"No--no farther. Good-night," she said, hastily, shaking hands, and -leaving him. The parting was so sudden that it took Vincent a minute to -stop short, under way and walking quickly as he was. When she had made -one or two rapid steps in advance, Mrs. Hilyard turned back, as if with -a sudden impulse. - -"Do you know I have an uneasiness about these ladies in Lonsdale?" she -said; "I know nothing whatever about them--not so much as their names; -but you are their natural protector; and it does not do for women to be -as magnanimous and generous in the reception of strangers as you are. -There! don't be alarmed. I told you I knew nothing. They may be as safe, -and as middle-aged, and as ugly as I am; instead of a guileless widow -and a pretty little girl, they may be hardened old campaigners like -myself; but they come into my mind, I cannot tell why. Have them here to -live beside you, and they will do you good." - -"My sister is about to be married," said Vincent, more and more -surprised, and looking very sharply into her face in the lamplight, to -see whether she really did not know anything more than she said. - -A certain expression of relief came over her face. - -"Then all is well," she said, with strange cordiality, and again held -out her hand to him. Then they parted, and pursued their several ways -through the perfectly silent and dimly-lighted streets. Vincent walked -home with the most singular agitation in his mind. Whether to give any -weight to such vague but alarming suggestions--whether to act -immediately upon the indefinite terror thus insinuated into his -thoughts--or to write, and wait till he heard whether any real danger -existed--or to cast it from him altogether as a fantastic trick of -imagination, he could not tell. Eventful and exciting as the evening had -been, he postponed the other matters to this. If any danger threatened -Susan, his simple mother could suffer with her, but was ill qualified to -protect her: but what danger could threaten Susan? He consoled himself -with the thought that these were not the days of abductions or violent -love-making. To think of an innocent English girl in her mother's house -as threatened with mysterious danger, such as might have surrounded a -heroine of the last century, was impossible. If there are Squire -Thornhills nowadays, their operations are of a different character. -Walking rapidly home, with now and then a blast of chill rain in his -face, and the lamplight gleaming in the wet streets, Vincent found less -and less reason for attaching any importance to Mrs. Hilyard's hints and -alarms. It was the sentiment of the night, and her own thoughts, which -had suggested such fears to her mind--a mind evidently experienced in -paths more crooked than any which Vincent himself, much less simple -Susan, had ever known. When he reached home, he found his little fire -burning brightly, his room arranged with careful nicety, which was his -landlady's appropriate and sensible manner of showing her appreciation -of the night's lecture, and her devotion to the minister; and, lastly, -on the table a letter from that little house in Lonsdale, round which -such fanciful fears had gathered. Never was there a letter which -breathed more of the peaceful security and tranquillity of home. Mrs. -Vincent wrote to her Arthur in mingled rejoicing and admonition, curious -and delighted to hear of his lectures, but not more anxious about his -fame and success than about his flannels and precautions against wet -feet; while Susan's postscript--a half longer than the letter to which -it was appended--furnished her affectionate brother with sundry details, -totally incomprehensible to him, of her wedding preparations, and, more -shyly, of her perfect girlish happiness. Vincent laughed aloud as he -folded up that woman's letter. No mysterious horror, no whispering -doubtful gloom, surrounded that house from which the pure, full daylight -atmosphere, untouched by any darkness, breathed fresh upon him out of -these simple pages. Here, in this humble virtuous world, were no -mysteries. It was a deliverance to a heart which had begun to falter. -Wherever fate might be lingering in the wild darkness of that January -night, it was not on the threshold of his mother's house. - - - - -CHAPTER X. - - -On the next evening after this there was a tea-meeting in Salem Chapel. -In the back premises behind the chapel were all needful accommodations -for the provision of that popular refreshment--boilers, tea-urns, -unlimited crockery and pewter. In fact, it was one of Mr. Tozer's -boasts, that owing to the liberality of the "connection" in Carlingford, -Salem was fully equipped in this respect, and did not need to borrow so -much as a spoon or teapot, a very important matter under the -circumstances. This, however, was the first tea-meeting which had taken -place since that one at which Mr. Tufton's purse had been presented to -him, and the old pastor had taken leave of his flock. The young pastor, -indeed, had set his face against tea-meetings. He was so far behind his -age as to doubt their utility, and declared himself totally unqualified -to preside over such assemblies; but, in the heat of his recent -disappointment, when, stung by other people's neglect, he had taken up -Salem and all belonging to it into his bosom, a cruel use had been made -of the young minister's compliance. They had wrung a reluctant consent -from him in that unguarded moment, and the walls of Carlingford had been -for some days blazing with placards of the tea-meeting, at which the now -famous (in Carlingford) lecturer on Church and State was to speak. Not -Tozer, with all his eloquence, had been able to persuade the pastor to -preside; but at least he was to appear, to take tea at that table -elevated on the platform, where Phoebe Tozer, under the matronly care -of Mrs. Brown (for it was necessary to divide these honours, and guard -against jealousy), dispensed the fragrant lymph, and to address the -meeting. There had been thoughts of a grand celebration in the Music -Hall to do more honour to the occasion; but as that might have -neutralised the advantages of having all the needful utensils within -themselves, convenience and economy carried the day, and the scene of -these festivities, as of all the previous festivities of Salem, was the -large low room underneath the chapel, once intended for a school, but -never used, except on Sundays, in that capacity. Thither for two or -three days all the "young ladies" of the chapel had streamed to and fro, -engaged in decorations. Some manufactured festoons of evergreens, some -concocted pink and white roses in paper to embellish the same. The -printed texts of the Sunday school were framed, and in some cases -obliterated, in Christmas garlands. Christmas, indeed, was past, but -there were still holly and red berries and green smooth laurel leaves. -The Pigeon girls, Phoebe Tozer, Mrs. Brown's niece from the country, -and the other young people in Salem who were of sufficiently advanced -position, enjoyed the preparations greatly--entering into them with even -greater heartiness than Lucy Wodehouse exhibited in the adornment of St. -Roque's, and taking as much pleasure in the task as if they had been -picturesque Italians adorning the shrine of their favourite saint. -Catterina and Francesca with their flower-garlands are figures worthy of -any picture, and so is Lucy Wodehouse under the chancel arch at St. -Roque's; but how shall we venture to ask anybody's sympathy for Phoebe -and Maria Pigeon as they put up their festoons round the four square -walls of the low schoolroom in preparation for the Salem tea-party? -Nevertheless it is a fact that the two last mentioned had very much the -same intentions and sensations, and amid the coils of fresh ivy and -laurel did not look amiss in their cheerful labour--a fact which, before -the work was completed, had become perceptible to various individuals of -the Carlingford public. But Mr. Vincent was, on this point, as on -several others, unequal to the requirements of his position. When he did -glance in for a moment of the afternoon of the eventful day, it was in -company with Tozer and the Rev. Mr. Raffles of Shoebury, who was to take -the chair. Mr. Raffles was very popular in Carlingford, as everywhere. -To secure him for a tea-meeting was to secure its success. He examined -into all the preparations, tasted the cake, pricked his fingers with the -garlands to the immense delight of the young ladies, and complimented -them on their skill with beaming cheerfulness; while the minister of -Salem, on the contrary, stalked about by his side pale and preoccupied, -with difficulty keeping himself from that contempt of the actual things -around to which youth is so often tempted. His mind wandered off to the -companion of his last night's walk--to the stranger pacing up and down -that damp garden with inscrutable unknown thoughts--to the beautiful -creature within those lighted windows, so near and yet so overwhelmingly -distant--as if somehow they had abstracted life and got it among -themselves. Mr. Vincent had little patience for what he considered the -mean details of existence nearer at hand. As soon as he could possibly -manage it, he escaped, regarding with a certain hopeless disgust the -appearance he had to make in the evening, and without finding a single -civil thing to say to the fair decorators. "My young brother looks sadly -low and out of spirits," said jolly Mr. Raffles. "What do you mean by -being so unkind to the minister, Miss Phoebe, eh?" Poor Phoebe -blushed pinker than ever, while the rest laughed. It was pleasant to be -supposed "unkind" to the minister; and Phoebe resolved to do what she -could to cheer him when she sat by his elbow at the platform table -making tea for the visitors of the evening. - -The evening came, and there was not a ticket to be had anywhere in -Carlingford: the schoolroom, with its blazing gas, its festoons, and its -mottoes, its tables groaning with dark-complexioned plumcake and heavy -buns, was crowded quite beyond its accommodation; and the edifying sight -might be seen of Tozer and his brother deacons, and indeed all who were -sufficiently interested in the success of Salem to sacrifice themselves -on its behalf, making an erratic but not unsubstantial tea in corners, -to make room for the crowd. And in the highest good-humour was the -crowd which surrounded all the narrow tables. The urns were well filled, -the cake abundant, the company in its best attire. The ladies had -bonnets, it is true, but these bonnets were worthy the occasion. At the -table on the platform sat Mr. Raffles, in the chair, beaming upon the -assembled party, with cheerful little Mrs. Tufton and Mrs. Brown at one -side of him, and Phoebe looking very pink and pretty, shaded from the -too enthusiastic admiration of the crowd below by the tea-urn at which -she officiated. Next to her, the minister cast abstracted looks upon the -assembly. He was, oh, so interesting in his silence and pallor!--he -spoke little; and when any one addressed him, he had to come back as if -from a distance to hear. If anybody could imagine that Mr. Raffles -contrasted dangerously with Mr. Vincent in that reserve and quietness, -it would be a mistake unworthy a philosophic observer. On the contrary, -the Salem people were all doubly proud of their pastor. It was not to be -expected that such a man as he should unbend as the reverend chairman -did. They preferred that he should continue on his stilts. It would have -been a personal humiliation to the real partisans of the chapel, had he -really woke up and come down from that elevation. The more commonplace -the ordinary "connection" was, the more proud they felt of their student -and scholar. So Mr. Vincent leaned his head upon his hands and gazed -unmolested over the lively company, taking in all the particulars of the -scene, the busy groups engaged in mere tea-making and tea-consuming--the -flutter of enjoyment among humble girls and womankind who knew no -pleasure more exciting--the whispers which pointed out himself to -strangers among the party--the triumphant face of Tozer at the end of -the room, jammed against the wall, drinking tea out of an empty -sugar-basin. If the scene woke any movement of human sympathy in the -bosom of the young Nonconformist, he was half ashamed of himself for it. -What had the high mission of an evangelist--the lofty ambition of a man -trained to enlighten his country--the warm assurance of talent which -felt itself entitled to the highest sphere,--what had these great things -to do in a Salem Chapel tea-meeting? So the lofty spirit held apart, -gazing down from a mental elevation much higher than the platform; and -all the people who had heard his lectures pointed him out to each other, -and congratulated themselves on that studious and separated aspect which -was so unlike other men. In fact, the fine superiority of Mr. Vincent -was at the present moment the very thing that was wanted to rivet their -chains. Even Mrs. Pigeon looked on with silent admiration. He was -"high"--never before had Salem known a minister who did not condescend -to be gracious at a tea-meeting--and the leader of the opposition -honoured him in her heart. - -And even when at last the social meal was over, when the urns were -cleared away, and with a rustle and flutter the assembly composed itself -to the intellectual regale about to follow, Mr. Vincent did not change -his position. Mr. Raffles made quite one of his best speeches; he kept -his audience in a perpetual flutter of laughter and applause; he set -forth all the excellencies of the new minister with such detail and -fulness as only the vainest could have swallowed. But the pleased -congregation still applauded. He praised Mr. Tufton, the venerable -father of the community, he praised the admirable deacons; he praised -the arrangements. In short, Mr. Raffles applauded everybody, and -everybody applauded Mr. Raffles. After the chairman had concluded his -speech, the hero of the evening gathered himself up dreamily, and rose -from Phoebe Tozer's side. He told them he had been gazing at them this -hour past, studying the scene before him; how strangely they appeared to -him, standing on this little bright gaslighted perch amid the dark sea -of life that surged round them; that now he and they were face to face -with each other, it was not their social pleasure he was thinking of, -but that dark unknown existence that throbbed and echoed around: he bade -them remember the dark night which enclosed that town of Carlingford, -without betraying the secret of its existence even to the nearest -village; of those dark streets and houses which hid so many lives and -hearts and tragic histories; he enlarged upon Mrs. Hilyard's idea of the -sentiment of "such a night," till timid people threw glances behind -them, and some sensitive mothers paused to wonder whether the minister -could have heard that Tommy had fallen into the fire, or Mary scalded -herself, and took this way to break the news. The speech was the -strangest that ever was listened to at a tea-party. It was the wayward -capricious pouring forth of a fanciful young mind under an unquiet -influence, having no connection whatever with the "object," the place, -or the listeners. The consequence was, that it was listened to with -breathless interest--that the faces grew pale and the eyes bright, and -shivers of restrained emotion ran through the astonished audience. Mr. -Vincent perceived the effect of his eloquence, as a nursery story-teller -perceives the rising sob of her little hearers. When he saw it, he -awoke, as the same nursery minstrel does sometimes, to feel how unreal -was the sentiment in his own breast which had produced this genuine -feeling in others, and with a sudden amusement proceeded to deepen his -colours and make bolder strokes of effect. His success was perfect; -before he concluded, he had in imagination dismissed the harmless Salem -people out of their very innocent recreation to the dark streets which -thrilled round them--to the world of unknown life, of which each man for -himself had some knowledge--to the tragedies that might be going on side -by side with them, for aught they knew. His hearers drew a long breath -when it was over. They were startled, frightened, enchanted. If they had -been witnessing a melodrama, they scarcely could have been more excited. -He had put the most dreadful suggestions in their mind of all sorts of -possible trouble; he sat down with the consciousness of having done his -duty by Salem for this night at least. - -But when Tozer got up after him to tell about the prosperity of the -congregation, the anticlimax was felt even by the people of Salem. Some -said, "No, no," audibly, some laughed, not a few rose up and went away. -Vincent himself, feeling the room very hot, and not disliking the little -commotion of interest which arose on his departure, withdrew himself -from the platform, and made his way to the little vestry, where a breath -of air was to be had; for, January night as it was, the crowd and the -tea had established a very high temperature in the under-regions of -Salem. He opened the window in the vestry, which looked out upon the -damp ground behind the chapel and the few gravestones, and threw himself -down on the little sofa with a sensation of mingled self-reproach and -amusement. Somehow, even when one disapproves of one's self for doing -it, one has a certain enjoyment in bewildering the world. Mr. Vincent -was rather pleased with his success, although it was only a variety of -"humbug." He entertained with Christian satisfaction the thought that he -had succeeded in introducing a certain visionary uneasiness into the -lively atmosphere of the tea-meeting--and he was delighted with his own -cleverness in spite of himself. - -While he lay back on his sofa, and pondered this gratifying thought, he -heard a subdued sound of voices outside--voices and steps that fell with -but little sound upon the damp grass. A languid momentary wonder touched -the mind of the minister: who could have chosen so doleful a retirement? -It was about the last place in the world for a lover's interview, which -was the first thing that suggested itself to the young man; the next -moment he started bolt upright, and listened with undisguised -curiosity. That voice so different from the careless voices of Salem, -the delicate refined intonations which had startled him in the shabby -little room in Back Grove Street, awoke an interest in his mind which no -youthful accents in Carlingford could have excited. He sat upright on -the instant, and edged towards the open window. The gas burned low in -the little vestry, which nobody had been expected to enter, and the -illumination from all the schoolroom windows, and sounds of cheering and -commotion there, had doubtless made the absolute darkness and silence -behind seem perfectly safe to the two invisible people now meeting under -the cloud of night. Mr. Vincent was not startled into eavesdropping -unawares, nor did he engage in any sophistical argument to justify -himself for listening. On the contrary, he listened honestly, with the -full intention of hearing all he could--suddenly changed from the -languid sentimentalist, painful and self-conscious, which the influences -of the evening had made him, into a spectator very wide awake and -anxious, straining his ear to catch some knowledge of a history, in -which a crowd of presentiments warned him that he himself should yet be -concerned. - -"If you must speak, speak here," said that voice which Vincent had -recognised: "it is scarcely the atmosphere for a man of your fine taste, -to be sure; but considering the subject of the conference, it will do. -What do you want with me?" - -"By Jove, it looks dangerous!--what do you mean to suggest by this sweet -rendezvous--murder?" said the man, whoever he was, who had accompanied -Mrs. Hilyard to the damp yard of Salem Chapel, with its scattered -graves. - -"My nerves are strong," she answered. "It is a pity you should take the -trouble to be melodramatic. Do you think I am vain enough to imagine -that you could subject yourself to all the unpleasant accessories of -being hanged on my account? Fancy a rough hempen rope, and the dirty -fingers that would adjust it. Pah! you would not risk it for me." - -Her companion swore a muttered oath. "By Jove! I believe you'd be -content to be murdered, to make such an end of me," he answered, in the -baffled tone of rage which a man naturally sinks into when engaged in -unequal conflict of recrimination with a woman. - -"This is too conjugal," said Mrs. Hilyard; "it reminds me of former -experiences: come to the point, I beg of you. You did not come here and -seek me out that we might have an amusing conversation--what do you want -with me?" - -"Don't tempt me too far with your confounded impertinence," exclaimed -the man, "or there is no telling what may happen. I want to know where -that child is; you know I do. I mean to reclaim my rights so far as she -is concerned. If she had been a ward in Chancery, a man might have -submitted. But I am a reformed individual--my life is of the most -exemplary description--no court in Christendom would keep her from my -custody now. I want the girl for her own good--she shall marry -brilliantly, which she never could do with you. I know she's grown up -as lovely as I expected----" - -"How do you know?" interrupted Mrs. Hilyard, with a certain hoarseness -in her voice. - -"Ah! I have touched you at last. Remembering what her mother was," he -went on, in a mocking tone, "though I am grieved to see how much you -have gone off in late years--and having a humble consciousness of her -father's personal advantages, and, in short, of her relatives in -general, I know she's a little beauty--and, by Jove, she shall be a -duchess yet." - -There was a pause--something like a hard sob thrilled in the air, rather -a vibration than a sound; and Vincent, making a desperate gesture of -rage towards the school-room, from which a burst of applause at that -moment sounded, approached closer to the window. Then the woman's voice -burst forth passionate, but subdued. - -"You have seen her! you!--you that blasted her life before she was born, -and confused her sweet mind for ever--how did you dare to look at my -child? And I," cried the passionate voice, forgetting even -caution--"_I_, that would give my life drop by drop to restore what -never can be restored to that victim of your sin and my weakness--I do -not see her. I refuse myself that comfort. I leave it to others to do -all that love and pity can do for my baby. You speak of murder--man! if -I had a knife, I could find it in my heart to put an end to your horrid -career; and, look you, I will--Coward! I will! I will kill you before -you shall lay your vile hands on my child." - -"She-wolf!" cried the man, grinding his teeth, "do you know how much it -would be to my advantage if you never left this lonely spot you have -brought me to? By Jove, I have the greatest mind----" - -Another momentary silence. Vincent, wound up to a high state of -excitement, sprang noiselessly to his feet, and was rushing to the -window to proclaim his presence, when Mrs. Hilyard's voice, perfectly -calm, and in its usual tone, brought him back to himself. - -"Second thoughts are best. It would compromise you horribly, and put a -stop to many pleasures--not to speak of those dreadful dirty fingers -arranging that rough rope round your neck, which, pardon me, I can't -help thinking of when you associate your own name with such a vulgar -suggestion as murder. _I_ should not mind these little details, but -_you_! However, I excited myself unreasonably, you have not seen her. -That skilful inference of yours was only a lie. She was not at Lonsdale, -you know." - -"How the devil do you know I was at Lonsdale?" said her companion. - -"I keep myself informed of the movements of so interesting a person. She -was not there." - -"No," replied the man, "she was not there; but I need not suggest to -your clear wits that there are other Lonsdales in England. What if Miss -Mildmay were in her father's lawful guardianship now?" - -Here the air palpitated with a cry, the cry as of a wild creature in -sudden blind anguish. It was echoed by a laugh of mockery and -exultation. "Should you like me to tell you which of the Lonsdales you -honoured with your patronage?" continued the mocking voice: "that in -Derbyshire, or that in Devonshire, or that in Cumberland? I am afflicted -to have defeated your skilful scheme so easily. Now that you see I am a -match for you, perhaps you will perceive that it is better to yield -peaceably, and unite with me in securing the girl's good. She needs only -to be seen to----" - -"Who do you imagine you are addressing, Colonel Mildmay?" said Mrs. -Hilyard, haughtily; "there has been enough of this: you are mistaken if -you think you can deceive me for more than a moment: my child is not in -your hands, and never will be, please God. But mark what I say," she -continued, drawing a fierce, hard breath, "if you should ever succeed in -tracing her--if you should ever be able to snatch her from me--then -confess your sins, and say your last prayers, for as sure as I live you -shall die in a week." - -"She-devil! murderess!" cried her companion, not without a certain shade -of alarm in his voice; "if your power were equal to your will----" - -"In that case my power should be equal to my will," said the steady, -delicate woman's voice, as clear in very fine articulation as if it were -some peaceful arrangement of daily life for which she declared herself -capable: "you should not escape if you surrounded yourself with a king's -guards. I swear to you, if you do what you say, that I will kill you -somehow, by whatever means I can attain--and I have never yet broken my -word." - -An unsteady defiant laugh was the only reply. The man was evidently more -impressed with the sincerity, and power to execute her intentions, of -the woman than she with his. Apparently they stood regarding each other -for another momentary interval in silence. Again Mrs. Hilyard was the -first to speak. - -"I presume our conference is over now," she said, calmly; "how you could -think of seeking it is more than I can understand. I suppose poor pretty -Alice, who thinks every woman can be persuaded, induced you to attempt -this. Don't let me keep you any longer in a place so repugnant to your -taste. I am going to the tea-meeting at Salem Chapel to hear my young -friend the minister speak: perhaps this unprofitable discussion has lost -me that advantage. You heard him the other night, and were pleased, I -trust. Good-night. I suppose, before leaving you, I should thank you for -having spared my life." - -Vincent heard the curse upon her and her stinging tongue, which burst in -a growl of rage from the lips of the other, but he did not see the -satirical curtsy with which this strange woman swept past, nor the -scarcely controllable impulse which made the man lift his stick and -clench it in his hand as she turned away from him those keen eyes, out -of which even the gloom of night could not quench the light. But even -Mrs. Hilyard herself never knew how near, how very near, she was at that -moment to the unseen world. Had her step been less habitually firm and -rapid,--had she lingered on her way--the temptation might have been too -strong for the man, maddened by many memories. He made one stride after -her, clenching his stick. It was perfectly dark in that narrow passage -which led out to the front of the chapel. She might have been stunned in -a moment, and left there to die, without any man being the wiser. It was -not virtue, nor hatred of bloodshed, nor repugnance to harm her, which -restrained Colonel Mildmay's hand: it was half the rapidity of her -movements, and half the instinct of a gentleman, which vice itself could -not entirely obliterate. Perhaps he was glad when he saw her disappear -from before him down the lighted steps into the Salem schoolroom. He -stood in the darkness and watched her out of sight, himself unseen by -any one, and then departed on his way, a splendid figure, all unlike the -population of Grove Street. Some of the Salem people, dispersing at the -moment, saw him sauntering down the street grand and leisurely, and -recognised the gentleman who had been seen in the Music Hall with Lady -Western. They thought he must have come privately once more to listen to -their minister's eloquence. Probably Lady Western herself, the leader of -fashion in Carlingford, would appear next Sunday to do Mr. Vincent -honour. The sight of this very fine gentleman picking his leisurely way -along the dark pavement of Grove Street, leaning confidingly upon that -stick over which his tall person swayed with fashionable languor, gave a -climax to the evening in the excited imaginations of Mr. Vincent's -admirers. Nobody but the minister and one utterly unnoted individual in -the crowd knew what had brought the Colonel and his stick to such a -place. Nobody but the Colonel himself, and the watchful heavens above, -knew how little had prevented him from leaving a silent, awful witness -of that secret interview upon the chapel steps. - -When Mr. Vincent returned to the platform, which he did hurriedly, Mr. -Pigeon was addressing the meeting. In the flutter of inquiries whether -he was better, and gentle hopes from Phoebe that his studies had not -been too much for him, nobody appeared to mark the eagerness of his -eyes, and the curiosity in his face. He sat down in his old place, and -pretended to listen to Mr. Pigeon. Anxiously from under the shadow of -his hands he inspected the crowd before him, who had recovered their -spirits. In a corner close to the door he at last found the face he was -in search of. Mrs. Hilyard sat at the end of a table, leaning her face -on her hand. She had her eyes fixed upon the speaker, and there passed -now and then across the corners of her close-shut mouth that momentary -movement which was her symbol for a smile. She was not _pretending_ to -listen, but giving her entire attention to the honest poulterer. Now and -then she turned her eyes from Pigeon, and perused the room and the -company with rapid glances of amusement and keen observation. Perhaps -her eyes gleamed keener, and her dark cheek owned a slight flush--that -was all. Out of her mysterious life--out of that interview, so full of -violence and passion--the strange woman came, without a moment's -interval, to amuse herself by looking at and listening to all those -homely innocent people. Could it be that she was taking notes of -Pigeon's speech? Suddenly, all at once, she had taken a pencil out of -her pocket and began to write, glancing up now and then towards the -speaker. Mr. Vincent's head swam with the wonder he was -contemplating--was she flesh and blood after all, or some wonderful -skeleton living a galvanic life? But when he asked himself the question, -her cry of sudden anguish, her wild, wicked promise to kill the man who -stole her daughter, came over his mind, and arrested his thoughts. He, -dallying as he was on the verge of life, full of fantastic hopes and -disappointment, could only pretend to listen to Pigeon; but the good -poulterer turned gratified eyes towards Mrs. Hilyard. He recognised her -real attention and interest; was it the height of voluntary sham and -deception?--or was she really taking notes? - -The mystery was solved after the meeting was over. There was some music, -in the first place--anthems in which all the strength of Salem united, -Tozer taking a heavy bass, while Phoebe exerted herself so in the -soprano that Mr. Vincent's attention was forcibly called off his own -meditations, in terror lest something should break in the throat so -hardly strained. Then there were some oranges, another speech, a hymn, -and a benediction; and then Mr. Raffles sprang joyfully up, and leaned -over the platform to shake hands with his friends. This last process was -trying. Mr. Vincent, who could no longer take refuge in silence, -descended into the retiring throng. He was complimented on his speech, -and even by some superior people, who had a mind to be fashionable, upon -the delightful evening they had enjoyed. When they were all gone, there -were still the Tozers, the Browns, the Pigeons, Mrs. Tufton, and Mr. -Raffles. He was turning back to them disconsolate, when he was suddenly -confronted by Mrs. Hilyard out of her corner with the fly-leaf of the -hymn-book the unscrupulous woman had been writing in, torn out in her -hand. - -"Stop a minute!" she cried; "I want to speak to you. I want your help, -if you will give it me. Don't be surprised at what I ask. Is your mother -a good woman--was it she that trained you to act to the forlorn as you -did to me last night? I have been too hasty--I take away your -breath;--never mind, there is no time to choose one's words. The -butterman is looking at us, Mr. Vincent. The ladies are alarmed; they -think I want spiritual consolation at this unsuitable moment. Make -haste--answer my question. Would she do an act of Christian charity to a -woman in distress?" - -"My mother is--yes, I know she would, what do you want of her?--my -mother is the best and tenderest of women," cried Vincent, in utter -amazement. - -"I want to send a child to her--a persecuted, helpless child, whom it is -the object of my life to keep out of evil hands," said Mrs. Hilyard, her -dark thin face growing darker and more pallid, her eyes softening with -tears. "She will be safe at Lonsdale now, and I cannot go in my own -person at present to take her anywhere. Here is a message for the -telegraph," she added, holding up the paper which Vincent had supposed -to be notes of Mr. Pigeon's speech; "take it for me--send it off -to-night--you will? and write to your mother; she shall suffer no loss, -and I will thank her on my knees. It is life or death." - -"I know--I am aware!" cried Vincent, not knowing what he said. "There is -no time to be lost." - -She put the paper into his hand, and clasped it tight between both of -hers, not knowing in the excitement which she was so well trained to -repress, that he had betrayed any special knowledge of her distress. It -seemed natural, in that strain of desperation, that everybody should -understand her. "Come to-morrow and tell me," she said, hurriedly, and -then hastened away, leaving him with the paper folded close into his -hand as her hard grasp had left it. He turned away from the group which -awaited his coming with some curiosity and impatience, and read the -message by the light of one of the garlanded and festive lamps. "Rachel -Russell to Miss Smith, Lonsdale, Devonshire. Immediately on receiving -this, take the child to Lonsdale, near Peterborough--to Mrs. Vincent's; -leave the train at some station near town, and drive to a corresponding -station on the Great Northern; don't enter London. Blue veil--care--not -to be left for an instant. I trust all to you." Mr. Vincent put the -message in his pocketbook, took it out again--tried it in his purse, his -waistcoat pocket, everywhere he could think of--finally, closed his hand -over it as at first, and in a high state of excitement went up to the -chattering group at the little platform, the only thought in his mind -being how to get rid of them, that he might hasten upon his mission -before the telegraph office was closed for the night. - -And, as was to be expected, Mr. Vincent found it no easy matter to get -rid of the Tozers and Pigeons, who were all overflowing about the -tea-party, its provisions, its speeches, and its success. He stood with -that bit of paper clenched in his hand, and endured the jokes of his -reverend brother, the remarks of Mrs. Tufton, the blushes of Phoebe. -He stood for half an hour at least perforce in unwilling and constrained -civility--at last he became desperate;--with a wild promise to return -presently, he rushed out into the night. The station was about half a -mile out of Carlingford, at the new end, a long way past Dr. Rider's. -When Vincent reached it, the telegraph clerk was putting on his hat to -go away, and did not relish the momentary detention; when the message -was received and despatched, the young minister drew breath--he went out -of the office, wiping his hot forehead, to the railway platform, where -the last train for town was just starting. As Vincent stood recovering -himself and regaining his breath, the sudden flash of a match struck in -one of the carriages attracted his attention. He looked, and saw by the -light of the lamp inside a man stooping to light his cigar. The action -brought the face, bending down close to the window, clearly out against -the dark-blue background of the empty carriage; hair light, fine, and -thin, in long but scanty locks--a high-featured eagle-face, too sharp -for beauty now, but bearing all the traces of superior good looks -departed--a light beard, so light that it did not count for its due in -the aspect of that remarkable countenance--a figure full of ease and -haughty grace: all these particulars Vincent noted with a keen rapid -inspection. In another moment the long leash of carriages had plunged -into the darkness. With a strange flush of triumph he watched them -disappear, and turned away with a smile on his lips. The message of -warning was already tingling along the sensitive wires, and must -outspeed the slow human traveller. This face, which so stamped itself -upon his memory, which he fancied he could see pictured on the air as he -returned along the dark road, was the face of the man who had been Lady -Western's companion at the lecture. That it was the same face which had -confronted Mrs. Hilyard in the dark graveyard behind Salem Chapel he -never doubted. With a thrill of active hatred and fierce enmity which it -was difficult to account for, and still more difficult for a man of his -profession to excuse, the young man looked forward to the unknown future -with a certainty of meeting that face again. - -We drop a charitable veil over the conclusion of the night. Mr. Raffles -and Mr. Vincent supped at Pigeon's, along with the Browns and Tozers; -and Phoebe's testimony is on record that it was a feast of reason and -a flow of soul. - - - - -CHAPTER XI. - - -The next morning Vincent awoke with a sense of personal occupation and -business, which perhaps is only possible to a man engaged with the -actual occurrences of individual life. Professional duties and the -general necessities of existing, do not give that thrill of sensible -importance and use which a man feels who is busy with affairs which -concern his own or other people's very heart and being. The young -Nonconformist was no longer the sentimentalist who had made the gaping -assembly at Salem Chapel uneasy over their tea-drinking. That dark and -secret ocean of life which he had apostrophised, opened up to him -immediately thereafter one of its most mysterious scenes. This had -shaken Vincent rudely out of his own youthful vagaries. Perhaps the most -true of philosophers, contemplating, however profoundly, the secrets of -nature or thought, would come to a sudden standstill over a visible -abyss of human guilt, wretchedness, heroic self-restraint, and courage, -yawning apparent in the meditative way. What, then, were the poor -dialectics of Church and State controversy, or the fluctuations of an -uncertain young mind feeling itself superior to its work, to such a -spectacle of passionate life, full of evil and of noble qualities--of -guilt and suffering more intense than anything philosophy dreams of? -The thin veil which youthful ignorance, believing in the supremacy of -thought and superior charm of intellectual concerns, lays over the -world, shrivelled up under the fiery lurid light of that passionate -scene. Two people clearly, who had once loved each other, hating each -other to the death, struggling desperately over a lesser thread of life -proceeding from them both--the mother, driven to the lowest extremities -of existence, standing up like a wild creature to defend her -offspring--what could philosophy say to such phenomena? A wild circle of -passion sprang into conscious being under the young man's -half-frightened eyes--wild figures that filled the world, leaving small -space for the calm suggestions of thought, and even to truth itself so -little vantage-ground. Love, Hatred, Anger, Jealousy, Revenge--how many -more? Vincent, who was no longer the lofty reasoning Vincent of -Homerton, found life look different under the light of those -torch-bearers. But he had no leisure on this particular morning to -survey the subject. He had to carry his report and explanation to the -strange woman who had so seized upon and involved him in her concerns. - -Mrs. Hilyard was seated in her room, just as he had seen her before, -working with flying needle and nervous fingers at her coarsest -needlework. She said, "Come in," and did not rise when he entered. She -gave him an eager, inquiring look, more importunate and commanding than -any words, but never stopped working, moving her thin fingers as if -there was some spell in the continuance of her labour. She was -impatient of his silence before he had closed the door--desperate when -he said the usual greeting. She opened her pale lips and spoke, but -Vincent heard nothing. She was beyond speech. - -"The message went off last night, and I wrote to my mother," said -Vincent; "don't fear. She will do what you wish, and everything will be -well." - -It was some time before Mrs. Hilyard quite conquered her agitation; when -she succeeded, she spoke so entirely in her usual tone that Vincent -started, being inexperienced in such changes. He contemplated her with -tragic eyes in her living martyrdom; she, on the contrary, more -conscious of her own powers, her own strength of resistance and activity -of life, than of any sacrifice, had nothing about her the least -tragical, and spoke according to nature. Instead of any passionate burst -of self-revelation, this is what she said-- - -"Thank you. I am very much obliged to you. How everything is to be well, -does not appear to me; but I will take your word for it. I hope I may -take your word for your mother also, Mr. Vincent. You have a right to -know how this is. Do you claim it, and must I tell you now?" - -Here for the first time Vincent recollected in what an unjustifiable way -he had obtained his information. Strangely enough, it had never struck -him before. He had felt himself somehow identified with the woman in the -strange interview he had overheard. The man was a personal enemy. His -interest in the matter was so honest and simple amid all the -complication of his youthful superficial insincerities, that this -equivocal action was one of the very few which Vincent had actually -never questioned even to himself. He was confounded now when he saw how -the matter stood. His face became suddenly crimson;--shame took -possession of his soul. - -"Good heavens, I have done the most dishonourable action!" cried -Vincent, betrayed into sudden exclamation by the horror of the -discovery. Then he paused, turning an alarmed look upon his new friend. -She took it very calmly. She glanced up at him with a comic glance in -her eyes, and a twitch at the corners of her mouth. Notwithstanding last -night--notwithstanding the anxiety which she dared not move in her own -person to alleviate--she was still capable of being amused. Her eyes -said, "What now?" with no very alarming apprehensions. The situation was -a frightful one for poor Vincent. - -"You will be quite justified in turning me out of your house," he said, -clearing his throat, and in great confusion; "but if you will believe -it, I never till this moment saw how atrocious---- Mrs. Hilyard, I was -in the vestry; the window was open; I heard your conversation last -night." - -For a moment Vincent had all the punishment he expected, and greater. -Her eyes blazed upon him out of that pale dark face with a certain -contempt and lofty indifference. There was a pause. Mr. Vincent crushed -his best hat in his hands, and sat speechless doing penance. He was -dismayed with the discovery of his own meanness. Nobody could deliver -such a cutting sentence as he was pronouncing on himself. - -"All the world might have listened, so far as I am concerned," she said, -after a while, quietly enough. "I am sorry you did it; but the discovery -is worse for yourself than for me." Then, after another pause, "I don't -mean to quarrel. I am glad for my own sake, though sorry for yours. Now -you know better than I can tell you. There were some pleasant flowers of -speech to be gathered in that dark garden," she continued, with another -odd upward gleam of her eyes. "We must have startled your clerical ideas -rather. At the moment, however, Mr. Vincent, people like Colonel Mildmay -and myself mean what we say." - -"If I had gained my knowledge in a legitimate way," said the -shame-stricken minister, not venturing to look her in the face, "I -should have said that I hoped it was only for the moment." - -Mrs. Hilyard laid down her work, and looked across at him with -undisguised amusement. "I am sorry there is nobody here to perceive this -beautiful situation," she said. "Who would not have their ghostly father -commit himself, if he repented after this fashion? Thank you, Mr. -Vincent, for what you don't say. And now we shall drop the subject, -don't you think? Were the deacons all charmed with the tea-meeting last -night?" - -"You want me to go now," said Vincent, rising, with disconcerted looks. - -"Not because I am angry. I am not angry," she said, rising and holding -out her hand to him. "It was a pity, but it was an inadvertence, and no -dishonourable action. Yes, go. I am best to be avoided till I hear how -this journey has been managed, and what your mother says. It was a -sudden thought, that sending them to Lonsdale. I know that, even if he -has not already found the right one, he will search all the others now. -And your Lonsdale has been examined and exhausted; all is safe there. -Yes, go. I am glad you know; but don't say anything to Alice, if you see -her, as she is sure to seek you out. You know who I mean by Alice? Lady -Western--yes. Good-bye. I trust you, notwithstanding the vestry window; -but close it after this on January nights." - -She had sunk into her seat again, and was absorbed in her needlework, -before Vincent left the room. He looked back upon her before he shut the -door, but she had no look to spare from that all-engrossing work; her -thin fingers were more scarred than ever, and stained with the coarse -blue stuff. All his life after the young man never saw that colour -without thinking of the stains on those poor hands. - -He went about his work assiduously all that day, visiting sick people, -poor people, men and women, "which were sinners." That dark ocean of -life with which he had frightened the Salem people last night, Mr. -Vincent made deeper investigations into this day than he had made before -during all the time he had been in Carlingford. He kept clear of the -smug comfort of the leading people of "the connection." Absolute want, -suffering, and sorrow, were comparatively new to him; and being as yet a -stranger to philanthropic schemes, and not at all scientific in the -distribution of his sympathies, the minister of Salem conducted himself -in a way which would have called forth the profoundest contempt and pity -of the curate of St. Roque's. He believed everybody's story, and emptied -his purse with the wildest liberality; for, indeed, visitation of the -poor had not been a branch of study at Homerton. Tired and all but -penniless, he did not turn his steps homeward till the wintry afternoon -was sinking into night, and the lamps began to be lighted about the -cheerful streets. As he came into George Street he saw Lady Western's -carriage waiting at the door of Masters's. Alice! that was the name they -called her. He looked at the celestial chariot wistfully. He had nothing -to do with it or its beautiful mistress--never, as anything but a -stranger, worshipping afar off, could the Dissenting minister of -Carlingford approach that lovely vision--never think of her but as of a -planet, ineffably distant--never---- - -"My lady's compliments," said a tall voice on a level with Vincent's -eyebrows: "will you please to step over and speak to her ladyship?" The -startled Nonconformist raised his eyes. The big footman, whose happy -privilege it was to wait upon that lady of his dreams, stood respectful -by his side, and from the carriage opposite the fairest face in the -world was beaming, the prettiest of hands waving to him. Vincent -believed afterwards that he crossed the entire breadth of George Street -in a single stride. - -"I am so glad to see you, Mr. Vincent," said Lady Western, giving him -her hand; "I did so want to see you after the other night. Oh, how could -you be _so_ clever and wicked--so wicked to your friends! Indeed, I -shall never be pleased till you recant, and confess how wrong you were. -I must tell you why I went that night. I could not tell what on earth to -do with my brother, and I took him to amuse him; or else, you know, I -never could have gone to hear the poor dear old Church attacked. And how -violent you were too! Indeed I must not say how clever I thought it, or -I should feel I was an enemy to the Church. Now I want you to dine with -me, and I shall have somebody to come who will be a match for you. I am -very fond of clever society, though there is so little of it in -Carlingford. Tell me, will you come to-morrow? I am disengaged. Oh, -pray, do! and Mr. Wentworth shall come too, and you shall fight." - -Lady Western clapped her pretty hands together with the greatest -animation. As for Vincent, all the superior thoughts in which he would -probably have indulged--the contrast he would have drawn between the -desperate brother and this butterfly creature, fluttering on the edge of -mysteries so dark and evil, had she been anybody else--deserted him -totally in the present crisis. She was not anybody else--she was -herself. The words that fell from those sweetest lips were of a -half-divine simplicity to the bewildered young man. He would have gone -off straightway to the end of the world if she had chosen to command -him. All unwarned by his previous failure, paradise opened again to his -delighted eyes. - -"And I want to consult you about our friend," said Lady Western; "it -will be so kind of you to come. I am so pleased you have no engagement. -I am sure you thought us very stupid last time; and I am stupid, I -confess," added the beauty, turning those sweet eyes, which were more -eloquent than genius, upon the slave who was reconquered by a glance; -"but I like clever people dearly. Good-bye till to-morrow. I shall quite -reckon upon to-morrow. Oh, there is Mr. Wentworth! John, call Mr. -Wentworth to speak to me. Good morning--remember, half-past six--now, -you must not forget." - -Spite of the fact that Mr. Wentworth took his place immediately by the -side of the carriage, Vincent passed on, a changed man. Forget! He -smiled to himself at the possibility, and as he walked on to his -lodging, a wonderful maze of expectation fell upon the young man's mind. -Why, he asked, was he brought into this strange connection with Her -relations and their story? what could be, he said to himself with a -little awe, the purpose of that Providence which shapes men's ends, in -interweaving his life with Hers by these links of common interest? The -skies throbbed with wonder and miracle as soon as they were lighted up -by her smile. Who could predict what might be coming, through all the -impossibilities of fact and circumstance? He would not dissipate that -delicious haze by any definite expectations like those which brought him -to sudden grief on a former occasion. He was content to believe it was -not for nothing that all these strange circles of fate were weaving -round his charmed feet. - -In this elevated frame of mind, scarcely aware of the prosaic ground he -trod, Vincent reached home. The little maid at the door said something -about a lady, to which he paid no attention, being occupied with his own -thoughts. With an unconscious illumination on his face he mounted the -stair lightly, three steps at a time, to his own rooms. The lamp was -lighted in his little sitting-room, and some one rose nervously from the -table as he went in at the door. What was this sudden terror which fell -upon the young man in the renewed glory of his youthful hopes? It was -his mother, pale and faint, with sleepless tearful eyes, who, with the -cry of an aching heart, worn out by fatigue and suspense, came forward, -holding out anxious hands to him, and dropped in an utter _abandon_ of -weariness and distress into his astonished arms. - - - - -CHAPTER XII. - - -"What has happened? For heaven's sake tell me, mother," cried Vincent, -as she sank back, wiping her eyes, and altogether overpowered, half with -the trouble which he did not know, half with the joy of seeing him -again--"say it out at once, and don't keep me in this dreadful suspense. -Susan? She is not married? What is wrong?" - -"Oh, my dear boy!" said Mrs. Vincent, recovering herself, but still -trembling in her agitation--"oh, my affectionate boy, always thinking of -us in his good heart! No, dear. It's--it's nothing particular happened. -Let me compose myself a little, Arthur, and take breath." - -"But, Susan?" cried the excited young man. - -"Susan, poor dear!--she is very well; and--and very happy up to this -moment, my darling boy," said Mrs. Vincent, "though whether she ought to -be happy under the circumstances--or whether it's only a cruel trick--or -whether I haven't been foolish and precipitate--but, my dear, what could -I do but come to you, Arthur? I could not have kept it from her if I had -stayed an hour longer at home. And to put such a dreadful suspicion into -her head, when it might be all a falsehood, would have only been killing -her; and, my dear boy, now I see your face again, I'm not so -frightened--and surely it can be cleared up, and all will be well." - -Vincent, whose anxiety conquered his impatience, even while exciting it, -kneeled down by his mother's side and took her hands, which still -trembled, into his own. "Mother, think that I am very anxious; that I -don't know what you are referring to; and that the sudden sight of you -has filled me with all sort of terrors--for I know you would not lightly -take such a journey all by yourself," said the young man, growing still -more anxious as he thought of it--"and try to collect your thoughts and -tell me what is wrong." - -His mother drew one of her hands out of his, laid it on his head, and -fondly smoothed back his hair. "My dear good son! you were always so -sensible--I wish you had never left us," she said, with a little groan; -"and indeed it was a great thought to undertake such a journey; and -since I came here, Arthur, I have felt so flurried and strange, that I -have not, as you see, even taken off my bonnet; but I think now you've -come, dear, if you would ring the bell and order up the tea? When I see -you, and see you looking so well, Arthur, it seems as if things could -never be so bad, you know. My dear," she said at last, with a little -quiver in her voice, stopping and looking at him with a kind of nervous -alarm, "it was about Mr. Fordham, you may be sure." - -"Tea directly," said Vincent to the little maid, who appeared just at -this crisis, and who was in her turn alarmed by the brief and peremptory -order. - -"What about Mr. Fordham?" he said, helping his mother to take off the -cloak and warm wraps in which she had been sitting, in her nervous -tremor and agitation, while she waited his return. - -"Oh, my dear, my dear," cried poor Mrs. Vincent, wringing her hands, "if -he should not turn out as he ought, how can I ever forgive myself? I had -a kind of warning in my mind the first time he came to the house, and I -have always dreamt such uncomfortable dreams of him, Arthur. Oh! if -_you_ only could have seen him, my dear boy! But he was such a -gentleman, and had such ways. I am sure he must have mixed in the very -highest society--and he seemed so to _appreciate_ Susan--not only to be -in love with her, you know, my dear, as any young man might, but to -really appreciate my sweet girl. Oh, Arthur, Arthur, if he should turn -out badly, it will kill me, for my Susan will break her heart." - -"Mother, you drive me frantic. What has he done?" cried poor Vincent. - -"He has done nothing, my dear, that I know of. It is not him, Arthur, -for he has been gone for a month, arranging his affairs, you know, -before the wedding, and writes Susan regularly and beautiful letters. It -is a dreadful scrawl I got last night. I have it in my pocket-book. It -came by the last post when Susan was out, thank heaven. I'll show it you -presently, my dear, as soon as I can find it, but I have so many papers -in my pocket-book. She saw directly when she came in that something had -happened, and oh, Arthur, it was so hard to keep it from her. I don't -know when I have kept anything from her before. I can't tell how we got -through the night. But this morning I made up the most artful story I -could--here is the dreadful letter, my dear, at last--about being -determined to see you, and making sure that you were taking care of -yourself; for she knew as well as I did how negligent you always are -about wet feet. Are you sure your feet are dry now, Arthur? Yes, my dear -boy, it makes me very uncomfortable. You don't wonder to see your poor -mother here, now, after that?" - -The letter which Vincent got meanwhile, and anxiously read, was as -follows--the handwriting very mean, with a little tremor in it, which -seemed to infer that the writer was an old man:-- - - "MADAM,--Though I am but a poor man, I can't abear to see wrong - going on, and do nothink to stop it. Madam, I beg of you to excuse - me, as am unknown to you, and as can't sign my honest name to it - like a man. This is the only way as I can give you a word of - warning. Don't let the young lady marry him as she's agoing to, not - if her heart should break first. Don't have nothink to do with Mr. - Fordham. That's not his right name, and he has got a wife - living--and this I say is true, as sure as I have to answer at the - judgment;--and I say to you as a friend, Stop it, stop it! Don't - let it go on a step, if you vally the young lady's charackter and - her life. I don't add no more, because that's all I dare say, being - only a servant; but I hope it's enough to save the poor young lady - out of his clutches, as is a man that goeth about seeking whom he - may devour.--From a well-wisher, though - - A STRANGER." - - -Mrs. Vincent's mind was easier when this epistle was out of her hands. -She stood up before the mirror to take off her bonnet, and put her cap -tidy; she glided across the room to take up the shawl and cloak which -her son had flung upon the little sofa anyhow, and to fold them and lay -them together on a chair. Then the trim little figure approached the -table, on which stood a dimly burning lamp, which smoked as lamps will -when they have it all their own way. Mrs. Vincent turned down the light -a little, and then proceeded to remove the globe and chimney by way of -seeing what was wrong--bringing her own anxious patient face, still -retaining many traces of the sweet comeliness which had almost reached -the length of beauty in her daughter, into the full illumination of the -smoky blaze. Notwithstanding the smoke, the presence of that little -woman made the strangest difference in the room. She took note of -various evidences of litter and untidiness with her mind's eye as she -examined the lamp. She had drawn a long breath of relief when she put -the letter into Arthur's hand. The sense of lightened responsibility -seemed almost to relieve her anxiety as well. She held the chimney of -the lamp in her hand, when an exclamation from her son called her back -to the consideration of that grievous question. She turned to him with a -sudden deepening of all the lines in her face. - -"Oh, Arthur dear! don't you think it may be an enemy? don't you think it -looks like some cruel trick? You don't believe it's true?" - -"Mother, have you an enemy in the world?" cried Vincent, with an almost -bitter affectionateness. "Is there anybody living that would take -pleasure in wounding you?" - -"No, dear; but Mr. Fordham might have one," said the widow. "He is not -like you or your dear father, Arthur. He looks as if he might have been -in the army, and had seen a great deal of life. That is what has been a -great consolation to me. A man like that, you know, dear, is sure to -have enemies; so very different from our quiet way of life," said Mrs. -Vincent, holding up the chimney of the lamp, and standing a little -higher than her natural five feet, with a simple consciousness of that -grandeur of experience: "some one that wished him ill might have got -some one else to write the letter. Hush, Arthur, here is the maid with -the tea." - -The maid with the tea pushed in, bearing her tray into a scene which -looked very strange to her awakened curiosity. The minister stood before -the fire with the letter in his hand, narrowly examining it, seal, -post-mark, handwriting, even paper. He did not look like the same man -who had come up-stairs three steps at a time, in the glow and -exhilaration of hope, scarcely half an hour ago. His teeth were set, and -his face pale. On the table the smoky lamp blazed into the dim air, -unregulated by the chimney, which Mrs. Vincent was nervously rubbing -with her handkerchief before she put it on. The little maid, with her -round eyes, set down the tray upon the table with an answering thrill of -excitement and curiosity. There was "somethink to do" with the minister -and his unexpected visitor. Vincent himself took no notice of the girl; -but his mother, with feminine instinct, proceeded to disarm this -possible observer. Mrs. Vincent knew well, by long experience, that when -the landlady happens to be one of the flock, it is as well that the -pastor should keep the little shocks and crises of his existence -studiously to himself. - -"Does it always smoke?" said the gentle Jesuit, addressing the little -maid. - -The effect of so sudden and discomposing a question, at a moment when -the person addressed was staring with all her soul at the minister, -open-mouthed and open-eyed, may be better imagined than described. The -girl gave a start and stifled exclamation, and made all the cups rattle -on the tray as she set it down. Did what smoke?--the chimney, or the -minister, or the landlady's husband down-stairs? - -"Does it always smoke?" repeated Mrs. Vincent, calmly, putting on the -chimney. "I don't think it would if you were very exact in putting this -on. Look here: always at this height, don't you see? and now it burns -perfectly well." - -"Yes, ma'am; I'll tell missis, ma'am," said the girl, backing out, with -some alarm. Mrs. Vincent sat down at the table with all the satisfaction -of success and conscious virtue. Her son, for his part, flung himself -into the easy-chair which she had given up, and stared at her with an -impatience and wonder which he could not restrain. - -"To think you should talk about the lamp at such a time, or notice it at -all, indeed, if it smoked like fifty chimneys!" he exclaimed, with a -tone of annoyance; "why, mother, this is life or death." - -"Yes, yes, my dear!" said the mother, a little mortified in her turn: -"but it does not do to let strangers see when you are in trouble. Oh, -Arthur, my own boy, you must not get into any difficulty here. I know -what gossip is in a congregation; you never would bear half of what your -poor dear papa did," said the widow, with tears in her eyes, laying her -soft old fingers upon the young man's impatient hand. "You have more of -my quick temper, Arthur; and whatever you do, dear, you must not expose -yourself to be talked of. You are all we have in the world. You must be -your sister's protector; for oh, if this should be true, what a poor -protector her mother has been! And, dear boy, tell me, what are we to -do?" - -"Had he any friends?" asked Vincent, half sullenly; for he did feel an -instinctive desire to blame somebody, and nobody seemed so blamable as -the mother, who had admitted a doubtful person into her house. "Did he -know anybody--in Lonsdale, or anywhere? Did he never speak of his -friends?" - -"He had been living abroad," said Mrs. Vincent, slowly. "He talked of -gentlemen sometimes, at Baden, and Homburg, and such places. I am afraid -you would think it very silly, and--and perhaps wrong, Arthur; but he -seemed to know so much of the world--so different from our quiet way of -life--that being so nice and good and refined himself with it all--I am -afraid it was rather an attraction to Susan. It was so different to what -she was used with, my dear. We used to think a man who had seen so much, -and known so many temptations, and kept his nice simple tastes through -it all--oh, dear, dear! If it is true, I was never so deceived in all my -life." - -"But you have not told me," said Arthur, morosely, "if he had any -friends?" - -"Nobody in Lonsdale," said Mrs. Vincent. "He came to see some young -relative at school in the neighbourhood----" - -At this point Mrs. Vincent broke off with a half scream, interrupted by -a violent start and exclamation from her son, who jumped off his seat, -and began to pace up and down the room in an agitation which she could -not comprehend. This start entirely overpowered his mother. Her -overwrought nerves and feelings relieved themselves in tears. She got -up, trembling, approached the young man, put her hand, which shook, -through his arm, and implored him, crying softly all the time, to tell -her what he feared, what he thought, what was the matter? Poor Vincent's -momentary ill-humour deserted him: he began to realise all the -complications of the position; but he could not resist the sight of his -mother's tears. He led her back gently to the easy-chair, poured out for -her a cup of the neglected tea, and restrained himself for her sake. It -was while she took this much-needed refreshment that he unfolded to her -the story of the helpless strangers whom, only the night before, he had -committed to her care. - -"The mother you shall see for yourself to-morrow. I can't tell what she -is, except a lady, though in the strangest circumstances," said Vincent. -"She has some reason--I cannot tell what--for keeping her child out of -the father's hands. She appealed to me to let her send it to you, -because he had been at Lonsdale already, and I could not refuse. His -name is Colonel Mildmay; he has been at Lonsdale; did you hear of such a -man?" - -Mrs. Vincent shook her head--her face grew more and more troubled. - -"I don't know about reasons for keeping a child from its father," she -said, still shaking her head. "My dear, dear boy, I hope no designing -woman has got a hold upon you. Why did you start so, Arthur? what had -Mr. Fordham to do with the child? Susan would open my letters, of -course, and I daresay she will make them very comfortable; but, Arthur -dear, though I don't blame you, it was very imprudent. Is Colonel -Mildmay the lady's husband? or--or what? Dear boy, you should have -thought of Susan--Susan, a young girl, must not be mixed up with anybody -of doubtful character. It was all your good heart, I know, but it was -very imprudent, to be sure." - -Vincent laughed, in a kind of agony of mingled distress, anxiety, and -strange momentary amusement. His mother and he were both blaming each -other for the same fault. Both of them had equally yielded to kind -feelings, and the natural impulse of generous hearts, without any -consideration of prudence. But his mistake could not be attended by any -consequences a hundredth part so serious as hers. - -"In the mean time, we must do something," he said. "If he has no -friends, he has at least an address, I suppose. Susan"--and a flush of -indignation and affectionate anger crossed the young man's face--"Susan, -no doubt, writes to the rascal. Susan! my sister! Good heaven!" - -"Arthur!" said Mrs. Vincent. "Your dear papa always disapproved of such -exclamations: he said they were just a kind of oath, though people did -not think so. And you ought not to call him a rascal without -proof--indeed, it is very sinful to come to such hasty judgments. Yes, I -have got the address written down--it is in my pocket-book. But what -shall you do? Will you write to himself, Arthur? or what? To be sure, it -would be best to go to him and settle it at once." - -"Oh, mother, have a little prudence now," cried the afflicted minister; -"if he were base enough to propose marriage to Susan (confound him! -that's not an oath--my father himself would have said as much) under -such circumstances, don't you think he has the courage to tell a lie as -well? I shall go up to town, and to his address to-morrow, and see what -is to be found there. You must rest in the mean time. Writing is out of -the question; what is to be done, I must _do_--and without a moment's -loss of time." - -The mother took his hand again, and put her handkerchief to her -eyes--"God bless my dear boy," she said, with a mother's tearful -admiration--"Oh, what a thing for me, Arthur, that you are grown up and -a man, and able to do what is right in such a dreadful difficulty as -this! You put me in mind more and more of your dear father when you -settle so clearly what is to be done. He was always ready to act when I -used to be in a flutter, which was best. And, oh, how good has the -Father of the fatherless been to me in giving me such a son!" - -"Ah, mother," said the young minister, "you gave premature thanks -before, when you thought the Father of the fatherless had brought poor -Susan a happy lot. Do you say the same now?" - -"Always the same, Arthur dear," cried his mother, with tears--"always -the same. If it is even so, is it me, do you think, or is it _Him_ that -knows best?" - -After this the agitation and distress of the first meeting gradually -subsided. That mother, with all her generous imprudence and innocence of -heart, was, her son well knew, the tenderest, the most indulgent, the -most sympathetic of all his friends. Though the little--the very little -insight he had obtained into life and the world had made him think -himself wiser than she was in some respects, nothing had ever come -between them to disturb the boy's half-adoring, half-protecting love. He -bethought himself of providing for her comfort, as she sat looking at -him in the easy-chair, with her eyes smiling on him through their tears, -patiently sipping the tea, which was a cold and doubtful infusion, -nothing like the fragrant lymph of home. He poked the fire till it -blazed, and drew her chair towards it, and hunted up a footstool which -he had himself kicked out of the way, under the sofa, a month before. -When he looked at the dear tender fresh old face opposite to him, in -that close white cap which even now, after the long fatiguing journey, -looked fresher and purer than other people's caps and faces look at -their best, a thaw came upon the young man's heart. Nature awoke and -yearned in him. A momentary glimpse crossed his vision of a humble -happiness long within his reach, which never till now, when it was about -to become impossible for ever, had seemed real or practicable, or even -desirable before. - -"Mother, dear," said Vincent, with a tremulous smile, "you shall come -here, Susan and you, to me; and we shall all be together again--and -comfort each other," he added, with a deeper gravity still, thinking of -his own lot. - -His mother did not answer in many words. She said, "My own boy!" softly, -following him with her eyes. It was hard, even with Susan's dreadful -danger before her, to help being tearfully happy in seeing him again--in -being his guest--in realising the full strength of his manhood and -independence. She gave herself up to that feeling of maternal pride and -consolation as she once more dried the tears which would come, -notwithstanding all her efforts. Then he sat down beside her, and -resigned himself to that confidential talk which can rarely be but -between members of the same family. He had unburdened his mind -unconsciously in his letters about Tozer and the deacons; and it cannot -be told what a refreshment it was to be able to utter roundly in words -his sentiments on all those subjects. The power of saying it out with no -greater hindrance than her mild remonstrances, mingled, as they were, -with questions which enabled him to complete his sketches, and smiles of -amusement at his descriptive powers, put him actually in better humour -with Salem. He felt remorseful and charitable after he had said his -worst. - -"And are you sure, dear," said Mrs. Vincent, at last resuming the -subject nearest her heart, "that you can go away to-morrow without -neglecting any duty? You must not neglect a duty, Arthur--not even for -Susan's sake. Whatever happens to us, you must keep right." - -"I have no duty to detain me," said Vincent, hastily. Then a sudden glow -came over the young man, a flush of happiness which stole upon him like -a thief, and brightened his own personal firmament with a secret -unacknowledgable delight; "but I must return early," he added, with a -momentary hesitation--"for if you won't think it unkind to leave you, -mother, I am engaged to dinner. I should scarcely like to miss it," he -concluded, after another pause, tying knots in his handkerchief, and -taking care not to look at her as he spoke. - -"To dinner, Arthur? I thought your people only gave teas," said Mrs. -Vincent, with a smile. - -"The Salem people do; but this--is not one of the Salem people," said -the minister, still hesitating. "In fact, it would be ungracious of me -not to go, and cowardly, too--for _that_ curate, I believe, is to meet -me--and Lady Western would naturally think----" - -"Lady Western!" said Mrs. Vincent, with irrestrainable pleasure; "is -that one of the great people in Carlingford?" The good woman wiped her -eyes again with the very tenderest and purest demonstration of that -adoration of rank which is said to be an English instinct. "I don't mean -to be foolish, dear," she said, apologetically; "I know these -distinctions of society are not worth your caring about; but to see my -Arthur appreciated as he should be, is----" She could not find words to -say what it was--she wound up with a little sob. What with trouble and -anxiety, and pride and delight, and bodily fatigue added to all, tears -came easiest that night. - -Vincent did not say whether or not these distinctions of society were -worth caring about. He sat abstractedly, untying the knots in his -handkerchief, with a faint smile on his face. Then, while that -pleasurable glow remained, he escorted his mother to his own -sleeping-room, which he had given up to her, and saw that her fire -burned brightly, and that all was comfortable. When he returned to poke -his solitary fire, it was some time before he took out the letter which -had disturbed his peace. The smile died away first by imperceptible -degrees from his face. He gradually erected himself out of the -meditative lounge into which he had fallen; then, with a little start, -as if throwing dreams away, he took out and examined the letter. The -more he looked at it, the graver and deeper became the anxiety in his -face. It had every appearance of being genuine in its bad writing and -doubtful spelling. And Vincent started again with an unexplainable -thrill of alarm when he thought how utterly unprotected his mother's -sudden journey had left that little house in Lonsdale. Susan had no -warning, no safeguard. He started up in momentary fright, but as -suddenly sat down again with a certain indignation at his own thoughts. -Nobody could carry her off, or do any act of violence; and as for taking -advantage of her solitude, Susan, a straightforward, simple-minded -English girl, was safe in her own pure sense of right. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII. - - -Next morning Mr. Vincent got up early, with an indescribable commotion -in all his thoughts. He was to institute inquiries which might be life -or death to his sister, but yet could not keep his mind to the -contemplation of that grave necessity. A flicker of private hope and -expectation kept gleaming with uncertain light over the dark weight of -anxiety in his heart. He could not help, in the very deepest of his -thoughts about Susan, breaking off now and then into a momentary -digression, which suddenly carried him into Lady Western's drawing-room, -and startled his heart with a thrill of conscious delight, secret and -exquisite, which he could neither banish nor deny. In and out, and round -about that grievous doubt which had suddenly disturbed the quiet history -of his family, this capricious fairy played, touching all his anxious -thoughts with thrills of sweetness. It seemed an action involuntary to -himself, and over which he had no power; but it gave the young man an -equally involuntary and causeless cheer and comfort. It did not seem -possible that any dreadful discovery could be made that day, in face of -the fact that he was to meet Her that night. - -When he met his mother at breakfast, the recollection of Mrs. Hilyard -and the charge she had committed to him, came to his mind again. No -doubt Susan would take the wanderers in--no doubt they were as safe in -the cottage as it was possible to be in a humble inviolable English -home, surrounded by all the strength of neighbours and friends, and the -protection of a spotless life which everybody knew; but yet---- That was -not what his strange acquaintance had expected or bargained for. He felt -as if he had broken faith with her when he realised his mother's absence -from her own house. Yet somehow he felt a certain hesitation in -broaching the subject, and unconsciously prepared himself for doubts and -reluctance. The certainty of this gave a forced character to the assumed -easiness with which he spoke. - -"You will go to see Mrs. Hilyard," he said; "I owe it to her to explain -that you were absent before her child went there. They will be safe -enough at home, no doubt, with Susan; but still, you know, it would have -been different had you been there." - -"Yes, Arthur," said Mrs. Vincent, with an indescribable dryness in her -voice. - -"You will find her a very interesting woman," said her son, -instinctively contending against that unexpressed doubt--"the strangest -contrast to her surroundings. The very sound of her voice carries one a -thousand miles from Salem. Had I seen her in a palace, I doubt whether I -should have been equally impressed by her. You will be interested in -spite of yourself." - -"It is, as you say, very strange, Arthur," said Mrs. Vincent--the -dryness in her voice increasing to the extent of a short cough; "when -does your train start?" - -"Not till eleven," said Vincent, looking at his watch; but you must -please me, and go to see her, mother." - -"That reminds me, dear," said Mrs. Vincent, hurriedly, "that now I am -here, little as it suits my feelings, you must take me to see some of -your people, Arthur. Mrs. Tufton, and perhaps the Tozers, you know. They -might not like to hear that your mother had been in Carlingford, and had -not gone to see them. It will be hard work visiting strangers while I am -in this dreadful anxiety, but I must not be the means of bringing you -into any trouble with your flock." - -"Oh, never mind my flock," said Vincent, with some impatience; "put on -your bonnet, and come and see her, mother." - -"Arthur, you are going by the first train," said his mother. - -"There is abundant time, and it is not too early for _her_," persisted -the minister. - -But it was not so easy to conquer that meek little woman. "I feel very -much fatigued to-day," she said, turning her eyes, mild but invincible, -with the most distinct contradiction of her words to her son's face; "if -it had not been my anxiety to have all I could of you, Arthur, I should -not have got up to-day. A journey is a very serious matter, dear, for an -old woman. One does not feel it so much at first," continued this -plausible defendant, still with her mild eyes on her son's face, secure -in the perfect reasonableness of her plea, yet not unwilling that he -should perceive it was a pretence; "it is the next day one feels it. I -shall lie down on the sofa, and rest when you are gone." - -And, looking into his mother's soft eyes, the young Nonconformist -retreated, and made no more attempts to shake her. Not the -invulnerability of the fortress alone discouraged him--though that was -mildly obdurate, and proof to argument--but a certain uneasiness in the -thought of that meeting, an inclination to postpone it, and stave off -the thought of all that might follow, surprised himself in his own mind. -Why he should be afraid of the encounter, or how any complication could -arise out of it, he could not by any means imagine, but such was the -instinctive sentiment in his heart. - -Accordingly he went up to London by the train, leaving Mrs. Hilyard -unwarned, and his mother reposing on the sofa, from which, it is sad to -say, she rose a few minutes after he was gone, to refresh herself by -tidying his bookcase and looking over all his linen and stockings, in -which last she found a very wholesome subject of contemplation, which -relieved the pressure of her thoughts much more effectually than could -have been done by the rest which she originally proposed. Arthur, for -his part, went up to London with a certain nervous thrill of anxiety -rising in his breast as he approached the scene and the moment of his -inquiries; though it was still only by intervals that he realised the -momentous nature of those inquiries, on the result of which poor Susan's -harmless girlish life, all unconscious of the danger that threatened -it, hung in the balance. Poor Susan! just then going on with a bride's -preparations for the approaching climax of her youthful existence. Was -she, indeed, really a bride, with nothing but truth and sweet honour in -the contract that bound her, or was she the sport of a villanous pastime -that would break her heart, and might have shipwrecked her fair fame and -innocent existence? Her brother set his teeth hard as he asked himself -that question. Minister as he was, it might have been a dangerous chance -for Fordham, had he come at that moment without ample proofs of -guiltlessness in the Nonconformist's way. - -When he got to town, he whirled, as fast as it was possible to go, to -the address where Susan's guileless letters were sent almost daily. It -was in a street off Piccadilly, full of lodging-houses, and all manner -of hangers-on and ministrants to the world of fashion. He found the -house directly, and was somewhat comforted to find it really an actual -house, and not a myth or Doubtful Castle, or a post-office window. He -knocked with the real knocker, and heard the bell peal through the -comparative silence in the street, and insensibly cheered up, and began -to look forward to the appearance of a real Mr. Fordham, with -unquestionable private history and troops of friends. A quiet house, -scrupulously clean, entirely respectable, yet distinct in all its -features of lodging-house; a groom in the area below, talking to an -invisible somebody, also a man, who seemed to be cleaning somebody -else's boots; up-stairs, at the first-floor balcony, a smart little -tiger making a fashion of watering plants, and actually doing his best -to sprinkle the conversational groom below; altogether a superabundance -of male attendants, quite incompatible with the integrity of the small -dwelling-place as a private house. Another man, who evidently belonged -to the place, opened the door, interrupting Vincent suddenly in his -observations--an elderly man, half servant, half master, in reality the -proprietor of the place, ready either to wait or be waited on as -occasion might require. Turning with a little start from his inspection -of the attendant circumstances, Vincent asked, did Mr. Fordham live -there? - -The man made a momentary but visible pause; whatever it might betoken, -it was not ignorance. He did not answer with the alacrity of frank -knowledge or simple non-information. He paused, then said, "Mr. Fordham, -sir?" looking intently at Vincent, and taking in every particular of his -appearance, dress, and professional looks, with one rapid glance. - -"Mr. Fordham," repeated Vincent, "does he live here?" - -Once more the man perused him, swiftly and cautiously. "No, sir, he does -not live here," was the second response. - -"I was told this was his address," said Vincent. "I perceive you are not -ignorant of him; where does he live? I know his letters come here." - -"There are a many gentlemen in the house in the course of the season," -answered the man, still on the alert to find out Vincent's meaning by -his looks--"sometimes letters keep on coming months after they are -gone. When we knows their home address, sir, we sends them; when we -don't, we keeps them by us till we see if any owner turns up. Gen'leman -of the name of Fordham?--do you happen to know, sir, what part o' the -country _he_ comes from? There's the Lincolnshire Fordhams, as you know, -sir, and the Northumberland Fordhams; but there's no gen'leman of that -name lives here." - -"I am sure you know perfectly whom I mean," said Vincent, in his heat -and impatience. "I don't mean Mr. Fordham any harm--I only want to see -him, or to get some information about him, if he is not to be seen. Tell -me where he does live, or tell me which of his friends is in town, that -I may ask them. I tell you I don't mean Mr. Fordham any harm." - -"No, sir?--nor I don't know as anybody means any harm," said the man, -once more examining Vincent's appearance. "What was it as you were -wishing to know? Though I ain't acquainted with the gen'leman myself, -the missis or some of the people may be. We have a many coming and -going, and I might confuse a name.--What was it as you were wishful to -know?" - -"I wish to see Mr. Fordham," said Vincent, impatiently. - -"I have told you, sir, he don't live here," said the guardian of the -house. - -"Then, look here; you don't deceive me, remember. I can see you know all -about him," said Vincent; "and, as I tell you, I mean him no harm; -answer me one or two simple questions, and I will either thank or -reward you as you like best. In the first place, Is this Mr. Fordham a -married man? and, Has he ever gone by another name?" - -As he asked these questions the man grinned in his face. "Lord bless -you, sir, we don't ask no such questions here. A gen'leman comes and has -his rooms, and pays, and goes away, and gives such name as he pleases. I -don't ask a certificate of baptism, not if all's right in the pay -department. We don't take ladies in, being troublesome; but if a man was -to have a dozen wives, what could we know about it? Sorry to disoblige a -clergyman, sir; but as I don't know nothing about Mr. Fordham, perhaps -you'll excuse me, as it's the busiest time of the day." - -"Well, then, my good man," said Vincent, taking out his purse, "tell me -what friend he has that I can apply to; you will do me the greatest -service, and I----" - -"Sorry to disoblige a clergyman, as I say," said the man, angrily; "but, -begging your pardon, I can't stand jabbering here. I never was a spy on -a gen'leman, and never will be. If you want to know, you'll have to find -out. Time's money to me." - -With which the landlord of No. 10 Nameless Street, Piccadilly, shut the -door abruptly in Vincent's face. A postman was audibly approaching at -the moment. Could that have anything to do with the sudden breaking off -of the conference? The minister, exasperated, yet, becoming more -anxious, stood for a moment in doubt, facing the blank closed door. -Then, desperate, turned round suddenly, and faced the advancing -Mercury. He had no letters for No. 10; he was hastening past, altogether -regardless of Vincent's look of inquiry. When he was addressed, however, -the postman responded with immediate directness. "Fordham, sir--yes--a -gentleman of that name lives at No. 10--leastways he has his letters -there--No. 10--where you have just been, sir." - -"But they say he doesn't live there," said Vincent. - -"Can't tell, sir--has his letters there," said the public servant, -decidedly. - -More than ever perplexed, Vincent followed the postman to pursue his -inquiries. "What sort of a house is it?" he asked. - -"Highly respectable house, sir," answered the terse and decisive -functionary, performing an astounding rap next door. - -In an agony of impatience and uncertainty, the young man lingered -opposite the house, conscious of a helplessness and impotence which made -him furious with himself. That he ought to be able to get to the bottom -of it was clear; but that he was as far as possible from knowing how to -do that same, or where to pursue his inquiries, was indisputable. One -thing was certain, that Mr. Fordham did not choose to be visible at this -address to which his letters were sent, and that it was hopeless to -attempt to extract any information on the subject by such frank -inquiries as the minister had already made. He took a half-hour's walk, -and thought it over with no great enlightenment on the subject. Then, -coming back, applied once more at the highly respectable -uncommunicative door. He had entertained hopes that another and more -manageable adherent of the house might possibly appear this time--a -maid, or impressionable servitor of some description, and had a little -piece of gold ready for the propitiatory tip in his hand. His hopes -were, however, put to flight by the appearance of the same face, -increased in respectability and composure by the fact that the owner had -thrown off the jacket in which he had formerly been invested, and now -appeared in a solemn black coat, the essence of respectable and -dignified servitude. He fixed his eyes severely upon Vincent as soon as -he opened the door. He was evidently disgusted by this return to the -charge. - -"Look here," said Vincent, somewhat startled and annoyed to find himself -confronted by the same face which had formerly defied him; "could you -get a note conveyed from me to Mr. Fordham?--the postman says he has his -letters here." - -"If he gets his letters here they come by the post," said the man, -insolently. "There's a post-office round the corner, but I don't keep -one here. If one reaches him, another will. It ain't nothing to me." - -"But it is a great deal to me," said Vincent, with involuntary -earnestness. "You have preserved his secret faithfully, whatever it may -be; but it surely can't be any harm to convey a note to Mr. Fordham. -Most likely, when he hears my name," said the young man, with a little -consciousness that what he said was more than he believed, "he will see -me; and I have to leave town this evening. You will do me a great -service if you will save me the delay of the post, and get it delivered -at once. And you may do Mr. Fordham a service too." - -The man looked with less certainty in Vincent's face.--"Seems to me some -people don't know what 'No' means, when it's said," he replied, with a -certain relenting in his voice. "There's things as a gen'leman ought to -know, sure enough--something happened in the family or so; but you see, -he don't live here; and since you stand it out so, I don't mind saying -that he's a gen'leman as can't be seen in town to-day, seeing he's in -the country, as I'm informed, on urgent private affairs. It's uncommon -kind of a clergyman, and a stranger, to take such an interest in my -house," continued the fellow, grinning spitefully; "but what I say first -I say last--he don't live here." - -"And he is not in town?" asked Vincent eagerly, without noticing the -insolence of the speech. The man gradually closed the door upon himself -till he had shut it, and stood outside, facing his persistent visitor. - -"In town or out of town," he said, folding his arms upon his chest, and -surveying Vincent with all the insolence of a lackey who knows he has to -deal with a man debarred by public opinion from the gratifying privilege -of knocking him down, "there ain't no more information to be got here." - -Such was the conclusion of Vincent's attempted investigation. He went -away at once, scarcely pausing to hear this speech out, to take the only -means that presented themselves now; and going into the first -stationer's shop in his way, wrote a note entreating Mr. Fordham to meet -him, and giving a friend's address in London, as well as his own in -Carlingford, that he might be communicated with instantly. When he had -written and posted this note, Vincent proceeded to investigate the -Directory and all the red and blue books he could lay his hands upon, -for the name of Fordham. It was not a plentiful name, but still it -occurred sufficiently often to perplex and confuse him utterly. When he -had looked over the list of Fordhams in London, sufficiently long to -give himself an intense headache, and to feel his under-taking entirely -hopeless, he came to a standstill. What was to be done? He had no clue, -nor the hope of any, to guide him through this labyrinth; but he had no -longer any trust in the honour of the man whom his mother had so rashly -received, and to whom Susan had given her heart. By way of the only -precaution which occurred to him, he wrote a short note to Susan, -begging her not to send any more letters to Mr. Fordham until her -mother's return; and desiring her not to be alarmed by this prohibition, -but to be very careful of herself, and wait for an explanation when Mrs. -Vincent should return. He thought he himself would accompany his mother -home. The note was written, as Vincent thought, in the most guarded -terms; but in reality was such an abrupt, alarming performance, as was -sure to drive a sensitive girl into the wildest fright and uncertainty. -Having eased his conscience by this, he went back to the railway, and -returned to Carlingford. Night had fallen before he reached home. Under -any other circumstances, he would have encountered his mother after such -an ineffectual enterprise, conscious as he was of carrying back nothing -but heightened suspicion, with very uncomfortable feelings, and would -have been in his own person too profoundly concerned about this dreadful -danger which menaced his only sister, to be able to rest or occupy -himself about other things. But the fact was, that whenever he relapsed -into the solitary carriage in which he travelled to Carlingford, and -when utterly quiet and alone, wrapped in the haze of din and smoke and -speed which abstracts railway travellers from all the world,--gave -himself up to thought, the rosy hue of his own hopes came stealing over -him unawares. Now and then he woke up, as men wake up from a doze, and -made a passing snatch at his fears. But again and again they eluded his -grasp, and the indefinite brightness which had no foundation in reason, -swallowed up everything which interfered with its power. The effect of -this was to make the young man preternaturally solemn when he entered -the room where his mother awaited him. He felt the reality of the fear -so much less than he ought to do, that it was necessary to put on twice -the appearance. Had he really been as deeply anxious and alarmed as he -should have been, he would naturally have tried to ease and lighten the -burden of the discovery to his mother; feeling it so hazily as he did, -no such precautions occurred to him. She rose up when he came in, with a -face which gradually paled out of all its colour as he approached. When -he was near enough to hold out his hand to her, Mrs. Vincent was nearly -fainting. "Arthur," she cried, in a scarcely audible voice, "God have -pity upon us; it is true: I can see it in your face." - -"Mother, compose yourself. I have no evidence that it is true. I have -discovered nothing," cried Vincent, in alarm. - -The widow dropped heavily into her chair, and sobbed aloud. "I can read -it in your face," she said. "Oh! my dear boy, have you seen that--that -villain? Does he confess it? Oh, my Susan, my Susan! I will never -forgive myself; I have killed my child." - -From this passion it was difficult to recover her, and Vincent had to -represent so strongly the fact that he had ascertained nothing certain, -and that, for anything he could tell, Fordham might still prove himself -innocent, that he almost persuaded his own mind in persuading hers. - -"His letters might be taken in at a place where he did not live, for -convenience sake," said Vincent. "The man might think me a dun, or -something disagreeable. Fordham himself, for anything we can tell, may -be very angry about it. Cheer up, mother; things are no worse than they -were last night. I give you my word I have made no discovery, and -perhaps to-morrow may bring us a letter clearing it all up." - -"Ah! Arthur, you are so young and hopeful. It is different with me, who -have seen so many terrors come true," said the mother, who -notwithstanding was comforted. As for Vincent, he felt neither the -danger nor the suspense. His whole soul was engrossed with the fact that -it was time to dress; and it was with a little conscious sophistry that -he himself made the best of it, and excused himself for his -indifference. - -"I can't bear to leave you, mother, in such suspense and distress," he -said, looking at his watch; "but--I have to be at Lady Western's at -half-past six." - -Mrs. Vincent looked up with an expression of stupified surprise and pain -for a moment, then brightened all at once. "My dear, I have laid out all -your things," she said, with animation. "Do you think I would let you -miss it, Arthur? Never mind talking to me. I shall hear all about it -when you come home to-night. Now go, dear, or you will be late. I will -come and talk to you when you are dressing, if you don't mind your -mother? Well, perhaps not. I will stay here, and you can call me when -you are ready, and I will bring you a cup of tea. I am sure you are -tired, what with the fatigue and what with the anxiety. But you must try -to put it off your mind, and enjoy yourself to-night." - -"Yes, mother," said Vincent, hastening away; the tears were in her -gentle eyes when she gave him that unnecessary advice. She pressed his -hands fast in hers when he left her at last, repeating it, afraid in her -own heart that this trouble had spoilt all the brightness of the opening -hopes which she perceived with so much pride and joy. When he was gone, -she sat down by the solitary fire, and cried over her Susan in an utter -forlornness and helplessness, which only a woman, so gentle, timid, and -unable to struggle for herself, could feel. Her son, in the mean time, -walked down Grange Lane, first with a momentary shame at his own want of -feeling, but soon, with an entire forgetfulness both of the shame and -the subject of it, absorbed in thoughts of his reception there. With a -palpitating heart he entered the dark garden, now noiseless and chill in -winterly decay, and gazed at the lighted windows which had looked like -distant planets to him the last time he saw them. He lingered looking at -them, now that the moment approached so near. A remembrance of his -former disappointment went to his heart with a momentary pang as he -hesitated on the edge of his present happiness. Another moment and he -had thrown himself again, with a degree of suppressed excitement -wonderful to think of, upon the chances of his fate. - -Not alarming chances, so far as could be predicated from the scene. A -small room, the smaller half of that room which he had seen full of the -pretty crowd of the summer-party, the folding-doors closed, and a -curtain drawn across them; a fire burning brightly; groups of candles -softly lighting the room in clusters upon the wall, and throwing a -colourless soft illumination upon the pictures of which Lady Western was -so proud. She herself, dropped amid billows of dark blue silk and clouds -of black lace in a low easy-chair by the side of the fire, smiled at -Vincent, and held out her hand to him without rising, with a sweet -cordiality and friendliness which rapt the young man into paradise. -Though Lucy Wodehouse was scarcely less pretty than the young Dowager, -Mr. Vincent saw her as if he saw her not, and still less did he realise -the presence of Miss Wodehouse, who was the shadow to all this -brightness. He took the chair which Lady Western pointed to him by her -side. He did not want anybody to speak; or anything to happen. The -welcome was not given as to a stranger, but made him at once an intimate -and familiar friend of the house. At once all his dreams were realised. -The sweet atmosphere was tinged with the perfumy breath which always -surrounded Her; the room, which was so fanciful and yet so home-like, -seemed a reflection of her to his bewildered eyes; and the murmur of -soft sound, as these two lovely creatures spoke to each other, made the -most delicious climax to the scene; although the moment before he had -been afraid lest the sound of a voice should break the spell. But the -spell was not to be broken that night. Mr. Wentworth came in a few -minutes after him, and was received with equal sweetness; but still the -young Nonconformist was not jealous. It was he whose arm Lady Western -appropriated, almost without looking at him as she did so, when they -went to dinner. She had put aside the forms which were intended to keep -the outer world at arm's length. It was as her own closest personal -friends that the little party gathered around the little table, just -large enough for them, which was placed before the fire in the great -dining-room. Lady Western was not a brilliant talker, but Mr. Vincent -thought her smallest observation more precious than any utterance of -genius. He listened to her with a fervour which few people showed when -listening to _him_, notwithstanding his natural eloquence; but as to -what he himself said in reply, he was entirely oblivious, and spoke like -a man in a dream. When she clapped her pretty hands, and adjured the -Churchman and the Nonconformist to fight out their quarrel, it was well -for Vincent that Mr. Wentworth declined the controversy. The lecturer on -Church and State was _hors de combat_; he was in charity with all men. -The curate of St. Roque's, who--blind and infatuated man!--thought Lucy -Wodehouse the flower of Grange Lane, did not come in his way. He might -pity him, but it was a sympathetic pity. Mr. Vincent took no notice when -Miss Wodehouse launched tiny arrows of argument at him. She was the only -member of the party who seemed to recollect his heresies in respect to -Church and State--which, indeed, he had forgotten himself, and the state -of mind which led to them. No such world existed now as that cold and -lofty world which the young man of genius had seen glooming down upon -his life, and shutting jealous barriers against his progress. The -barriers were opened, the coldness gone--and he himself raised high on -the sunshiny heights, where love and beauty had their perennial abode. -He had gained nothing--changed in nothing--from his former condition: -not even the golden gates of society had opened to the dissenting -minister; but glorious enfranchisement had come to the young man's -heart. It was not Lady Western who had asked him to dinner--a -distinction of which his mother was proud. It was the woman of all women -who had brought him to her side, whose sweet eyes were sunning him -over, whose voice thrilled to his heart. By her side he forgot all -social distinctions, and all the stings contained in them. No prince -could have reached more completely the ideal elevation and summit of -youthful existence. Ambition and its successes were vulgar in -comparison. It was a poetic triumph amid the prose tumults and downfalls -of life. - -When the two young men were left over their wine, a somewhat grim shadow -fell upon the evening. The curate of St. Roque's and the minister of -Salem found it wonderfully hard to get up a conversation. They discussed -the advantages of retiring with the ladies as they sat glum and reserved -opposite each other--not by any means unlike, and, by consequence, -natural enemies. Mr. Wentworth thought it an admirable plan, much more -sensible than the absurd custom which kept men listening to a parcel of -old fogies, who retained the habits of the last generation; and he -proposed that they should join the ladies--a proposal to which Vincent -gladly acceded. When they returned to the drawing-room, Lucy Wodehouse -was at the piano; her sister sat at table with a pattern-book before -her, doing some impossible pattern in knitting; and Lady Western again -sat languid and lovely by the fire, with her beautiful hands in her lap, -relieved from the dark background of the billowy blue dress by the -delicate cambric and lace of her handkerchief. She was not doing -anything, or looking as if she could do anything. She was leaning back -in the low chair, with the rich folds of her dress sweeping the carpet, -and her beautiful ungloved hands lying lightly across each other. She -did not move when the gentlemen entered. She turned her eyes to them, -and smiled those sweet welcoming smiles, which Vincent knew well enough -were for both alike, yet which made his heart thrill and beat. Wentworth -(insensible prig!) went to Lucy's side, and began to talk to her over -her music, now and then appealing to Miss Wodehouse. Vincent, whom no -man hindered, and for whose happiness all the fates had conspired, -invited by those smiling eyes, approached Lady Western with the -surprised delight of a man miraculously blessed. He could not understand -why he was permitted to be so happy. He drew a chair between her and the -table, and, shutting out the other group by turning his back upon them, -had her all to himself. She never changed her position, nor disturbed -her sweet indolence, by the least movement. The fire blazed no longer. -The candles, softly burning against the wall, threw no very brilliant -light upon this scene. To Vincent's consciousness, bewildered as he was -by the supreme delight of his position, they were but two in a new -world, and neither thing nor person disturbed the unimaginable bliss. -But Miss Wodehouse, when she raised her eyes from her knitting, only saw -the young Dowager leaning back in her chair, smiling the natural smiles -of her sweet temper and kind heart upon the young stranger whom she had -chosen to make a _protege_ of. Miss Wodehouse silently concluded that -perhaps it might be dangerous for the young man, who knew no better, and -that Lady Western always looked well in a blue dress. Such was the -outside world's interpretation of that triumphant hour of Vincent's -life. - -How it went on he never could tell. Soft questions, spoken in that voice -which made everything eloquent, gently drew from him the particulars of -his life; and sweet laughter, more musical than that song of Lucy's to -which the curate (dull clod!) gave all his attention, rang silvery peals -over the name of Tozer and the economics of Salem. Perhaps Lady Western -enjoyed the conversation almost half as much as her worshipper did. She -was amused, most delicate and difficult of all successes. She was -pleased with the reverential devotion which had a freshness and tender -humility conjoined with sensitive pride which was novel to her, and more -flattering than ordinary adoration. When he saw it amused her, the young -man exerted himself to set forth his miseries with their ludicrous -element fully developed. They were no longer miseries, they were -happinesses which brought him those smiles. He said twice enough to turn -him out of Salem, and make him shunned by all the connection. He forgot -everything in life but the lovely creature beside him, and the means by -which he could arouse her interest, and keep her ear a little longer. -Such was the position of affairs, when Miss Wodehouse came to the plain -part of her pattern, where she could go on without counting; and seeing -Lady Western so much amused, became interested and set herself to listen -too. By this time Vincent had come to more private concerns. - -"I have been inquiring to-day after some one whom my mother knows, and -whom I am anxious to hear about," said Vincent. "I cannot discover -anything about him. It is a wild question to ask if you know him, but it -is just possible; there are such curious encounters in life." - -"What is his name?" said Lady Western, with a smile as radiant as a -sunbeam. - -"His name is Fordham--Herbert Fordham: I do not know where he comes -from, nor whether he is of any profession; nor, indeed, anything but his -name. I have been in town to-day----" - -Here Vincent came to a sudden stop. He had withdrawn his eyes from that -smile of hers for the moment. When he raised them again, the beautiful -picture was changed as if by magic. Her eyes were fixed upon him dilated -and almost wild. Her face was deadly pale. Her hands, which had been -lying lightly crossed, grasped each other in a grasp of sudden anguish -and self-control. He stopped short with a pang too bitter and strange -for utterance. At that touch all his fancies dispersed into the air. He -came to himself strangely, with a sense of chill and desolation. In one -instant, from the height of momentary bliss down to the miserable flat -of conscious unimportance. Such a downfall was too much for man to -endure without showing it. He stopped short at the aspect of her face. - -"You have been in town to-day?" she repeated, pointedly, with white and -trembling lips. - -"And could hear nothing of him," said Vincent, with a little bitterness. -"He was not to be heard of at his address." - -"Where was that?" asked Lady Western again, with the same intent and -anxious gaze. - -Vincent, who was sinking down, down in hopeless circles of jealousy, -miserable fierce rage and disappointment, answered, "10 Nameless Street, -Piccadilly," without an unnecessary word. - -Lady Western uttered a little cry of excitement and wonder. She knew -nothing of the black abyss into which her companion had fallen any more -than she knew the splendid heights to which her favour had raised him; -but the sound of her own voice recalled her to herself. She turned away -from Vincent and pulled the bell which was within her reach--pulled it -once and again with a nervous twitch, and entangled her bracelet in the -bell-pull, so that she had to bend over to unfasten it. Vincent sat -gloomily by and looked on, without offering any assistance. He knew it -was to hide her troubled face and gain a moment to compose herself; but -he was scarcely prepared for her total avoidance of the subject when she -next spoke. - -"They are always so late of giving us tea," she said, rising from her -chair, and going up to Miss Wodehouse: "I can see you have finished your -pattern; let me see how it looks. That is pretty; but I think it is too -elaborate. How many things has Mary done for this bazaar, Mr. -Wentworth?--and do tell us when is it to be?" - -What did Vincent care for the answer? He sat disenchanted in that same -place which had been his bower of bliss all the evening, watching her as -she moved about the room; her beautiful figure went and came with a -certain restlessness, surely not usual to her, from one corner to -another. She brought Miss Wodehouse something to look at from the -work-table, and fetched some music for Lucy from a window. She had the -tea placed in a remote corner, and made it there; and insisted on -bringing it to the Miss Wodehouses with her own hands. She was -disturbed; her sweet composure was gone. Vincent sat and watched her -under the shade of his hands, with feelings as miserable as ever moved -man. It was not sorrow for having disturbed her;--feelings much more -personal, mortification and disappointment, and, above all, jealousy, -raged in his heart. Warmer and stronger than ever was his interest in -Mr. Fordham now. - -After a miserable interval, he rose to take his leave. When he came up -to her, Lady Western's kind heart once more awoke in his behalf. She -drew him aside after a momentary struggle with herself. - -"I know that gentleman," she said, quickly, with a momentary flush of -colour, and shortening of breath; "at least I knew him once; and the -address you mention is my brother's address. If you will tell me what -you want to know, I will ask for you. My brother and he used not to be -friends, but I suppose----. What did you want to know?" - -"Only," said Vincent, with involuntary bitterness, "if he was a man of -honour, and could be trusted; nothing else." - -The young Dowager paused and sighed; her beautiful eyes softened with -tears. "Oh, yes--yes; with life--to death!" she said, with a low -accompaniment of sighing, and a wistful melancholy smile upon her lovely -face. - -Vincent hastened out of the house. He ventured to say nothing to himself -as he went up Grange Lane in the starless night, with all the silence -and swiftness of passion. He dared not trust himself to think. His very -heart, the physical organ itself, seemed throbbing and bursting with -conscious pain. Had she loved this mysterious stranger whose -undecipherable shadow hung over the minister's path? To Vincent's fancy, -nothing else could account for her agitation; and was he so true, and to -be trusted? Poor gentle Susan, whom such a fate and doom was approaching -as might have softened her brother's heart, had but little place in his -thoughts. He was not glad of that favourable verdict. He was overpowered -with jealous rage and passion. Alas for his dreams! Once more, what -downfall and over-throw had come of it! once more he had come down to -his own position, and the second awakening was harder than the first. -When he got home, and found his mother, affectionately proud, waiting to -hear all about the great lady he had been visiting, it is impossible to -express in words the intolerable impatience and disgust with himself and -his fate which overpowered the young man. He had a bad headache, Mrs. -Vincent said, she was sure, and he did not contradict her. It was an -unspeakable relief to him when she went to her own room, and delivered -him from the tender scrutiny of her eyes--those eyes full of nothing but -love, which, in the irritation of his spirit, drove him desperate. He -did not tell her about the unexpected discovery he had made. The very -name of Fordham would have choked him that night. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV. - - -The next morning brought no letters except from Susan. Fordham, if so -true as Lady Western called him, was not, Vincent thought with -bitterness, acting as an honourable man should in this emergency. But -perhaps he might come to Carlingford in the course of the day, to see -Susan's brother. The aspect of the young minister was changed when he -made his appearance at the breakfast table. Mrs. Vincent made the most -alarmed inquiries about his health, but--stopped abruptly in making them -by his short and ungracious answer--came to a dead pause; and with a -pang of fright and mortification, acknowledged to herself that her son -was no longer her boy, whose entire heart she knew, but a man with a -life and concerns of his own, possibly not patent to his mother. That -breakfast was not a cheerful meal. There had been a long silence, broken -only by those anxious attentions to each other's personal comfort, with -which people endeavour to smooth down the embarrassment of an -intercourse apparently confidential, into which some sudden -unexplainable shadow has fallen. At last Vincent got up from the table, -with a little outbreak of impatience. - -"I can't eat this morning; don't ask me. Mother, get your bonnet on," -said the young man; "we must go to see Mrs. Hilyard to-day." - -"Yes, Arthur," said Mrs. Vincent, meekly; she had determined _not_ to -see Mrs. Hilyard, of whom her gentle respectability was suspicious; but, -startled by her son's looks, and by the evident arrival of that period, -instinctively perceived by most women, at which a man snatches the reins -out of his adviser's hand, and has his way, the alarmed and anxious -mother let her arms fall, and gave in without a struggle. - -"The fact is, I heard of Mr. Fordham last night," said Vincent, walking -about the room, lifting up and setting down again abstractedly the -things on the table. "Lady Western knows him, it appears; perhaps Mrs. -Hilyard does too." - -"Lady Western knows him? Oh, Arthur, tell me--what did she say?" cried -his mother, clasping her hands. - -"She said he could be trusted--with life--to death," said Vincent, very -low, with an inaudible groan in his heart. He was prepared for the joy -and the tears, and the thanksgiving with which his words were received; -but he could not have believed, how sharply his mother's exclamation, -"God bless my Susan! now I am happy about her, Arthur. I could be -content to die," would go to his heart. Susan, yes;--it was right to be -happy about her; and as for himself, who cared? He shut up his heart in -that bitterness; but it filled him with an irritation and restlessness -which he could not subdue. - -"We must go to Mrs. Hilyard; probably she can tell us more," he said, -abruptly; "and there is her child to speak of. I blame myself," he -added, with impatience, "for not telling her before. Let us go now -directly--never mind ringing the bell; all that can be done when we are -out. Dinner? oh, for heaven's sake, let _them_ manage that! Where is -your bonnet, mother? the air will do me good after a bad night." - -"Yes, dear," said Mrs. Vincent, moved by this last argument. It must be -his headache, no doubt, she tried to persuade herself. Stimulated by the -sound of his footstep in the next room, she lost very little time over -her toilette. Perhaps the chill January air, sharp with frost, air full -of natural exhilaration and refreshment, did bring a certain relief to -the young Nonconformist's aching temples and exasperated temper. It was -with difficulty his mother kept time with his long strides, as he -hurried her along the street, not leaving her time to look at Salem, -which was naturally the most interesting point in Carlingford to the -minister's mother. Before she had half prepared herself for this -interview, he had hurried her up the narrow bare staircase which led to -Mrs. Hilyard's lodgings. On the landing, with the door half open, stood -Lady Western's big footman, fully occupying the narrow standing-ground, -and shedding a radiance of plush over the whole shabby house. The result -upon Mrs. Vincent was an immediate increase of comfort, for surely the -woman must be respectable to whom people sent messages by so grand a -functionary. The sight of the man struck Vincent like another pang. She -had sent to take counsel, no doubt, on the evidently unlooked-for -information which had startled her so last night. - -"Come in," said the inhabitant of the room. She was folding a note for -which the footman waited. Things were just as usual in that shabby -place. The coarse stuff at which she had been working lay on the table -beside her. Seeing a woman with Vincent, she got up quickly, and turned -her keen eyes upon the new-comer. The timid doubtful mother, the young -man, somewhat arbitrary and self-willed, who had brought his companion -there against her will, the very look, half fright, half suspicion, -which Mrs. Vincent threw round the room, explained matters to this quick -observer. She was mistress of the position at once. - -"Take this to Lady Western, John," said Mrs. Hilyard. "She may come when -she pleases--I shall be at home all day; but tell her to send a maid -next time, for you are much too magnificent for Back Grove Street. This -is Mrs. Vincent, I know. Your son has brought you to see me, and I hope -you have not come to say that I was too rash in asking a Christian -kindness from this young man's mother. If he had not behaved like a -paladin, I should not have ventured upon it; but when a young man -conducts himself so, I think his mother is a good woman. You have taken -in my child?" - -She had taken Mrs. Vincent by both hands, and placed her in a chair, and -sat down beside her. The widow had not a word to say. What with the -praise of her son, which was music to her ears--what with the confusion -of her own position, she was painfully embarrassed and at a loss, and -anxiously full of explanations. "Susan has, I have no doubt; but I am -sorry I left home on Wednesday morning, and we did not know then they -were expected; but we have a spare room, and Susan, I don't doubt----" - -"The fact is, my mother had left home before they could have reached -Lonsdale," interposed Vincent; "but my sister would take care of them -equally well. They are all safe. A note came this morning announcing -their arrival. My mother," said the young man, hastily, "returns almost -immediately. It will make no difference to the strangers." - -"I am sure Susan will make them comfortable, and the beds would be well -aired," said Mrs. Vincent; "but I had sudden occasion to leave home, and -did not even know of it till the night before. My dear," she said, with -hesitation, "did you think Mrs. Hilyard would know? I brought Susan's -note to show you," she added, laying down that simple performance in -which Susan announced the receipt of Arthur's letter, and the subsequent -arrival of "a governess-lady, and the most beautiful girl that ever was -seen." The latter part of Susan's hurried note, in which she declared -this beautiful girl to be "very odd--a sort of grown-up baby," was -carefully abstracted by the prudent mother. - -The strange woman before them took up the note in both her hands and -drank it in, with an almost trembling eagerness. She seemed to read over -the words to herself again and again with moving lips. Then she drew a -long breath of relief. - -"Miss Smith is the model of a governess-lady," she said, turning with a -composure wonderfully unlike that eagerness of anxiety to Mrs. Vincent -again--"she never writes but on her day, whatever may happen; and -yesterday did not happen to be her day. Thank you; it is Christian -charity. You must not be any loser meantime, and we must arrange these -matters before you go away. This is not a very imposing habitation," she -said, glancing round with a movement of her thin mouth, and comic gleam -in her eye--"but that makes no difference, so far as they are concerned. -Mr. Vincent knows more about me than he has any right to know," -continued the strange woman, turning her head towards him for the moment -with an amused glance--"a man takes one on trust sometimes, but a woman -must always explain herself to a woman: perhaps, Mr. Vincent, you will -leave us together while I explain my circumstances to your mother?" - -"Oh, I am sure it--it is not necessary," said Mrs. Vincent, half -alarmed; "but, Arthur, you were to ask----" - -"What were you to ask?" said Mrs. Hilyard, laying her hand with an -involuntary movement upon a tiny note lying open on the table, to which -Vincent's eyes had already wandered. - -"The fact is," he said, following her hand with his eyes, "that my -mother came up to inquire about some one called Fordham, in whom she is -interested. Lady Western knows him," said Vincent, abruptly, looking in -Mrs. Hilyard's face. - -"Lady Western knows him. You perceive that she has written to ask me -about him this morning. Yes," said Mrs. Hilyard, looking at the young -man, not without a shade of compassion. "You are quite right in your -conclusions; poor Alice and he _were_ in love with each other before she -married Sir Joseph. He has not been heard of for a long time. What do -you want to know, and how is it he has showed himself now?" - -"It is for Susan's sake," cried Mrs. Vincent, interposing; "oh, Mrs. -Hilyard, you will feel for me better than any one--my only daughter! I -got an anonymous letter the night before I left. I am so flurried, I -almost forget what night it was--Tuesday night--which arrived when my -dear child was out. I never kept anything from her in all her life, and -to conceal it was dreadful--and how we got through that night----" - -"Mother, the details are surely not necessary now," said her impatient -son. "We want to know what are this man's antecedents and his -character--that is all," he added, with irrestrainable bitterness. - -Mrs. Hilyard took up her work, and pinned the long coarse seam to her -knee. "Mrs. Vincent will tell me herself," she said, looking straight at -him with her amused look. Of all her strange peculiarities, the faculty -of amusement was the strangest. Intense restrained passion, anxiety of -the most desperate kind, a wild will which would pause at nothing, all -blended with and left room for this unfailing perception of any -ludicrous possibility. Vincent got up hastily, and, going to the window, -looked out upon the dismal prospect of Salem, throwing its shabby shadow -upon those dreary graves. Instinctively he looked for the spot where -that conversation must have been held which he had overheard from the -vestry window; it came most strongly to his mind at that moment. As his -mother went through her story, how Mr. Fordham had come accidentally to -the house--how gradually they had admitted him to their friendship--how, -at last, Susan and he had become engaged to each other--her son stood at -the window, following in his mind all the events of that evening, which -looked so long ago, yet was only two or three evenings back. He recalled -to himself his rush to the telegraph office; and again, with a sharp -stir of opposition and enmity, recalled, clear as a picture, the -railway-carriage just starting, the flash of light inside, the face so -clearly evident against the vacant cushions. What had he to do with that -face, with its eagle outline and scanty long locks? Somehow, in the -meshes of fate he felt himself so involved that it was impossible to -forget this man. He came and took his seat again with his mind full of -that recollection. The story had come to a pause, and Mrs. Hilyard sat -silent, taking in with her keen eyes every particular of the gentle -widow's character, evidently, as Vincent could see, following her -conduct back to those springs of gentle but imprudent generosity and -confidence in what people said to her, from which her present -difficulties sprang. - -"And you admitted him first?" said Mrs. Hilyard, interrogatively, -"because----?" She paused. Mrs. Vincent became embarrassed and nervous. - -"It was very foolish, very foolish," said the widow, wringing her hands; -"but he came to make inquiries, you know. I answered him civilly the -first time, and he came again and again. It looked so natural. He had -come down to see a young relation at school in the neighbourhood." - -Mrs. Hilyard uttered a sudden exclamation--very slight, low, scarcely -audible; but it attracted Vincent's attention. He could see that her -thin lips were closed, her figure slightly erected, a sudden keen gleam -of interest in her face. "Did he find his relation?" she asked, in a -voice so ringing and distinct that the young minister started, and sat -upright, bracing himself for something about to happen. It did not flash -upon him yet what that meaning might be; but his pulses leapt with a -prescient thrill of some tempest or earthquake about to fall. - -"No; he never could find her--it did not turn out to be our Lonsdale, I -think--what is the matter?" cried Mrs. Vincent; "you both know something -I don't know--what has happened? Arthur, have I said anything -dreadful?--oh, what does it mean?" - -"Describe him if you can," said Mrs. Hilyard, in a tone which, sharp and -calm, tingled through the room with a passionate clearness which nothing -but extreme excitement could give. She had taken Mrs. Vincent's hand, -and held it tightly with a certain compassionate compulsion, forcing her -to speak. As for Vincent, the horrible suspicion which stole upon him -unmanned him utterly. He had sprung to his feet, and stood with his eyes -fixed on his mother's face with an indescribable horror and suspense. It -was not her he saw. With hot eyes that blazed in their sockets, he was -fixing the gaze of desperation upon a picture in his mind, which he -felt but too certain would correspond with the faltering words which -fell from her lips. Mrs. Vincent, for her part, would have thrown -herself wildly upon him, and lost her head altogether in a frightened -attempt to find out what this sudden commotion meant, had she not been -fixed and supported by that strong yet gentle grasp upon her hand. -"Describe him--take time," said her strange companion again--not looking -at her, but waiting in an indescribable calm of passion for the words -which she could frame in her mind before they were said. - -"Tall," said the widow's faltering alarmed voice, falling with a strange -uncertainty through the intense stillness, in single words, with gasps -between; "not--a very young man--aquiline--with a sort of -eagle-look--light hair--long and thin, and as fine as silk--very light -in his beard, so that it scarcely showed. Oh, God help us! what is it? -what is it?--You both know whom I mean." - -Neither of them spoke; but the eyes of the two met in a single look, -from which both withdrew, as if the communication were a crime. With a -shudder Vincent approached his mother; and, speechless though he was, -took hold of her, and drew her to him abruptly. Was it murder he read in -those eyes, with their desperate concentration of will and power? The -sight of them, and recollection of their dreadful splendour, drove even -Susan out of his mind. Susan, poor gentle soul!--what if she broke her -tender heart, in which no devils lurked? "Mother, come--come," he said, -hoarsely, raising her up in his arm, and releasing the hand which the -extraordinary woman beside her still clasped fast. The movement roused -Mrs. Hilyard as well as Mrs. Vincent. She rose up promptly from the side -of the visitor who had brought her such news. - -"I need not suggest to you that this must be acted on at once," she said -to Vincent, who, in his agitation, saw how the hand, with which she -leant on the table, clenched hard till it grew white with the pressure. -"The man we have to deal with spares nothing." She stopped, and then, -with an effort, went up to the half-fainting mother, who hung upon -Vincent's arm, and took her hands and pressed them close. "We have both -thrust our children into the lion's mouth," she cried, with a momentary -softening. "Go, poor woman, and save your child if you can, and so will -I--we are companions in misfortune. And you are a priest, why cannot you -curse him?" she exclaimed, with a bitter cry. The next moment she had -taken down a travelling-bag from a shelf, and, kneeling down by a trunk, -began to transfer some things to it. Vincent left his mother, and went -up to her with a sudden impulse, "I am a priest, let me bless you," said -the young man, touching with a compassionate hand the dark head bending -before him. Then he took his mother away. He could not speak as he -supported her down-stairs; she, clinging to him with double weakness, -could scarcely support herself at all in her agitation and wonder when -they got into the street. She kept looking in his face with a pitiful -appeal that went to his heart. - -"Tell me, Arthur, tell me!" She sobbed it out unawares, and over and -over before he knew what she was saying. And what could he tell her? "We -must go to Susan--poor Susan!" was all the young man could say. - - - - -CHAPTER XV. - - -Mrs. Vincent came to a dead stop as they passed the doors of Salem, -which were ajar, taking resolution in the desperateness of her -uncertainty--for the feelings in the widow's mind were not confined to -one burning impulse of terror for Susan, but complicated by a wonderful -amount of flying anxieties about other matters as well. _She_ knew, by -many teachings of experience, what would be said by all the connection, -when it was known that the minister's mother had been in Carlingford -without going to see anybody--not even Mrs. Tufton, the late minister's -wife, or Mrs. Tozer, who was so close at hand. Though her heart was -racked, Mrs. Vincent knew her duty. She stopped short in her fright and -distress with the mild obduracy of which she was capable. Before rushing -away out of Carlingford to protect her daughter, the mother, -notwithstanding her anxiety, could not forget the injury which she might -possibly do by this means to the credit of her son. - -"Arthur, the chapel is open--I should like to go in and rest," she said, -with a little gasp; "and oh, my dear boy, take a little pity upon me! To -see the state you are in, and not to know anything, is dreadful. You -must have a vestry, where one could sit down a little--let us go in." - -"A vestry--yes; it will be a fit place," cried Vincent, scarcely knowing -what he was saying, and indeed worn out with the violence of his own -emotions. This little persistent pause of the widow, who was not -absorbed by any one passionate feeling, but took all the common cares of -life with her into her severest trouble, awoke the young man to himself. -He, too, recollected that this enemy who had stolen into his house was -not to be reached by one wild rush, and that everything could not be -suffered to plunge after Susan's happiness into an indiscriminate gulf -of ruin. All his own duties pricked at his heart with bitter reminders -in that moment when he stood by the door of Salem, where two poor women -were busy inside, with pails and brushes, preparing for Sunday. The -minister, too, had to prepare for Sunday. He could not dart forth, -breathing fire and flame at a moment's notice, upon the serpent who had -entered his Eden. Even at this dreadful moment, in all the fever of such -a discovery, the touch of his mother's hand upon his arm brought him -back to his lot. He pushed open the mean door, and led her into the -scene of his weekly labours with a certain sickening disgust in his -heart which would have appalled his companion. _She_ was a dutiful -woman, subdued by long experience of that inevitable necessity against -which all resistance fails; and he a passionate young man, naturally a -rebel against every such bond. They could not understand each other; but -the mother's troubled face, all conscious of Tufton and Tozer, and what -the connection would say, brought all the weight of his own particular -burden back upon Vincent's mind. He pushed in past the pails with a -certain impatience which grieved Mrs. Vincent. She followed him with a -pained and disapproving look, nodding, with a faint little smile, to the -women, who no doubt were members of the flock, and might spread an evil -report of the pastor, who took no notice of them. As she followed him to -the vestry, she could not help thinking, with a certain strange mixture -of pain, vexation, and tender pride, how different his dear father would -have been. "But Arthur, dear boy, has my quick temper," sighed the -troubled woman. After all, it was her fault rather than her son's. - -"This is a very nice room," said Mrs. Vincent, sitting down with an air -of relief; "but I think it would be better to close the window, as there -is no fire. You were always very susceptible to cold, Arthur, from a -child. And now, my dear boy, we are undisturbed, and out of those -dreadful glaring streets where everybody knows you. I have not troubled -you, Arthur, for I saw you were very much troubled; but, oh! don't keep -me anxious now." - -"Keep you anxious! You ask me to make you anxious beyond anything you -can think of," said the young man, closing the window with a hasty and -fierce impatience, which she could not understand. "Good heavens, -mother! why did you let that man into your innocent house?" - -"Who is he, Arthur?" asked Mrs. Vincent, with a blanched face. - -"He is----" Vincent stopped with his hand upon the window where he had -overheard that conversation, a certain awe coming over him. Even Susan -went out of his mind when he thought of the dreadful calmness with which -his strange acquaintance had promised to kill her companion of that -night. Had she started already on this mission of vengeance? A cold -thrill came over him where he stood. "I can't tell who he is," he -exclaimed, abruptly, throwing himself down upon the little sofa; "but it -was to be in safety from him that Mrs. Hilyard sent her daughter to -Lonsdale. It was he whom she vowed to kill if he found the child. -Ah!--he is," cried the young man, springing to his feet again with a -sudden pang and smothered exclamation as the truth dawned upon him, -"Lady Western's brother. What other worse thing he is I cannot tell. -Ruin, misery, and horror at the least--death to Susan--not much less to -me." - -"To you? Oh, Arthur, have pity upon me, my heart is breaking," said Mrs. -Vincent. "Oh, my boy, my boy, whom I would die to save from any trouble! -don't tell me I have destroyed you. That cannot be, Arthur--_that_ -cannot be!" - -The poor minister did not say anything--his heart was bitter within him. -He paced up and down the vestry with dreadful thoughts. What was She to -him if she had a hundred brothers? Nothing in the world could raise the -young Nonconformist to that sweet height which she made beautiful; and -far beyond that difference came the cruel recollection of those smiles -and tears--pathetic, involuntary confessions. If there was another man -in the world whom she could trust "with life--to death!" what did it -matter though a thousand frightful combinations involved poor Vincent -with her kindred? He tried to remind himself of all this, but did not -succeed. In the mean time, the fact glared upon him that it was her -brother who had aimed this deadly blow at the honour and peace of his -own humble house; and his heart grew sad with the thought that, however -indifferent she might be to him, however unattainable, here was a -distinct obstacle which must cut off all that bewildering tantalising -intercourse which at present was still possible, notwithstanding every -other hindrance. He thought of this, and not of Susan, as the floor of -the little vestry thrilled under his feet. He was bitter, aggrieved, -indignant. His troubled mother, who sat by there, half afraid to cry, -watching him with frightened, anxious, uncomprehending eyes, had done -him a sharp and personal injury. _She_ could not fancy how it was, nor -what she could have done. She followed him with mild tearful glances, -waiting with a woman's compelled patience till he should come to -himself, and revolving thoughts of Salem, and supply for the pulpit -there, with an anxious pertinacity. But in her way Mrs. Vincent was a -wise woman. She did not speak--she let him wear himself out first in -that sudden apprehension of the misfortune personal to himself, which -was at the moment so much more poignant and bitter than any other dread. -When he had subsided a little--and first of all he threw up the window, -leaning out, to his mother's great vexation, with a total disregard of -the draught, and receiving the chill of the January breeze upon his -heated brow--she ventured to say, gently, "Arthur, what are we to do?" - -"To go to Lonsdale," said Vincent. "When we came in here, I thought we -could rush off directly; but these women outside there, and this place, -remind me that I am not a free man, who can go at once and do his duty. -I am in fetters to Salem, mother. Heaven knows when I may be able to get -away. Sunday must be provided for first. No natural immediate action is -possible to me." - -"Hush, Arthur dear--oh, hush! Your duty to your flock is above your duty -even to your sister," said the widow, with a tremulous voice, timid of -saying anything to him whose mood she could not comprehend. "You must -find out when the first train starts, and I will go. I have been very -foolish," faltered the poor mother, "as you say, Arthur; but if my poor -child is to bear such a dreadful blow, I am the only one to take care of -her. Susan"--here she made a pause, her lip trembled, and she had all -but broken into tears--"will not upbraid me, dear. You must not neglect -your duty, whatever happens; and now let us go and inquire about the -train, Arthur, and you can come on Monday, after your work is over; and, -oh! my dear boy, we must not repine, but accept the arrangements of -Providence. It was what your dear father always said to his dying day." - -Her face all trembling and pale, her eyes full of tears which were not -shed, her tender humility, which never attempted a defence, and those -motherly, tremulous, wistful advices which it now for the first time -dawned upon Mrs. Vincent her son was not certain to take, moved the -young Nonconformist out of his personal vexation and misery. - -"This will not do," he said. "I must go with you; and we must go -directly. Susan may be less patient, less believing, less ready to take -our word for it, than you imagine, mother. Come; if there is anybody to -be got to do this preaching, the thing will be easy. Tozer will help me, -perhaps. We will waste no more time here." - -"I am quite rested, Arthur dear," said Mrs. Vincent; "and it will be -right for me to call at Mrs. Tozer's too. I wish I could have gone to -Mrs. Tufton's, and perhaps some others of your people. But you must tell -them, dear, that I was very hurried--and--and not very well; and that it -was family business that brought me here." - -"I do not see they have any business with the matter," said the -rebellious minister. - -"My dear, it will of course be known that I was in Carlingford; and I -know how things are spoken of in a flock," said Mrs. Vincent, rising; -"but you must tell them all I wanted to come, and could not--which, -indeed, will be quite true. A minister's family ought to be very -careful, Arthur," added the much-experienced woman. "I know how little a -thing makes mischief in a congregation. Perhaps, on the whole, I ought -not to call at Mrs. Tozer's, as there is no time to go elsewhere. But -still I should like to do it. One good friend is often everything to a -young pastor. And, my dear, you should just say a word in passing to the -women outside." - -"By way of improving the occasion?" said Vincent, with a little scorn. -"Mother, don't torture yourself about me. I shall get on very well; and -we have plenty on our hands just now without thinking of Salem. Come, -come; with this horrible cloud overhanging Susan, how can you spare a -thought for such trifles as these?" - -"Oh, Arthur, my dear boy, must not we keep you right?" said his mother; -"are not you our only hope? If this dreadful news you tell me is true, -my child will break her heart, and I will be the cause of it; and Susan -has no protector or guardian, Arthur dear, that can take care of her, -but you." - -Wiping her eyes, and walking with a feeble step, Mrs. Vincent followed -her son out of Salem; but she looked up with gentle interest to his -pulpit as she passed, and said it was a cold day to the cleaners, with -anxious carefulness. She was not carried away from her palpable -standing-ground by any wild tempest of anxiety. Susan, whose heart would -be broken by this blow, was her mother's special object in life; but the -thought of that coming sorrow which was to crush the girl's heart, made -Mrs. Vincent only the more anxiously concerned to conciliate and please -everybody whose influence could be of any importance to her son. - -So they came out into the street together, and went on to Tozer's shop. -She, tremulous, watchful, noting everything; now lost in thought as to -how the dreadful truth was to be broken to Susan; now in anxious plans -for impressing upon Arthur the necessity of considering his people--he, -stinging with personal wounds and bitterness, much more deeply alarmed -than his mother, and burning with consciousness of all the complications -which she was totally ignorant of. Fury against the villain himself, -bitter vexation that he was Lady Western's brother, anger at his mother -for admitting, at Susan for giving him her heart, at Mrs. Hilyard for he -could not tell what, because she had added a climax to all, burned in -Vincent's mind as he went on to George Street with his mother leaning on -his arm, who asked him after every wayfarer who passed them, Who was -that? It was not wonderful that the young man gradually grew into a -fever of excitement and restless misery. Everything conspired to -exasperate him,--even the fact that Sunday came so near, and could not -be escaped. The whirl of his brain came to a climax when Lady Western's -carriage drove past, and through the mist of his wretchedness he saw the -smile and the beautiful hand waved to him in sweet recognition. Oh -heaven! to bring tears to those eyes, or a pang to that heart!--to have -her turn from him shuddering, or pass him with cold looks, because her -brother was a villain, and _he_ the avenger of that crime! His mother, -almost running to keep up with his unconsciously quickened pace, cast -pitiful looks at him, inquiring what it was. The poor young fellow could -not have told even if he would. It was a combination of miseries, -sharply stimulated to the intolerable point by the mission on which he -had now to enter Tozer's shop. - -"We heard you was come, ma'am," said Tozer, graciously, "and in course -was looking for a call. I hope you are going to stay awhile and help us -take care of the pastor. He don't take that care of himself as his -friends would wish," said the butterman. "Mr. Vincent, sir, I've a deal -to say to you when you're at leisure. Old Mr. Tufton, he has a deal to -say to you. We are as anxious as ever we can be, us as are old stagers, -to keep the minister straight, ma'am. He's but a young man, and he's -come into a deal of popularity, and any one more thought on in our -connection, I don't know as I would wish to see; but it wouldn't do to -let him have his head turned. Them lectures on Church and State couldn't -but be remarked, being delivered, as you may say, in the world, all on -us making a sacrifice to do our duty by our fellow-creaturs, seein' what -we had in our power. But man is but mortal; and us Salem folks don't -like to see no signs of that weakness in a pastor; it's our duty to see -as his head's not turned." - -"Indeed, I trust there is very little fear of that," said Mrs. Vincent, -roused, and set on the defensive. "My dear boy has been used to be -appreciated, and to have people round him who could understand him. As -for having his head turned, that might happen to a man who did not know -what intelligent approbation was; but after doing so well as he did at -college, and having his dear father's approval, I must say I don't see -any cause to apprehend _that_, Mr. Tozer. I am not surprised at all, for -my part,--I always knew what my Arthur could do." - -"No more of this," said Vincent, impatiently. "Look here, I have come -on a special business. Can any one be got, do you think, to preach on -Sunday? I must go home with my mother to-day." - -"To-day!" Tozer opened his eyes, with a blank stare, as he slowly took -off his apron. "You was intimated to begin that course on the Miracles, -Mr. Vincent, if you'll excuse _me_, on Sunday. Salem folks is a little -sharp, I don't deny. It would be a great disappointment, and I can't say -I think as it would be took well if you was to go away." - -"I can't help that," said the unfortunate minister, to whom opposition -at this moment was doubly intolerable. "The Salem people, I presume, -will hear reason. My mother has come upon----" - -"Family business," interrupted Mrs. Vincent, with the deepest trembling -anxiety. "Arthur dear, let me explain it, for you are too susceptible. -My son is all the comfort we have in the world, Mr. Tozer," said the -anxious widow. "I ought not to have told him how much his sister wanted -him, but I was rash, and did so; and now I ought to bear the penalty. I -have made him anxious about Susan; but, Arthur dear, never mind; you -must let me go by myself, and on Monday you can come. Your dear father -always said his flock was his first duty, and if Sunday is a special -day, as Mr. Tozer says----" - -"Oh, Pa, is it Mrs. Vincent? and you keep her in the shop, when we are -all as anxious as ever we can be to see her," said Phoebe, who -suddenly came upon the scene. "Oh, please to come up-stairs to the -drawing-room. Oh, I _am_ so glad to see you! and it was so unkind of Mr. -Vincent not to let us know you were coming. Mamma wanted to ask you to -come here, for she thought it would be more comfortable than a -bachelor's rooms; and we did think the minister would have told _us_," -said Phoebe, with reproachful looks; "but now that you have come back -again, after such a long time, please, Mr. Vincent, let your mother come -up-stairs. They say you don't think us good enough to be trusted now; -but oh, I don't think you could ever be like that!" continued Phoebe, -pausing by the door as she ushered Mrs. Vincent into the drawing-room, -and giving the minister an appealing remonstrative glance before she -dropped her eyelids in virginal humility. Poor Vincent paused too, -disgusted and angry, but with a certain confusion. To fling out of the -house, dash off to his rooms, make his hasty preparations for the -journey, was the impulse which possessed him; but his mother was looking -back with wistful curiosity, wondering what the two could mean by -pausing behind her at the door. - -"I am exactly as I was the last time I saw you, which was on Tuesday," -he said, with some indignation. "I will follow you, please. My mother -has no time to spare, as she leaves to-day--can Mrs. Tozer see her? She -has been agitated and worn out, and we have not really a moment to -spare." - -"Appearingly not--not for your own friends, Mr. Vincent," said Mrs. -Tozer, who now presented herself. "I hope I see you well, ma'am, and -proud to see you in my house, though I will say the minister don't show -himself not so kind as was to be wished. Phoebe, don't put on none o' -your pleading looks--for shame of yourself, Miss! If Mr. Vincent has -them in Carlingford as he likes better than any in his own flock, it -ain't no concern of ours. It's a thing well known as the Salem folks are -all in trade, and don't drive their carriages, nor give themselves up to -this world and vanity. I never saw no good come, for my part, of folks -sacrificing theirselves and their good money as Tozer and the rest set -their hearts on, with that Music Hall and them advertisings and -things--not as I was meaning to upbraid you, Mr. Vincent, particular not -before your mother, as is a stranger--but we was a deal comfortabler -before them lectures and things, and taking off your attention from your -own flock." - -Before this speech was finished, the whole party had assembled in the -drawing-room, where a newly-lighted fire, hastily set light to on the -spur of the moment by Phoebe, was sputtering drearily. Mrs. Vincent -had been placed in an arm-chair at one side, and Mrs. Tozer, spreading -out her black silk apron and arranging her cap, set herself doggedly on -the other, with a little toss of her head and careful averting of her -eyes from the accused pastor. Tozer, without his apron, had drawn a -chair to the table, and was drumming on it with the blunt round ends of -his fingers; while Phoebe, in a slightly pathetic attitude, ready for -general conciliation, hovered near the minister, who grew red all over, -and clenched his hand with an emphasis most intelligible to his -frightened mother. The dreadful pause was broken by Phoebe, who rushed -to the rescue. - -"Oh, Ma, how can you!" cried that young lady--"you were all worrying -and teasing Mr. Vincent, you know you were; and if he does know that -beautiful lady," said Phoebe, with her head pathetically on one side, -and another glance at him, still more appealing and tenderly -reproachful--"and--and likes to go to see her--it's--it's the naturalest -thing that ever was. Oh, I knew he never could think anything of anybody -else in Carlingford after Lady Western! and I am sure, whatever other -people may say, I--I--never can think Mr. Vincent was to blame." - -Phoebe's words were interrupted by her feelings--she sank back into a -seat when she had concluded, and put a handkerchief to her eyes. As for -Tozer, he still drummed on the table. A certain human sympathy was in -the mind of the butterman, but he deferred to the readier utterance of -his indignant wife. - -"I never said it was any concern of ours," said Mrs. Tozer. "It ain't -our way to court nobody as doesn't seek our company; but a minister as -we've all done a deal to make comfortable, and took an interest in equal -to a son, and has been made such a fuss about as I never see in our -connection--it's disappointing, I will say, to see him a-going off after -worldly folks that don't care no more about religion than I do about -playing the piano. Not as Phoebe doesn't play the piano better than -most--but such things ain't in my thoughts. I do say it's disappointing, -and gives folks a turn. If she's pretty-lookin'--as she may be, for what -I can tell--it ain't none of the pastor's business. Them designing -ladies is the ruin of a young man; and when he deserts his flock, as -are making sacrifices, and goes off after strangers, I don't say if it's -right or wrong, but I say it's disappointin', and what wasn't looked for -at Mr. Vincent's hands." - -Vincent had listened up to this point with moderate -self-restraint--partially, perhaps, subdued by the alarmed expression of -his mother's face, who had fixed her anxious eyes upon him, and vainly -tried to convey telegraphic warnings; but the name of Lady Western stung -him. "What is all this about?" he asked, with assumed coldness. "Nobody -supposes, surely, that I am to render an account of my private friends -to the managers of the chapel. It is a mistake, if it has entered any -imagination. I shall do nothing of the kind. There is enough of this. -When I neglect my duties, I presume I shall hear of it more seriously. -In the mean time, I have real business in hand." - -"But, Arthur dear, I daresay some one has misunderstood you," said his -mother; "it always turns out so. I came the day before yesterday, Mrs. -Tozer. I left home very suddenly in great anxiety, and I was very much -fatigued by the journey, and I must go back to-day. I have been very -selfish, taking my son away from his usual occupations. Never mind me, -Arthur dear; if you have any business, leave me to rest a little with -Mrs. Tozer. I can take such a liberty here, because I know she is such a -friend of yours. Don't keep Mr. Tozer away from his business on my -account. I know what it is when time is valuable. I will just stay a -little with Mrs. Tozer, and you can let me know when it is time for the -train. Yes, I came up very hurriedly," said the gentle diplomatist, -veiling her anxiety as she watched the gloomy countenances round her. -"We had heard some bad news; I had to ask my son to go to town yesterday -for me, and--and I must go home to-day without much comfort. I feel a -good deal shaken, but I dare not stay away any longer from my dear child -at home." - -"Dear, dear; I hope it's nothing serious as has happened?" said Mrs. -Tozer, slightly mollified. - -"It is some bad news about the gentleman Susan was going to marry," said -Mrs. Vincent, with a rapid calculation of the necessities of the -position; "and she does not know yet. Arthur, my dear boy, it would be a -comfort to my mind to know about the train." - -"Oh, and you will be so fatigued!" said Phoebe. "I do so hope it's -nothing bad. I _am_ so interested about Miss Vincent. Oh, Pa, do go -down-stairs and look at the railway bill. Won't you lie down on the sofa -a little and rest? Fancy, mamma, taking two journeys in three days!--it -would kill you; and, oh, I do so hope it is nothing very bad. I have so -longed to see you and Mr. Vincent's sister. He told me all about her one -evening. Is the gentleman ill? But do lie down and rest after all your -fatigue. Mamma, don't you think it would do Mrs. Vincent good?" - -"We'll have a bit of dinner presently," said Mrs. Tozer. "Phoebe, go -and fetch the wine. There is one thing in trouble, that it makes folks -find out their real friends. It wouldn't be to Lady Western the -minister would think of taking his mother. I ain't saying anything, -Tozer--nor Mr. Vincent needn't think I am saying anything. If I speak my -mind a bit, I don't bear malice. Phoebe's a deal too feelin', Mrs. -Vincent--she's overcome, that's what she is; and if I must speak the -truth, it's disappointing to see our pastor, as we've all made -sacrifices for, following after the ungodly. I am a mother myself," -continued Mrs. Tozer, changing her seat, as her husband, followed by the -indignant Vincent, went down-stairs, "and I know a mother's feelin's: -but after what I heard from Mrs. Pigeon, and how it's going through all -the connection in Carlingford----" - -Mrs. Vincent roused herself to listen. Her son's cause was safe in her -hands. - -Meantime Vincent went angry and impetuous down-stairs. "I will not -submit to any inquisition," cried the young man. "I have done nothing I -am ashamed of. If I dine with a friend, I will suffer no questioning on -the subject. What do you mean? What right has any man in any connection -to interfere with my actions? Why, you would not venture to attack your -servant so! Am I the servant of this congregation? Am I their slave? -Must I account to them for every accident of my life? Nobody in the -world has a right to make such a demand upon me." - -"If a minister ain't a servant, we pays him his salary at the least, and -expects him to please us," said Tozer, sulkily. "If it weren't for that, -I don't give a sixpence for the Dissenting connection. Them as likes to -please themselves would be far better in a State Church, where it -wouldn't disappoint nobody; not meaning to be hard on you as has given -great satisfaction, them's my views; but if the Chapel folks is a little -particular, it's no more nor a pastor's duty to bear with them, and -return a soft answer. I don't say as I'm dead again' you, like the -women," added the butterman, softening; "they're jealous, that's what -they are; but I couldn't find it in my heart, not for my own part, to be -hard on a man as was led away after a beautiful creature like that. But -there can't no good come of it, Mr. Vincent; take my advice, sir, as -have seen a deal of the world--there can't no good come of it. A man as -goes dining with Lady Western, and thinking as she means to make a -friend of him, ain't the man for Salem. We're different sort of folks, -and we can't go on together. Old Mr. Tufton will tell you just the same, -as has gone through it all--and that's why I said both him and me had a -deal to say to you, as are a young man, and should take good advice." - -It was well for Vincent that the worthy butterman was lengthy in his -address. The sharp impression of resentment and indignation which -possessed him calmed down under this outpouring of words. He bethought -himself of his dignity, his character. A squabble of self-defence, in -which the sweet name of the lady of his dreams must be involved--an -angry encounter of words about her, down here in this mean world to -which the very thought of her was alien, wound up her young worshipper -into supernatural self-restraint. He edged past the table in the -back-parlour to the window, and stood there looking out with a -suppressed fever in his veins, biting his lip, and bearing his lecture. -On the whole, the best way, perhaps, would have been to leave -Carlingford at once, as another man would have done, and leave the -Sunday to take care of itself. But though he groaned under his bonds, -the young Nonconformist was instinctively confined by them, and had the -habits of a man trained in necessary subjection to circumstances. He -turned round abruptly when the butterman at last came to a pause. - -"I will write to one of my friends in Homerton," he said, "if you will -make an apology for me in the chapel. I daresay I could get Beecher to -come down, who is a very clever fellow; and as for the beginning of that -course of sermons----" - -He stopped short with a certain suppressed disgust. Good heavens! what -mockery it seemed. Amid these agonies of life, a man overwhelmed with -deadly fear, hatred, and grief might indeed pause to snatch a burning -lesson, or appropriate with trembling hands a consolatory promise; but -with the whole solemn future of his sister's life hanging on a touch, -with all the happiness and peace of his own involved in a feverish -uncertainty, with dark unsuspected depths of injury and wretchedness -opening at his feet--to think of courses of sermons and elaborate -preachments, ineffectual words, and pretences of teaching! For the first -time in the commotion of his soul, in the resentments and forebodings to -which he gave no utterance, in the bitter conviction of uncertainty in -everything which consumed his heart, a doubt of his own ability to teach -came to Vincent's mind. He stopped short with an intolerable pang of -impatience and self-disgust. - -"And what of that, Mr. Vincent?" said Tozer. "I can't say as I think -it'll be well took to see a stranger in the pulpit after them -intimations. I made it my business to send the notices out last night; -and after saying everywhere as you were to begin a coorse, as I always -advised, if you had took my advice, it ain't a way to stop talk to put -them off now. Old Mr. Tufton, you know, he was a different man; it was -experience as was his line; and I don't mean to say nothing against -experience," said the worthy deacon. "There ain't much true godliness, -take my word, where there's a shrinking from disclosin' the state of -your soul; but for keeping up a congregation there's nothing I know on -like a coorse--and a clever young man as has studied his subjects, and -knows the manners of them old times, and can give a bit of a description -as takes the interest, that's what I'd set my heart on for Salem. -There's but three whole pews in the chapel as isn't engaged," said the -butterman, with a softening glance at the pastor; "and the Miss Hemmings -sent over this morning to say as they meant to come regular the time you -was on the Miracles; and but for this cackle of the women, as you'll -soon get over, there ain't a thing as I can see to stop us filling up to -the most influential chapel in the connection; I mean in our parts." - -The subdued swell of expectation with which the ambitious butterman -concluded, somehow made Vincent more tolerant even in his undiminished -excitement. He gave a subdued groan over all this that was expected of -him, but not without a little answering thrill in his own troubled and -impatient heart. - -"A week can't make much difference, if I am ever to do any good," said -the young man. "I must go now; but if you explain the matter for me, you -will smooth the way. I will bring my mother and sister here," he went -on, giving himself over for a moment to a little gleam of comfort, "and -everything will go on better. I am worried and anxious now, and don't -know what I am about. Give me some paper, and I will write to Beecher. -You will like him. He is a good fellow, and preaches much better than I -do," added poor Vincent with a sigh, sitting wearily down by the big -table. He was subdued to his condition at that moment, and Tozer -appreciated the momentary humbleness. - -"I am not the man to desert my minister when he's in trouble," said the -brave butterman. "Look you here, Mr. Vincent; don't fret yourself about -it. I'll take it in hand; and I'd like to see the man in Salem as would -say to the contrary again' me and the pastor both. Make your mind easy; -I'll manage 'em. As for the women," said Tozer, scratching his head, "I -don't pretend not to be equal to that; but my missis is as reasonable as -most; and Phoebe, she'll stand up for you, whatever you do. If you'll -take my advice, and be a bit prudent, and don't go after no more -vanities, things ain't so far wrong but a week or two will make them -right." - -With this consolatory assurance Vincent began to write his letter. -Before he had concluded it, the maid came to lay the cloth for dinner, -thrusting him into a corner, where he accomplished his writing painfully -on his knee with his ink on the window-sill, a position in which -Phoebe found him when she ventured down-stairs. It was she who took -his letter from him, and ran with it to the shop to despatch it at once; -and Phoebe came back to tell him that Mrs. Vincent was resting, and -that it was _so_ pleasant to see him back again after such a time. "I -never expected you would have any patience for us when I saw you knew -Lady Western _so_ well. Oh, she is so sweetly pretty! and if I were a -gentleman, I know I should fall _deep_ in love with her," said Phoebe, -with a sidelong glance, and not without hopes of calling forth a -disclaimer from the minister; but the poor minister, jammed up in the -corner, whence it was now necessary to extricate his chair preparatory -to sitting down to a family dinner with the Tozers, was, as usual, -unequal to the occasion, and had nothing to say. Phoebe's chair was by -the minister's side during that substantial meal; and the large fire -which burned behind Mrs. Tozer at the head of the table, and the -steaming viands on the hospitable board, and the prevailing atmosphere -of cheese and bacon which entered when the door was opened, made even -Mrs. Vincent pale and flush a little in the heroic patience and -friendliness with which she bent all her powers to secure the support of -these adherents to her son. "I could have wished, Arthur, they were a -little more refined," she said, faintly, when the dinner was over, and -they were at last on their way to the train; "but I am sure they are -very _genuine_, my dear; and one good friend is often everything to a -pastor; and I am so glad we went at such a time." So glad! The young -Nonconformist heaved a tempestuous sigh, and turned away not without a -reflection upon the superficial emotions of women who at such a time -could he glad. But Mrs. Vincent, for her part, with a fatigue and -sickness of heart which she concealed from herself as much as she could, -let down her veil, and cried quietly behind it. Perhaps her share of the -day's exhaustion had not been the mildest or least hard. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI. - - -The journey was troublesome and tedious, involving a change from one -railway to another, and a troubled glimpse into the most noisy streets -of London by the way. Vincent had left his mother, as he thought, safe -in the cab which carried them to the second railway station, and was -disposing of the little luggage they had with them, that he might not -require to leave her again, when he heard an anxious voice calling him, -and found her close behind him, afloat in the bustle and confusion of -the crowd, dreadfully agitated and helpless, calling upon her Arthur -with impatient accents of distress. His annoyance to find her there -increased her confusion and trembling. "Arthur," she gasped out, "I saw -him--I saw him--not a minute ago--in a cab--with some ladies; oh, my -dear, run after him. That was the way he went. Arthur, Arthur, why don't -you go? Never mind me--I can take care of myself." - -"Who was it--how did he go?--why didn't you stop him, mother?" cried the -young man, rushing back to the spot she had left. Nothing was to be seen -there but the usual attendant group of railway porters, and the alarmed -cabman who had been keeping his eye on Mrs. Vincent. The poor widow -gasped as she gazed and saw no traces of the enemy who had eluded them. - -"Oh, Arthur, my dear boy, I thought, in such a case, it ought to be a -man to speak to him," faltered Mrs. Vincent. "He went that way--that -way, look!--in a cab, with somebody in a blue veil." - -Vincent rushed away in the direction she indicated, at a pace which he -was totally unused to, and of course quite unable to keep up beyond the -first heat; but few things could be more hopeless than to dash into the -whirl of vehicles in the crowded current of the New Road, with any vain -hope of identifying one which had ten minutes' start, and no more -distinctive mark of identity than the spectrum of a blue veil. He rushed -back again, angry with himself for losing breath in so vain an attempt, -just in time to place his mother in a carriage and jump in beside her -before the train started. Mrs. Vincent's anxiety, her questions which he -could not hear, her doubts whether it might not have been best to have -missed the train and followed Mr. Fordham, aggravated the much-tried -patience of her son beyond endurance. They set off upon their sad -journey with a degree of injured feeling on both sides, such as often -gives a miserable complication to a mutual anxiety. But the mother, -wounded and timid, feeling more than ever the difference between the boy -who was all her own and the man who had thoughts and impulses of which -she knew nothing, was naturally the first to recover and to make wistful -overtures of peace. - -"Well, Arthur," she said, after a while, leaning forward to him, her -mild voice making a gentle murmur through the din of the journey, -"though it was very foolish of me not to speak to him when I saw him, -still, dear, he is gone and out of the way; that is a great comfort--we -will never, never let him come near Susan again. That is just what I was -afraid of; I have been saying to myself all day, 'What if he should go -to Lonsdale too, and deny it all?' but Providence, you see, dear, has -ordered it for us, and now he shall never come near my poor child -again." - -"Do you think he has been to Lonsdale?" asked Vincent. - -"My poor Susan!" said his simple mother, "she will be happier than ever -when we come to her with this dreadful news. Yes; I suppose he must have -been seeing her, Arthur--and I am glad it has happened while I was away, -and before we knew; and now he is gone," said the widow, looking out of -the carriage with a sigh of relief, as if she could still see the road -by which he had disappeared--"now he is gone, there will be no need for -any dreadful strife or arguments. God always arranges things for us so -much better than we can arrange them for ourselves. Fancy if he had come -to-morrow to tear her dear heart to pieces!--Oh, Arthur, I am very -thankful! There will be nothing to do now but to think best how to break -it to her. He had ladies with him; it is dreadful to think of such -villany. Oh, Arthur, do you imagine it could be his wife?--and somebody -in a blue veil." - -"A blue veil!"--Mrs. Hilyard's message suddenly occurred to Vincent's -mind, with its special mention of that article of disguise. "If this man -is the man we suppose, he has accomplished one of his wishes," said the -minister, slowly; "and she will kill him as sure as he lives." - -"Who will kill him?--I hope nothing has occurred about your friend's -child to agitate my Susan," said his mother. "It was all the kindness of -your heart, my dear boy; but it was very imprudent of you to let Susan's -name be connected with anybody of doubtful character. Oh, Arthur, dear, -we have both been very imprudent!--you have so much of my quick temper. -It was a punishment to me to see how impatient you were to-day; but -Susan takes after your dear father. Oh, my own boy, pray; pray for her, -that her heart may not be broken by this dreadful news." - -And Mrs. Vincent leant back in her corner, and once more put down her -veil. Pray!--who was he to pray for? Susan, forlorn and innocent, -disappointed in her first love, but unharmed by any worldly soil or evil -passion?--or the other sufferers involved in more deadly sort, himself -palpitating with feverish impulses, broken loose from all his peaceful -youthful moorings, burning with discontents and aspirations, not -spiritual, but of the world? Vincent prayed none as he asked himself -that bitter question. He drew back in his seat opposite his mother, and -pondered in his heart the wonderful difference between the objects of -compassion to whom the world gives ready tears, and those of whom the -world knows and suspects nothing. Susan! he could see her mother -weeping over her in her white and tender innocence. What if, perhaps, -she broke her young heart? the shock would only send the girl with more -clinging devotion to the feet of the great Father; but as for himself, -all astray from duty and sober life, devoured with a consuming fancy, -loathing the way and the work to which he had been trained to believe -that Father had called him--who thought of weeping?--or for Her, whom -his alarmed imagination could not but follow, going forth remorseless -and silent to fulfil her promise, and kill the man who had wronged her? -Oh, the cheat of tears!--falling sweet over the young sufferers whom -sorrow blessed--drying up from the horrible complex pathways where other -souls, in undisclosed anguish, went farther and farther from God! - -With such thoughts the mother and son hurried on upon their darkling -journey. It was the middle of the night when they arrived in Lonsdale--a -night starless, but piercing with cold. They were the only passengers -who got out at the little station, where two or three lamps glared -wildly on the night, and two pale porters made a faint bustle to forward -the long convoy of carriages upon its way. One of these men looked -anxiously at the widow, as if with the sudden impulse of asking a -question, or communicating some news, but was called off by his superior -before he could speak. Vincent unconsciously observed the look, and was -surprised and even alarmed by it, without knowing why. It returned to -his mind, as he gave his mother his arm to walk the remaining distance -home. Why did the man put on that face of curiosity and wonder? But, to -be sure, to see the mild widow arrive in this unexpected way in the -middle of the icy January night, must have been surprising enough to any -one who knew her, and her gentle decorous life. He tried to think no -more of it, as they set out upon the windy road, where a few -sparely-scattered lamps blinked wildly, and made the surrounding -darkness all the darker. The station was half a mile from the town, and -Mrs. Vincent's cottage was on the other side of Lonsdale, across the -river, which stole sighing and gleaming through the heart of the little -place. Somehow the sudden black shine of that water as they caught it, -crossing the bridge, brought a shiver and flash of wild imagination to -the mind of the Nonconformist. He thought of suicides, murders, ghastly -concealment, and misery; and again the face of the porter returned upon -him. What if something had happened while the watchful mother had been -out of the way? The wind came sighing round the corners with an -ineffectual gasp, as if it too had some warning, some message to -deliver. Instinctively he drew his mother's arm closer, and hurried her -on. Suggestions of horrible unthought-of evil seemed lurking everywhere -in the noiseless blackness of the night. - -Mrs. Vincent shivered too, but it was with cold and natural agitation. -In her heart she was putting tender words together, framing tender -phrases--consulting with herself how she was to look, and how to speak. -Already she could see the half-awakened girl, starting up all glowing -and sweet from her safe rest, unforeboding of evil; and the widow -composed her face under the shadow of her veil, and sent back with an -effort the unshed tears from her eyes, that Susan might not see any -traces in her face, till she had "prepared her" a little, for that -dreadful, inevitable blow. - -The cottage was all dark, as was natural--doubly dark to-night, for -there was no light in the skies, and the wind had extinguished the lamp -which stood nearest, and on ordinary occasions threw a doubtful flicker -on the little house. "Susan will soon hear us, she is such a light -sleeper," said Mrs. Vincent. "Ring the bell, Arthur. I don't like using -the knocker, to disturb the neighbours. Everybody would think it so -surprising to hear a noise in the middle of the night from our house. -There--wait a moment. That was a very loud ring; Susan must be sleeping -very soundly if that does not wake her up." - -There was a little pause; not a sound, except the tinkling of the bell, -which they could hear inside as the peal gradually subsided, was in the -air; breathless silence, darkness, cold, an inhuman preternatural chill -and watchfulness, no welcome sound of awakening sleepers, only their own -dark shadows in the darkness, listening like all the hushed surrounding -world at that closed door. - -"Poor dear! Oh, Arthur, it is dreadful to come and break her sleep," -sighed Mrs. Vincent, whose strain of suspense and expectation heightened -the effect of the cold: "when will she sleep as sound again? Give -another ring, dear. How terribly dark and quiet it is! Ring again, -again, Arthur!--dear, dear me, to think of Susan in such a sound -sleep!--and generally she starts at any noise. It is to give her -strength to bear what is coming, poor child, poor child!" - -The bell seemed to echo out into the silent road, it pealed so clearly -and loudly through the shut-up house, but not another sound disturbed -the air without or within. Mrs. Vincent began to grow restless and -alarmed. She went out into the road, and gazed up at the closed windows; -her very teeth chattered with anxiety and cold. - -"It is very odd she does not wake," said the widow; "she must be rousing -now, surely. Arthur, don't look as if we had bad news. Try to command -your countenance, dear. Hush! don't you hear them stirring? Now, Arthur, -Arthur, oh remember not to look so dreadful as you did in Carlingford! I -am sure I hear her coming down-stairs. Hark! what is it? Ring again, -Arthur--again!" - -The words broke confused and half-articulate from her lips; a vague -dread took possession of her, as of her son. For his part, he rang the -bell wildly without pausing, and applied the knocker to the echoing door -with a sound which seemed to reverberate back and back through the -darkness. It was not the sleep of youth Vincent thought of, as, without -a word to say, he thundered his summons on the cottage door. He was not -himself aware what he was afraid of; but in his mind he saw the porter's -alarmed and curious look, and felt the ominous silence thrilling with -loud clangour of his own vain appeals through the deserted house. - -At length a sound--the mother and son both rushed speechless towards the -side-window, from which it came. The window creaked slowly open, and a -head, which was not Susan's, looked cautiously out. "Who is there?" -cried a strange voice; it's some mistake. This is Mrs. Vincent's, this -is, and nobody's at home. If you don't go away I'll spring the rattle, -and call Thieves, thieves--Fire! What do you mean coming rousing folks -like this in the dead of night?" - -"Oh, Williams, are you there? Thank God!--then all is well," said Mrs. -Vincent, clasping her hands. "It is I--you need not be afraid--I and my -son: don't disturb Miss Susan, since she has not heard us--but come -down, and let us in;--don't disturb my daughter. It is I--don't you know -my voice?" - -"Good Lord!" cried the speaker at the window; then in a different tone, -"I'm coming, ma'am--I'm coming." Instinctively, without knowing why, -Vincent drew his mother's arm within his own, and held her fast. -Instinctively the widow clung to him, and kept herself erect by his aid. -They did not say a word--no advices now about composing his countenance. -Mrs. Vincent's face was ghastly, had there been any light to see it. She -went sheer forward when the door was open, as though neither her eyes -nor person were susceptible of any other motion. An inexpressible air of -desolation upon the cottage parlour, where everything looked far too -trim and orderly for recent domestic occupation, brought to a climax -all the fanciful suggestions which had been tormenting Vincent. He -called out his sister's name in an involuntary outburst of dread and -excitement, "Susan! Susan!" The words pealed into the midnight -echoes--but there was no Susan to answer to the call. - -"It is God that keeps her asleep to keep her happy," said his mother, -with her white lips. She dropt from his arm upon the sofa in a dreadful -pause of determination, facing them with wide-open eyes--daring them to -undeceive her--resolute not to hear the terrible truth, which already in -her heart she knew. "Susan is asleep, asleep!" she cried, in a terrible -idiocy of despair, always facing the frightened woman before her with -those eyes which knew better, but would not be undeceived. The shivering -midnight, the mother's dreadful looks, the sudden waking to all this -fright and wonder, were too much for the terrified guardian of the -house. She fell on her knees at the widow's feet. - -"Oh, Lord! Miss Susan's gone! I'd have kep her if I had been here. I'd -have said her mamma would never send no gentleman but Mr. Arthur to -fetch her away. But she's gone. Good Lord! it's killed my missis--I knew -it would kill my missis. Oh, good Lord! good Lord! Run for a doctor, Mr. -Arthur; if the missis is gone, what shall we do?" - -Vincent threw the frightened creature off with a savage carelessness of -which he was quite unconscious, and raised his mother in his arms. She -had fallen back in a dreary momentary fit which was not fainting--her -eyes fluttering under their half-closed lids, her lips moving with -sounds that did not come. The shock had struck her as such shocks strike -the mortal frame when it grows old. When sound burst at last from the -moving lips, it was in a babble that mocked all her efforts to speak. -But she was not unconscious of the sudden misery. Her eyes wandered -about, taking in everything around her, and at last fixed upon a letter -lying half-open on Susan's work-table, almost the only token of disorder -or agitation in the trim little room. The first sign of revival she -showed was pointing at it with a doubtful but impatient gesture. Before -she could make them understand what she meant, that "quick temper" of -which Mrs. Vincent accused herself blazed up in the widow's eyes. She -raised herself erect out of her son's arms, and seized the paper. It was -Vincent's letter to his sister, written from London after he had failed -in his inquiries about Mr. Fordham. In the light of this dreadful -midnight the young man himself perceived how alarming and peremptory -were its brief injunctions. "Don't write to Mr. Fordham again till my -mother's return; probably I shall bring her home: we have something to -say to you on this subject, and in the mean time be sure you do as I -tell you." Mrs. Vincent gradually recovered herself as she read this; -she said it over under her breath, getting back the use of her speech. -There was not much explanation in it, yet it seemed to take the place, -in the mother's confused faculties, of an apology for Susan. "She was -frightened," said Mrs. Vincent, slowly, with strange twitches about her -lips--"she was frightened." That was all her mind could take in at once. -Afterwards, minute by minute, she raised herself up, and came to -self-command and composure. Only as she recovered did the truth reveal -itself clearly even to Vincent, who, after the first shock, had been -occupied entirely by his mother. The young man's head throbbed and -tingled as if with blows. As she sat up and gazed at him with her own -recovered looks, through the dim ice-cold atmosphere, lighted faintly -with one candle, they both woke up to the reality of their position. The -shock of the discovery was over--Susan was gone; but where, and with -whom? There was still something to hope, if everything to fear. - -"She is gone to her aunt Alice," said Mrs. Vincent, once more looking -full in the eyes of the woman who had been left in charge of the house, -and who stood shivering with cold and agitation, winding and unwinding -round her a thin shawl in which she had wrapped up her arms. "She has -gone to her aunt Alice--she was frightened, and thought something had -happened. To-morrow we can go and bring her home." - -"Oh, good Lord! No; she ain't there," cried the frightened witness, half -inaudible with her chattering teeth. - -"Or to Mrs. Hastings at the farm. Susan knows what friends I can trust -her to. Arthur, dear, let us go to bed. It's uncomfortable, but you -won't mind for one night," said the widow, with a gasp, rising up and -sitting down again. She dared not trust herself to hear any explanation, -yet all the time fixed with devouring eyes upon the face of the woman -whom she would not suffer to speak. - -"Mother, for Heaven's sake let us understand it; let her speak--let us -know. Where has Susan gone? Speak out; never mind interruptions. Where -is my sister?" cried Vincent, grasping the terrified woman by the arm. - -"Oh Lord! If the missis wouldn't look at me like that! I ain't to -blame!" cried Williams, piteously. "It was the day afore yesterday as -the ladies came. I come up to help Mary with the beds. There was the old -lady as had on a brown bonnet and the young miss in the blue veil----" - -Vincent uttered a sudden exclamation, and looked at his mother; but she -would not meet his eyes--would not acknowledge any recognition of that -fatal piece of gauze. She gave a little gasp, sitting bolt upright, -holding fast by the back of a chair, but kept her eyes steadily and -sternly upon the woman's face. - -"We tidied the best room for the lady, and Miss Susan's little closet; -and Mary had out the best sheets, for she says----" - -"Mary--where's Mary?" cried Mrs. Vincent, suddenly. - -"I know no more nor a babe," cried Williams, wringing her hands. "She's -along with Miss Susan--wherever that may be--and the one in the blue -veil." - -"Go on, go on!" cried Vincent. - -But his mother did not echo his cry. Her strained hand fell upon her lap -with a certain relaxation and relief; her gaze grew less rigid; -incomprehensible moisture came to her eyes. "Oh, Arthur, there's comfort -in it!" said Mrs. Vincent, looking like herself again. "She's taken -Mary, God bless her! she's known what she was doing. Now I'm more easy; -Williams, you can sit down and tell us the rest." - -"Go on!" cried Vincent, fiercely. "Good heavens! what good can a -blundering country girl do here?--go on." - -The women thought otherwise; they exchanged looks of sympathy and -thankfulness; they excited the impatient young man beside them, who -thought he knew the world, into the wildest exasperation by that pause -of theirs. His mother even loosed her bonnet off her aching head, and -ventured to lean back under the influence of that visionary consolation; -while Vincent, aggravated to the intolerable pitch, sprang up, and, once -more seizing Williams by the arm, shook her unawares in the violence of -his anxiety. "Answer me!" cried the young man; "you tell us everything -but the most important of all. Besides this girl--and Mary--who was with -my sister when she went away?" - -"Oh Lord! you shake the breath out of me, Mr. Arthur--you do," cried the -woman. "Who? why, who should it be, to be sure, but him as had the best -right after yourself to take Miss Susan to her mamma? You've crossed her -on the road, poor dear," said the adherent of the house, wringing her -hands; "but she was going to her ma--that's where she was going. Mr. -Arthur's letter gave her a turn; and then, to be sure, when Mr. Fordham -came, the very first thing he thought upon was to take her to her -mamma." - -Vincent groaned aloud. In his first impulse of fury he seized his hat -and rushed to the door to pursue them anyhow, by any means. Then, -remembering how vain was the attempt, came back again, dashed down the -hat he had put on, and seized upon the railway book in his pocket, to -see when he could start upon that desperate mission. Minister as he was, -a muttered curse ground through his teeth--villain! coward! -destroyer!--curse him! His passion was broken in the strangest way by -the composed sounds of his mother's voice. - -"It was very natural," she said, with dry tones, taking time to form the -words as if they choked her; "and of course, as you say, Williams, Mr. -Fordham had the best right. He will take her to his mother's--or--or -leave her in my son's rooms in Carlingford; and as she has Mary with -her--Arthur," continued his mother, fixing a warning emphatic look upon -him as he raised his astonished eyes to her face, "you know that is -quite right: after you--Mr. Fordham is--the only person--that could have -taken care of her in her journey. There, I am satisfied. Perhaps, -Williams, you had better go to bed. My son and I have something to talk -of, now I feel myself." - -"I'll go light the fire, and get you a cup of tea--oh Lord! what Miss -Susan would say if she knew you were here, and had got such a fright!" -cried the old servant; "but now you're composed, there's nothing as'll -do you good like a cup of tea." - -"Thank you--yes; make it strong, and Mr. Arthur will have some too," -said the widow; "and take care the kettle is boiling; and then, -Williams, you must not mind us, but go to bed." - -Vincent threw down his book, and stared at her with something of that -impatience and half-contempt which had before moved him. "If the world -were breaking up, I suppose women could still drink tea!" he said, -bitterly. - -"Oh, Arthur, my dear boy," cried his mother, "don't you see we must put -the best face on it now? Everybody must not know that Susan has been -carried away by a---- O God, forgive me! don't let _me_ curse him, -Arthur. Let us get away from Lonsdale, dear, before we say anything. -Words will do no good. Oh, my dear boy, till we know better, Mr. Fordham -is Susan's betrothed husband, and he has gone to take care of her to -Carlingford. Hush--don't say any more. I am going to compose myself, -Arthur, for my child's sake," cried the mother, with a smile of anguish, -looking into her son's face. How did she drive those tears back out of -her patient eyes? how did she endure to talk to the old servant about -what was to be done to-morrow--and how the sick lady was next door--till -the excited and shivering attendant could be despatched up-stairs and -got out of the way? Woman's weaker nature, that could mingle the common -with the great; or woman's strength, that could endure all things--which -was it? The young man, sitting by in a sullen, intolerable suspense, -waiting till it was practicable to rush away through the creeping gloom -of night after the fugitives, could no more understand these phenomena -of love and woe, than he could translate the distant mysteries of the -spheres. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII. - - -Early morning, but black as midnight; bitter cold, if bitterer cold -could be, than that to which they entered when they first came to the -deserted house; the little parlour, oh, so woefully trim and tidy, with -the fire laid ready for lighting, which even the mother, anxious about -her son, had not had the heart to light; the candle on the table between -them lighting dimly this speechless interval; some shawls laid ready to -take with them when they went back again to the earliest train; Mrs. -Vincent sitting by with her bonnet on, and its veil drooping half over -her pale face, sometimes rousing up to cast hidden looks of anxiety at -her son, sometimes painfully saying something with a vain effort at -smiling--what o'clock was it? when did he think they could reach -town?--little ineffectual attempts at the common intercourse, which -seemed somehow to deepen the dreadful silence, the shivering cold, the -utter desolation of the scene. Such a night!--its minutes were hours as -they stole by noiseless in murderous length and tedium--and the climax -of its misery was in the little start with which Mrs. Vincent now and -then woke up out of her own thoughts to make that pitiful effort to talk -to her son. - -They were sitting thus, waiting, not even venturing to look at each -other, when a sudden sound startled them. Nothing more than a footstep -outside approaching softly. A footstep--surely two steps. They could -hear them far off in this wonderful stillness, making steady progress -near--nearer. Mrs. Vincent rose up, stretching her little figure into a -preternatural hysteric semblance of height. Who was it? Two -people--surely women--and what women could be abroad at such an hour? -One lighter, one heavier, irregular as female steps are, coming this -way--this way! Her heart fluttered in the widow's ears with a sound that -all but obliterated those steps which still kept advancing. Hark, sudden -silence! a pause--then, oh merciful heaven, could it be true? a tinkle -at the bell--a summons at the closed door. - -Mrs. Vincent had flown forth with open arms--with eyes blinded. The poor -soul thought nothing less than that it was her child returned. They -carried her back speechless, in a disappointment too cruel and bitter to -have expression. Two women--one sober, sleepy, nervous, and full of -trouble, unknown to either mother or son--the other with a certain -dreadful inspiration in her dark face, and eyes that gleamed out of it -as if they had concentrated into them all the blackness of the night. - -"You are going back, and so am I," Mrs. Hilyard said. "I came to say a -word to you before I go away. If I have been anyhow the cause, forgive -me. God knows, of all things in the world the last I dreamt of was to -injure this good woman or invade her innocent house. Do you know where -they have gone?--did she leave any letters?--Tell me. She shall be -precious to me as my own, if I find them out." - -Mrs. Vincent freed herself from her son's arms, and got up with her -blanched face. "My daughter--followed me--to Carlingford," she said, in -broken words, with a determination which sat almost awful on her -weakness. "We have had the great misfortune--to cross each other--on the -way. I am going--after her--directly. I am not afraid--of my Susan. She -is all safe in my son's house." - -The others exchanged alarmed looks, as they might have done had a child -suddenly assumed the aspect of a leader. She, who could scarcely steady -her trembling limbs to stand upright, faced their looks with a dumb -denial of her own anguish. "It is--very unfortunate--but I am not -anxious," she said, slowly, with a ghastly smile. Human nature could do -no more. She sank down again on her seat, but still faced them--absolute -in her self-restraint, rejecting pity. Not even tears should fall upon -Susan's sweet name--not while her mother lived to defend it in life and -death. - -The Carlingford needlewoman stood opposite her, gazing with eyes that -went beyond that figure, and yet dwelt upon it, at so wonderful a -spectacle. Many a terrible secret of life unknown to the minister's -gentle mother throbbed in her heart; but she stood in a pause of wonder -before that weaker woman. The sight of her stayed the passionate current -for a moment, and brought the desperate woman to a pause. Then she -turned to the young man, who stood speechless by his mother's side-- - -"You are a priest, and yet you do not curse," she said. "Is God as -careless of a curse as of a blessing? _She_ thinks He will save the -Innocents yet. She does not know that He stands by like a man, and sees -them murdered, and shines and rains all the same. God! No--He never -interferes. Good-bye," she added, suddenly, holding out to him the thin -hand upon which, even in that dreadful moment, his eye still caught the -traces of her work, the scars of the needle, and stains of the coarse -colour. "If you ever see me again, I shall be a famous woman, Mr. -Vincent. You will have a little of the trail of my glory, and be able to -furnish details of my latter days. This good Miss Smith here will tell -you of the life it was before; but if I should make a distinguished end -after all, come to see me then--never mind where. I speak madly, to be -sure, but you don't understand me. There--not a word. You preach very -well, but I am beyond preaching now--Good-bye." - -"No," said Vincent, clutching her hand--"never, if you go with that -horrible intention in your eyes; I will say no farewell to such an -errand as this." - -The eyes in their blank brightness paused at him for a moment before -they passed to the vacant air on which they were always fixed--paused -with a certain glance of troubled amusement, the lightning of former -days. "You flatter me," she said, steadily, with the old habitual -movement of her mouth. "It is years since anybody has taken the trouble -to read any intention in my eyes. But don't you understand yet that a -woman's intention is the last thing she is likely to perform in this -world? We do have meanings now and then, we poor creatures, but they -seldom come to much. Good-bye, good-bye!" - -"You cannot look at me," said Vincent, with a conscious incoherence, -reason or argument being out of the question. "What is it you see behind -there? Where are you looking with those dreadful eyes?" - -She brought her eyes back as he spoke, with an evident effort, to fix -them upon his face. "I once remarked upon your high-breeding," said the -strange woman. "A prince could not have shown finer manners than you did -in Carlingford, Mr. Vincent. Don't disappoint me now. If I see ghosts -behind you, what then? Most people that have lived long enough, come to -see ghosts before they die. But this is not exactly the time for -conversation, however interesting it may be. If you and I ever see each -other again, things will have happened before then; you too, perhaps, -may have found the ghosts out. I appoint you to come to see me after you -have come to life again, in the next world. Good-night. I don't forget -that you gave me your blessing when we parted last." - -She was turning away when Mrs. Vincent rose, steadying herself by the -chair, and put a timid hand upon the stranger's arm. "I don't know who -you are," said the widow; "it is all a strange jumble; but I am an older -woman than you, and a--a minister's wife. You have something on your -mind. My son is frightened you will do something--I cannot tell what. -You are much cleverer than I am; but I am, as I say, an older woman, and -a--a minister's wife. I am not--afraid of anything. Yes! I know God does -not always save the Innocents, as you say--but He knows why, though we -don't. Will you go with me? If you have gone astray when you were -young," said the mild woman, raising up her little figure with an -ineffable simplicity, "I will never ask any questions, and it will not -matter--for everybody I care for knows me. The dreadful things you think -of will not happen if we go together. I was a minister's wife thirty -years. I know human nature and God's goodness. Come with me." - -"Mother, mother! what are you saying?" cried Vincent, who had all the -time been making vain attempts to interrupt this extraordinary speech. -Mrs. Hilyard put him away with a quick gesture. She took hold of the -widow's hand with that firm, supporting, compelling pressure under -which, the day before, Mrs. Vincent had yielded up all her secrets. She -turned her eyes out of vacancy to the little pale woman who offered her -this protection. A sudden mist surprised those gleaming eyes--a sudden -thrill ran through the thin, slight, iron figure, upon which fatigue and -excitement seemed to make no impression. The rock was stricken at last. - -"No--no," she sighed, with a voice that trembled. "No--no! the lamb and -the lion do not go together yet in this poor world. No--no--no. I wonder -what tears have to do in my eyes; ah, God in the skies! if you ever do -miracles, do one for this woman, and save her child! Praying and crying -are strange fancies for me--I must go away, but first," she said, still -holding Mrs. Vincent fast--"a woman is but a woman after all--if it is -more honourable to be a wicked man's wife than to have gone astray, as -you call it, then there is no one in the world who can breathe suspicion -upon me. Ask this other good woman here, who knows all about me, but -fears me, like you. Fears me! What do you suppose there can be to fear, -Mr. Vincent, you who are a scholar, and know better than these soft -women," said Mrs. Hilyard, suddenly dropping the widow's hand, and -turning round upon the young minister, with an instant throwing off of -all emotion, which had the strangest horrifying effect upon the little -agitated company, "in a woman who was born to the name of Rachel -Russell, the model English wife? Will the world ever believe harm, do -you imagine, of such a name? I will take refuge in my ancestress. But we -go different ways, and have different ends to accomplish," she -continued, with a sudden returning gleam of the subdued -horror--"Good-night--good-night!" - -"Oh, stop her, Arthur--stop her!--Susan will be at Carlingford when we -get there; Susan will go nowhere else but to her mother," cried Mrs. -Vincent, as the door closed on the nocturnal visitors--"I am as sure--as -sure----! Oh, my dear, do you think I can have any doubt of my own -child? As for Susan going astray--or being carried off--or falling into -wickedness--Arthur!" said his mother, putting back her veil from her -pale face, "now I have got over this dreadful night, I know -better--nobody must breathe such a thing to me. Tell her so, dear--tell -her so!--call her back--they will be at Carlingford when we get there!" - -Vincent drew his mother's arm through his own, and led her out into the -darkness, which was morning and no longer night. "A few hours longer and -we shall see," he said, with a hard-drawn breath. Into that darkness -Mrs. Hilyard and her companion had disappeared. There was another line -of railway within a little distance of Lonsdale, but Vincent was at -pains not to see his fellow-travellers as he placed his mother once more -in a carriage, and once more caught the eye of the man whose curious -look had startled him. When the grey morning began to dawn, it revealed -two ashen faces, equally speechless and absorbed with thoughts which -neither dared communicate to the other. They did not even look at each -other, as the merciful noise and motion wrapped them in that little -separate sphere of being. One possibility and no more kept a certain -coherence in both their thoughts, otherwise lost in wild chaos--horrible -suspense--an uncertainty worse than death. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII. - - -It was the very height of day when the travellers arrived in -Carlingford. It would be vain to attempt to describe their transit -through London in the bustling sunshine of the winter morning after the -vigil of that night, and in the frightful suspense and excitement of -their minds. Vincent remembered, for years after, certain cheerful -street-corners, round which they turned on their way from one station to -another, with shudders of recollection, and an intense consciousness of -all the life circulating about them, even to the attitudes of the boys -that swept the crossings, and their contrast with each other. His mother -made dismal attempts now and then to say something; that he was looking -pale; that after all he could yet preach, and begin his course on the -Miracles; that it would be such a comfort to rest when they got home; -but at last became inaudible, though he knew by her bending across to -him, and the motion of those parched lips with which she still tried to -smile, that the widow still continued to make those pathetic little -speeches without knowing that she had become speechless in the rising -tide of her agony. But at last they reached Carlingford, where -everything was at its brightest, all the occupations of life afloat in -the streets, and sunshine, lavish though ineffectual, brightening the -whole aspect of the town. When they emerged from the railway, Mrs. -Vincent took her son's arm, and for the last time made some remark with -a ghastly smile--but no sound came from her lips. They walked up the -sunshiny street together with such silent speed as would have been -frightful to look at had anybody known what was in their hearts. Mrs. -Pigeon, who was coming along the other side, crossed over on purpose to -accost the minister and be introduced to his mother, but was driven -frantic by the total blank unconsciousness with which the two swept past -her; "taking no more notice than if he had never set eyes on me in his -born days!" as she described it afterwards. The door of the house where -Vincent lived was opened to them briskly by the little maid in holiday -attire; everything wore the most sickening, oppressive brightness within -in fresh Saturday cleanliness. Vincent half carried his mother up the -steps, and held fast in his own to support her the hand which he had -drawn tightly through his arm. "Is there any one here? Has anybody come -for me since I left?" he asked, with the sound of his own words ringing -shrilly into his ears. "Please, sir, Mr. Tozer's been," said the girl, -alertly, with smiling confidence. She could not comprehend the groan -with which the young man startled all the clear and sunshiny atmosphere, -nor the sudden rustle of the little figure beside him, which moved -somehow, swaying with the words as if they were a wind. "Mother, you are -going to faint!" cried Vincent--and the little maid flew in terror to -call her mistress, and bring a glass of water. But when she came back, -the mother and son were no longer in the bright hall with its newly -cleaned wainscot and whitened floor. When she followed them up-stairs -with the water, it was the minister who had dropped into the easy-chair -with his face hidden on the table, and his mother was standing beside -him. Mrs. Vincent looked up when the girl came in and said, "Thank -you--that will do," looking in her face, and not at what she carried. -She was of a dreadful paleness, and looked with eyes that were terrible -to that wondering observer upon the little attendant. "Perhaps there -have been some letters or messages," said Mrs. Vincent. "We--we expected -somebody to come; think! a young lady came here?--and when she found we -were gone----" - -"Only Miss Phoebe!" said the girl, in amazement--"to say as her -Ma----" - -"Only Miss Phoebe!" repeated the widow, as if she did not comprehend -the words. Then she turned to her son, and smoothed down the ruffled -locks on his head; then held out her hand again to arrest the girl as -she was going away. "Has your mistress got anything in the house," she -asked--"any soup or cold meat, or anything? Would you bring it up, -please, directly?--soup would perhaps be best--or a nice chop. Ask what -she has got, and bring it up on a tray. You need not lay the cloth--only -a tray with a napkin. Yes, I see you know what I mean." - -"Mother!" cried Vincent, raising his head in utter fright as the maid -left the room. He thought in the shock his mother's gentle wits had -gone. - -"You have eaten nothing, dear, since we left," she said, with a -heartbreaking smile. "I am not going crazy, Arthur. O no, no, my dear -boy! I will not go crazy; but you must eat something, and not be killed -too. Susan is not here," said Mrs. Vincent, with a ghastly, wistful look -round the room; "but we are not going to distrust her at the very first -moment, far less her Maker, Arthur. Oh, my dear, I must not speak, or -something will happen to me; and nothing must happen to you or me till -we have found your sister. You must eat when it comes, and then you must -go away. Perhaps," said Mrs. Vincent, sitting down and looking her son -direct in the eyes, as if to read any suggestion that could arise there, -"she has lost her way:--perhaps she missed one of these dreadful -trains--perhaps she got on the wrong railway, Arthur. Oh, my dear boy, -you must take something to eat, and then you must go and bring Susan -home. She has nobody to take care of her but you." - -Vincent returned his mother's look with a wild inquiring gaze, but with -his lips he said "Yes," not daring to put in words the terrible thoughts -in his heart. The two said nothing to each other of the horror that -possessed them both, or of the dreadful haze of uncertainty in which -that Susan whom her brother was to go and bring home as if from an -innocent visit, was now enveloped. Their eyes spoke differently as they -looked into each other, and silently withdrew again, each from each, not -daring to communicate further. Just then a slight noise came below, to -the door. Mrs. Vincent stood up directly in an agony of listening, -trembling all over. To be sure it was nothing. When nothing came of it, -the poor mother sank back again with a piteous patience, which it was -heartbreaking to look at; and Vincent returned from the window which he -had thrown open in time to see Phoebe Tozer disappear from the door. -They avoided each other's eyes now; one or two heavy sobs broke forth -from Mrs. Vincent's breast, and her son walked with a dreadful funereal -step from one end of the room to the other. Not even the consolation of -consulting together what was to be done, or what might have happened, -was left them. They dared not put their position into words--dared not -so much as inquire in their thoughts where Susan was, or what had -befallen her. She was to be brought home; but whence or from what abyss -neither ventured to say. - -Upon their misery the little maid entered again with her tray, and the -hastily prepared refreshment which Mrs. Vincent had ordered for her son. -The girl's eyes were round and staring with wonder and curiosity; but -she was aware, with female instinct, that the minister's mother, awful -little figure, with lynx eyes, which nothing escaped, was watching her, -and her observations were nervous accordingly. "Please, sir, it's a -chop," said the girl--"please, sir, missus sent to know was the other -gentleman a-coming?--and please, if he is, there ain't nowhere as missus -knows of, as he can sleep--with the lady, and you, and all; and the -other lodgers as well"--said the handmaiden with a sigh, as she set down -her tray and made a desperate endeavour to turn her back upon Mrs. -Vincent, and to read some interpretation of all this in the unguarded -countenance of the minister; "and please, am I to bring up the Wooster -sauce, and would the lady like some tea or anythink? And missus would be -particklar obliged if you would say. Miss Phoebe's been to ask the -gentleman to tea, but where he's to sleep, missus says----" - -"Yes, yes, to be sure," said Vincent, impatiently; "he can have my room, -tell your mistress--that will do--we don't want anything more." - -"Mr. Vincent is going to leave town again this afternoon," said his -mother. "Tell your mistress that I shall be glad to have a little -conversation with her after my son goes away--and you had better bring -the sauce--but it would have saved you trouble and been more sensible, -if you had put it on the tray in the first place. Oh, Arthur," cried his -mother again, when she had seen the little maid fairly out--"do be a -little prudent, my dear! When a minister lodges with one of his flock, -he must think of appearances--and if it were only for my dear child's -sake, Arthur! Susan must not be spoken of through our anxiety; oh, my -child!--Where can she be?--Where can she be?" - -"Mother dear, you must keep up, or everything is lost!" cried Vincent, -for the first time moved to the depths of his heart by that outcry of -despair. He came to her and held her trembling hands, and laid his face -upon them without any kiss or caress, that close clinging touch of -itself expressing best the fellowship of their wretchedness. But Mrs. -Vincent put her son away from her, when the door again bounced open. -"My dear boy, here is the sauce, and you must eat your chop," she said, -getting up and drawing forward a chair for him; her hands, which -trembled so, grew steady as she put everything in order, cut the bread, -and set his plate before him. "Oh, eat something, Arthur dear--you must, -or you cannot go through it," said the widow, with her piteous smile. -Then she sat down at the table by him in her defensive armour. The -watchful eyes of "the flock" were all around spying upon the dreadful -calamity which had overwhelmed them; at any moment the college companion -whom Vincent had sent for might come in upon them in all the gaiety of -his holiday. What they said had to be said with this consciousness--and -the mother, in the depth of her suspense and terror, sat like a queen -inspected on all sides, and with possible traitors round her, but -resolute and self-commanding in her extremity, determined at least to be -true to herself. - -"Arthur, can you think where to go?" she said, after a little interval, -almost under her breath. - -"To London first," said Vincent--"to inquire after--_him_, curse him! -don't say anything, mother--I am only a man after all. Then, according -to the information I get.--God help us!--if I don't get back before -another Sunday----" - -Mrs. Vincent gave a convulsive start, which shook the table against -which she was leaning, and fell to shivering as if in a fit of ague. -"Oh, Arthur, Arthur, what are you saying? Another Sunday!" she -exclaimed, with a cry of despair. To live another day seemed impossible -in that horror. But self-restraint was natural to the woman who had -been, as she said, a minister's wife for thirty years. She clasped her -hands tight, and took up her burden again. "I will see Mr. Beecher when -he comes, dear, and--and speak to him," she said, with a sigh, "and I -will see the Tozers and--and your people, Arthur; and if it should be -God's will to keep us so long in suspense, if--if--I can keep alive, -dear, I may be of some use. Oh, Arthur, Arthur, the Lord have pity upon -us! if my darling comes back, will she come here or will she go home? -Don't you think she will come here? If I go back to Lonsdale, I will not -be able to rest for thinking she is at Carlingford; and if I stay--oh, -Arthur, where do you think Susan will go to? She might be afraid to see -you, and think you would be angry, but she never could distrust her poor -mother, who was the first to put her in danger; and to think of my dear -child going either there or here, and not finding me, Arthur! My dear, -you are not eating anything. You can never go through it all without -some support. For my sake, try to eat a little, my own boy; and oh, -Arthur, what must I do?" - -"These Tozers and people will worry you to death if you stay here," said -the minister, with an impatient sigh, as he thought of his own -difficulties; "but I must not lose time by going back with you to -Lonsdale, and you must not travel by yourself, and this is more in the -way, whatever happens. Send word to Lonsdale that you are to have a -message by telegraph immediately--without a moment's loss of time--if -she comes back." - -"You might say _when_, Arthur, not _if_," said his mother, with a little -flash of tender resentment--then she gave way for the moment, and leaned -her head against his arm and held him fast with that pressure and close -clasp which spoke more than any words. When she raised her pale face -again, it was to entreat him once more to eat. "Try to take something, -if it were only a mouthful, for Susan's sake," pleaded the widow. Her -son made a dismal attempt as she told him. Happy are the houses that -have not seen such dreadful pretences of meals where tears were the only -possible food! When she saw him fairly engaged in this desperate effort -to take "some support," the poor mother went away and wrote a crafty -female letter, which she brought to him to read. He would have smiled at -it had the occasion been less tragic. It was addressed to the minister -of "the connection" at Lonsdale, and set forth how she was detained at -Carlingford by some family affairs--how Susan was visiting friends and -travelling, and her mother was not sure where to address her--and how it -would be the greatest favour if he would see Williams at the cottage, -and have a message despatched to Mrs. Vincent the moment her daughter -returned. "Do you not think it would be better to confide in him a -little, and tell him what anxiety we are in?" said Vincent, when he read -this letter. His mother took it out of his hands with a little cry. - -"Oh, Arthur, though you are her brother, you are only a man, and don't -understand," cried Mrs. Vincent. "Nobody must have anything to say about -my child. If she comes to-night, she will come here," continued the poor -mother, pausing instinctively once more to listen; "she might have been -detained somewhere; she may come at any moment--at any moment, Arthur -dear! Though these telegraphs frighten me, and look as if they must -bring bad news, I will send you word directly when my darling girl -comes; but oh, my dear, though it is dreadful to send you away, and to -think of your travelling to-morrow and breaking the Sunday, and very -likely your people hearing it--oh, Arthur, God knows better, and will -not blame you: and if you will not take anything more to eat, you should -not lose time, my dearest boy! Don't look at me, Arthur--don't say -good-bye. Perhaps you may meet her before you leave--perhaps you may not -need to go away. Oh, Arthur dear, don't lose any more time!" - -"It is scarcely time for the train yet," said the minister, getting up -slowly; "the world does not care, though our hearts are breaking; it -keeps its own time. Mother, good-bye. God knows what may have happened -before I see you again." - -"Oh, Arthur, say nothing--say nothing! What can happen but my child to -come home?" cried his mother, as he clasped her hands and drew her -closer to him. She leaned against her son's breast, which heaved -convulsively, for one moment, and no more. She did not look at him as he -went slowly out of the room, leaving her to the unspeakable silence and -solitude in which every kind of terror started up and crept about. But -before Vincent had left the house his mother's anxiety and hope were -once more excited to passion. Some one knocked and entered; there was a -sound of voices and steps on the stair audibly approaching this room in -which she sat with her fears. But it was not Susan; it was a young man -of Arthur's own age, with his travelling-bag in his hand, and his -sermons in his pocket. He had no suspicion that the sight of him brought -the chill of despair to her heart as he went up to shake hands with his -friend's mother. "Vincent would not come back to introduce me," said Mr. -Beecher, "but he said I should find you here. I have known him many -years, and it is a great pleasure to make your acquaintance. Sometimes -he used to show me your letters years ago. Is Miss Vincent with you? It -is pleasant to get out of town for a little, even though one has to -preach; and they will all be interested in 'Omerton to hear how Vincent -is getting on. Made quite a commotion in the world, they say, with these -lectures of his. I always knew he would make an 'it if he had -fair-play." - -"I am very glad to see you," said Mrs. Vincent. "I have just come up -from Lonsdale, and everything is in a confusion. When people grow old," -said the poor widow, busying herself in collecting the broken pieces of -bread which Arthur had crumbled down by way of pretending to eat, "they -feel fatigue and being put out of their way more than they ought. What -can I get for you? will you have a glass of wine, and dinner as soon as -it can be ready? My son had to go away." - -"Preaching somewhere?" asked the lively Mr. Beecher. - -"N-no; he has some--private business to attend to," said Mrs. Vincent, -with a silent groan in her heart. - -"Ah!--going to be married, I suppose?" said the man from 'Omerton; -"that's the natural consequence after a man gets a charge. Miss Vincent -is not with you, I think you said? I'll take a glass of wine, thank you; -and I hear one of the flock has sent over to ask me to tea--Mr. Tozer, a -leading man, I believe, among our people here," added Mr. Beecher, with -a little complacence. "It's very pleasant when a congregation is -hospitable and friendly. When a pastor's popular, you see, it always -reacts upon his brethren. May I ask if you are going to Mr. Tozer's to -tea to-night?" - -"Oh, no," faltered poor Mrs. Vincent, whom prudence kept from adding, -"heaven forbid!" "They--did not know I was here," she continued, -faintly, turning away to ring the bell. Mr. Beecher, who flattered -himself on his penetration, nodded slightly when her back was turned. -"Jealous that they've asked me," said the preacher, with a lively thrill -of human satisfaction. How was he to know the blank of misery, the -wretched feverish activity of thought, that possessed that mild little -woman, as she gave her orders about the removal of the tray, and the -dinner which already was being prepared for the stranger? But the lively -young man from 'Omerton perceived that there was something wrong. -Vincent's black looks when he met him at the door, and the exceeding -promptitude of that invitation to tea, were two and two which he could -put together. He concluded directly that the pastor, though he had made -"an 'it," was not found to suit the connection in Carlingford; and that -possibly another candidate for Salem might be required ere long. "I -would not injure Vincent for the world," he said to himself, "but if he -does not 'it it, I might." The thought was not unpleasant. Accordingly, -while Vincent's mother kept her place there in the anguish of her heart, -thinking that perhaps, even in this dreadful extremity, she might be -able to do something for Arthur with his people, and conciliate the -authorities, her guest was thinking, if Vincent were to leave -Carlingford, what a pleasant distance from town it was, and how very -encouraging of the Tozers to ask him to tea. It might come to something -more than preaching for a friend; and if Vincent did not "'it it," and a -change were desirable, nobody could tell what might happen. All this -smiling fabric the stranger built upon the discomposed looks of the -Vincents and Phoebe's invitation to tea. - -To sit by him and keep up a little attempt at conversation--to -superintend his dinner, and tell him what she knew of Salem and her -son's lectures, and his success generally, as became the minister's -mother--was scarcely so hard as to be left afterwards, when he went out -to Tozer's, all alone once more with the silence, with the sounds -outside, with the steps that seem to come to the door, and the carriages -that paused in the street, all sending dreadful thrills of hope through -poor Mrs. Vincent's worn-out heart. Happily, her faculties were engaged -by those frequent and oft-repeated tremors. In the fever of her anxiety, -always startled with an expectation that at last this was Susan, she did -not enter into the darker question where Susan might really be, and what -had befallen the unhappy girl. Half an hour after Mr. Beecher left her, -Phoebe Tozer came in, affectionate and anxious, driving the wretched -mother almost wild by the sound of her step and the apparition of her -young womanhood, to beg and pray that Mrs. Vincent would join them at -their "friendly tea." "And so this is Mr. Vincent's room," said -Phoebe, with a bashful air; "it feels so strange to be here! and you -must be _so_ dull when he is gone. Oh, do come, and let us try to amuse -you a little; though I am sure none of us could ever be such good -company as the minister--oh, not half, nor quarter!" cried Phoebe. -Even in the midst of her misery, the mother was woman enough to think -that Phoebe showed too much interest in the minister. She declined the -invitation with gentle distinctness. She did not return the enthusiastic -kiss which was bestowed upon her. "I am very tired, thank you," said -Mrs. Vincent. "On Monday, if all is well, I will call to see your mamma. -I hope you will not catch cold coming out in this thin dress. I am sure -it was very kind of you; but I am very tired to-night. On--Monday." -Alas, Monday! could this horror last so long, and she not die? or would -all be well by that time, and Susan in her longing arms? The light went -out of her eyes, and the breath from her heart, as that dreadful -question stared her in the face. She scarcely saw Phoebe's -withdrawal; she lay back in her chair in a kind of dreadful trance, till -those stumbling steps and passing carriages began again, and roused her -back into agonised life and bootless hope. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX. - - -Vincent had shaken hands with his friend at the door, and hurried past, -saying something about losing the train, in order to escape -conversation; but, with the vivid perceptions of excitement, he heard -the delivery of Phoebe's message, and saw the complacence with which -the Homerton man regarded the invitation which had anticipated his -arrival. The young Nonconformist had enough to think of as he took his -way once more to the railway, and tea at Mrs. Tozer's was anything but -attractive to his own fancy; yet in the midst of his wretchedness he -could not overcome the personal sense of annoyance which this trifling -incident produced. It came like a prick of irritating pain, to aggravate -the dull horror which throbbed through him. He despised himself for -being able to think of it at all, but at the same time it came back to -him, darting unawares again and again into his thoughts. Little as he -cared for the entertainments and attention of his flock, he was -conscious of a certain exasperation in discovering their eagerness to -entertain another. He was disgusted with Phoebe for bringing the -message, and disgusted with Beecher for looking pleased to receive it. -"Probably he thinks he will supersede me," Vincent thought, in sudden -gusts of disdain now and then, with a sardonic smile on his lip, waking -up afterwards with a thrill of deeper self-disgust, to think that -anything so insignificant had power to move him. When he plunged off -from Carlingford at last, in the early falling darkness of the winter -afternoon, and looked back upon the few lights struggling red through -the evening mists, it was with a sense of belonging to the place where -he had left an interloper who might take his post over his head, which, -perhaps, no other possible stimulant could have given him. He thought -with a certain pang of Salem, and that pulpit which was his own, but in -which another man should stand to-morrow, with a quickened thrill of -something that was almost jealousy; he wondered what might be the -sentiments of the connection about his deputy--perhaps Brown and Pigeon -would prefer that florid voice to his own--perhaps Phoebe might find -the substitute more practicable than the incumbent. Nothing before had -ever made Salem so interesting to the young pastor as Beecher's -complacence over that invitation to tea. - -But he had much more serious matters to consider in his rapid journey. -Vincent was but a man, though he was Susan's brother. He did not share -those desperate hopes which afforded a kind of forlorn comfort and agony -of expectation to his mother's heart. No thought that Susan would come -home either to Carlingford or Lonsdale was in his mind. In what way -soever the accursed villain, whom his face blanched with deadly rage to -think of, had managed to get her in his power, Susan's sweet life was -lost, her brother knew. He gave her up with unspeakable anguish and -pity; but he did give her up, and hoped for no deliverance. Shame had -taken possession of that image which fancy kept presenting in double -tenderness and brightness to him as his heart burned in the darkness. He -might find her indeed; he might snatch her out of these polluting arms, -and bring home the sullied lily to her mother, but never henceforward -could hope or honour blossom about his sister's name. He made up his -mind to this in grim misery, with his teeth clenched, and a desperation -of rage and horror in his heart. But in proportion to his conviction -that Susan would not return, was his eagerness to find her, and snatch -her away. To think of her in horror and despair was easier than to think -of her deluded and happy, as might be--as most probably was the case. -This latter possibility made Vincent frantic. He could scarcely endure -the slowness of the motion which was the highest pitch of speed that -skill and steam had yet made possible. No express train could travel so -fast as the thoughts which went before him, dismal pioneers penetrating -the most dread abysses. To think of Susan happy in her horrible downfall -and ruin was more than flesh or blood could bear. - -When Vincent reached town, he took his way without a moment's hesitation -to the street in Piccadilly where he had once sought Mr. Fordham. He -approached the place now with no precautions; he had his cab driven up -to the door, and boldly entered as soon as it was opened. The house was -dark and silent but for the light in the narrow hall; nobody there at -that dead hour, while it was still too early for dinner. And it was not -the vigilant owner of the place, but a drowsy helper in a striped jacket -who presented himself at the door, and replied to Vincent's inquiry for -Colonel Mildmay, that the Colonel was not at home--never was at home at -that hour--but was not unwilling to inquire, if the gentleman would -wait. Vincent put up the collar of his coat about his ears, and stood -back with eager attention, intently alive to everything. Evidently the -ruler of the house was absent as well as the Colonel. The man lounged to -the staircase and shouted down, leaning upon the bannisters. No aside or -concealment was possible in this perfectly easy method of communication. -With an anxiety strongly at variance with the colloquy thus going on, -and an intensification of all his faculties which only the height of -excitement could give, Vincent stood back and listened. He heard every -step that passed outside; the pawing of the horse in the cab that waited -for him, the chance voices of the passengers, all chimed in, without -interrupting the conversation between the man who admitted him and his -fellow-servant down-stairs. - -"Jim, is the Colonel at home?--he ain't, to be sure, but we wants to -know particklar. Here," in a slightly lowered voice, "his mother's been -took bad, and the parson's sent for him. When is he agoing to be in to -dinner? Ask Cookie; she'll be sure to know." - -"The Colonel ain't coming in to dinner, stoopid," answered the unseen -interlocutor; "he ain't been here all day. Out o' town. Couldn't you say -so, instead of jabbering? Out o' town. It's allays safe to say, and -this time it's true." - -"What's he adoing of, in case the gen'leman should want to know?" said -the fellow at the head of the stair. - -"After mischief," was the brief and emphatic answer. "You come along -down to your work, and let the Colonel alone." - -"Any mischief in particklar?" continued the man, tossing a dirty napkin -in his hand, and standing in careless contempt, with his back to the -minister. "It's a pleasant way the Colonel's got, that is: any more -particklars, Jim?--the gen'leman 'll stand something if you'll let him -know." - -"Hold your noise, stoopid--it ain't no concern o' yours--my master's my -master, and I ain't agoing to tell his secrets," said the voice below. -Vincent had made a step forward, divided between his impulse to kick the -impertinent fellow who had admitted him down-stairs, and the equally -strong impulse which prompted him to offer any bribe to the witness who -knew his master's secrets; but he was suddenly arrested in both by a -step on the street outside, and the grating of a latch-key in the door. -A long light step, firm and steady, with a certain sentiment of rapid -silent progress in it. Vincent could not tell what strange fascination -it was that made him turn round to watch this new-comer. The stranger's -approach thrilled him vaguely, he could not tell how. Then the door -opened, and a man appeared like the footstep--a very tall slight figure, -stooping forward a little; a pale oval face, too long to be handsome, -adorned with a long brown beard; thoughtful eyes, with a distant gleam -in them, now and then flashing into sudden penetrating glances--a loose -dress too light for the season, which somehow carried out all the -peculiarities of the long light step, the thin sinewy form, the -thoughtful softness and keenness of the eye. Even in the height of his -own suspense and excitement, Vincent paused to ask himself who this -could be. He came in with one sudden glance at the stranger in the hall, -passed him, and calling to the man, who became on the moment respectful -and attentive, asked if there were any letters. "What name, sir?--beg -your pardon--my place ain't up-stairs," said the fellow. What was the -name? Vincent rushed forward when he heard it, and seized the new-comer -by the shoulder with the fierceness of a tiger. "Fordham!" cried the -young man, with boiling rage and hatred. Next moment he had let go his -grasp, and was gazing bewildered upon the calm stranger, who looked at -him with merely a thoughtful inquiry in his eyes. "Fordham--at your -service--do you want anything with me?" he asked, meeting with -undiminished calm the young man's excited looks. This composure put a -sudden curb on Vincent's passion. - -"My name is Vincent," he said, restraining himself with an effort; "do -you know now what I want with you? No? Am I to believe your looks or -your name? If you are the man," cried the young Nonconformist, with a -groan out of his distracted heart, "whom Lady Western could trust with -life, to death--or if you are a fiend incarnate, making misery and -ruin, you shall not escape me till I know the truth. Where is Susan? -Here is where her innocent letters came--they were addressed to your -name. Where is she now? Answer me! For you, as well as the rest of us, -it is life or death." - -"You are raving," said the stranger, keeping his awakened eyes fixed -upon Vincent; "but this is easily settled. I returned from the East only -yesterday. I don't know you. What was that you said about -Lady--Lady--what lady? Come in: and my name?--my name has been unheard -in this country, so far as I know, for ten years. Lady----?--come in and -explain what you mean." - -The two stood together confronting each other in the little parlour of -the house, where the striped jacket quickly and humbly lighted the gas. -Vincent's face, haggard with misery and want of rest, looked wild in -that sudden light. The stranger stood opposite him, leaning forward with -a strange eagerness and inquiry. He did not care for Vincent's anxiety, -who was a stranger to him; he cared only to hear again that -name--Lady----? He had heard it already, or he would have been less -curious; he wanted to understand this wonderful message wafted to him -out of his old life. What did it matter to Herbert Fordham, used to the -danger of the deserts and mountains, whether it was a maniac who brought -this chance seed of a new existence to his wondering heart? - -"A man called Fordham has gone into my mother's house," said Vincent, -fixing his eyes upon those keen but visionary orbs which were fixed on -him--"and won the love of my sister. She wrote to him here--to this -house; yesterday he carried her away, to her shame and destruction. -Answer me," cried the young man, making another fierce step forward, -growing hoarse with passion, and clenching his hands in involuntary -rage--"was it you?" - -"There are other men called Fordham in existence besides me," cried the -stranger, with a little irritation; then seizing his loose coat by its -pockets, he shook out, with a sudden impatient motion, a cloud of -letters from these receptacles. "Because you seem in great excitement -and distress, and yet are not, as far as I can judge," said Mr. Fordham, -with another glance at Vincent, "mad, I will take pains to satisfy you. -Look at my letters; their dates and post-marks will convince you that -what you say is simply impossible, for that I was not here." - -Vincent clutched and took them up with a certain blind eagerness, not -knowing what he did. He did not look at them to satisfy himself that -what Fordham said was true. A wild, half-conscious idea that there must -be something in them about Susan possessed him; he saw neither dates nor -post-mark, though he held them up to the light, as if they were proofs -of something. "No," he said at last, "it was not you--it was that fiend -Mildmay, Rachel Russell's husband. Where is he? he has taken your name, -and made you responsible for his devilish deeds. Help me, if you are a -Christian! My sister is in his hands, curse him! Help me, for the sake -of your name, to find them out. I am a stranger, and they will give me -no information; but they will tell you. For God's sake, ask and let me -go after them. If ever you were beholden to the help of Christian men, -help me! for it is life and death!" - -"Mildmay! Rachel Russell's husband? under my name?" said Mr. Fordham, -slowly. "I _have_ been beholden to Christian men, and that for very -life. You make a strong appeal: who are you that are so desperate? and -what was that you said?" - -"I am Susan Vincent's brother," said the young Nonconformist; "that is -enough. This devil has taken your name; help me, for heaven's sake, to -find him out!" - -"Mildmay?--devil? yes, he is a devil! you are right enough: I owe him no -love," said Fordham; then he paused and turned away, as if in momentary -perplexity. "To help that villain to his reward would be a man's duty; -but," said the stranger, with a heavy sigh, upon which his words came -involuntarily, spoken to himself, breathing out of his heart--"he is -_her_ brother, devil though he is!" - -"Yes!" cried Vincent, with passion, "he is _her_ brother." When he had -said the words, the young man groaned aloud. Partly he forgot that this -man, who looked upon him with so much curiosity, was the man who had -brought tears and trembling to Her; partly he remembered it, and forgot -his jealousy for the moment in a bitter sense of fellow-feeling. In his -heart he could see her, waving her hand to him out of her passing -carriage, with that smile for which he would have risked his life. Oh, -hideous fate! it was _her_ brother whom he was bound to pursue to the -end of the world. He buried his face in his hands, in a momentary -madness of anguish and passion. Susan floated away like a mist from that -burning personal horizon. The love and the despair were too much for -Vincent. The hope that had always been impossible was frantic now. When -he recovered himself, the stranger whom he had thus unawares taken into -his confidence was regarding him haughtily from the other side of the -table, with a fiery light in his thoughtful eyes. Suspicion, jealousy, -resentment, had begun to sparkle in those orbs, which in repose looked -so far away and lay so calm. Mr. Fordham measured the haggard and -worn-out young man with a look of rising dislike and animosity. He was -at least ten years older than the young Nonconformist, who stood there -in his wretchedness and exhaustion entirely at disadvantage, looking, in -his half-clerical dress, which he had not changed for four-and-twenty -hours, as different as can be conceived from the scrupulously dressed -gentleman in his easy morning habiliments, which would not have been out -of place in the rudest scene, yet spoke of personal nicety and -high-breeding in every easy fold. Vincent himself felt the contrast with -an instant flush of answering jealousy and passion. For a moment the two -glanced at each other, conscious rivals, though not a word of -explanation had been spoken. It was Mr. Fordham who spoke first, and in -a somewhat hasty and imperious tone. - -"You spoke of a lady--Lady Western, I think. As it was you yourself who -sought this interview, I may be pardoned if I stumble on a painful -subject," he said, with some bitterness. "I presume you know that lady -by your tone--was it she who sent you to me? No? Then I confess your -appeal to a total stranger seems to me singular, to say the least of it. -Where is your proof that Colonel Mildmay has used my name?" - -"Proof is unnecessary," said Vincent, firing with kindred resentment; "I -have told you the fact, but I do not press my appeal, though it was made -to your honour. Pardon me for intruding on you so long. I have now no -time to lose." - -He turned away, stung in his hasty youthfulness by the appearance of -contempt. He would condescend to ask no farther. When he was once more -outside the parlour, he held up the half-sovereign, which he had kept -ready in his hand, to the slovenly fellow in the striped jacket. "Twice -as much if you will tell where Colonel Mildmay is gone," he said, -hurriedly. The man winked and nodded and pointed outside, but before -Vincent could leave the room a hasty summons came from the parlour which -he had just left. Then Mr. Fordham appeared at the door. - -"If you will wait I will make what inquiries I can," said the stranger, -with distant courtesy and seriousness. "Excuse me--I was taken by -surprise: but if you have suffered injury under my name, it is my -business to vindicate myself. Come in. If you will take my advice, you -will rest and refresh yourself before you pursue a man with all his wits -about him. Wait for me here and I will bring you what information I can. -You don't suppose I mean to play you false?" he added, with prompt -irritation, seeing that Vincent hesitated and did not at once return to -the room. It was no relenting of heart that moved him to make this -offer. It was with no softening of feeling that the young Nonconformist -went back again and accepted it. They met like enemies, each on his -honour. Mr. Fordham hastened out to acquit himself of that obligation. -Vincent threw himself into a chair, and waited for the result. - -It was the first moment of rest and quiet he had known since the morning -of the previous day, when he and his mother, alarmed but comparatively -calm, had gone to see Mrs. Hilyard, who was now, like himself, -wandering, with superior knowledge and more desperate passion, on the -same track. To sit in this house in the suspicious silence, hearing the -distant thrill of voices which might guide or foil him in his search; to -think who it was whom he had engaged to help him in his terrible -mission; to go over again in distracted gleams and snatches the brief -little circle of time which had brought all this about, the group of -figures into which his life had been absorbed,--rapt the young man into -a maze of excited musing, which his exhausted frame at once dulled and -intensified. They seemed to stand round him, with their faces so new, -yet so familiar--that needle-woman with her emphatic -mouth--Mildmay--Lady Western--last of all, this man, who was not Susan's -lover--not Susan's destroyer--but a man to be trusted "with life--to -death!" Vincent put up his hands to put away from him that wonderful -circle of strangers who shut out everything else in the world--even his -own life--from his eyes. What were they to him? he asked, with an -unspeakable bitterness in his heart. Heaven help him! they were the real -creatures for whom life and the world were made--he and his poor Susan -the shadows to be absorbed into, and under them; and then, with a wild, -bitter, hopeless rivalry, the mind of the poor Dissenting minister came -round once more to the immediate contact in which he stood--to Fordham, -in whose name his sister's life had been shipwrecked, and by whom, as he -divined with cruel foresight, his own hopeless love and dreams were to -be made an end of. Well! what better could they come to? but it was hard -to think of him, with his patrician looks, his negligent grace, his -conscious superiority, and to submit to accept assistance from him even -in his sorest need. These thoughts were in his mind when Mr. Fordham -hastily re-entered the room. A thrill of excitement now was in the long, -lightly-falling step, which already Vincent, with the keen ear of -rivalry almost as quick as that of love, could recognise as it -approached. The stranger was disturbed out of his composure. He shut the -door and came up to the young man, who rose to meet him, with a certain -excited repugnance and attraction much like Vincent's own feelings. - -"You are quite right," he said, hastily; "I find letters have been -coming here for some months, addressed as if to me, which Mildmay has -had. The man of the house is absent, or I should never have heard of it. -I don't know what injury he may have done _you_; but this is an insult -I don't forgive. Stop! I have every reason to believe that he has gone," -said Fordham, growing darkly red, "to a house of mine, to confirm this -slander upon me. To prove that I am innocent of all share of it--I don't -mean to you--you believe me, I presume?" he said, with a haughty sudden -pause, looking straight in Vincent's face--"I will go----" Here Mr. -Fordham stopped again, and once more looked at Vincent with that -indescribable mixture of curiosity, dislike, resentment, and interest, -which the eyes of the young Nonconformist repaid him fully,--"with -you--if you choose. At all events, I will go to-night--to Fordham, where -the scoundrel is. I cannot permit it to be believed for an hour that it -is I who have done this villany. The lady you mentioned, I presume, -knows?"--he added, sharply--"knows what has happened, and whom you -suspect? This must be set right at once. If you choose, we can go -together." - -"Where is the place?" asked Vincent, without any answer to this -proposition. - -Fordham looked at him with a certain haughty offence: he had made the -offer as though it were a very disagreeable expedient, but resented -instantly the tacit neglect of it shown by his companion. - -"In Northumberland--seven miles from the railway," he said, with a kind -of gratification. "Once more, I say, you can go with me if you will, -which may serve us both. I don't pretend to be disinterested. My object -is to have my reputation clear of this, at all events. Your object, I -presume, is to get to your journey's end as early as may be. Choose for -yourself. Fordham is between Durham and Morpeth--seven miles from -Lamington station. You will find difficulty in getting there by -yourself, and still greater difficulty in getting admission; and I -repeat, if you choose it, you can go with me--or I will accompany you, -if that pleases you better. Either way, there is little time to -consider. The train goes at eight or nine o'clock--I forget which. I -have not dined. What shall you do?" - -"Thank you," said Vincent. It was perhaps a greater effort to him to -overcome his involuntary repugnance than it was to the stranger beside -him, who had all the superior ease of superior rank and age. The -Nonconformist turned away his eyes from his new companion, and made a -pretence of consulting his watch. "I will take advantage of your offer," -he said, coldly, withdrawing a step with instinctive reserve. On these -diplomatic terms their engagement was made. Vincent declined to share -the dinner which the other offered him, as one duellist might offer -hospitality to another. He drove away in his hansom, with a restrained -gravity of excitement, intent upon the hour's rest and the meal which -were essential to make him anything like a match for this unexpected -travelling companion. Every morsel he attempted to swallow when in -Carlingford under his mother's anxious eyes, choked the excited young -man, but now he ate with a certain stern appetite, and even snatched an -hour's sleep and changed his dress, under this novel stimulant. Poor -Susan, for whom her mother sat hopelessly watching with many a thrill of -agony at home! Poor lost one, far away in the depths of the strange -country in the night and darkness! Whether despair and horror enveloped -her, or delirious false happiness and delusion, again she stood -secondary even in her brother's thoughts. He tried to imagine it was she -who occupied his mind, and wrote a hurried note to his mother to that -purport; but with guilt and self-disgust, knew in his own mind how often -another shadow stood between him and his lost sister--a shadow bitterly -veiled from him, turning its sweetness and its smiles upon the man who -was about to help him, against whom he gnashed his teeth in the anguish -of his heart. - - - - -CHAPTER XX. - - -They were but these two in the railway-carriage; no other passenger -broke the silent conflict of their companionship. They sat in opposite -corners, as far apart as their space would permit, but on opposite sides -of the carriage as well, so that one could not move without betraying -his every movement to the other's keen observation. Each of them kept -possession of a window, out of which he gazed into the visible blackness -of the winter night. Two or three times in the course of the long -darksome chilly journey, a laconic remark was made by one or the other -with a deadly steadiness, and gravity, and facing of each other, as they -spoke; but no further intercourse took place between them. When they -first met, Fordham had made an attempt to draw his fellow-traveller into -some repetition of that first passionate speech which had secured his -own attention to Vincent; but the young Nonconformist perceived the -attempt, and resented it with sullen offence and gloom. He took the -stranger's indifference to _his_ trouble, and undisguised and simple -purpose of acquitting himself, as somehow an affront, though he could -not have explained how it was so; and this notwithstanding his own -consciousness of realising this silent conflict and rivalry with -Fordham, even more deeply in his own person than he did the special -misery which had befallen his house. Through the sullen silent midnight -the train dashed on, the faint light flickering in the unsteady -carriage, the two speechless figures, with eyes averted, watching each -other through all the ice-cold hours. It was morning when they got out, -cramped and frozen, at the little station, round which miles and miles -of darkness, a black unfathomable ocean, seemed to lie--and which shone -there with its little red sparkle of light among its wild waste of moors -like the one touch of human life in a desert. They had a dreary hour to -wait in the little wooden room by the stifling fire, divided between the -smothering atmosphere within and the thrilling cold without, before a -conveyance could be procured for them, in which they set out shivering -over the seven darkling miles between them and Fordham. Vincent stood -apart in elaborate indifference and carelessness, when the squire was -recognised and done homage to; and Fordham's eye, even while lighted up -by the astonished delight of the welcome given him by the driver of the -vehicle who first found him out, turned instinctively to the Mordecai in -the corner who took no heed. No conversation between them diversified -the black road along which they drove. Mr. Fordham took refuge in the -driver, whom he asked all those questions about the people of the -neighbourhood which are so interesting to the inhabitants of a district -and so wearisome to strangers. Vincent, who sat in the dog-cart with his -face turned the other way, suffered himself to be carried through the -darkness by the powerful horse, which made his own seat a somewhat -perilous one, with nothing so decided in his thoughts as a dumb sense of -opposition and resistance. The general misery of his mind and body--the -sense that all the firmament around him was black as this sky--the -restless wretchedness that oppressed his heart--all concentrated into -conscious rebellion and enmity. He seemed to himself at war, not only -with Mr. Fordham who was helping him, but with God and life. - -Morning was breaking when they reached the house. The previous day, as -it dawned chilly over the world, had revealed his mother's ashy face to -Vincent as they came up from Lonsdale with sickening thrills of hope -that Susan might still be found unharmed. Here was another horror of a -new day rising, the third since Susan disappeared into that darkness -which was now lifting in shuddering mists from the bleak country round. -Was she here in her shame, the lost creature? As he began to ask himself -that question, what cruel spirit was it that drew aside a veil of years, -and showed to the unhappy brother that prettiest dancing figure, all -smiles and sunshine, sweet honour and hope? Poor lost child! what sweet -eyes, lost in an unfathomable light of joy and confidence--what truthful -looks, which feared no evil! Just as they came in sight of that hidden -house, where perhaps the hidden, stolen creature lay in the darkness, -the brightest picture flashed back upon Vincent's eyes with an -indescribably subtle anguish of contrast; how he had come up to her -once--the frank, fair Saxon girl--in the midst of a group of -gypsies--how he found she had done a service to one of them, and the -whole tribe did homage--how he had asked, "Were you not afraid, Susan?" -and how the girl had looked up at him with undoubting eyes, and -answered, "Afraid, Arthur?--yes, of wild beasts if I saw them, not of -men and women." Oh Heaven!--and here he was going to find her in shame -and ruin, hidden away in this secret place! He sprang to the ground -before the vehicle had stopped, jarring his frozen limbs. He could not -bear to be second now, and follow to the dread discovery which should be -his alone. He rushed through the shrubbery without asking any question, -and began to knock violently at the door. What did it matter to him -though its master was there, looking on with folded arms and -unsympathetic face? Natural love rushed back upon the young man's heart. -He settled with himself, as he stood waiting, how he would wrap her in -his coat, and hurry her away without letting any cold eye fall upon the -lost creature. Oh, hard and cruel fate! oh, wonderful heart-breaking -indifference of Heaven! The Innocents are murdered, and God looks on -like a man, and does not interfere. Such were the broken thoughts of -misery--half-thought, half-recollection--that ran through Vincent's mind -as he knocked at the echoing door. - -"Eugh! you may knock, and better knock, and I'se undertake none comes at -the ca'," said the driver, not without a little complacence. "I tell the -Squire, as there han't been man nor woman here for ages; but he don't -believe me. She's deaf as a post, is the housekeeper; and her daughter, -she's more to do nor hear when folks is wanting in--and this hour in the -morning! But canny, canny, man! he'll have the door staved in if we all -stand by and the Squire don't interfere." - -Vincent paid no attention to the remonstrance--which, indeed, he only -remembered afterwards, and did not hear at the moment. The house was -closely shut in with trees, which made the gloom of morning darker here -than in the open road, and increased the aspect of secrecy which had -impressed the young man's excited imagination. While he went on -knocking, Fordham alighted and went round to another entrance, where he -too began to knock, calling at the same time to the unseen keepers of -the place. After a while some answering sounds became audible--first the -feeble yelping of an asthmatic dog, then a commotion up-stairs, and at -last a window was thrown up, and a female head enveloped in a shawl -looked out. "Eh, whae are ye? vagabond villains,--and this a gentleman's -house," cried a cracked voice. "I'll let the Squire know--I'll rouse the -man-servants. Tramps! what are you wanting here?" The driver of the -dog-cart took up the response well pleased. He announced the arrival of -the Squire, to the profound agitation of the house, which showed itself -in a variety of scuffling sounds and the wildest exclamations of wonder. -Vincent leaned his throbbing head against the door, and waited in a dull -fever of impatience and excitement, as these noises gradually came -nearer. When the door itself was reached and hasty hands began to -unfasten its bolts, Susan's brother pressed alone upon the threshold, -forgetful and indifferent that the master of the house stood behind, -watching him with close and keen observation. He forgot whose house it -was, and all about his companion. What were such circumstances to him, -as he approached the conclusion of his search, and thought every moment -to hear poor Susan's cry of shame and terror? He made one hasty stride -into the hall when the door was open, and looked round him with burning -eyes. The wonder with which the women inside looked at him, their outcry -of disappointment and anger when they found him a stranger, coming first -as he did, and throwing the Squire entirely into the shade, had no -effect upon the young man, who was by this time half frantic. He went up -to the elder woman and grasped her by the arm. "Where is she? show me -the way!" he said, hoarsely, unable to utter an unnecessary word. He -held the terrified woman fast, and thrust her before him, he could not -tell where, into the unknown house, all dark and miserable in the -wretchedness of the dawn. "Show me the way!" he cried, with his broken -hoarse voice. A confused and inarticulate scene ensued, which Vincent -remembered afterwards only like a dream; the woman's scream--the -interference of Fordham, upon whom his fellow-traveller turned with -sudden fury--the explanation to which he listened without understanding -it, and which at first roused him to wild rage as a pretence and -falsehood. But even Vincent at last, struggling into soberer -consciousness as the day broadened ever chiller and more grey over the -little group of strange faces round him, came to understand and make -out that both Fordham and he had been deceived. Nobody had been -there--letters addressed both to Fordham himself, and to Colonel -Mildmay, had been for some days received; but these, it appeared, were -only a snare laid to withdraw the pursuers from the right scent. Not to -be convinced, in the sullen stupor of his excitement, Vincent followed -Fordham into all the gloomy corners of the neglected house--seeing -everything without knowing what he saw. But one thing was plain beyond -the possibility of doubt, that Susan was not there. - -"I am to blame for this fruitless journey," said Fordham, with a touch -of sympathy more than he had yet exhibited; "perhaps personal feeling -had too much share in it; now I trust you will have some breakfast -before you set out again. So far as my assistance can be of any use to -you----" - -"I thank you," said Vincent, coldly; "it is a business in which a -stranger can have no interest. You have done all you cared to do," -continued the young man, hastily gathering up the overcoat which he had -thrown down on entering; "you have vindicated yourself--I will trouble -you no further. If I encounter any one interested in Mr. Fordham," he -concluded, with difficulty and bitterness, but with a natural generosity -which, even in his despair, he could not belie, "I will do him justice." -He made an abrupt end, and turned away, not another word being possible -to him. Fordham, not without a sentiment of sympathy, followed him to -the door, urging refreshment, rest, even his own society, upon his -companion of the night. Vincent's face, more and more haggard--his -exhausted excited air--the poignant wretchedness of his youth, on which -the older man looked, not without reminiscences, awoke the sympathy and -compassion of the looker-on, even in the midst of less kindly emotions. -But Fordham's sympathy was intolerable to poor Vincent. He took his seat -with a sullen weariness once more by the talkative driver, who gave him -an unheeded history of all the Fordhams. As they drove along the bleak -moorland road, an early church-bell tingled into the silence, and -struck, with horrible iron echoes, upon the heart of the minister of -Salem. Sunday morning! Life all disordered, incoherent, desperate--all -its usages set at nought and duties left behind. Nothing could have -added the final touch of conscious derangement and desperation like the -sound of that bell; all his existence and its surroundings floated about -him in feverish clouds, as it came to his mind that this wild morning, -hysterical with fatigue and excitement, was the Sunday--the day of his -special labours--the central point of all his former life. Chaos gloomed -around the poor minister, who, in his misery, was human enough to -remember Beecher's smile and Phoebe Tozer's invitation, and to realise -how all the "Chapel folks" would compare notes, and contrast their own -pastor, to whom they had become accustomed, with the new voice from -Homerton, which, half in pride and half in disgust, Vincent acknowledged -to be more in their way. He fancied he could see them all collecting -into their mean pews, prepared to inaugurate the "coorse" for which -Tozer had struggled, and the offence upon their faces when the -minister's absence was known, and the sharp stimulus which that offence -would give to their appreciation of the new preacher--all this, while he -was driving over the bleak Northumberland wilds, with the cutting wind -from the hills in his face, and the church-bell in his distracted ear, -breaking the Sunday! Not a bright spot, so far as he could perceive, was -anywhere around him, in earth, or sky, or sea. - -Sunday night!--once more the church-bells, the church-going groups, the -floating world, which he had many a time upbraided from the pulpit -seeking its pleasure. But it was in London now, where he stood in utter -exhaustion, but incapable of rest, not knowing where to turn. Then the -thought occurred to him that something might be learned at the railway -stations of a party which few people could see without remarking it. He -waited till the bustle of arrival was over, and then began to question -the porters. One after another shook his head, and had nothing to say. -But the men were interested, and gathered in a little knot round him, -trying what they could recollect, with the ready humanity of their -class. "I'd speak to the detective police, sir, if I was you," suggested -one; "it's them as finds out all that happens nowadays." Then a little -gleam of light penetrated the darkness. One man began to recall a -light-haired gentleman with a mustache, and two ladies, who "went off -sudden in a cab, with no luggage." "An uncommon swell he did look," said -the porter, instinctively touching his cap to Vincent, on the strength -of the connection; "and, my eyes! she was a beauty, that one in the blue -veil. It was--let me see--Wednesday night; no--not Wednesday--that day -as the up-train was an hour late--Friday afternoon, to be sure. It was -me as called the cab, and I won't deny as the gen'leman _was_ a -gen'leman. Went to the London Bridge station, sir; Dover line; no -luggage; I took particular notice at the time, though it went out o' my -head first minute as you asked me.--Cab, sir? Yes. Here you are--here's -the last on the stand.--London Bridge Station, Dover line." - -Vincent took no time to inquire further. In the impatience of his utter -weariness and wretchedness, he seized on this slight clue, and went off -at once to follow it out. London Bridge station!--what a world swarmed -in those streets through which the anxious minister took his way, far -too deeply absorbed in himself to think of the flood of souls that -poured past him. The station was in wild bustle and commotion; a train -just on the eve of starting, and late passengers dashing towards it with -nervous speed. Vincent followed the tide instinctively, and stood aside -to watch the long line of carriages set in motion. He was not thinking -of what he saw; his whole mind was set upon the inquiry, which, as soon -as that object of universal interest was gone, he could set on foot -among the officials who were clanging the doors, and uttering all the -final shrieks of departure. Now the tedious line glides into gradual -motion. Good Heaven! what was that? the flash of a match, a sudden gleam -upon vacant cushions, the profile of a face, high-featured, with the -thin light locks and shadowy mustache he knew so well, standing out for -a moment in aquiline distinctness against the moving space. Vincent -rushed forward with a hoarse shout, which scared the crowd around him. -He threw himself upon the moving train with a desperate attempt to seize -and stop it; but only to be himself seized by the frantic attendants, -who caught him with a dozen hands. The travellers in the later carriages -were startled by the commotion. Some of them rose and looked out with -surprised looks; he saw them all as they glided past, though the passage -was instantaneous. Saw them all! Yes; who was that, last of all, at the -narrow window of a second-class carriage, who looked out with no -surprise, but with a horrible composure in her white face, and -recognised him with a look which chilled him to stone. He stood passive -in the hands of the men, who had been struggling to hold him, after he -encountered those eyes; he shuddered with a sudden horror, which made -the crowd gather closer, believing him a maniac. Now it was gone into -the black night, into the chill space, carrying a hundred innocent souls -and light hearts, and among them deadly crime and vengeance--the doomed -man and his executioner. His very heart shuddered in his breast as he -made a faltering effort to explain himself, and get free from the crowd -which thought him mad. That sight quenched the curses on his own lips, -paled the fire in his heart. To see her dogging his steps, with her -dreadful relentless promise in her eyes, overwhelmed Vincent, who a -moment before had thrilled with all the rage of a man upon whom this -villain had brought the direst shame and calamity. He could have dashed -him under those wheels, plunged him into any mad destruction, in the -first passionate whirl of his thoughts on seeing him again; but to see -Her behind following after--pale with her horrible composure, a -conscious Death tracking his very steps--drove Vincent back with a -sudden paralysing touch. He stood chilled and horror-stricken in the -crowd, which watched and wondered at him: he drew himself feebly out of -their detaining circle, and went and sat down on the nearest seat he -could find, like a man who had been stunned by some unexpected blow. He -was not impatient when he heard how long he must wait before he could -follow them. It was a relief to wait, to recover his breath, to realise -his own position once more. That dreadful sight, diabolical and out of -nature, had driven the very life-blood out of his heart. - -As he sat, flung upon his bench in utter exhaustion and feebleness, -stunned and stupified, leaning his aching head in his hands, and with -many curious glances thrown at him by the bystanders, some of whom were -not sure that he ought to be suffered to go at large, Vincent became -sensible that some one was plucking at his sleeve, and sobbing his name. -It was some time before he became aware that those weeping accents were -addressed to him; some time longer before he began to think he had heard -the voice before, and was so far moved as to look up. When he did raise -his head it was with a violent start that he saw a little rustic -figure, energetically, but with tears, appealing to him, whom his -bewildered faculties slowly made out to be Mary, his mother's maid, whom -Susan had taken with her when she left Lonsdale. As soon as he -recognised her he sprang up, restored to himself with the first gleam of -real hope which had yet visited him. "My sister is here!" he cried, -almost with joy. Mary made no answer but by a despairing outbreak of -tears. - -"Oh no, Mr. Arthur; no--oh no, no! never no more!" cried poor Mary, when -she found her voice. "It's all been deceitfulness and lyin' and -falsehood, and it ain't none o' her doing--oh no, no, Mr. Arthur, -no!--but now she's got nobody to stand by her, for he took and brought -me up this very day; oh, don't lose no time!--he took and brought me up, -pretending it was to show me the way, and he sent me right off, Mr. -Arthur, and she don't know no more nor a baby, and he'll take her off -over the seas this very night--he will; for I had it of his own man. -She's written letters to her Ma, Mr. Arthur, but I don't think as they -were ever took to the post; and he makes believe they're a-going to be -married, and he'll have her off to France to-night. Oh, Mr. Arthur, Mr. -Arthur, don't lose no time. They're at a 'otel. Look you here--here's -the name as I wrote down on a bit o' paper to make sure; and oh, Mr. -Arthur, mind what I say, and don't lose no time!" - -"But Susan--Susan--what of her?" cried her brother, unconsciously -clutching at the girl's arm. - -Mary burst into another flood of tears. She hid her face, and cried -with storms of suppressed sobs. The young man rose up pale and stern -from his seat, without asking another question. He took the crumpled -paper out of her hand, put some money into it, and in few words directed -her to go to his mother at Carlingford. What though the sight of her -would break his mother's heart--what did it matter? Hearts were made to -be broken, trodden on, killed--so be it! Pale and fierce, with eyes -burning red in his throbbing head, he too went on, a second Murder, -after the first which had preceded him in the shape of the Carlingford -needlewoman. The criminal who escaped two such avengers must bear a -charmed life. - -END OF VOL. I. - -PRINTING OFFICE OF THE PUBLISHER. - - * * * * * - - -Typographical errors corrected by the etext transcriber: - -the charmming breakfasts=> the charming breakfasts {pg 11} - -stupified=> stupefied {pg 103} - -downfal=> downfall {pg 103} - -their ain't no=> there ain't no {pg 118} - -the litte parlour=> the little parlour {pg 260} - -a man get's a charge=> a man gets a charge {pg 279} - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Salem Chapel, v.1/2, by Mrs. Oliphant - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SALEM CHAPEL, V.1/2 *** - -***** This file should be named 42013.txt or 42013.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/2/0/1/42013/ - -Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images available at The Internet Archive) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, -set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to -copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to -protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project -Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you -charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you -do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the -rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose -such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and -research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do -practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is -subject to the trademark license, especially commercial -redistribution. - - - -*** START: FULL LICENSE *** - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project -Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at -http://gutenberg.org/license). - - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy -all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. -If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the -terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or -entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. - -1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement -and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic -works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" -or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the -collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an -individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are -located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from -copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative -works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg -are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project -Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by -freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of -this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with -the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by -keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project -Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in -a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check -the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement -before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or -creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project -Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning -the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United -States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate -access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently -whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the -phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project -Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, -copied or distributed: - -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/license - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived -from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is -posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied -and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees -or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work -with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the -work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 -through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the -Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or -1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional -terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked -to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the -permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any -word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or -distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than -"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version -posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), -you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a -copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon -request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other -form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided -that - -- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is - owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he - has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the - Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments - must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you - prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax - returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and - sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the - address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to - the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." - -- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or - destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium - and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of - Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any - money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days - of receipt of the work. - -- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set -forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from -both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael -Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the -Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm -collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic -works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain -"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or -corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual -property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a -computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by -your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right -of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with -your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with -the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a -refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity -providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to -receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy -is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further -opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER -WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO -WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. -If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the -law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be -interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by -the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any -provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance -with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, -promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, -harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, -that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do -or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm -work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any -Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. - - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers -including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists -because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from -people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need, are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. -To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation -and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 -and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. - - -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive -Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at -http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent -permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. - -The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. -Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered -throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at -809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email -business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact -information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official -page at http://pglaf.org - -For additional contact information: - Dr. Gregory B. Newby - Chief Executive and Director - gbnewby@pglaf.org - - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide -spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To -SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any -particular state visit http://pglaf.org - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. -To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate - - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic -works. - -Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm -concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared -with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project -Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. - - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. -unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily -keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. - - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: - - http://www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. |